Time Immemorial
Chapter 1 - Anxiety
“It will never feel right”, prepositioned the eerie, unforgettable silence.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dark. Everything’s Dark. Metal shifting loudly down the way, with grasping imagery forcing itself in and out of sight only briefly, broken up by short moments of searing white light. The undertone of gears slipping and catching, echoing, and reverberating lasted in cycles for what felt like decades. A slow, increasingly loud. Stinging, metal-on-metal scream. And in exit, a sigh. A repetitive cycle, screaming and sighing, exciting itself and in response, deflating. Confusing. Dark, and confusing.
You’re wondering, I’m answering – Our focus lands on one being, the one stuck between these cycles. This guy, poor genius he is, failed to think things through – who guessed? If you’re wondering, fortunately no, this person isn’t me.
There are lots of things in a human’s existence that cause one to feel… empty. Loss, embarrassment, atonement, empty gestures, lack of trust, lack of bonds. It could be monetary, physical, mental, emotional. There’s so much, so much you see, that breaks a human’s spirit. That’s why, most people, eventually repair themselves with what they have and move on.
For Alfred here, this was never a skill well used. Alfred focused years on career progress, for spirit, for sport. Dividing himself into portions, pieces, broken segments so that he could necessarily fit anywhere he needed to. Alfred had no family, few friends. See, his one interest happened to land in a vastly unexplored field and one I’m ironically well versed in – time. No, Alfred didn’t travel time. No, he didn’t explore humanities finest moments or return and change ghastly events like a regular human would. Alfred, this boy genius, decided it was his opportunity to explore space.
We’re all aware, I hope, Space and Time correlate closely. Alfred, after years of survival by the slimmest margins. Making friends in high and low places, meeting the world’s most known or not yet known individuals... Alfred, found his way to manipulate time. A construct, mind you, humans are yet to understand. Time, an existence beyond existences. A physical law underappreciated and unventured, previously, by humanity. The wheel that keeps existence in check, on track. Locks beings in physical, mental, and conscientious position. The Glue, to metaphorically understate, The Glue. The Glue that precisely and accurately maintains balance between all plains of existence. The very thing, the very slim thread, this unhinged monster… The very thread that hangs us all in balance, this monster has now yanked. He’s attempted to rip the glue of our very being.
The bittersweet fact of being in my position is that I see, Alfred only ever saw good in the world. He saw beauty, lights, friends, families, the well-being of others. He saw homes of savior for the broken, he saw healing for the hurt, he saw light in places even saints would see dark. Alfred was a blood donor, volunteer waste collector, donated to charity. I say this because what Alfred’s now intentionally done…
Oh boy.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A man falls from a three-story building, dozens of archaic structures mocking skyscrapers surround the fallen concrete. Mocking, because they will never see sky. The man lands briefly and jolts to the right. Another building falls just short. Dust and webs fly up, perfectly illuminated by the lantern light in the middle of the way. “Crash, Land, Step” repeated a muted voice, twice for good measure
“Crash, Lan-“ just as the building he’s standing in begins to tilt. “I can’t take much more of this” Alfred manages to beat out before landing in cave-moss covered rocks. His lantern landed perfectly in the middle of the three surrounding buildings. “Why right befo-“ Alfred stops complaining to dodge the second building, which he has already forgotten about. A wrenching sneeze followed all of this, surely from the dust and cobwebs that were knocked about.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Alfred looks far left, then right, taking in the scene. To the left, concrete skyscrapers increasing in size, seemingly hundreds of miles tall only miles away. The cave ceiling bends, stalactites only growing in length but not width. Almost as if the buildings and structures are stretched yet not blurred. To the right, only a faint glow and an ever-shortening tunnel. Alfred understood the problem at hand. He’s been solving puzzles just like this with no breaks for, in our time, hundreds of years. This is finally the end, Alfred’s now understanding. The direct clues won’t be obvious to outsiders, no one person except Alfred, supposedly. Time alters more than physics. Your perception can be adjusted, your vision as well. Your beliefs and psychological state can be tested. Many beings have sought to understand and use time for their advantage. Surviving these alterations and tests grants the ability to understand these clues, these hints, that lead you to the next scene.
