Imagine, he says, imagine all your cast’s desperate moments highlighted in pictures revolving upon a carousel, a contraption forever in orbit above their heads. The thievery, the lies and all their moral weaknesses depicted in such a well-rendered way that they become a walking performance piece.
What if they were constantly subject to artistic renderings of sordid pasts, the horrible parts? Would they be comfortable in the voyeurism of others privy to such personal images? Would their friends and family interact with them more emphatically if their own comic/tragic moments were in a simultaneous identical eternal exhibition?
Maybe the human race would become a mass of careful strategists, the only comfortable socialising concerted in the dark.
Spiderfingers calls this storytelling prop The Recollection Wheel, and he’ll hand it over…I just have to let him live through me.
'I'm your recollection of Mr Lime,' I tell him, 'and I've had more practice at being an idea than you. If I were a concept like you, I'd run. I'd run far away from me...'