Remembering Route Zero
A Kentucky Route Zero Fanzine By Cynan Junebug Orton
It’s not quite the first thing I do. I talk to a dog. Three options present themselves: Homer, Blue, or some Old Hound. Seems wrong to leave a dog without a name So I have to choose between them Blue and Homer. Problem is I don’t know yet if I’m ready for the weight a name like Homer Brings. Its big and intertextual. Is this dog part of an odyssey, Or some overweight power technician? And was that guy (that jaundiced safety tech) Was he some classic reference to? Is it a reference at all? (In either case) It’s a pile of pointless questions and not the kind that I can answer. So I just give up on that tangled line of logic and instead recall the cobalt plume of a disregarded spouse. I call her Blue.
I
Visage is a 1984 work by the artist Lula Chamberlain. It is a tornado of loose paper hurled about by unseen forces conjured from teletype terminals and a PDP tape cabinet. Despite these elements visibility Chamberlain choses to obscure the piece by labelling its form as an “Unknown Media”. This can be read as an investigation of nostalgia. From our contemporary vantage these artefacts are incredibly dated. Younger members of the public will have difficulty looking up the tech as the brands are obscured by the whirlwind of paper. This Visage is one lost to time. The work face of computers long forgotten. It is not just computational work that is forgotten though. Visage along with many other Chamberlain works are collaborative. Made possible by a team of technicians led by Elliott, Kemenczy, and Babbit. These names are rarely publicised with the works allowing Chamberlain an uncontested stage despite existing largely as a figurehead. It is not unusual or necessarily a bad idea for creative teams to elect a figurehead, but we mustn’t undervalue the importance of behind the scenes labour. Visage is perhaps a perfect demonstration of this. In haunting profile we see the artists façade and beneath it the unknown, maybe even forgotten, workers that make it possible.
II
The creatures here, at least, are not hostile To things that are not fish or paperwork They turn to me, distracted from their files All bar these two romantic office clerks They see no light through yonder balcony Not a subterranean sun nor moon has followed the proper formalities Star-lost lovers must listen for a tune A tune that can’t be played so readily For there’s a conference to be traversed Blocked by the suits that loath a melody This recital was never rehearsed Twice, on a hotline, I get to hear him play But as for those two bears? In silence they stay
III
“I am not complicit” I say, As I click and load the game, And make him walk, And make him talk, And watch his leg get maimed. “I had no hand in building this” I say, As we both get the tour, see burning crates Get filed, And filled With deals unwilled That a drunkard wont debate Now the whisky has being poured “I didn’t press a thing!” I say, As his lips begin to part. “I am not to blame for this”, I say, But I was lying from the start.
IV
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~~ ~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~ I lose names ~~~ ~~*~~~~~~~~~ ~~ ~ ~~~ In this water ~~ ~~*~~~ ~~~ ~*~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~ I know lula ~~~~~~ ~~*~~~~~ Who might be lola ~~~~~##~~~ * ~~ {Who might be} ~ or three ~~ * ~* In a museum ~~~~~~ ~~ ~~~~~~ ~~ Looking back on a career ~~ ~* ~~~*~~ ~~~~~~~~~~ * ~ A vicious cycle ~~*~ ~~ *# Eddies of forgetting ~~~~ ~~ ~~ ~* Swirling around like ~~ tire wheels ~* A name I like, ~~ ~~ ~ *~~~ ~~###*~ ~*###~ A name I like a lot, ~~~ ~~ ~~~*~ A name I think I’ll take ~~*~ ~~ ~~ ~~~~ Wear it for myself ~~~ ~ * ~~~*######~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~~*#~ ~~ ~~*###~~ ~*~~ Sharron ~ ~~ ~~~~ ~~(Or Charon)~ ~~ No, not that obvious ~ ~*#~ Shannon. ~*#~##~ ~~~~ ~~ She both is (and isn’t) ~ ~ *####~~ The boatman. ~*###*#~~~ ~~~~ *####~~~~~~~*#######*####*~ ~~~~ *##*~ ~#*~ ##*~ ~*~ ~~ * The deptor, ~~ ~#~ The drunk,~*~*##~~ ~~##~*~~~~ The driver, ~~*####~~~ ~##~*~~~~ He takes a swim as he, ~~~*##~ *~ *~~*~~~######~~*~##~ ~~ but not we, ~*####~~~*# ###~ Forget ~~ ~~##~~*~~##~~ ~~ ~~~~###*####~## #~####~~#####~~~ ~~~######~*~~*~~~~~~*~~###~~*# ~~ The doctor told him not to get it wet. ~*#~~ *###########*####~~###~*~~######~*~~#######~~~#
V
Run Prerequisites > Robert Frost’s “The Death of the Hired Man” > A tape recorder > A cassette > A stopwatch Route 0: Insert cassette into tape recorder 1: Start recording 2: Read “The Death of the Hired Man” 3: Stop recording 4: Rewind tape and relisten 5: Use stopwatch to confirm run time
Notes The poem The poem The poem The poem
does does does must
not need to be read aloud. not need to be played at normal speed. not need to be read in English. loop forever
VI
00: 01: 02: 03: 04: 05: 06: 07: 08: 09: 10: 11: 12: 13: 14: 15: 16: 17: 18: 19: 20: 21: 22: 23: 24: 25: 26: 27: 28: 29: 30: 31: 32: 33:
The fondest memory I have of the game was about an hour after I finished act five. After I walked past A sandstone gate A horse’s paddock An algae pool And a Visage ( wrought in dying bark this time ) And Arrived at the bench on the hill. I sat reflecting, listening, ( To all the songs i missed ) I did it willingly: ( I pressed the key, Let a spider sing to me, In a town made up of the storm’s debris, That whisper from a broken screen, That the dept is paid, That we are free, That we’re done with our delivery, But there’s no way home that I can see, ) I watch the moon drift steadily for seven minutes over the course of seven days, months, or years. A screen flickers and it resets. These times are unprecedented. I don’t yet know what happens next.
VII