The alarm rings, and soon enough, the Alchemist rises from her slumber.
Another night, another eight hours of semi unconsciousness. She never truly fell asleep, and as such, she never truly dreamed or rested her mind. She just experienced darkness and silence, completely aware of the passage of every second. It was always like this when the effects of the Balm finally left her body. The cost of a soul that lost more and more of its light every day… but she didn’t mind. At least, not in this state.
Her routine started by checking her surroundings, scanning the small room she had confined herself into left to right. The computer and its six monitors were still there, perfectly screwed to the wall: her only contact with the outside world, and the way she could observe her different study subjects, Universes Alpha and Beta . Then the window, small and circular, high on the wall in front of her. Right underneath it, the 40 gallon tank that was ‘Universe Gamma’: a carefully constructed habitat for two purple pincher hermit crabs, Socrates and Plato. Honestly, she often chastised herself for the care she put into buying proper foliage, entertainment and shells for those two creatures… and yet, she continued to care for them.
Then, to the right, there was the bookshelf. Full to the brim with folders and reference texts, that the Alchemist had produced, translated and gathered with her time in this prison she called her temporary workshop.
Finally, she looked at the two doors in her room, one opposite to the other. Her one exit to the exterior, and the bathroom… yes, everything was precisely where she left it.
… But just in case, she quickly walked off her bed and to the computer, now waking it up as she went to check on Universe Gamma. She turned on the lights, letting the critters know daytime was upon them, and it was time to sleep. The colorful, vibrant crabs were still messing around on their rotating saucers when the lights announced that playtime was over, and they quickly scurried deeper into their hiding spots, seeking shelter under leaves, climbing up wooden bridges and then resting in the shadow of their enclosures.
The Alchemist nodded to herself, satisfied with the quick and active behavior of her little roommates, before turning back to her computer. The blue block screen showed the time of the day, the date and the space for a password, but also a bright number on red right at the bottom of the screen:
300.C.288.XXX
This is what the studied called a ‘Lefebvre Compass’, and it was a way to keep tabs on the state of the timeline she was currently trapped on. It was neatly organized in Four Sections, called ‘Corners’, with three of them showing numbers and one showing a single letter.
Corner one meant the distance between herself, and the ‘Prime Timeline’ that she knew for a fact existed out there. It was a purely hypothetical number, no real utility there. That 300 may as well not exist, but Miss Lefebvre always deemed it important to keep information noted.
Corner two was the current quadrant her timeline was on. A, B, C and D were the four possible directions the branches of the multiverse could take. After long studies, she had determined that only two of those directions were auspicious for humanity: A and B. So the fact that they were still trapped in C was quite concerning.
Corner three was the specific branch they were riding. It was a merely referential number, only giving an estimate on how close they were to a change in the quadrant. The change happened when this number reached 1000, but making this number tick was quite the task, usually changing only a few times a day by a very small margin, not always positive. 828 was the highest the Alchemist had managed to go after two centuries of hard work.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Finally, Corner four represents the constantly shifting flow of the timeline itself. The branches of the multiverse wiggle and vibrate, being less a defined line and more of an approximate zone, due to the constant interaction of every single living and unliving being in the universe. She usually ignored this number, for it really made no sense to obsess over something she had no control over… but the ticking of the doomsday clock had made her far more paranoid than logical.
With quick fingers, The Alchemist properly started up the computer, going straight for the Ermes browser and connecting to the net. It’s a bit slow, and it gets on her nerves, but it’s the only way to access the cameras in the North Pole.
Alright. Universe Alpha.
The skies were clear, the stars were shining brightly and one could even see the aurora borealis in the distance. She sighed in relief… there was still time.
That takes us to Universe Beta… but the Alchemist was so, so deeply tired of Universe B, that she honestly doubted she would check it today. There were more important things to do than checking that old, decaying forum.
Just because things were fine today, that didn’t mean they would stay that way for long.
After all, it was in all the calendaries: 2012 was the year where disaster could strike humanity.
But enough about that. If there were no changes in her Universes, she would need to continue nurturing her brain in some capacity.
The Alchemist’s routine had been devolving with every day that passed, a sign of the progressive rot in her soul. After mustering the energy to check her experimental Universes in detail (or at least try to), the woman would select one of the books in her library. She had already read all of them several times by this point, and yet she insisted on losing herself into those very same words over and over, looking for new corners to uncover, or perhaps harboring the faint hope that something would be different upon a new read.
Not without reason, it has happened many times that a story changes its sensibilities and meaning with the passing of time.
She took one of the scholarly tomes she fancied the most from the bookshelf, softly caressing the beautiful leather binding before carefully opening the book right where she had stopped during her last exploration… and her body disappeared completely from the room, leaving the book floating gently in the middle of the air.
This is how knowledge had been stored in the magical community for centuries: libraries within libraries, books connected to other books, serving as tunnels digging deep into reality, deeper than what the naked eye could see.
In these little caves within the layers of existence, entire chambers full of knowledge had been constructed and carefully curated by the mages of the past, once opulent and beautiful, now barely lit by cold blue candles and laying in a state of abandonment and disrepair. The Alchemist’s secret library had been carved in the black rock of the Third Layer of Reality’s underground.
Halls with curved, vaulted ceilings of polished black stone, curling on themselves in labyrinthic paths with bookshelves carved on the walls themselves, all illuminated by the flickering blue lights of magical candles. This was truly a sanctuary of arcane knowledge, now completely devoid of occupants or students.
Yes, even to the unfeeling Alchemist it was a bit painful to see the places she had worked and grown up in now completely devoid of activity… but she knew it was only the nature of time to become lonely.
They didn’t call this the ‘Age of Whispers’ for nothing. Gone were the days of great meetings and communal experimentation, now replaced with digital gatherings and secretive murmurings, trying to avoid the ever vigilant gaze of the government.
The Alchemist was really tempted to spit in disdain, but she forced herself to remain civil as she walked the dark corners of her private library, looking through the old shelves and trying to decide what topic to study that day.
Potionmaking had lost its charm lately, so perhaps something more elevated and theoretical would get her spirits up? Anything but philosophy, really. She wasn’t in the mood to discuss with herself.
Deep down, she knew that nothing would really stir curiosity or even the smallest spark of emotion within her dead heart until she took her Balm, but she was trying to avoid it as much as she could.
Forcefully reconnecting with one’s emotions often lead to a grief so intense she couldn’t stomach it.
With a huff, she disregarded such thoughts and decided to dabble on a little Epistemology, reaching for one of the books she herself had written on the matter…
It wasn’t the best way of passing the time, but it beat staring into space for hours on end, and prevented her body from further turning into stone.