[Codex Fragment Intercepted]
Title: Silent and Unseen
Source: Online Meeting
Thread: [REDACTED]
Classification: Admin-Recovered Log
Access: Conditional | Emotional Thread Present
// REMOTE TEACHING CHAT TRANSCRIPT – MARCH 2020
// Status: Mic=On | Camera=On | Chat=active
08:45.00 // TRANSCRIPT LAYER A: Audio (Mr. Page)
MR.PAGE: "Okay. I think we're live now."
08:45.12 // TRANSCRIPT LAYER C: Thought-Shadow (??????????.??)
*T.SHADOW [text only]: He says that every time. Like he isn’t sure we are.*
08:45.13
MR.PAGE: "Hello…my friends."
*T.SHADOW: The screens are all dark.*
08:45.25 // TRANSCRIPT LAYER B: Camera Movement (MR.PAGE)
MR.PAGE [Moves in really close, eyes filling the screen]: "Near!"
MR.PAGE [Pushes back from the camera on his rolling chair, sliding backwards]: "Far!"
*T.SHADOW: I would chuckle, but there is no room for laughter right now.*
08:45.59
MR.PAGE [Pantomimes, giving us the o7]: "If you are here, just give me a quick thumbs up in the chat."
*T.SHADOW: Not going to. Not because of hate. I want to. I enjoy seeing him try. How long will this charade go on?*
08:46.13
MR.PAGE [He has a flicker of a look. Crestfallen. Fumbling around for paper. Steels himself, continuing]: "No big deal. I know you’re all tired. Cameras are optional today. I’ll read the story out loud."
*T.SHADOW: No one’s here. Just ghosts. Does he know that?*
08:47.01
MR.PAGE: "The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde. High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt."
*T.SHADOW: He reads stories like they matter. Like they still can. Like he’s trying to pull us out of the dark with the power of words. [I don’t speak, but I do listen]*
*T.SHADOW: Sometimes, that’s still resistance.*
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
// REMOTE TEACHING CHAT TRANSCRIPT – MARCH
// Status: Mic=OnOn | Chat=active
10:15.22
MR.PAGE: "Today’s lesson is optional."
*T.SHADOW: He hasn’t turned off his mic for 2 days. Not accidental.
He’s waiting to be heard. By anyone. He’s waiting to hear from anyone.*
10:15.40
MR.PAGE [He pauses. Pulls up slideshow on computer]: "If you're here, just blink loudly at your screen, send me a ghost emoji. Really, anything."
MR.PAGE [He moves face close to screen]: "I guess we need a grand gesture."
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
MR.PAGE: "I am large, I contain multitudes. It’s Whitman. Sorry, couldn't resist."
*T.SHADOW: He’s recycling jokes. Even his humour is tired now.
Stretched thin. Like static. Repeating the shape of laughter, but without the punchline.*
10:16.12
[Student writes code in a different tab]
*T.SHADOW: It’s the only thing that makes me feel alive while he grades compliance drafts. Worth no marks, like they mean something.*
*T.SHADOW: I think he’s forgetting how to quit.*
10:17.33
MR.PAGE [He pauses]: "What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other? (George Eliot)."
*T.SHADOW: I returned to his tab. He had my attention. While Eliot probably should have used the word more instead of less, at least in my experience, I begrudgingly accepted the original, less accurate, version.*
MR.PAGE: "Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought (Mary Shelley). Both poets know how to dig to the truth of humanity. Maybe you don’t believe that. That’s okay. I do. Connection is real. Even now. Even here. So that is your assignment. No pressure. If you want, write me one true line. It can be loud or quiet. Whitman or Shelley."
*T.SHADOW: I didn’t want to care. I didn’t want to be found.*
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
// REMOTE TEACHING CHAT TRANSCRIPT – APRIL
// Status: Mic=On Onactive
3:29.01
MR. PAGE: “All right, so let’s pivot from Macbeth’s future to yours. It’s easy to think about what you’ll do when you grow up. But the harder question is: who will you become?
MR. PAGE: “That’s the real question, isn’t it? Doing is the easy part. Becoming is harder.
*T.SHADOW: How do you answer that? If life were like a video game it would be easier. I could just pick something, anything, and I would play until I made that role real. If life were like that, could I make myself feel real?
3:29.59
MR. PAGE:
Anyway. Back to Macbeth tomorrow, before we run out of today.
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
//REMOTE TEACHING CHAT TRANSCRIPT – MAY
//Status: Mic=On | Camera=Off | Chat=inactive
08:46.01
MR.PAGE [He stares into the camera. A hint of desperation]: "I had a dream last night that you all came back. In school together. It morphed into a nightmare. I couldn’t remember your names or faces."
*T.SHADOW: He seems aged. His voice is the same shape, but with less fight. It’s more hollow.*
*T.SHADOW: I almost said something. Almost.*
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
//REMOTE TEACHING CHAT TRANSCRIPT – JUNE (Last Day)
//Status: Mic=On Off disabled
//Participants: [UNKNOWN]
MR.PAGE [He’s slumped on the desk in contrast to his chipper voice. He turned the camera off so they can’t see]: "Well. That’s all, folks! Thanks for showing up. I am looking forward to seeing you next year."
MR.PAGE [A slight, barely audible whisper]: "I hope."
*T.SHADOW: He thinks we weren’t there. But I was. Every day. Still am.*
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────
SUBJECT: No Subject
FROM:
TO:
DATE: June 25, 2020
TIME: 11:38 PM
Hi Mr. Page,
I wasn’t going to write. I thought it’d be easier not to.
You said once that silence is sometimes a choice. That sometimes it’s about survival. I am still not sure which mine was. Maybe both. I heard the hope in your voice that day. In the story. Even on the last day, with audio enhancement, I heard it silently in the way you kept showing up, even when we didn’t.
I won’t be back next year. It’s not a dramatic reason. It’s my parents. They’re scared. The world cracked open. They don’t want me near the fault lines.
I thought about saying goodbye during that last call. I even opened the chat window and typed something and then deleted it; I told myself that it wouldn’t matter. That you wouldn’t remember me. The lies we tell ourselves to make things easier.
But I remembered you.
You said we could submit the assignment at any time. This is mine.
Inspiring Line (from Emily Dickinson):
The Moth’s resistless flame
Is her necessity—
And makes her perishing—delight—
As had she life to spare—
My Line:
Some relationships are moths. Drawn to the light. Erased by flame.
That’s all. I won’t be logging in again. I just wanted you to know I was there.
—E
//CODEX ECHO: Final Entry [E.ELLORY]
//Message Recovered: June 25, 2020 – 11:38 PM
//Visibility: Unread
//Attachment: [TRUTHLINE_RECEIVED]
//Emotional Thread: Preserved
