text: I believe reality is relative, especially when what you see from behind a screen is designed, produced, and created by someone else. Our visitors come searching for the real world, a place where the sun shines, and they can touch the reality around them. We were going to give it to him, though he won't like what he’s going to get. Sally and I sat in our usual spot, the weight of the slow summer afternoon heavy on our shoulders, almost forgetting we had a job to do, when he finally stepped off the train. Long and thin, his hooded sweatshirt hung loose over tight jeans, his shoes so white they were hard to look at. Not that Sally and I looked up. He would find us we knew, eventually. “Hello?” The man said, a smirk on his bearded face, a black rectangular bag rolling behind him. His hands danced around him, a constant blur of touching, his fingers rubbing his flat front pocket. Long practiced at sitting, we didn’t move. Just a middle aged man and woman in overalls and flannel shirts, we weren’t much to look at, and on the wooden bench, in that rattling old train station we fit as if we had been carved from the same tree as the bench. “So this is Stillwater?” The man’s feet moved, a step backward, his hand on the bag’s tall handle, opened and then closed over it, adjusting its placement next to him. He cleared his throat. “My name’s Zach, I was supposed to meet someone? ” The words, crisp and sharp, bounced around the faded wood walls of the waiting room, before falling to the floor unanswered. “I had an appointment. Zach?” His anxiety ,that something went wrong, pulsed as palpable as the throbbing at his neck. “Um, Yes.” The word left my lips with a puff of air, almost a breath. Sally, next to me on the bench of the Stillwater train station nodded her head, finally acknowledging him. Zach smiled, looking around. “I can’t believe this place. You both are just perfect. Just like the TikTok reels. ” He breathed in, and then out. “Smells like peace, and nature! No notifications, no calls, not even texts. This is going to be the best weekend of my life. Let’s go!” We lived in Stillwater, a spot on the map where a quirk of geography, an accumulation of elements, reached up creating a dome of magnetic resonance to disrupt compasses, fry most electronics, and block cell phone signals. Mountains surrounding the valley kept the weather fair, windless on most days, and even more so today, when the air sat thick and stagnant, and even the smallest insects stayed home. We stood up and stepped outside. Zach paused at the curb, his head twisting up and down the empty street. His frown only lasted a moment before his face cracked into a grin. “We’re getting our steps in!” He said, stepping forward, the rolling bag clicking on the rough and cracked street. “Only way to get around.” I said, not looking back. We passed gaping doors and empty windows of store after store. Stillwater had a thriving main street once, but now the toothless smile of a dying man. For some people this had a certain appeal, a place where the rush of commerce and modern technology had passed by, skipping over Stillwater like a spinning rock on a pond. The golden hue of nostalgia had turned the neglected buildings into ‘old timey', our lifestyle ‘vintage’, the broken furniture into ‘antiques’. Visitors from these big cities came to experience what life could be like if they could just be still. They talked about ‘modern technology’ in grand words, wide eyes, and dramatic gestures. But underneath they were searching for something real. Burned out trying to keep up with their neighbors, they wanted the promised dream, but didn’t want to pay the price of running on the wheel of commerce like a rat in a cage. In Stillwater nothing happened and for some, that had value. They stopped outside the old hotel, and Sally gestured for Zach to continue in. Sally joined me at the bench outside the door, watching the empty street, motionless as a photo. “Think he’ll make it? ” I asked her. She kicked the wood of the hotel porch with her boot. “Doubt it. But he’s cute, so...” Only a few minutes later Zach appeared at our side again, a bright sparkle in his eyes. “That's a tiny room! So, what do you all do for fun around here?” He said, bouncing on his toes. Sally nudged me with her elbow as she stood up, and we continued down the street. Sally and I did what we could to get by, lately playing tour guide to these lost souls, our once promising careers crashed into evils of capitalism. Years ago an entrepreneur had taken advantage of the nearby lake and the deep deposits of iron ore to build a thriving factory town. But a leveraged buyout, and the collapse of the only jobs in town drove the businesses and most of the people out to find a life in bigger, busier cities. Not too many of us stayed, and I have to say I liked it. We walked down the small path toward the rocky shore of Lake Stillwater. Sally and I pulled over to our favorite spot overlooking the lake, the high mountains just beyond. “It's so nice to just sit!” Zach said, standing at the edge of the lake. He picked up a rock and threw it, an awkward parabola curling into the water. It landed with a soft splash and then was gone, not even a ripple in its wake. “I can't believe this place really exists. He tapped his empty pocket again, and then rubbed his hand down his thigh. “A video of this, the post would get a hundred likes, a thousand. If I hadn’t deleted TikTok....” Zach spoke more to himself than us. “But, someone must’ve taken a video. I saw this exact scene on a TikTok reel. ‘A place to get away’!’’” Zach spoke, light and high pitched. “I wonder how...” “An old camcorder.” I said, with only a hint of pride. “That’s how I heard about this Town.” Zach nodded over his shoulder to us, another rock launched into the water. “This was the right decision, I needed a break, I was losing my mind. Just jittery all the time, always on a screen.” “I had to leave my phone, can you believe that? I mean I knew they would, there were warnings. And it wouldn't have worked anyway, I guess. But I didn't believe it. How can people live