They call him to complain about the loud neighbors partying until four in the morning, about the various cults that are seeming to crop up, those women in red, the men in blue, the people camping in tents on the street; they worry about their missing dogs and cats, their missing mothers; they tell him they don’t want to live anymore, ask him if he thinks this is real or a mass hallucination; they see aliens in the sky; they feel their skin turning to computer parts.
