The Time Traveller’s Dictionary. Or, the missing chapter from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Hell, I’d even settle for The Curious Dialect of the Guy in the Wrong Time. I’ve now asked for something like this so often, I imagine they’ll have to put the request on my tombstone, as a general reminder until someone gets round to doing the damn thing. I would write it myself, but my life seems to be too busy and full of…well, this.
Anyway. Had someone invented this Dictionary, there’s be a phrasal verb or idiom that could I use to express that, although Womble watched me disappear over the edge a few second ago relatively, literally, we’ve now been here for two weeks.
Pause ( ) is damn well powerful, but doesn’t go very far beyond its namesake. As much as I truly hate to admit it, because the deadweight in my stomach is just waiting to drop with me, there doesn’t seem to be a way out of this. Right now, I’m standing in the threshold of Satan’s Kitchen. There is no way out. Only a way down.
Stuck like this, I’ve had hundreds upon hundreds of ideas and plans and ALL of them start with me being quintessentially not here. They’re not really plans, if we’re honest. More like dreams.
Dreams which are being constantly interrupted.
Something about Pause ( ) amplifies my Universal Residue ability; it’s a bit like whacking up the volume on white noise. On this planet, I’m getting nothing but screams. Most of them from my local antagonist, here, currently in the ungainly frozen position of a man-hug gone horribly wrong. By Universal Residue alone, I’ve got his name, a rough estimate on his age which I don’t completely trust and not much else besides a near-lifetime of fear. Trying to find the root cause of it is impossible, it’s too drowned out. It’d be easier to find a specific raindrop in a thunderstorm.
Or “can’t see wood for the trees” comes to mind. If the wood’s made of nightmares and the trees are trying to kill you.
Two weeks of semi-solitary confinement and internal screams does this to your creative outflow, apparently. At least Pause ( ) seems enough to keep ‘him’ asleep. Pre-HH’s been quiet for a long time now; but he started stirring around the time my actions stopped being my own and is sure moving towards waking up completely. I don’t know what happens if he comes back.
Maybe it’s best to just let go. I’ll go, and he’ll go with me. The universe will lose two lunatics.
The loss of one ally can be worth the loss of one enemy – Modern Gallifreyan proverb, Time War era.
Hah, I forgot about these – and I bet you have as well. Between internal monologues and extended staring contests with my ‘friend’ here, I’ve had a lot of time to read the Gallifrey archives Future-HH gave me, all that time ago, on the Q.U.A.R.K. Most of it’s exactly what I excepted; a bunch of pompous pretentious idiots writing their own take on their own history. Our past is written by the victorious, so the saying goes, and I bet whoever coined that idea didn’t realise just how the winners would write. I’ve seen the words ‘noble’ and ‘humble’ and ‘protectors’ describing the Timelords far, far, FAR too many times. History’s written by the victorious LIARS. Infuriating morons who depicted every part of their lives like the reading of an ancient epic, yet you throw ANY of the Elders into a situation like this and they wouldn’t know a good idea if it fell on them. Or if they fell into it, rather more accurately.
LIES aside, I wanted to dedicate some of my frozen time to the ‘Abilities’ section, to see if I can go beyond Pause ( ). Like a teleport, that’d go down a treat. Instead, I find that Future-HH has locked that section, with each ability covered over by a time stamp and individual timers of differing amounts, all ticking down to zero. Suddenly I’ve become a video game character, it seems – I’ve been hunting for the option to pay £1.50 to unlock more of them or, failing that, a slightly more garishly decorated top hat. I can read the names of the abilities, just to keep the
infuriation intrigue alive. The one that captures my interest the most is Greed ( ). Judging by the timers, that’s next on my Unlocks list. And sounds…delicious.
Another tremor goes through my mind. It’s a strange feeling, with my past self coming back, digging his way out from being buried alive under repression. I’m reminded of times gone by, long ago, when I’d try to fall asleep. As soon as I tried to relax, my mind’s eye would flash images of my past towards me, like claw marks through black canvas revealing what’s going on backstage. So many years of my manic lifestyle keeps me distracted enough and keeps him under wraps. But that demon I had…and now Pause ( )…all internal barriers are down.
That’ll be him, then. I guess there’s only one thing for it.
The loss of one ally can be worth the loss of one enemy.
Never thought I’d die reciting the scripture of fools. Guess that’s what life’s about, eh? Its unpredictability.
Pause ) (
Two weeks on and it’s like we never stopped. Instantly I’m back in the downward world of excessive heat, wind tearing at me and my attacker’s yells roaring in my ears. The twisting inferno below moves closer and closer.
I wish I could tell Womble I’m sorry.
I never did return his umbrella.
Something we’ve learned today; lava is much harder and five million times colder than it looks. It also sounds – and feels – like a short range teleporter, the closer you get……
Seems I’m wanted alive.