Three copies, two duos, an independent or two, three children and two in hiding. Nine to crack a wall, several for a ceiling, two to be buried under. Two to pass a juncture, one to live through it, and several who remain a mystery.
The Anchor makes a phonecall to which no one picks up. So they try again, this time to the reflection who is on rounds keeping an eye on the town. They try again, and try again. On the seventh call Kapwa picks up and exasparated they listen. New information is revelealed.
The witch is silent, working quietly but overhearing everything around them. But like the Anchor they know the schedule. They have a portrait in every room watching over the whole space, and when the cheese platter arrives tonight they will descend down below, skip the event, and become the snack witch before dissapearing into the night. It is expected that they will return.
They are listening, always listening. Compassionate to the point of a fault recent plans are reportedly cancelled. The accomplice is many things in constant motion, no one knows what they do just that they exist but they are always tired, exasperated, this never changes. But they are also thinking about how to love and also throw simultaneously out the window. Who they would throw under remains under investigation.
Having just visited the witch, the mime is coming, was coming. But “Cue the sun!” another idea has floated by and called out to them with a soft echo. The mime becomes distracted and wanders, they trip, spilling everything they carry. The mime will be late for lunch. It is always lunch, and they will never make the dream.
The connector has also made an invitation to an event. One combining food and pigment. Deeply suspicious for its lack of a performance the Anchor does not attend. They are not invited when another is in town to visit. Contact is spotty at best but reports are to be commended.
The cultivator is worried, the phone battery is kaput and they cannot contact their friend, The Anchor pulls out a microphone and asks a couple of questions. They develop a theory but the cultivator will have none of it. “They could die and then every time I have two white wines I’ll get sad and no one will invite me to parties” they say. The Anchor informs they would be missing a lot of parties.
The traveler remains out of contacted, they are far, always moving, always stuck, just at the edge of the shore. Further attempts should be made.
They have asked a question at the conference and the Anchor answers, the twin looks over and strikes up conversation, they have not spoken before but have seen each other before. The twin ignores the fact the Anchor has dragged a full kitchenware set into the room, it is what they would do if they could. The twin is lost, exctatic about something or other, eventually they dissapeared, but they always return either a long busride or boatride away.
The Anchor has told us they are organized. The enigma continues their reading, their knitting, all a coverup for the production of medical susbtances that preserves their facade – the gentle but nefarious plotting smile that asks you “are these the only choices?” When an inquiry was made after years of observation they respond “I’m not so weird to me”
The emperor is invisible. The prescence remains awake. It is understood they both remain overworked. The latter is reachable into the early morning though there is mounting concern for the longevity of this strategy.
The boy is asleep just past their bedtime. They have avoided a party. The Anchor reports that “they’ve been missing out, missing out for way too long.” They remain a reliable presence though their patience fluctuates, the Anchor suggests care.
The reflection is hard to find following past attempts. Transfixed they are seen dissapearing into a mirror that shows them a different future than our own.
The neighbour has found a new crisis, but they are making dinner. Their work remains on track. Report to follow.
Anchor reports end of transmission at this time.