After hundreds of stories were uncovered,
Thousands of hints seen.
Alfred, the man who jeopardized time, is nearing the end.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A sigh in the distance, held for much too long, hints at itself.
I’m still here, still sitting. Still watching. That’s all I’m allowed to do, now.
Alfred, his story, it’s now ending.
But Alfred… The Alfred I’ve seen is now entering his third pass. He’s beginning. Yet, he does not know.
He’s missed something once more, something he gravely can’t forget.
Oh, poor Alfred.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“You’ve got the juice hooked in?!” wailed out of a young adult male’s esophagus like a freight train out of a tunnel.
“Indoor Voice, Jirden, Indoor Voice.” Replied our boy, Alfred.
“Sorry, I’m just so excited. We’re two steps out now! By the end of run, we’ll know! We’ll know!”
“No worries, buddy, I’m excited too. We just need-“
Just as Alfred went to finish, the woman of the hour entered through.
“Thought you idiots might need this!” Caspy heckled, “Won’t see much without it!”, as she tossed a small crystalline shape toward Alfred
Alfred, nearly dropping the shape while rebounding from Caspy’s volume, responded in tune. “Motherf-“
After a short back and forth followed by nostalgic laughs, our friends focused in on the last piece of their machine. The Musgravite Channeler. This dark, clear crystal is meant for one purpose, to tear time. It’s so precise a mineral, when shaped specifically for this purpose, it can refract time into itself – opening an gateway. This crystal is also fragile, and nearly never makes it through an entire test.
“Careful, Careful” chanted Caspy and Jirden, sweating bullets as Alfred locked in the final piece.
Clunk, Clink. Krk.
“It’s Fitted”. Alfred Cheers.
The crystal glowing green to the front left bucket of this table-top machine.
“Nothing left but to flip it on, yeah?” Jirden requested hopefully.
“Yeah… Let’s flip it on!” Caspy agreed quickly.
The switch was refurbished from a light-switch, a specific requirement from Alfred as the clicking sound is comforting. Without a word, Alfred flicked the machine on.
A small, almost unnoticeable screech filled the room. A high-pitched, but regular sound. Quiet, nothing happening. The crystal in the machine began to glow bluer, and bluer. Then finally, white. Caspy looked at Jirden concerned. Before anybody could speak a word of discouragement, a loud clap was heard.
Black, viscous liquid exploded from the entire back wall where the machine was plugged in. The deafening sound of a train’s emergency break taking over. And then, nothing. The black goo, halting inches away from the wall, and the sound of the brakes dissipated.
Quiet filled the room for all of one second, before Alfred, Caspy and Jirden shout in excitement. The three friends hugged at once, jumping for joy. This is certainly a moment in history never forgotten, they repeated.
Waking to reality, Alfred realized there was no time to waste. The Musgravite Channeler has yet another minute or two before it cracks, draining the team’s progress. Musgravite wasn’t easy to afford.
The black wall pulsed, and a loud shock echoed the room.
Without a thought, Alfred threw on the canvas and denim gear laying desk-side, built specifically for movement through time. Metals, and other objects with complicated molecular functions, Alfred Estimated, would be near destroyed when moving through space. They interact with too many objects and have no chemical durability. Thus, neutral, and non-reactive Denim and Canvas thread were used as the safety base for the gear.
Alfred had both arms and legs in, and his hands on the last glove before Jirden and Caspy Noticed.
“Hey, wait, we didn’t agree to go in yet! We haven’t mapped anything out!” Caspy shouted over the echoing shock, with Jirden close behind
“Yeah! Now’s not the time, we have so much more to look at!” said Jirden.
Alfred looked across his two friends faces one last moment, peeking behind them at the black mass.
“It will never feel right”.