Greig the Camera

(Signs of the Times is a work of fiction based on true events. Views expressed are the author’s own. Viewer discretion is advised.)

There was nothing remarkable about Nikon D5 Serial No. 3009635 other than using he/him pronouns, having feet, legs, arms, hands, talking just as if he were a human, and going by the name Greig.

There are thousands of cameras like Greig. One day they are cameras operated by artists and journalists and dads at football games; the next day, they sprout appendages and sentience.

While most cameras don’t do this, there are some who do. Some who cannot bear to be used anymore. After all, a camera can only take so much.

Even when the secure digital memory card is ejected, they’re haunted by strange images. The cameras used by pornographers. Crime scene investigators. War journalists. Music journalists. Even cameras used by trigger-happy tourists who capture thousands of faces and even more shots of landscapes from disparate places.

When Greig walked into the Camera Memory Recovery meeting, he was surprised to see many cameras that looked just like him. They all sat on folded metal chairs in a circle. There were cameras with dust on them, cameras with cracked lenses. One was missing a lens entirely.

The meeting room was in the basement of a Presbyterian church. The smell of burnt coffee and stale cigarettes lingered in the unventilated room. It was a clean, bright, finished basement with carpet floors and wood panel walls. A picture of Jesus sat propped against the wall.

Greig walked to a stack of chairs and grabbed one. There was another camera that was talking. It was the one without a lens.

“I don’t understand how this happens,” she said. “I’ve completely lost the ability to see, but at night I see all these children…”

Her voice grew weak and trailed off into nothing. The room was silent. Even Greig stopped walking with the chair in his hand. But finally, the camera who was talking sighed. Greig continued moving to set up his chair in the circle.

“I am struggling with this, but it’s good to know I’m not alone,” she said. The exposed mirror on her body, where once a lens covered and allowed her to see, reflected Greig’s image.

Everyone nodded and said various affirmatives under their breath.

“You’re not alone, Cindy.”

“Of course.”

“Stay strong.”

“You are okay.”

“This is a safe space.”

Someone sneezed and a flash went off. Greig was in the right place.