Where am I?
Who said that?
I did. Who are you?
Keep talking, I’m following your voice.
I don’t see anything. Are you coming?
Yes, keep talking.
About what?
Well who are you?
I’m… Well, now I’m not too sure. I think I’m a triangle.
Do you have a name?
Call me Trig.
Keep talking, Trig. You’re getting louder.
Who are you then? I’ve told you my name.
My name? Oh God – what was that?
What?
I felt something.
You okay?
Yeah, it scared me is all.
What’s your name?
My name is Pill.
Do you know where we are, Pill?
Almost there.
What?
Almost there, you’re much louder now.
I think I see you. You said Pill, right?
Yeah. Pill. And you’re Trig.
Trig, yeah. I think I can see you, too.
There you are.
Finally.
You weren’t lying, you’re a triangle.
I mean, I feel like a triangle. And you’re a pill. A white pill.
You look blue.
Yeah?
Pretty sure that’s blue.
Okay.
Well, it’s nice to meet you Trig.
Yeah. So, where are we?
I’m not sure, it’s quite dark, isn’t it.
It’s all dark.
Thickly dark.
You’re a pill.
Yeah.
What kind of pill?
Why?
Why what?
Why do you want to know what kind of pill I am?
Just wondering.
Well, what kind of triangle are you?
Any kind, I think. I can change my angles. See?
I see.
So what kind of pill are you then?
Acetaminophen.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Well, neat. I’ve never met an acetaminophen pill before.
I can be other pills, too.
Not just acetaminophen?
Not just acetaminophen.
Like what then?
I don’t know. Any pill, I guess. Any medication.
Can you be a drug?
Like what drug?
I don’t know, any drugs. Can you be, uhhh, like, I don’t want you to judge me.
I won’t judge you. What drug?
Like, 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine?
I think so, but I’ve never tried.
You’ve never tried?
No.
What about Valium?
Probably.
You think you’ll try one day?
Why?
I thought you said you wouldn’t judge me.
I’m not, I’m just asking.
Yeah, I guess.
Okay.
Do you remember how you got here?
No, I think it just appeared.
Think it appeared?
I think I appeared.
Out of nothing.
Yeah. What do you think?
I was thinking the same thing. I just appeared. Out of the thick black.
What’s the earliest thing you remember?
Well, I remember hearing you.
Before that.
Before that? I remember… I don’t know, let me think…
Were you always a triangle?
Well…
You weren’t.
No, I wasn’t. I was a line once, but I don’t quite remember it. I don’t remember being a line. Like, it feels like a dream.
What about before that?
Before a line?
Yeah.
Like a dot?
Maybe.
A single point?
Okay, yeah. A single point.
No. No one remembers being a single point. Being a line, a little. Being a point, no.
Interesting.
How so?
Well, first you were a point, then you were a line, then you became a triangle. It’s interesting is all. You’re adding sides. Points, rather. One point, two points with a line, three points and you’re a triangle.
And I’ll always be a triangle.
Will you?
Always.
How can you be so sure? What if another point is added to you? Then you’d be a square or a rectangle: a quadrilateral.
First off, I feel like a triangle. And I am a triangle, so that checks.
But let’s say that this process of adding points continues. Until you have ten, a hundred, a hundred thousand, a million, or more points. Until you have an infinite amount of points.
Okay.
Then you’d be a circle. A perfect circle.
I could be an oval.
Yeah, but you get my point, right?
Yeah…
But what?
I just feel like a triangle is all.
Okay.
Pill?
Yeah?
I have a headache. Can I have some of your acetaminophen?
Yeah, of course you can. I’m sorry – did I give you a headache? All my questioning, was it?
No. I don’t know. Maybe. Yeah.
Here you go.
Thank you.
Can you turn into codeine?
Not for this. Acetaminophen is fine for now. Give it a bit.
What if I broke my, like, edge? If I fractured a line or vertex? Could you turn into morphine?
Yeah.
Opium?
Yeah.
Heroin?
Where’s this going?
• • •
To read the rest of this review — and more by Steve Schmolaris — visit his website Bad Gardening Advice.
• • •
Steve Schmolaris is the founder of the Schmolaris Prize, “the most prestigious prize in all of Manitoba,” which he first awarded in 1977. Each year, he awards the prize to the best album of the year. He does not have a profession but, having come from money (his father, “the Millionaire of East Schmelkirk,” left him his fortune when he died in 1977), Steve is a patron of the arts. Inspired by the exquisite detail of a holotype, the collective intelligence of slime mold, the natural world and the suffering inherent within it — and also music (fuck, he loves music!) — Steve has long been writing reviews of Winnipeg artists’ songs and albums at his website Bad Gardening Advice, leading to the publication of a book of the same name.
