Eye of a Needle
(Excerpts from the journal of Alexander Hartdegen)
Part I: Until the Celebration
July 23rd, 802,701
Beloved Emma,
As I settle in to this new world, I've decided to keep a journal of sorts.
You know that I'm not much one for documentation - one of the other
professors' complaints about me - so I will write for you, rather than for
myself. This, then, will be my monument to you, much as the Eloi build their
monuments to those lost to them.
It has taken some time to convince the Eloi of this new use for the paper-
like material that they use as the outer walls of their lodgings, but I have
finally procured these small sheets for my use. I pray that this berry-juice
that I use as ink will not fade too quickly - though the Photonic, who reads
over my shoulder, seems to think that it will serve.
I will begin with an account of how I came to dwell in this place...
July 27th, 802,701
Dearest Emma,
It appears that I finished my account not a moment too soon. This morning,
Mara and Kalen took me home - that is, to the space where my house once stood.
Seeing the unspoilt forest that was once my humble garden was quite...
uplifting.
As we returned through the forest, we came upon a wounded girl lying in the
shade of a large tree. She was covered head to toe in mud, apparently having
tried to use the substance for warmth in the night. She's a gangly child,
small-bodied, awkwardly built - she hasn't yet grown into her limbs (as one
usually sees with boys, rather than girls).
We think that she is an Eloi from some other colony, as the Morlock leader
mentioned, who escaped their clutches when we destroyed the caverns. She
must have wandered aimlessly in the woods for days. Mara is tending to her
now, just as she did for me when I arrived. Another of the little Eloi, Girda,
joked that Mara will bring home any stray animal she finds. It's good to know
that in all this time, man's general sense of humor has not fallen. Kalen
thought that the foundling girl might be another New Yorker, but I explained
to him that that was unlikely. Particularly given her gauzy clothing, which
appears to be quite similar to Mara's (and the others').
Kalen is so enthusiastic; he's already proving to be a good student in
mathematics. He's memorized the times tables up through twelve after only a few
days. Vox (the Photonic) is quite pleased that I intend to teach the sciences
to the Eloi children, and says that I'm giving him hope for humanity. I cannot
tell if he is being sarcastic or not.
I shall write more tomorrow, dear heart. The light is fading, and it is time
to prepare dinner.
With all my love,
your Alexander
July 28th, 802,701
Cherished Emma,
Today we gathered fruit and flowers in the forest above the river. Mara showed
me a flower that, when stewed with the small silver "flit" fish from the river,
produces a spiced flavor. She also introduced me to the bark of a tree that
seems to be a substitute for coffee, and another like cinnamon, and a root that
appears to be ginger - comfortingly un-evolved, unlike most everything else.
Kalen stayed behind to look after the foundling girl, who still sleeps. Mara
washed the mud from her last night, which revealed her skin to be quite pale.
The girl must have been captive underground for quite a time, or perhaps is simply
from some far Eloi village that is not so dark-skinned as that I have met - or
both. She is miserably thin, such that one can count her ribs or vertebrae, and
her hair is likewise thin and unhealthy, and still stained a reddish-brown from the
mud. Though she is disproportioned as one just leaving childhood, she seems to be
a young adult; I can only guess that malnourishment is to blame.
She is covered in scars, as though she has led a life beneath a whip. When we
washed the dirt from her hair, we found a strange series of scars - as from deep
puncture marks - at the nape of her neck. Four on one side, and a fifth on the
other, just where her neck and shoulders meet. She also seemed to be bruised above
that, at her hairline. We handled the poor girl gently, and lay her back down on
her side; I don't know what to make of the marks. Her clothing is ragged, and her
skin itself is blistered all over, as though she barely escaped a great fire; I am
saddened that that might be of my own doing, from when I destroyed the machine.
Several of the Eloi have remarked on the sudden absence of the dream that has
plagued them all their lives. I've told them that the Morlocks sent the dream,
but I don't quite know that they understand. Perhaps the reality of being without
those creatures' opposition is just now sinking in.
I can only be thankful that you, my love, can never know of the atrocities visited
upon these gentle people. For you, I will use all my knowledge to ensure that such
things will never happen to them again, God willing.
