Episode 3 - Google Ghosts - A Psychic Cyber Serial by tony baksa

 On The Inside Looking Out - Episode 3

                        

"Gregory! Greg!!  Mom? Dad? .......Norma?  GREGORY!!!!!!!!!!!!

Artie thinks:
Where is everybody?  Where am I? I guess I'm inside the...computer? But there's nothing in here - just me and blackness - no not black - grey - its all grey and wide open or feels wide open but I see nothing but grey - air? (He looks out from inside the monitor) Oh my God! I see my apartment. There's my room, the spilt wine - my wine chest - oh, how I need some of that red. How do I get back? (He tries to reenter his room but cannot seem to penetrate the screen. He feels a sort of force stop him from getting out from wherever he is "in".) I'm freaking out!

                                                       

"Anybody! Everybody! Clifford? Where is....you all pulled me in....what do you want? Why have you..."

He thinks:
Oh, Jeez, I almost said why have you forsaken me. I did almost say that.

"Jesus Christ!!" - he catches himself and laughs. He suddenly stops laughing because he hears laughter surrounding him -  sounding like an audience - a laugh track if you will. Laughing laughing laughing. 

"Hey, who, where, what...? - Artie is lost for words. He is  not sure what question to ask and most importantly who is he asking?? Who? Where are all the people whose hands pulled him into this grey world. Why would his parents and sister be so cruel? Then there's Clifford and Gregory and dear Jill - like family to him.

He grew up with Clifford. Artie didn't have a brother. Clifford fulfilled that want that need. And they were like brothers. Even his parents excepted that as did Norma. Cliff and Artie were the same age. They drifted apart in their twenties but reconnected in their thirties and remained best buds until Clifford's death at 41 - 4 years ago. It was so hard watching Cliff deal with one dire health issue after the other. What was even harder was witnessing Clifford's pilot light dim. Cliff was a guy that devoured every moment of life. He tasted everything life had to offer. And much of the time he more than sampled the wild side of life. Artie, not a player to that degree, watched from the curb barely participating. Yet, they remained close - closer than ever really.

So when Clifford got sick -  seriously so with lupus first then cancer - pancreatic, Artie became Clifford's world depending on him for just about everything. Artie in his extraordinary way - ways - did not back away. Artie embraced his new role - his enhanced best friend role. After all, what are friends for? What are BEST friends for.

Clifford died after slipping into a haze of semi-consciousness. This haze lasted for a little over a week - Artie by his side much of the time. Oddly, Clifford chose to die on one of the rare times Artie wasn't there.

There wasn't a funeral - no wake  - no viewing of the body - keeping to all of Clifford's wishes. There, however, was a memorial. To Artie's surprise, the place was packed with many of Clifford's friends. So many and all strangers to Artie. A couple of ex-wife's attended - Clifford had married and divorced four times. A teenage son and teenage daughter were also in the mix. His parents were dead and no siblings. Just his Artie. Artie his soul brother.

The memorial was like a Broadway show. Those who spoke were so funny - like stand-up comics. The singers were great. Clive Davis would sign them up! People applauded after every "act". Only Artie wasn't funny. Only Artie didn't sing. Artie was asked to "host" by Jason, Clifford's son. Jason also encouraged Artie to say a few words whenever he was moved to do so. Moved he was eventually and everybody else at this memorial event were moved as well by Art's eloquence.    

Artie spoke last taking the stage in this mini auditorium not far from his apartment in Murray Hill.

                                           

Art speaks:

" Forty one is a ridiculous age to die. That is, for most people. Clifford was 41 going on 90. Although he looked like a 27 year old dude. He lived! For better or for worse - he lived - lived out loud. And I know that I am the better for it. Cliff was Peck's bad boy. You had to love him. You just had no choice. But best of all, Cliff had no problem returning that mandatory love. Which made us love him all the more. I could recount all his shenanigans to illustrate his wonderful badness. But I think not. We all know these stories and I am sure will cherish their richness. They are testament to a life fully lived. I will take comfort in the knowledge that Clifford didn't miss a beat. But I will still miss him so much. That damn lupus! That damn pancreatic cancer! That is what I am angry about. Clifford lived hard and died hard. The living was his choice. The dying was not. "

Artie was done. He began to step away from the podium but stopped. In the back of the room he saw Clifford. He did. HE SAW CLIFFORD beaming his most charming smile. It was Clifford not a transparent ghost Clifford but a flesh and fully attired Clifford looking so fantastic. He was applauding - only he - it was so loud - yet no one seemed to hear it- only Artie. Only Artie heard the clapping. Only Artie could see Clifford. And, somehow, Artie was certain it was Cliff not an hallucination brought on by grief. It was Clifford. Artie remained frozen on the stage as the "audience" assuming it was all over, began to file out. Our Artie still on stage like a garden statue - eyes barely blinking as he looks beyond the crowd filing out...........

Artie thinks:
It is Clifford.  Clifford.