"You mean you are writing about us?" says Carl. "You mean, that you write down everything that has happened here, after it's happened?"
"No", says Aaron, "I am writing about you while it all happens."
"Huh?" says Carl.
"Right now", says Aaron, "I am really seated in front of my laptop inside my little subsidised apartment in Downtown Vancouver, writing all of what we are doing right ow. I am your author. You are all my characters. You are all my creation."
We are now enfolded all of us in one awkward and very uncomfortable silence. I think we are all collectively afraid that Aaron just might be telling the truth. That we are but a parallel universe he uas been summoning into existence.
Tommy arrives balancing in his able and nimble hands five plates of pie, four apple, two with ice cream and one lemon meringue. The lemon meringue is for Aaron.
"Aaron", says Sarah, whose apple pie is adorned with a fat white scoop of vanilla ice cream (Tell us this isn't true? please?"
"I suppose I could lie. But let me assure all of you, I have not merely invented you. I have simply called you into existence. And really, you all have always had existence, and now I just happen to be visiting you in your parallel universe."
"So, tell us something we don't already know", says Carl, scooping both ice cream and pie into his mouth.
Tommy returns with a full pot of coffee in one hand, and a tray balancing five pristinely white coffee mugs in the other...
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