Two Realities Become One: Immersive Audio
Script for Soundcloud file.
[Quiet room]
 For an instance, consider two realities.
 [beeping sound that intensifies]
 Two realities just as likely as the other.
 [Bird sanctuary; birds noises]
 Thereâs a bench at Waterfront Park, in memory of Dr. Ronald J. Silvers. You canât miss this one. It faces the beach of Okanagan Lake with signed graffiti tagged I Luv Destiny. Weâll start here. Sit down. Admire the view.
 In the summer, the pathway is busy and the beachfront littered with families and joggers and people out walking their dog. The water is a tad chilly, but the sand is warm âdig your toes intoâ warm and if you can avoid the crowds and the odour that tends to accompany every music festival, then bring a book.
 But in the winter, the spray off the water leaves the air chilled âwalkers huddled together under dark coats with hats that hide the exposed skin of their necks. On this particular day, a balmy February 17th, the sky is a miserable shade of gray. Only cracks in the lining let in any warmth, most of it stolen by the wind. Ducks descend upon the water, dipping their heads below the surface for food while a lone seagulls scavenges the sand, freshly exposed from melted snow.
 I detest the winter months in Kelowna. I hop from one heated space to another, hurrying myself along, boots dragging along the sandy pavement. John on the other hand⌠he loves it. Likes the quiet. Always says it keeps the wusses away âthe fair-weather fans of a city absent during the tougher months.
 Our house is not far from this park. When we were younger, weâd head out on clear mornings, breakfast rolls packed in a paper bag with a shared thermos of coffee between us, and do a loop of the trail before work. If the path was deserted, usually in the colder months, heâd step over the low-lying gates, past the âNo Trespassingâ signs, and down to the water. Crouched with his corduroys just scraping over the dirt, heâd stack up rocks by the shore into little inuksuks.
 âWe have a twenty five year old male who was found in Okanagan lake. He was walking across the rocks near the shore and fell into the water, hitting his head on the way down. He was found early morning by his girlfriend. He is extremely cold to all extremities. His temperature is 34.5 and blood pressure is 90 over 50. Heart rate is 45, respirate is at eleven, and oxygen is 96%. He is unresponsive with a sluggish pupil response and going into hypovolemic shock. We started a peripheral IV to his right arm. A number twenty gauge with normal saline running. He is covered in several warm blankets and he has a history of asthma.â
 Stand up and turn to the left. Weâre going to walk back in the direction of my house-
 [kitchen sounds⌠clock soundsâŚpaper turning]
 -Follow the sound of my footsteps as they pick up, almost to a jog.
 [hospital footsteps ( 3:50 to ding at 3:28]
 Weâre going to take the first left here down the gravel path. Thereâs a pair of benches at the very end âweâll head there. Notice the gr owing sound of bird songs.
 And the ducks wading through the small inlet to the right.
 You can see the banks of West Kelowna just across the lake from here. When John and I first moved here, he worked on the West side for a logging company while I taught in town. Iâd come home on weekdays and watch the bridgeâs lift span rise for boats from the kitchen window.
 âKeep your eyes peeled for me,â heâd tell me during our mornings walks. Heâd point across the water, his finger following the flow of commuters, and focus real hard like he could see every individual in the distance.  âAlways keep me in your sights,â he would whisper.
 Now, sit down on Bobâs bench, facing the water.
 Spot the cars travelling down towards the new bridge. Can you see the people inside? The family of five traveling through on vacation. The dad with his three kids in the back of his grey crossover, going to swim practice. Two teenage girls with their N, making use of endless free-time, and the nursing student heading back to the hospital for another shift.
 [hospital recording: 21:36-21:20]
 What about the ambulance streaming past them?
 Heâs stable right now
 Maybe you should head home or get something to eat.
 Does he have any family we can contact?
 John and I met in high school. We lived in Grand Cache, a small town in northern Alberta near the border of BC. Our mothers were close, working together at the same ad agency in town since before we were born.
 There wasnât a whole lot of work up there besides oil. Johnâs dad would leave for weeks at a time with the others, heading east for work. Our families got to know the foreman of the site real well. Heâd bring back some of the crew in the truck at the end of the month, with Johnâs dad usually passed out drunk in the cab. Eventually the work was too much for him and he moved south. Johnâs mother told him it was the weather, said his dad couldnât handle the cold like they could. She found it ironic, considering how thick he could be.
 [other hospital sounds]
 What reality do we exist in?
 Turn around in your seat and spot the greying wooden boards of the zig zag bridge over that inlet. Do you see John standing against the rail? Is he there?
 As people, we only exist in one. We only experience the consequences of events once. We make choices and see how those around us decide to react. At this moment in time, there is only one stream of events that will ever take place, one timeline that will diverge and converge in on itself, a mingling of lives.
 The two realities cannot both be: the same man standing on a bridge, leaning over the still water, while a bench sitting nearby, with mud splashed up against its legs, is dedicated in his memory.
