0.4

I stopped playing with the phone after that. It suddenly scared me.

I never told anyone what I thought I had heard.

A single word.

It sounded like: remember .

Analogue equipment, analogue people.

When I heard the Kyle Straker tapes for the first time, I found myself thinking about the telephone again. That solitary word: remember . Kyle and Lilly begging: remember us.

Analogue ghost voices from analogue equipment.

The 0.4.

The world-that-once-was which, if Kyle is to be believed, is mere centimetres away from us, separated only by a perceptual filter that weeds out their data and screens it from our senses.

I remembered the telephone and shuddered.

And that is the reason for this book.

I wanted it out there in the world in a form that the 0.4 – if they really exist – could access too.

Analogue text for analogue people.

If you are reading this, even though the world moved on and left you behind; if you feel like ghosts haunting this brave new world of ours; if everyone you knew and loved has forgotten you, then I offer this volume as our reply.

I have called it 0.4 , so that you will know it is about you.

Proof.

We.

Remember.

You.

Mike A. Lancaster,

Editor

Mike Lancaster

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