"This is an automatically generated dilivery status notification. The recipient can no longer receive mail..."
  [bad word] one, Leo! It's been half a year! Hello? Hello??
Ah! reply!
"This is an automatically generated diliver..."
Oh, Leo, will this never stop?
 
We present, Every Seventh Wave, by Daniel Glattauer, adapted for radio by Eileen Horne.
 
Good morning, Mr. Systems Manager, I'm going to be honest with you. This is an emergency. I need the Email of Leo Leike and I need it badly. I have three questions I urgently need to ask him. One, is he a live? Two, is he still in Boston? Three, is he involved in an Email relationship with someone else. If one and two are yes, I can forgive him. But I could never forgive number three. I really would mind very much if he had fallen in love by Email with another woman he had never set eyes on. Anything but that please! This has to be an once-in-a-life-time thing. Now go on Mr. Systems Manager, be a devil, and pass on my message to Leo Leike, tell him it's about time he got in touch.
 
"This is an automatically generated dilivery status notification. The recipient can no longer receive mail..."
 
Subject: Message for L. Leike
Hi, Leo. Are there new tenants in your flat? In case you are still in Boston I think I should warn you, don't be surprised if you get a massive electricity bill for this last year. I happened to be passing and I've noticed that they leave the lights on all night long.
Yours sincerely,
Emmi
 
Hello? Yoohoo? Mr. Systems Manager where are you? Don't I get my notification? Should I be worried, or can I be hopeful?
 
Dear Emmi,
It is me using the electricity. I just got back from Boston. What I'd like to say, Emmi, is...well, everything I think  was making sense but now...The best I can do for tonight is this, I hope you are at least twice as well as I am. I do.
Leo.
 
So, Leo, you get back from Boston, you sirp(?) your nice Systems Manager, open Outlook, and oh, what do you know? There's an Email from some woman called Emmi Rothner. The name is vaguely familiar. Ah yes, wasn't she the one you practically wrote into bed, like some kind of ace rat-catcher of the cyberworld? You very nearly had her, too. But then reason got the better of her and she never turned up. Many months go by, both the woman and the [bad word] are long forgotten, and then she gets in touch, out of the blue. And all you can do is "hope she's well"? I am not impressed. But don't let it bother you, really. I don't want to be a burden.
Yours,
Emmi
ps. Please send me your nice Systems Manager again. I think I prefer him.
 
I knew I shouldn't have written back. Dear Emmi, YOU COULD NEVER BE BURDEN TO ME. You are a part of me. I carry you around with me always, across all continents and emotional landscapes, living in my mind's eye as an illusion of perfection. That's how you existed to me in Boston, and that's how I brought you back home with me.
But Emmi, in the mean time, my physical existence has moved on. I met someone in Boston. It's still early days but we want to make a go of it. She's thinking about moving over, taking a job here.
Emmi, on that dreadful night when our "first and last meeting" failed, I [bad word] broke off our virtual romance. It still doesn't have a future, particularly not now, Emmi. Let's cherish what we had, and [bad word] it.
Good night from me.
Leo
 
Subject: [bad word] conclusion.
Okay. I'll cherish what we had, my dear ex-Email-boyfriend Leo. The thing about Cindy, I'll just bet she's called Cindy, is that you get the physical side. real woman, not in illusion, is so much warmer. I right? I'll stop Emailing, I promise. But do you mind your dream girl asks for one last wish? I want one hour, face to face with you. I have to see you at least once in my life. I do agree that we have no future Leo,