nabµf #3 of 29

Young Pixel stares down the desolate stretch of desert, wondering when his next customer will arrive.

Young Pixel is angry. He is also hot. So he fishes in his pocket for a quarter and buys a glass of lemonade from himself.

He feels mildly cheated, but cannot explain why.

A man in a three-piece suit walks by, but is too busy holding his suit together to buy any lemonade.

Nevertheless, it is exceedingly awkward for the both of them: Young Pixel had stared at his silhouette for the past six minutes, hoping he’d come down the road and buy some lemonade and the man in the suit had been steadily keeping his eye on the road and refusing to make eye contact.

And they both knew it.

Young Pixel grew even more angry.

The man walks by and Pixel stares down the road for the next forty-five minutes as cars drive by and nobody stops to buy any lemonade.

“This business venture is rapidly proving itself to be a bad idea.” Young Pixel remarks to nobody in particular.

Nobody in particular replies, but Young Pixel is too distracted to listen to even the most random personification of an idiom.

There! In the distance, a figure approaches, with a gun and an empty sack out. For five minutes, Young Pixel stares at this would-be robber. Then, deciding he doesn’t owe his life to his lemonade stand, he runs away down the road.

The ground opens up and swallows him whole. Nobody in particular is sad.

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nabµf #29 of 29

Pixel hadn’t gone to sleep that night. He couldn’t. It was his last night in Australia for who knows how long. He had no idea when he would come back or who would still be here when he did.
He had had a fantastic time, everything had been perfect.

His mate Ex_Cal came at about midnight to help him pack, but Pixel hardly helped the process. Every item he packed was one more nail in the coffin that had been the best four months of his life.

Ex_Cal, his roommate Jess, and Pixel stayed up all night talking. Pixel hovered around, alternately packing and taking mental photographs.

The morning came, unheralded, three coffee shots later.

He hugged Jess goodbye. Glad to have had the honour of being her flatmate.

He and Ex_Cal trudged along lugging 35 kilos of luggage and a sombrero. They arrived at Suzi’s house and said awkward hellos to her and Angela.

How does one say ‘hi’ to someone who means so much to you when a ‘bye’ that will be so final will come so soon?

Adriano met up with them in the train to the airport and Pixel could not believe how quickly everything was going.

They all tried to talk, but conversation seemed fleeting.

Suzi and Angela stared at Pixel. Hoping to draw in every last nuance before the end.

At the airport, Adriano said goodbye.
Pixel’s heart tore.

Three left.

The check-in process cruelly ripped Pixel from his friends and, after, they spent no time at all together.

Angela suggested walking to the tower of the airport to see the view just as the loudspeaker announced the final call for Pixel’s flight.

“Let’s go.” Pixel said.

They moved to go to the terminal.

“To the tower.”

And the spring returned to their step. He might miss his flight but now he could not care less.
But… Pixel had to go. They all knew that. And he had to go now. They walked him to the sliding doors that only he could cross.

The time had come.

Pixel hugged Angela. He hugged Suzi. He hugged Ex_Cal. How could it end like this?
He walked past the doors and turned around, walking backwards and waving goodbye. Wishing to treasure the image for the rest of his life.

The doors slid shut slowly. Too slowly. It took an eternity, but soon, they obscured his view of Ex_Cal bidding him a ’see ya,’ not a farewell… of Suzi on the verge of tears… of Angela waving, smiling… They closed and his Australian odyssey was over.

The finality struck him like a freight train. There was nothing to keep him from running back and staying forever. He had no desire for anything else ever in his life. He had to stay. He had to… but his legs did not move. He just stay, staring at the cruelly cold barrier. He did not move. He was fighting back tears that weren’t coming.

This time Pixel doesn’t die. He cannot. There is nothing left to lose. This time death does not come in physical form.

This time… in Australia… Pixel truly lived.

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nabµf #26 of 29

The day had come when Pixel would shave his head. It was his last day of classes, so he felt it was eerily appropriate.

