June 4, 2019
Note: this piece was inspired by Reddit user RedDyeNumber4's brilliant comment on "Cuil Theory". Read about it here (warning: no HTTPS).
Let’s suppose that the quel is a unit of measurement, with one quel corresponding to one step removed from reality. For example, let’s take a simple situation: I throw you a football.
At one quel, I pull my arm back, ready to hurl a football through the air. But it is not a football. It is a brown leather shoe. This isn’t right. This was made for earth, not air. You wave your arms impatiently. I drop the shoe on the ground, just to my right.
At two quels, I throw the football, but you are not there. And neither is the football. It has disappeared. Was the football ever there? Were you ever there? I can’t recall. I look down and to my right. I see a small stone in the shape of a football.
At three quels, I kick a round ball with a black and white hexagonal pattern. I am not kicking it to you. I am not kicking it to anything. The round, inflated shell of rubber flies, floats at the speed of light, toward oblivion.
At four quels, a disappointed father shakes his head in shame. His son has been cut from the school football team. His son wants to cry; he wants to scream. But he cannot. Footballs don’t have mouths. You wave your arms at me from across the field. My foot hits hard and I feel a cheekbone crack. The football flies through the air and into your arms. The next morning, you awake in a blood-soaked bed with a deflated mass of rubber, plastic, and shattered bone in your hands.
Five quels. A father sobs, an empty football resting in his hands. He rises, but he is not standing. Just rising, moving up and forward. His anguish propels him in a parabolic motion over the horizon. You dart left, arrogantly believing that you can predict when and where he will land. But you are only half right. On your deathbed, you speak to a despairing father. Your father. Your football. He is holding your football. The one you played with when you were a child. The one that I once threw across a field and into your eager arms.