by T.C. Eisele.
The homepage of ChatEntropy is surprisingly non-descript. All that’s there is the word “ChatEntropy” in a large, stylized font and “Enter” in a smaller typeface underneath.
When he clicks “Enter,” Marsh is presented with a pop-up box that asks him to type in a username.
After he types in the nickname “Seraph” and hits return, a new screen opens with a live video feed featuring an indigenous looking young man with straight, jet-black hair tied in a small bun at the top of his head. With full lips, an aristocratically curved nose, and deep, dark eyes like black olives, this young man looks like a character right out of a Mayan codex. Yet what is truly striking about his appearance, is that half of the young man’s face is tattooed to look like a skeleton.
As Marsh takes in this exotic and somewhat ghoulish looking face staring back at him, his eyes divert momentarily to notice a green button in the lower right corner of the screen marked “Next.”
Looking back again at the face on the screen, Marsh solemnly says, “hi,” and manages to squeeze out a polite smile.
The man responds with a grim, silent nod of his head.
“Do you visit this site often?” asks Marsh.
Without blinking, the man responds, “Má tin naátik.”
Not understanding what the young man just said, yet also not knowing what else to do, Marsh automatically continues in English. “I was wondering if I could ask you a question?”
Maintaining the blank, depthless stare of a lizard, the young man grimly shakes his head ‘no’ and then unceremoniously disappears and leaves Marsh looking at a blank screen.
After hitting “Next,” Marsh finds himself confronted by another man. This time it’s a rather Aryan looking dude with a tightly drawn, bony face that appears neither old nor young. He has very short, bleached hair, icy blue eyes, and a strange skin texture that catches the light as if it’s made of white velvet.
He initially stares at Marsh with a very creepy half-smile and then asks through perfect white teeth, “You seem lost my friend, how can I help?”
“I’m not lost, but I’m looking for someone who might be.”
“Of course. Tell me everything.”
“I’m looking for someone that calls himself Nameless. Have you ever come across anyone with that username?”
“Who are you to him?” asks the man.
“Nobody special. I just need to find him.”
“Nobody to a nameless person, sounds like you’re looking for the answer to a riddle.
“Are you the sort of person who can help me answer riddles?”
“Perhaps. Here’s one for you to think about. What is the most hazardous place in the universe?”
“Let me guess,” says Marsh, trying to project a sense of levity, “this site, and I should go back to where I’ve come from?”
“Oh no,” replies the man, who then emphasizes, “I is the most hazardous place in the universe.”
“You may be right,” says Marsh uncomfortably.
“I know I am. Would you like me to show you?”
“Maybe later,” says Marsh, “but for now you’ll have to excuse me.” He then quickly hits ‘Next’ and exits.
Marsh’s next chat buddy is an old black woman in a wheelchair. He knows this because the screen of her computer is tilted slightly toward the floor so he can see the curved tops of the chair’s wheels.
The woman’s head appears round and sturdy under a graying and nappy head of hair, while her aged, yellowing skin seems to drape on her like a dusty carpet.
Like his previous chat encounter, this woman also has a certain coldness in her eyes as she seems to be curled in her wheelchair like a cobra who is trying to hypnotize her prey.
“Hello there young man,” she says, in a crude sounding voice that holds an echo of some past debauchery in it.
“Hello,” replies Marsh, playing the polite young man he was raised to be.
“What brings you to this remote place,” says the woman.
“I’m trying to find someone.”
“A sweetheart?” she asks.
“No, a friend that I think is somewhere on this site.”
“What makes you think that? Why would they be in this place?”
“I don’t know. I’m only here because someone gave me the link.”
“What’s your name?” asks the woman.
“Seraph.”
“Oh, that’s not a real name. That’s just a nickname to hide behind. My name is Roberta Elder, what’s yours?”
“The person I’m looking for is called Nameless, does that ring a bell?”
“Tell me your name and I’ll try to remember.”
“I already have,” says Marsh. “Maybe I should go.”
“What’s your rush? I can show you a place where you can make lots of money. I even know where you can meet women, if you know what I mean.” Her face now suddenly takes on a lascivious and sadistic expression. “Just tell me your name,” she says, smiling like a hyena.
“Maybe another time,” says Marsh, as he clicks the ‘Next’ button.
To read more from “Chat Entropy,” find it at Hidden Hand Press, or on the Barnes and Nobel website.