Love for all time,
Alexander
July 31st, 802,701
Darling Emma,
Today, the foundling girl opened her eyes. They are quite large, and a startling
light blue. I think that she must be from some far northern land, where Scandinavian
blood still prevails. Indeed, she doesn't seem to speak the Eloi language at all,
and has yet to speak at all. Finally I asked her, in English, if she could understand
me. She gave a hesitant nod, but seemed unable to answer. If her people hold dear and
teach the children the Stone Language as my Eloi do, she has apparently forgotten much
of that part of her childhood.
With her own clothing so ragged, Mara offered her new clothing, but the girl has so
far refused. She blinks frequently and tends to keep her face turned away from the
light, and keeps the blankets pulled up over her head. Nor has she eaten any of the
fruit she's been offered, though she did accept some water. I fear the shock of change
has been too much for her, and I can't help but feel responsible, in part. I hope
that she can adapt to this new freedom.
Kalen taught me how to make a rope ladder today, as he promised back when I first
arrived. We slung it down into the library ruins, so that there's a better way in
until we can build a proper stairway. Once we do that, we intend to give Vox's Eloi
friend (who still rests there) a decent burial. Unfortunately, along with all else
I've been teaching them, I must also teach care for the dead - it's something that's
never been dealt with, within their memory. I feel as though I am taking away some
part of their innocence, but it is necessary.
Forgive me for writing to you of such a morbid subject. I shall endeavor to find
something more cheerful to tell you about tomorrow.
With all my love,
Alexander
August 3rd, 802,701
My Sweet Emma,
Some of the Eloi are beginning to remark upon their dreams - good dreams, now.
I think that perhaps all dreams but that horrid one that the Morlocks sent were
repressed, before. One of the young men, Callo, told me that he flew in his sleep,
and perched upon the stones in the sky (what remains of our poor moon) and looked
down upon all the green world.
It's quite rewarding to see imagination taking root in them so quickly.
The foundling girl ventured outside for the first time today. The burns on her
skin are healing, but she apparently can't bear the touch of sunlight on them.
She came out to watch the Eloi pulling up their boats for the night at twilight,
huddling on the platform outside our dwelling with her blanket wrapped around her.
She sat with us to sup, and accepted the fish stew that Mara had made - the first
food she's accepted. I'm glad; I was beginning to worry for her health. She fell
upon it like a ravenous wolf, poor thing. The fruits of this land must be more
strange to her than they are to me, for her to hold off for so long.
She has always been more active in the evenings, perhaps because of the cool
breeze that blows through the canyon then. Mara and I were surprised when she
joined us on the dwelling's upper platform this evening, her blanket tucked about
her as a dress. She sat and stared at the stars while Mara and I spoke, and would
not be joined in the conversation at all. I am beginning to think that she may not
be able to speak - we've never heard her utter a sound.
As I write this, she sits across from me, meddling with some spare material that
Mara offered her. She seems to have accepted the clothing this time, but she has
not yet moved to dress herself - perhaps she thinks to wait until morning.
I must to bed now. Mara said that we are to gather fruit again tomorrow.
Yours Forever,
Alexander
August 7th, 802,701
My Cherished Emma,
All goes well. One of the Eloi children, a little girl named Weena, has begun to
tell stories. She is not at all lying, but genuinely telling stories. Vox has told
me that she's listened to every novel he's "read" aloud to them so far, and it seems
to have had a profound effect on her. Today, she told me a story concerning why the
Tula blossoms are red. In English, no less. The Eloi do have a spoken mythology, but
according to Mara, this is something new.
The foundling girl has announced her name. For the past few days she has been doing
little but working raw fabric, as I have mentioned. Today she was waiting outside on
the platform at sunset, and offered Mara a sort of tunic - rather like her nightdress,
but shorter, meant to be worn as a shirt, I think. She had embroidered the edges with
vines and flowers - It is truly a beautiful garment, quite unlike the utilitarian way
that she wrapped herself with loose fabric to completely cover her body.
When Mara thanked her, the girl indicated the needle she'd used in her embroidery,
then gestured to herself. Mara asked in English what she meant by indicating the needle
- but she used the Eloi word for the device. The girl shook her head, and looked to me.
I could only ask, "What is it about the needle?"
To which she echoed, in a quiet and vaguely rasping voice, "Needle," whilst gesturing
to herself again. She can speak after all, but she has said not a word since.
None of us know what her name may have been before, but she has taken Needle as her
name for now.
