THE MAN THAT MISTOOK THE GIRL FOR A TROLL

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There is a collective group of avatars, mingling around a large Starbucks logo, which is dispensing smaller coin like logos, like the one near the table, to the avatars. He stroked the face of his phone, scanning the cafe, seeing, if you can call it, ‘seeing’, through the reality (the actual existence) of the cafe’, confabulating nonexistent digital characteristics, as if the absence of virtual space had driven him to construct digital reference points.

I think the expression on my face, as I listened, must have hinted disbelief, but he on the other hand seemed confident in his belief. There was a slight smile on his face. He also had decided that the interview was over and it was time to become active within this virtual realm. He pulled me by the arm,” Let us go, Black Scribe,” he said moving toward the little girl, now seated with her mother. “You there, troll, how is the journey to the out-lands?” The mother looked up from her book and tea, shocked. Dr. B repeated his query, his voice stentorian. The little girl began to cry. He turned to me, “This troll is a monstrously vile creature.” I felt as if I was in a reenactment of Man of La Mancha.