What He Had to Share

He stood on the street corner. The device slung around his shoulders was not a guitar. He pushed a button, and it began to hum. He spun a finger around one of the discs, and his fifth birthday party flickered into view. A button brought up the last thing his wife had said to him before she shut the door behind her. A slider modulated the loop of the way he would one day die. His life cycled, chattered, and sang in harmonic layers, ghosts of the past and future, his life remixed.

Around him, the pedestrians strode briskly past.