I shall write again of her progress tomorrow. It pleases me greatly that she is
adapting so quickly now, as I still feel responsible for some of her injuries.
With all my love,
Alexander
August 12th, 802,701
My Darling Emma,
We went fruit-gathering today, and we were surprised when Needle joined us.
She wrapped herself with enough of Mara's gauzy material to make several
nightshirts, and looked rather like an Egyptian mummy, but it was the first
time I've seen her venture out during the daytime. She even shielded her face
with a drape of the thin material.
I observed that the other Eloi covertly studied her, but none of them have
suggested that we throw her into the river, as they did with me. Perhaps it
is because she simply seems so much more pitiful than I.
When we arrived at the orchard-area, Kalen and some of the others went
climbing the trees, as they have before. Needle scampered up after them, and
brought down fruit from branches that they could not reach. Perhaps she is
trying to impress upon the Eloi that she is useful, the better to be accepted.
I did note, however, that she tried to keep to the shade.
This evening, I noticed that Needle's fingers and toes - the only parts of her
that were not wrapped in gauze - are red and irritated. Mara treated her with
some of the salve that she used on the girl's burns. Perhaps she is allergic
to some unfamiliar vine that she encountered up in the trees.
Needle has not spoken since she gave herself her name. When I asked her if
she knew of any plants that might be harmful to her, she only stared at me
with her pale blue eyes, uncomprehending.
I don't know if she truly understood me or not; sometimes I just don't know
what to make of the girl.
Love for all time,
Alexander
August 18th, 802,701
Beloved Emma,
The Eloi have decided to hold a gathering when the stones in the sky shine
their brightest - the next full moon. They wish to discuss their dreams, which
for the first time in their lives are all different. They have decided not
only to hold this gathering outside of the village, in and around the stone-
room where one of Vox's looking-glasses is set up, but also at night. This bold
move tells me that they have truly accepted what has happened, but I pray that
there are no beasts in these woods even half as frightful as Morlocks - else
this might be their last brave foray into the dark.
Needle has steadily become stronger, and now accompanies us during the day more
and more often - though I sometimes catch her napping in the shade. In the
evenings, she sits and sews or embroiders, and has become somewhat accepted
among the Eloi as an artisan. She still eats little in the way of fruit,
subsisting mostly on the fish that the Eloi catch in the river. She seems
to like the water.
Her fingers still grow red when she ventures out with us, though she now binds
her toes, and doesn't climb so high in the trees. I have come to the conclusion
that it is not an allergy at all that troubles her, but sunburn. She must have
lived underground for longer than I originally suspected, to burn so easily - but
she seems to be adjusting, albeit slowly.
She has begun to talk a little more as well, particularly to the Photonic. She
listens attentively to him, and he says that she sometimes asks him to repeat poems
and stories. She seems to like the works of Edgar Allen Poe, though she has no
frame of reference for most of his settings.
Mara and Kalen, on the other hand, both seem to prefer some more recent author
named C. S. Lewis. I've heard little Weena asking for mythology - I believe Vox
started her on Greek, and has moved on to Norse. She frequently interrupts to ask
him to explain various things, as they all do, but the Photonic is a patient
teacher. I think that he's quite delighted to be so useful again.
I miss sitting with you and reading those dear silly novels that you used to procure
for us, sweet Emma. Perhaps rather than all this, I should have immortalized you in
some fantastic lovelorn poem as Poe did his love... But I've no mind for prose or
poesy. I can only try to guide these people to their future, and hope that a new
civilization will suffice as well as a poem.
Love,
Alexander
September 2nd, 802,701
My Dearest Emma,
Tonight is the night of the gathering. The Eloi are already surrounding the area
with their translucent lanterns, and Vox seems excited to be about to hear so much
new knowledge. A small bonfire is being built in the clearing, where the children
and some of the greater members of the village will sit, while the rest of the Eloi
will line the top of the amphitheater to listen. Mara says that I am to sit next to
Vox in the clearing, and it makes my mouth dry to think of it; I feel just as flighty
as I did before each class I lectured. I really wasn't much of a Professor, was I?
The air is heavy with the flowered scent of waning Summer, and in the fields by
the river, there are fireflies. I say fireflies, but these creatures are like no
fireflies anyone of our time ever saw - they're as big as my thumb. Some of the
smaller children, too young to handle the paper lanterns, tie threads to these
insects and lead them about as their own little lights. I could well write to you
by the light of one of these fireflies, if I could convince it to stay lit up.
