Phylos in France. Courage in Belgium, Rozio in Malaysia, Fun in Australia. One click on Phylos.
Night] Hi, Phylos.
One click on Courage.
Night] Hi, Courage.
One click on Rozio, then Fun.
Night] Hi Rozio, how are you?
Night] Hi Fun, how are you?
A short pause, then the messages jostle one another.
Phylos] Hello, handsome!
Courage] I’ll get back to you!
Rozio] Hello, handsome!
Khan] Hi, I’m from Ireland, how are you?
Fun] Hello, sweetie. How are you? As you see, I’m pretty hard here. Got a guy. Man, you should see him!
He smiles, answers everyone, lingers over Fun’s image. The man displays himself without modesty. This Khan, a stranger. Not bad. He clicks the user-profile icon. Not bad, not bad, he thinks again. Blond, a good smile on his lips. Someone honest. So what is he doing here? One must always ask that question, keep things in perspective. Khan is surely lonely or desperately in need. His profile says he has an eight-year-old son. Rémi decides to answer him.
Night] Hello, from Canada.
As for Rozio, he always wants to make love to him. He never stops showering Rémi with the most flattering epithets, in the Asian fashion. Rémi often plays along, lets himself be desired, shows himself off, teases, then leaves. Courage is a friendly big teddy bear. Their exchanges are often very ordinary. Courage has lived with his boyfriend for twenty years. They have not made love in a long time. He compensates by coming online and offering his body. Phylos is an intellectual who has lived in Bordeaux for five years with his partner, a doctor.
Rémi removes the rest of his clothes. His correspondents immediately notice his naked hips. Comments fly. Rémi amuses himself by playing the prude before satisfying everyone’s eyes.
It is a game. Perhaps more of a drug. Always keep things in perspective. Khan has noticed the change too.
Khan] Got naked for me? I’m not in that mood.
Night] No need to be in the mood. I’m not either. It’s just too hot outside. Is that bothering you?
Khan] Of course not. LOL
Rémi likes the boy. LOL. Laughing Out Loud. Feelings exaggerate online; laughter is as cold as a neuron, emotions sensitive to the faintest echo.
At the top of the screen, the program displays a list of thousands of strangers online. One click on a name would reveal a little of their history, a few of their joys, or the litany of their wanderings. Their desires, of course. But those are almost too easy to discover. All one need do is appear naked and their skin grows moist as a fine, dense rain.
Different time zones, the same desire, a diaspora of outcasts and shy men. Handsome men and fat ones, the overexcited and the philosophers, old men who feast their eyes, young men awakening, wise men who take pleasure, young men who give it, closeted men who suffocate, exhibitionists coming up for air, masters and slaves, magnificent beasts and scrawny runts.
They all have the same idea in the back of their minds or coursing through the blood of their cocks: fucking, masturbation, release. Men, nothing but men appearing and disappearing in the cybernetic universe like insects snatched up by time and night. Each eventually finds either the skin he will never manage to touch or the means to fill a tissue before going to bed, leaving for work, returning to the marital bedroom, or dreaming of it. Everything is here. Humanity too, sincere and sensitive to the life-giving water that nourishes the forest of men.
He quickly attracts flies, as he puts it. He is secretly proud, even though what he most often catches in this cybernetic net are small, oily male fish, best released back into the Internet. He glances at his list of “friends,” his catch. Tell me what you fish for and I’ll tell you…
A badge lights up on the messaging icon. Rémi clicks the highlighted portrait. “Str8 messing around.” He does not know this guy, but the nickname alone tells him he is a curious heterosexual, a straight man, or someone deep in the closet. He is not in the mood to play mentor. He opens the message. The photo is explicit: the man shows only the area below his belt, one hand inside his pants. Nothing but Hi! for a message. Rémi opens the subscriber’s profile. It is empty. Closeted up to his ears. That’s it, Rémi thinks, dick around all you want… Str8 is ashamed. He hides, wants to come but does not quite know how. He probably has a girlfriend.
Four more badges light up almost immediately.
There are too many people. Even in silence, it all makes too much noise. Rémi says goodbye to his friends and promises Khan he will return one day. Khan sends him a friendly kiss by typing Don’t worry.