I heard the Machine call my Name

On nights when I am unable to sleep, I find myself going down into the basement, to the “time machine”.

Most nights, I just sit and watch, looking for some blinking light, listening for a sound.

Last night, for the first time I put my left ear to the sealed compartment, hands on either side of my head and closed my eyes.

I don’t know what I was hoping for, but amid the humming and subtle vibration reverberating through the metal, I heard sing-song voices, much like those of children playing in back gardens somewhere in the suburb, in late afternoon light that filters down through the trees.

I listened until, through the almost imperceptible sounds, I heard my name:

Gentlemen!

Soft and whispered.

At first I though it was my imagination, but I heard it again, this time, more certain, more audible.

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