I saw one of the young men, Jord, giving Needle a large violet flower today. He
asked that she wear it in her hair to the gathering.
It made me think of you, Emma. I'm sorry that I didn't bring you flowers.
Yours Forever,
Alexander
September 03, 802,701
Darling Emma,
The gathering was a rousing success. The Eloi celebrated their new dreams, and
Vox's stories, all throughout the night with neither mishap nor interruption -
indeed, it's growing late in the afternoon at this point. I fear that we all slept
in rather late today.
Weena began by giving more of her new stories, while she and the other children
were still awake. Many of the others told their dreams. Some of them even told
small stories based on the novels that Vox has been telling them - apparently
Huckleberry Finn and his Jim once ran afoul of a few roving Morlocks on the
Mississippi, and escaped by leading them through a patch of itchweed. It was
quite charming, especially with the three boys telling it in parts.
Amongst the other storytelling, I was asked to recount my part in the destruction
of the Morlock caverns. I was reluctant, but Mara and Kalen came to my aid, filling
in from their points of view. Kalen described our journey to the Sphinx, and on to
the machines' breathing hole. I gave as detailed a description as I could of the
beasts' appearances and living conditions, without dwelling on those more disturbing
aspects of it. I said only that I was captured, and thrown down to the Lord of the
Morlocks, who held Mara in a cage.
Mara interrupted then, telling with enthusiasm of the grand evil of the Lord of
the Morlocks: his reserved stature that belied his strength, and his horrific
paleness as of some insect larvae that one would find on the underside of a rock.
Of course, in her account, he also had the tail of a black snake rather than legs,
and the wings of a bat that folded around him in darkness, and a forked tongue, and
venomous fangs. I suppose it's all in one's perception.
She then went on to tell how I heroically first defeated him with the dizzying
spells of the Stone Language, then tore him limb from limb with my bare hands to
rescue her, at last sacrificing my machine that we might escape the rest of the
dumb beasts. The Eloi all cheered, though I could only think of his cold hands
around my neck, and his screams in my ears and mind. Had he but released me, he
would have fallen free into another time, not... died so horribly. It still makes
me ill to think of it.
"He appeared quite normal, apart from his albinism... mostly," I quietly told
Vox, who appeared to be taking notes on the proceedings (photonic notepad in
hand). "And it was time that ended him, not I. Had he only let go -"
"So you've said," Vox muttered back, smiling broadly and scribbling his notes
all the while. He seemed more delighted at the discrepancy than anything else.
I caught Needle later in the evening, in a moment when she was alone. Even
in that darkness, she had draped her head with gauze - but open-faced now, as a
hood. At least in the night she could bare her arms as the other Eloi did, though
their pale lengths gave her an exotic appearance, by comparison. I asked her what
she dreamed of, since it seemed to be the topic for the time being.
"Of darkness, and my father," she simply said, in her soft, underused voice. But
she smiled a little when she spoke. Like the others, she seems to accept her past
with memory rather than regret.
Would that I could acquire that talent.
There is one piece of darker news, perhaps. Jord, the young man who was giving
his attention to Needle at the gathering, has gone missing. It is likely that he
may have gone off to prove himself for Needle, as the others say is done sometimes.
All the same, I pray for his safety.
Sometimes, I dream of you, my Emma. Last night, I dreamt of the Morlock caverns,
and the tiny glowing fish in the water in those vile depths. I wanted to catch one
for you - they seemed to be more jewels than fish, in the dream - but they only
turned into the broken fragments of the moon, becoming something I couldn't reach.
I miss you.
Love,
Alexander
Author's Notes:
I'm writing this entirely for the new movie. I dearly love the ol' 1960 version,
but it didn't make my brain want to do more the way the 2002 version does.
And, like the 2002 version, this has nothing whatsoever to do with the book
(which I also love dearly, and wouldn't touch for all the world).
(I dunno. Books are sorta sacred and untouchable to me...
but movies are fair game for fanfic. Wheeeee!)
There is more to come; it will be posted as further chapters of story.
