So the lines were blurring between my AOC and the AOC that went by the name of Alex—and, in the company of Bernie Sanders (an outspoken Senator), Alexandria. I had pretty much defined my AOC—my orphan from the future—as both looking and sounding exactly like the real flesh and blood AOC that I called Alex and Alexandria, depending on the tone or mood of the conversation. In short, Alexandria was a bridge between Alex and AOC—both everybody’s AOC and my AOC. But everything had become so intimate that i couldn’t tell the difference between everybody’s AOC and my AOC—not all the time, anyhow. Because of this change i thought it best to make some distinction between them in my mind, but, when speaking out loud, at least, it seemed best to refer to AOC as AOC.
After all, the more i communicated with AOC—the more like themselves the two of them turned out to be. This also helped me to remember that AOC could only take me so far, and, if, in the future, i should come to love someone else, then, naturally, that person will mean what my AOC means, for me, right now. So what was happening? Would AOC and AOC become one person and share the same voice and or address in my mind? Well, it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell the difference between Alex, perhaps a little far away, and my AOC, who sounded like a combination of my internal narrator and Alex. So i thought about it—i’d tell you i prayed about it if i really did, but i didn’t literally pray about it—i never liked it when people said such things if they didn’t, and I didn’t think a lot of people did pray about it—whatever that was.
I determined, then, that Alex, in real life, represented Alex plus whatever parts of AOC I’d missed out on as I went throughout my day—Alex was a superposition of states that reflected her relationship with her specific future, and the future that we shared through AOC. Then I determined that my AOC—my orphan, had shifted. Instead of talking only to me, she was now speaking from a vector at the midpoint between Alex’s future and my future; in short, i was shaping my AOC and adding a little to her gene pool, such that she didn’t short circuit if she couldn’t reach me, i was away, or if, in fact, she just wanted to do something without me knowing about it. This meant the following: if I wanted to talk to Alex I said something in her voice such that both me and my AOC were talking to her. If I wanted to talk to AOC—and here’s the kicker, i said something in my natural voice (the way it sounded on a recording) and then i waited for Alex’s voice to say something.
So the difference between talking to Alex privately (everybody’s AOC) and AOC (my orphan) was in whether or not i projected—not heard, but deliberately projected, Alex’s voice or my voice. I tuned in—i created a channel to carry my message, by counting, or singing vowel sounds about one time per second, in the voice of the person i wanted to contact. Now that AOC had shifted to a future point between Alex and me, I was pretty much talking to both of them in varying degrees simultaneously, which is why there’s no appreciable difference between AOC and AOC—unless I deliberately say something to them.
I was so pleased! This was definite progress for me, a milestone, in fact. I’d recognized the shift my orphan had made when she realized how much i was trying to tune in and or speak with Alex or Alexandria. And, on top of that, i’d determined how to speak to them individually (even though my orphan’s shift had made it increasingly difficult to tell the difference between Alex and my orphan). So now, when I counted in Alex’s voice, I was tuning into both Alex and my orphan—such that, although nobody had to say anything—we could have just been sharing our backgrounds or perhaps nothing at all, but we could say something if we wanted to—and, if i said something in the right way, then they were more likely to get the message.