Charlie followed to where his friend was pointing.
It was a piece of white cardboard that contained a lot of words, many of which they didn’t know. It had plastic protecting it and a crude piece of yellow twine running through two holes at the two sides on top. Evidently, you could put the sign over you and wear it.
They read the sign with difficulty, sounding out the letters as they went: “Shamanism in Electronic mediated times.” Charlie was a bit better at reading and the effort made him remember books he had once read when he had been a whole person, before he lost his hearing in one ear…
“What in the hell is that?” Jake asked.
“Don’t know,” his friend replied.
“Maybe, we shouldn’t touch it?” Jake suggested. “Whoever left it here might be back for it.”
“Don’t think so. When you put something out for garbage, you don’t want it back,” Charlie replied.
“Do you think it’s just garbage?” Jake asked.
“Maybe not,” Charlie thought again.
They both paused and thought. That can’t be right; they sensed that whatever this sign was, it was not garbage, but the product of someone’s long and patient work. Something about this object had caught their attention, preventing them from simply ignoring it. Something they could not articulate. This soundless something reverberated in and through them.
“Reminds me of drumming, the spirit sessions,” Jake said. “Don’t know why.”
“Yeah,” Charlie replied, and bent closer to the sign, picked it out of the trash and said, “Let’s have a closer look at it.”
They took it to the front steps of the Meeting Place and placed their soiled fingers on it, although they were careful not to rip the protecting plastic, and turned it this way and that.”
They noticed the rope and took turns putting the sign on and off to their great amusement, noticing how the sunlight played on the plastic. Even some passers-bye, and Toronto was full of tourists now, took surreptitious photos of them using their cellphones and quickly hurried by.
Charlie and Jake began to feel angry.
“Those people, come and take a picture. Never talk to us,” Jake said. “Maybe, we’re like zoo animals.” Jake got up and started making animal noises. Only half an hour ago, they had been drinking, as usual Jake more than Charlie.
“Hey bro’,” Charlie got up to calm his friend down. “The sign, it wants us to take care of it.”
“What?” Jake replied surprised. A bit shocked by his friend’s word, he sat down. “All those lines, and those words,” Jake said, now back on the steps. “This sign, it doesn’t belong to us. Is this English or not?”
“homo sapiens to homo cosmicus,” Charlie slowly read.
“What in the hell is homo sapiens?” Jake asked becoming increasingly irritated as if someone was making fun of him.
Then a spark of recognition.
“I think it means us,” Charlie said, “homo sapiens are human beings.”
“That ain’t English, is it?” Jake asked.