(For once, I have a clear beginning, middle, and end in mind... mostly.) ;-)
Comments? Complaints? Flames? I welcome all responses :-)
(Excerpts from the journal of Alexander Hartdegen)
Part I: Until the Celebration
July 23rd, 802,701
Beloved Emma,
As I settle in to this new world, I've decided to keep a journal of sorts.
You know that I'm not much one for documentation - one of the other
professors' complaints about me - so I will write for you, rather than for
myself. This, then, will be my monument to you, much as the Eloi build their
monuments to those lost to them.
It has taken some time to convince the Eloi of this new use for the paper-
like material that they use as the outer walls of their lodgings, but I have
finally procured these small sheets for my use. I pray that this berry-juice
that I use as ink will not fade too quickly - though the Photonic, who reads
over my shoulder, seems to think that it will serve.
I will begin with an account of how I came to dwell in this place...
July 27th, 802,701
Dearest Emma,
It appears that I finished my account not a moment too soon. This morning,
Mara and Kalen took me home - that is, to the space where my house once stood.
Seeing the unspoilt forest that was once my humble garden was quite...
uplifting.
As we returned through the forest, we came upon a wounded girl lying in the
shade of a large tree. She was covered head to toe in mud, apparently having
tried to use the substance for warmth in the night. She's a gangly child,
small-bodied, awkwardly built - she hasn't yet grown into her limbs (as one
usually sees with boys, rather than girls).
We think that she is an Eloi from some other colony, as the Morlock leader
mentioned, who escaped their clutches when we destroyed the caverns. She
must have wandered aimlessly in the woods for days. Mara is tending to her
now, just as she did for me when I arrived. Another of the little Eloi, Girda,
joked that Mara will bring home any stray animal she finds. It's good to know
that in all this time, man's general sense of humor has not fallen. Kalen
thought that the foundling girl might be another New Yorker, but I explained
to him that that was unlikely. Particularly given her gauzy clothing, which
appears to be quite similar to Mara's (and the others').
Kalen is so enthusiastic; he's already proving to be a good student in
mathematics. He's memorized the times tables up through twelve after only a few
days. Vox (the Photonic) is quite pleased that I intend to teach the sciences
to the Eloi children, and says that I'm giving him hope for humanity. I cannot
tell if he is being sarcastic or not.
I shall write more tomorrow, dear heart. The light is fading, and it is time
to prepare dinner.
With all my love,
your Alexander
July 28th, 802,701
Cherished Emma,
Today we gathered fruit and flowers in the forest above the river. Mara showed
me a flower that, when stewed with the small silver "flit" fish from the river,
produces a spiced flavor. She also introduced me to the bark of a tree that
seems to be a substitute for coffee, and another like cinnamon, and a root that
appears to be ginger - comfortingly un-evolved, unlike most everything else.
Kalen stayed behind to look after the foundling girl, who still sleeps. Mara
washed the mud from her last night, which revealed her skin to be quite pale.
The girl must have been captive underground for quite a time, or perhaps is simply
from some far Eloi village that is not so dark-skinned as that I have met - or
both. She is miserably thin, such that one can count her ribs or vertebrae, and
her hair is likewise thin and unhealthy, and still stained a reddish-brown from the
mud. Though she is disproportioned as one just leaving childhood, she seems to be
a young adult; I can only guess that malnourishment is to blame.
She is covered in scars, as though she has led a life beneath a whip. When we
washed the dirt from her hair, we found a strange series of scars - as from deep
puncture marks - at the nape of her neck. Four on one side, and a fifth on the
other, just where her neck and shoulders meet. She also seemed to be bruised above
that, at her hairline. We handled the poor girl gently, and lay her back down on
her side; I don't know what to make of the marks. Her clothing is ragged, and her
skin itself is blistered all over, as though she barely escaped a great fire; I am
saddened that that might be of my own doing, from when I destroyed the machine.
Several of the Eloi have remarked on the sudden absence of the dream that has
plagued them all their lives. I've told them that the Morlocks sent the dream,
but I don't quite know that they understand. Perhaps the reality of being without
those creatures' opposition is just now sinking in.
I can only be thankful that you, my love, can never know of the atrocities visited
upon these gentle people. For you, I will use all my knowledge to ensure that such
things will never happen to them again, God willing.