without a phone?” Zach turned, a sheepish grin. “I guess you do, but you don’t need it, don’t even want one do you? I mean you live here, with fresh air and... I haven’t been this long without my phone since-” He tapped his pocket once more. “Well, a long time.” “OK then.” Zach turned, hands on his hips looking back at us. “Is there a hike around the lake, or something?” I looked up, confused. “Hike?” “You know, a hike, a walk, around.” He gestured, spinning his arm in a wide, flat circle toward the lake. I usually go to Golden Gate Park. OK, I follow a TikTok'er who goes to Golden Gate Park, and I go, well sometimes." Zach made a full turn, his arms wide. “Nature! This is my chance right? To experience the natural world, to see new plants, animals...” “We walked here.” I shrugged, and then put my head back down. The sand didn’t stir. The leaves on the trees didn’t tremble, but lingered, limp in the dry heat; no breeze drifted in to cool our brows. Stillwater lake lay flat, a glass reflection of the hot, desiccated sky above. “OK, no hike.” Zach sat down next to us. “I can do this, just relax, a beautiful lake. We can just talk, like a group text, but IRL.” Zach’s hands were flying around again, touching his knees, his shoes, itching at his close cropped beard. In a sudden motion he stopped his hands, carefully folding them together. “Mr. BetterLife, the therapist App I use, texted me to just breathe, and to listen.” He breathed in, then out, a long slow breath. “So, are you both from here, or-?” Zach looked over expectantly. I’m always amazed at the power of silence, the space that slowly opens up when a person expects an answer and it doesn't come. I watched to see how Zach would do. After a moment, I could see him settle in, his face went slack preparing himself to wait us out for a response. Zach, just an amateur at this game, of course had no chance. Working with the visitors, I’ve learned there are stages to how silence impacts these technology addicts. It started with an itch. I saw Zach begin to move around, a slight irritation in his shirt had to be adjusted, something on his nose, and a rock pulled out from underneath him. Then it becomes a need, an urgency to see if his ears still worked, his mind demanding some sound to fill the silence. Zach kicked a rock, then smirked at the click- clack as it bounced off another rock. A pistol shot of a cough, once then twice. Finally it became too much, the wide open silence needed to be filled, a yawning, open crater that threatened to swallow him whole. His face began to change, tightening, fear creeping in as his eyes darted at the nothingness threatening him. “-I’m from Wisconsin originally-” Zach gave in finally, his voice loud and sharp, a sword against the monstrous quiet. “After college I moved to San Francisco for a tech job, UI work at first, user interface.” Zach turned to see if we understood. I stared back, blank and confused. “Now I work from home, backend software coding, for an online dating site.” Zach’s chest puffed out, a smile on his face. “You’ve probably heard of it...” His smile faded. “Ok, maybe you haven't heard of it." He picked up a rock and dropped it. “I actually spend most of my time on TikTok. I never leave the house, I don’t have any friends. That’s why I’m here...” He dried his cheeks with his palms. “Maybe we should move on to lunch.” Zach stood, brushing his pants, dust falling straight down onto his now dirt-brown shoes. He took long strides along the rocks. “Like a 'greasy spoon' restaurant or maybe a chuck wagon?” He laughed, a few short chuckles until the sound faded to nothing in the dead air. “There’s a diner.” I said. “It serves both hot dogs, and hamburgers.” Zach stepped back, his hands at his throat. “But I’m vegan. “I read there are vegan options?” I turned to Sally, confused. “Potatoes.” Sally said. “Baked, or boiled?” Her head tilted in a question. “My god.” Zach put both hands on his head. “You know, there is a great world out there. His long arm gestured to the horizon. “I could take you to where there is real food, where there are, movies, social media, and cars!” “OK, let me explain so you can understand.” Zach got onto one knee, proselytizing; his face bright red, eyes blazing coals. “These cars, metal beasts that roam the cities, can drive you places, you don’t have to walk everywhere! And phones- technology in little boxes that display images, you can make calls, text your friends. Take photos! There is an opportunity for you two to make something of yourselves, to get a job like mine, a software engineer! I can show you, and if you don’t like it I can bring you back. What do you think?” Sally and I stared back, open-mouthed at this outburst. “I can't live like this!” Zach shouted. “Nothing happens! You sit, and eat -potatoes, and then sit again!” Zach turned. “I got to go, I can't take another minute-” I tilted my head, a train whistle in the distance. “ A train leaves soon, you might make it if you go straight there.” Sally said. Zach stepped toward the road, and then turned back. “My bag,” his hands out, pleading. “Can you FedEx it?” “fedecks?” I gave him a blank stare. “Oh goddamn it, I'm done. I need to get back to reality, and people and TikTok.” The train whistled again, louder, closer. Zach took off in a full sprint. Sally looked at me and nodded. We turned back to the lake, a comfortable silence until we heard the train leave, taking Zach back home. I pulled out my satellite phone, and tapped a few buttons. “They should pay a bonus if they don’t last the day.” I said. Sally nodded. “ I got dibs on his bag. “on the last one, I made a fortune selling the clothes on Depop and Ebay. People will buy anything.” Sally gave me a wide smile. Hungry? “ I asked. “I’m thinking Sushi. TikTok is buying!” I held up my phone as we began walking back down the path. I stripped down to my Nike t- shirt and Lululemon shorts. “I hate flannel, so itchy. The visitors are getting more and more desperate. It’s sad really, they can’t handle reality. “ “Reality?” Sally smirked, pulling out her own phone from her overalls. “I’ll get the Uber.”