I weave through memories like a river passed the bend, all neon and electric. I’m static, baby. I’m a wave.

My girlfriend’s BUSY, though I’m watching her anyway – hacking into the red-room, watching her ex plug that chick that’s too blown to know the difference – and I’ve finally gotten into the memories from my forties, archiving everything so I can sort out this goddamn midlife crisis.

I mean, I’m seventy-two. Statistically speaking, my body should be around for another two hundred years. Not that it matters, I know. All these memories I’m going over will just be saved on some external hard drive anyway, and I’ll be able to peruse the world at my leisure.

But still, there’s something comforting in knowing that you’re anchored down somewhere. I don’t know. I guess it makes me feel original.

Sometimes, I like to see it. My body, that is. It’s at the museum, or whatever, in suspended animation. My parents are loaded, so they set me up there instead of a bank. We get taken real good care of, supposedly. Our bodies will last a whole fifty years longer than anywhere else.

Anyway, I like to look at myself, floating in that blue stuff. I’m not supposed to, but the security there’s real lax. If you tip toe enough, they won’t ever catch you.

Most people can’t stand seeing themselves, I hear. They say they’re too ugly, that their ID is who they really are.

My girlfriend’s still BUSY. We have a very open relationship.

I don’t know what I’m searching for, or why it’s so important. I just know that there’s something here. Something that can explain all this.

Did you know that, as of this year, there are at least seven thousand levels of being? No joke. Over the course of our lives – whether accidental or not – the average person travels through at least half of those.

So, where am I?

My body’s in suspended animation, my memories are flashing before me in high definition frames, I’m spying on my girlfriend as she spies on her ex, and statistically speaking, there are three-thousand fifty or so of myself, wandering aimlessly through the rabbit hole.