Love for all time,
Alexander
July 31st, 802,701
Darling Emma,
Today, the foundling girl opened her eyes. They are quite large, and a startling
light blue. I think that she must be from some far northern land, where Scandinavian
blood still prevails. Indeed, she doesn't seem to speak the Eloi language at all,
and has yet to speak at all. Finally I asked her, in English, if she could understand
me. She gave a hesitant nod, but seemed unable to answer. If her people hold dear and
teach the children the Stone Language as my Eloi do, she has apparently forgotten much
of that part of her childhood.
With her own clothing so ragged, Mara offered her new clothing, but the girl has so
far refused. She blinks frequently and tends to keep her face turned away from the
light, and keeps the blankets pulled up over her head. Nor has she eaten any of the
fruit she's been offered, though she did accept some water. I fear the shock of change
has been too much for her, and I can't help but feel responsible, in part. I hope
that she can adapt to this new freedom.
Kalen taught me how to make a rope ladder today, as he promised back when I first
arrived. We slung it down into the library ruins, so that there's a better way in
until we can build a proper stairway. Once we do that, we intend to give Vox's Eloi
friend (who still rests there) a decent burial. Unfortunately, along with all else
I've been teaching them, I must also teach care for the dead - it's something that's
never been dealt with, within their memory. I feel as though I am taking away some
part of their innocence, but it is necessary.
Forgive me for writing to you of such a morbid subject. I shall endeavor to find
something more cheerful to tell you about tomorrow.
With all my love,
Alexander
August 3rd, 802,701
My Sweet Emma,
Some of the Eloi are beginning to remark upon their dreams - good dreams, now.
I think that perhaps all dreams but that horrid one that the Morlocks sent were
repressed, before. One of the young men, Callo, told me that he flew in his sleep,
and perched upon the stones in the sky (what remains of our poor moon) and looked
down upon all the green world.
It's quite rewarding to see imagination taking root in them so quickly.
The foundling girl ventured outside for the first time today. The burns on her
skin are healing, but she apparently can't bear the touch of sunlight on them.
She came out to watch the Eloi pulling up their boats for the night at twilight,
huddling on the platform outside our dwelling with her blanket wrapped around her.
She sat with us to sup, and accepted the fish stew that Mara had made - the first
food she's accepted. I'm glad; I was beginning to worry for her health. She fell
upon it like a ravenous wolf, poor thing. The fruits of this land must be more
strange to her than they are to me, for her to hold off for so long.
She has always been more active in the evenings, perhaps because of the cool
breeze that blows through the canyon then. Mara and I were surprised when she
joined us on the dwelling's upper platform this evening, her blanket tucked about
her as a dress. She sat and stared at the stars while Mara and I spoke, and would
not be joined in the conversation at all. I am beginning to think that she may not
be able to speak - we've never heard her utter a sound.
As I write this, she sits across from me, meddling with some spare material that
Mara offered her. She seems to have accepted the clothing this time, but she has
not yet moved to dress herself - perhaps she thinks to wait until morning.
I must to bed now. Mara said that we are to gather fruit again tomorrow.
Yours Forever,
Alexander
August 7th, 802,701
My Cherished Emma,
All goes well. One of the Eloi children, a little girl named Weena, has begun to
tell stories. She is not at all lying, but genuinely telling stories. Vox has told
me that she's listened to every novel he's "read" aloud to them so far, and it seems
to have had a profound effect on her. Today, she told me a story concerning why the
Tula blossoms are red. In English, no less. The Eloi do have a spoken mythology, but
according to Mara, this is something new.
The foundling girl has announced her name. For the past few days she has been doing
little but working raw fabric, as I have mentioned. Today she was waiting outside on
the platform at sunset, and offered Mara a sort of tunic - rather like her nightdress,
but shorter, meant to be worn as a shirt, I think. She had embroidered the edges with
vines and flowers - It is truly a beautiful garment, quite unlike the utilitarian way
that she wrapped herself with loose fabric to completely cover her body.
When Mara thanked her, the girl indicated the needle she'd used in her embroidery,
then gestured to herself. Mara asked in English what she meant by indicating the needle
- but she used the Eloi word for the device. The girl shook her head, and looked to me.
I could only ask, "What is it about the needle?"
To which she echoed, in a quiet and vaguely rasping voice, "Needle," whilst gesturing
to herself again. She can speak after all, but she has said not a word since.
None of us know what her name may have been before, but she has taken Needle as her
name for now.