He text messaged a few people, e-mailed a few, and told the rest to tell everyone else. By the time he was ready, he fully expected an army regiment to come by and give him a 21-gun salute.

He also fully expected half-digested pachyderms to come by and stomp on rabid grapes all over his sister’s new white dress.

He was an odd one, that Pixel.

He was so odd, he didn’t even have a sister!

He chattered away incessantly until about T-:30 minutes when people started showing up. Being a natural showman, he told everyone within earshot of the coming attraction.

Being also a natural coward, he kept hoping nobody would and saying that he couldn’t start without certain people. (”Trumpet Rob: he has the clippers.” “Liza: Trumpie said she was coming.”
“Bertrand Russell: this would be tops for him to see!”)

As more people came along and everyone began to press him for a show, he began running out of excuses and resigned himself to doing what he knew he had to.

He picked a spot where they would do the shaving, but Trumpet Rob disagreed,

“pull up your pants, Pixel.”

Then he picked another spot, but the jerks that were eating there refused to move. Finally, they moved down to the Atrium and began the shaving process.

Then Pixel died horribly from some sort of cut to the neck somehow.

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nabµf #2 of 29

Young Pixel waited in the dry, New Mexico heat for his first customer. He had a lemonade stand, which is a good idea.

Few people live in the desert, making it a bad idea.

Pixel was on a major highway, which was a good idea.

On major highways, few people stop to buy lemonade: bad idea.

Unless the road has been littered with caltrops some fifteen minutes ahead…

A young future version of Pixel skidded along the ground to a stop, screaming.

“Lemonade, sir?” Young Pixel offered.

“!!hctiB a fo nos uoY…  You realize those makibishi back there were so sharp they pierced the fourth dimension?” Regular-Aged Pixel demanded.

“What star nails? Never heard of them. What’re you talking about? Lemonade?”

“The jack rocks! I was minding my own business, trying to travel back in time to make you choke on your first breath when these– things stopped me and made me go flying.”

“Going flying in a time machine must have made you awful thirsty– Are you sure you wouldn’t like lemonade?”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Me from the future? Yeah, I pretty much gathered that. So– do I want some lemonade in the future?”

“What?”

“Lemonade? It’s water, sugar, and lemons served cold.”

“No, I’m saying– I wasn’t that smart when I was you. I never realised I was me until I became me”

“Get with the times, old man. You’re going to have to try pretty hard to impress me.”

Then Pixel spontaneously combusted.

“Well, okay then.”

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nabµf #10 of 29

Pixel looked up, a little jaded.73¤!¿ looked back, eager.

“Are you him?” Pixel inquired.

“You mean me?” 73¤!¿ countered.

“You realize that this is going to be an eternal recurrence?” Pixel said to his future self.

“A what?”

“An eternal recurrence. Eternal recurrence. Eternal recurrence. It’s a concept developed by the Egyptians that Nietzsche uses… Oh, just follow the link.”

“Eternal recurrence?”

“Eternal recurrence.”

“Eternal recurrence… hmm. No, I’ve never read Nietzsche.”

“What? Of course you have, you’re me!”

“I’m not you, I’m my own person! Just because I came back in time to see you doesn’t mean that I are you!”

“*Am you.”

“Am not!”

“Nevermind. You are wise in the ways of the pixatic method.”

“I taught myself.”

“You had the best teacher.”

“He knows.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to show it sometimes.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. So, why are you here?”

“I don’t know. Because I have to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, when I was you, you came back to talk to me. So now I have to do it too because you did and I’m afraid I’ll pop out of existence if we don’t.”

“Well, that blows.”

“Tell me about it, you’re a lot less fun than I imagined.”

“You know what? I don’t have to be a part of this. Eternal recurrence or not, I’m going to refuse to travel back in time. I’ll pop out of existence before I do.”

And 73¤!¿ did.

“Oh, F’ing A. You’d think I’d learn better than to end my own existence by now.”

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