December 29, 2023: Final entry

I am Ideal. I have reached 102 years of age, but now my time has come. Tonight, I’m dying. For the very last time before my death, people visit me. For the last time, I’m full of life. But this night is different. Some of them are filming professionally, interviewing some of my lifelong caretakers. They even put a drone through me, it felt as if they are cutting me open for an autopsy. Others keep observing and filming me with their phones close to their faces, trying to hide their teary eyes. But they seem confused. They don’t know if they are celebrating the memories they have of me, or if they’re mourning my loss. There are political reasons that led to my death, but as one of my caretakers said, tonight is no time for that. Tonight is time to reflect.

 

So, as always, they switched off my houselights, and set my heart to 24 beats per second – the “ideal” frequency, get it? The frequency of illusion. And I did the same as every time; I let my heart pump a stream of images for them. I took them back in time. But, to my surprise, tonight’s projection took me back in time too. As I was projecting for them, they projected back on me; their collective memories of the billions of frames I’ve projected in my lifetime.

 

Even though I did what I always do, this time felt different. You see, usually, people watch my projections and then they leave, sometimes happy, sometimes moved, sometimes cursing at how they wasted their money on me. The reactions usually don’t affect me. Or so I thought, until tonight. Tonight, all of their emotions from my projection felt like they were somehow… about me! As if each of their reactions was being aimed to my direction. To the paintings on my walls, my curtains, my doors, my hall, my lights… And to my people too, who were being interviewed and then introduced on stage, to talk about me! And they, themselves, were filled with emotions, of love, of anger, of sadness for having to part with me. And for the first time ever, it occurred to me that every single person I have been casually witnessing for over 100 years, has affected me more than I ever realised. Their reactions and feelings, which I was only experiencing as mundane, fleeting moments, are now my purest, most valuable memories, blended inseparably with those of every film I’ve ever projected. They are fossils on my walls, traces on my floor, shaping me into what I am. As I write this final entry, my mind goes back to all those who came inside me, who received all the light I projected for them. People I was glossing over, as I was merely living my life, doing what I was built to do. Now, I feel haunted by their ghostly traces.

 

Hours after my final projection is finished, few of them still refuse to leave. Some are dazed, taking their final photos of me, some are chatting, and that ever-persistent guy is hiding around, always filming me until they call him out, so they lock my doors and put me to sleep. I remember him, he was a regular for the last ten years or so. I’m not sure what he was trying to do. I think he just couldn’t let go. Maybe he felt like he owed me something, though I am not sure what that could be. Besides, my heart beats for everyone equally; I suppose that is the whole point of my existence. And so I’m thinking, this is the end. This is when I say goodbye to this world. But just before I do, my mind lapses to a few days back, when my family and a few other people were building my tombstone, with tears in their eyes. On my tombstone, they referred to my death as “reconstruction”, thanking everyone for their support. I thought, “how hopeful of them!” They tried so hard to save me, to no avail, and yet still believe I might come back. Or, they love me so much that they are struggling to accept my loss? Who knows…

 

After my doors are shut, this world will continue. Life will continue without me. I, as “Ideal”, am replaceable too. We are all products of our time, but I’m sure something else will take over my work. Tonight was enough for me to know that I won’t be forgotten. I like to believe that I will become someone else’s projection, too. And so I am okay to go.