I shall write again of her progress tomorrow. It pleases me greatly that she is
adapting so quickly now, as I still feel responsible for some of her injuries.
With all my love,
Alexander
August 12th, 802,701
My Darling Emma,
We went fruit-gathering today, and we were surprised when Needle joined us.
She wrapped herself with enough of Mara's gauzy material to make several
nightshirts, and looked rather like an Egyptian mummy, but it was the first
time I've seen her venture out during the daytime. She even shielded her face
with a drape of the thin material.
I observed that the other Eloi covertly studied her, but none of them have
suggested that we throw her into the river, as they did with me. Perhaps it
is because she simply seems so much more pitiful than I.
When we arrived at the orchard-area, Kalen and some of the others went
climbing the trees, as they have before. Needle scampered up after them, and
brought down fruit from branches that they could not reach. Perhaps she is
trying to impress upon the Eloi that she is useful, the better to be accepted.
I did note, however, that she tried to keep to the shade.
This evening, I noticed that Needle's fingers and toes - the only parts of her
that were not wrapped in gauze - are red and irritated. Mara treated her with
some of the salve that she used on the girl's burns. Perhaps she is allergic
to some unfamiliar vine that she encountered up in the trees.
Needle has not spoken since she gave herself her name. When I asked her if
she knew of any plants that might be harmful to her, she only stared at me
with her pale blue eyes, uncomprehending.
I don't know if she truly understood me or not; sometimes I just don't know
what to make of the girl.
Love for all time,
Alexander
August 18th, 802,701
Beloved Emma,
The Eloi have decided to hold a gathering when the stones in the sky shine
their brightest - the next full moon. They wish to discuss their dreams, which
for the first time in their lives are all different. They have decided not
only to hold this gathering outside of the village, in and around the stone-
room where one of Vox's looking-glasses is set up, but also at night. This bold
move tells me that they have truly accepted what has happened, but I pray that
there are no beasts in these woods even half as frightful as Morlocks - else
this might be their last brave foray into the dark.
Needle has steadily become stronger, and now accompanies us during the day more
and more often - though I sometimes catch her napping in the shade. In the
evenings, she sits and sews or embroiders, and has become somewhat accepted
among the Eloi as an artisan. She still eats little in the way of fruit,
subsisting mostly on the fish that the Eloi catch in the river. She seems
to like the water.
Her fingers still grow red when she ventures out with us, though she now binds
her toes, and doesn't climb so high in the trees. I have come to the conclusion
that it is not an allergy at all that troubles her, but sunburn. She must have
lived underground for longer than I originally suspected, to burn so easily - but
she seems to be adjusting, albeit slowly.
She has begun to talk a little more as well, particularly to the Photonic. She
listens attentively to him, and he says that she sometimes asks him to repeat poems
and stories. She seems to like the works of Edgar Allen Poe, though she has no
frame of reference for most of his settings.
Mara and Kalen, on the other hand, both seem to prefer some more recent author
named C. S. Lewis. I've heard little Weena asking for mythology - I believe Vox
started her on Greek, and has moved on to Norse. She frequently interrupts to ask
him to explain various things, as they all do, but the Photonic is a patient
teacher. I think that he's quite delighted to be so useful again.
I miss sitting with you and reading those dear silly novels that you used to procure
for us, sweet Emma. Perhaps rather than all this, I should have immortalized you in
some fantastic lovelorn poem as Poe did his love... But I've no mind for prose or
poesy. I can only try to guide these people to their future, and hope that a new
civilization will suffice as well as a poem.
Love,
Alexander
September 2nd, 802,701
My Dearest Emma,
Tonight is the night of the gathering. The Eloi are already surrounding the area
with their translucent lanterns, and Vox seems excited to be about to hear so much
new knowledge. A small bonfire is being built in the clearing, where the children
and some of the greater members of the village will sit, while the rest of the Eloi
will line the top of the amphitheater to listen. Mara says that I am to sit next to
Vox in the clearing, and it makes my mouth dry to think of it; I feel just as flighty
as I did before each class I lectured. I really wasn't much of a Professor, was I?
The air is heavy with the flowered scent of waning Summer, and in the fields by
the river, there are fireflies. I say fireflies, but these creatures are like no
fireflies anyone of our time ever saw - they're as big as my thumb. Some of the
smaller children, too young to handle the paper lanterns, tie threads to these
insects and lead them about as their own little lights. I could well write to you
by the light of one of these fireflies, if I could convince it to stay lit up.
