Jon Rafman and Tabor Robak
Monday, 7 February 2011
Work from BNJP.exe.
“After a rough week at work you contact an acquaintance who can get you Rhodopas M60A for a good price. The acquaintance gives you an eight-digit phone number that connects you to the shrill baud of a fax machine. Within a quarter-hour your phone rings, a low-toned voice verifies your address and credentials. When the delivery man shows up you buy two capsules of pure M60A, both sold in separate small manila envelopes. Sizing you up as inexperienced he gravely advises these pills can be snorted or distilled to make a tincture. Not wanting to waste them, or chance preparing them incorrectly, you break the capsules over your desk, where the vivid shade of blue aches to behold. You decide to take both of them. After using a library card to arrange the M60A into tidy lines you get up, pour a glass of water, turn on the old Sega Dreamcast, shut the blinds, and light a single candle. Seated at the desk, you place a makeshift straw, a discarded metro ticket, into your nostril. Inhaling deeply you feel the synthetic ultramarine powder flood up through your sinuses.
You try to stand up and feel immediately disoriented. After moment of darkness, you find yourself in a long blue monochrome hallway. As though in a trance, absorbed into the static blue all around you, swallowed like a ghost into its thick haze, you are no longer able to determine how much time has passed, how quickly it is passing, and how long you will be trapped here. . .” – extra extra