I saw one of the young men, Jord, giving Needle a large violet flower today. He
asked that she wear it in her hair to the gathering.
It made me think of you, Emma. I'm sorry that I didn't bring you flowers.
Yours Forever,
Alexander
September 03, 802,701
Darling Emma,
The gathering was a rousing success. The Eloi celebrated their new dreams, and
Vox's stories, all throughout the night with neither mishap nor interruption -
indeed, it's growing late in the afternoon at this point. I fear that we all slept
in rather late today.
Weena began by giving more of her new stories, while she and the other children
were still awake. Many of the others told their dreams. Some of them even told
small stories based on the novels that Vox has been telling them - apparently
Huckleberry Finn and his Jim once ran afoul of a few roving Morlocks on the
Mississippi, and escaped by leading them through a patch of itchweed. It was
quite charming, especially with the three boys telling it in parts.
Amongst the other storytelling, I was asked to recount my part in the destruction
of the Morlock caverns. I was reluctant, but Mara and Kalen came to my aid, filling
in from their points of view. Kalen described our journey to the Sphinx, and on to
the machines' breathing hole. I gave as detailed a description as I could of the
beasts' appearances and living conditions, without dwelling on those more disturbing
aspects of it. I said only that I was captured, and thrown down to the Lord of the
Morlocks, who held Mara in a cage.
Mara interrupted then, telling with enthusiasm of the grand evil of the Lord of
the Morlocks: his reserved stature that belied his strength, and his horrific
paleness as of some insect larvae that one would find on the underside of a rock.
Of course, in her account, he also had the tail of a black snake rather than legs,
and the wings of a bat that folded around him in darkness, and a forked tongue, and
venomous fangs. I suppose it's all in one's perception.
She then went on to tell how I heroically first defeated him with the dizzying
spells of the Stone Language, then tore him limb from limb with my bare hands to
rescue her, at last sacrificing my machine that we might escape the rest of the
dumb beasts. The Eloi all cheered, though I could only think of his cold hands
around my neck, and his screams in my ears and mind. Had he but released me, he
would have fallen free into another time, not... died so horribly. It still makes
me ill to think of it.
"He appeared quite normal, apart from his albinism... mostly," I quietly told
Vox, who appeared to be taking notes on the proceedings (photonic notepad in
hand). "And it was time that ended him, not I. Had he only let go -"
"So you've said," Vox muttered back, smiling broadly and scribbling his notes
all the while. He seemed more delighted at the discrepancy than anything else.
I caught Needle later in the evening, in a moment when she was alone. Even
in that darkness, she had draped her head with gauze - but open-faced now, as a
hood. At least in the night she could bare her arms as the other Eloi did, though
their pale lengths gave her an exotic appearance, by comparison. I asked her what
she dreamed of, since it seemed to be the topic for the time being.
"Of darkness, and my father," she simply said, in her soft, underused voice. But
she smiled a little when she spoke. Like the others, she seems to accept her past
with memory rather than regret.
Would that I could acquire that talent.
There is one piece of darker news, perhaps. Jord, the young man who was giving
his attention to Needle at the gathering, has gone missing. It is likely that he
may have gone off to prove himself for Needle, as the others say is done sometimes.
All the same, I pray for his safety.
Sometimes, I dream of you, my Emma. Last night, I dreamt of the Morlock caverns,
and the tiny glowing fish in the water in those vile depths. I wanted to catch one
for you - they seemed to be more jewels than fish, in the dream - but they only
turned into the broken fragments of the moon, becoming something I couldn't reach.
I miss you.
Love,
Alexander
Author's Notes:
I'm writing this entirely for the new movie. I dearly love the ol' 1960 version,
but it didn't make my brain want to do more the way the 2002 version does.
And, like the 2002 version, this has nothing whatsoever to do with the book
(which I also love dearly, and wouldn't touch for all the world).
(I dunno. Books are sorta sacred and untouchable to me...
but movies are fair game for fanfic. Wheeeee!)
There is more to come; it will be posted as further chapters of story.
(For once, I have a clear beginning, middle, and end in mind... mostly.) ;-)
Comments? Complaints? Flames? I welcome all responses :-)