Just a Moment
Some people just can't leave well enough alone.
This poor Alexander, for example: he torments himself with what he
can't have, chases after it with all his heart, and in doing so fails
to live at all. The possibilities of his present mean nothing to him;
he'd rather dwell on the past and run toward his future, any future,
than face his reality.
So I decide to give him what he wants. I reach into his mind and draw
out the world that he wanted to create, and make it real for him, for
just a moment. Perhaps I hope that it will make him realize what he
truly wants.
It is a mistake.
I feel the sunlight of his world wash over me. I know that the warmth
I feel is his memory of light on his skin, but I find that I cling to
the sensation. Such light would burn me, were it real.
I want to stay here. I am surrounded by things I've never seen, scents
and sounds I've never encountered before. I recognize them from his
memory: clean shining metal, warm dry wood, paper, roses, birdsong,
horses in the street. I feel my hand close around the pocket watch I
had brought to me - I want something real with which to anchor myself
- but it does not help. I am lost.
I cannot look. The sunlight, real or not, makes my eyes tear.
I turn away as he steps forward to his dream-wife. I understand. It was
a mistake to do this, to either of us.
But there is something else there in his mind. He turns from the dream
on his own, not through my doing. Perhaps... perhaps he has found his
reality... his present.
He wants to fight, wants to defy me, time, reality itself. I'll give
him what I can. I could trap him in his own dream, or simply kill him
and be done with it - but I won't. I'll give him a fight he has a chance
of winning. It's what he's been looking for, all this time.
I'd call that an even trade, for the sunlight.
-Starherd
Author's note: I figured that the speaker would be clear enough for
anyone who's seen the film. (If you haven't seen the film, what are
you doing here? Go watch it and come back.)
Anyway... I wrote this because the scene with the Morlock-Lord was my
favorite in the movie (probably because it's sort of a fanfic-type comment
all its own on the original story, where he doesn't exist). This was what
I got out of the scene. Which probably means that I dwell on it too much,
but that's fanfic for you. It just made me wonder: Exactly who was
torturing who here?
...And because I'm helplessly addicted to gothy villains, no matter how
much they might be perceived as trite, tacked-on, and/or useless. (Yes...
I'm a Darth Maul groupie too...)
...And because Theed has gone and made me think about emotional motivations
and stuff like that. Thaaaaaanks, Theed :-)
Disclaimer: I don't lay claim to *any* version of the Time Machine, film
or book. I just love 'em all to death.
Some people just can't leave well enough alone.
This poor Alexander, for example: he torments himself with what he
can't have, chases after it with all his heart, and in doing so fails
to live at all. The possibilities of his present mean nothing to him;
he'd rather dwell on the past and run toward his future, any future,
than face his reality.
So I decide to give him what he wants. I reach into his mind and draw
out the world that he wanted to create, and make it real for him, for
just a moment. Perhaps I hope that it will make him realize what he
truly wants.
It is a mistake.
I feel the sunlight of his world wash over me. I know that the warmth
I feel is his memory of light on his skin, but I find that I cling to
the sensation. Such light would burn me, were it real.
I want to stay here. I am surrounded by things I've never seen, scents
and sounds I've never encountered before. I recognize them from his
memory: clean shining metal, warm dry wood, paper, roses, birdsong,
horses in the street. I feel my hand close around the pocket watch I
had brought to me - I want something real with which to anchor myself
- but it does not help. I am lost.
I cannot look. The sunlight, real or not, makes my eyes tear.
I turn away as he steps forward to his dream-wife. I understand. It was
a mistake to do this, to either of us.
But there is something else there in his mind. He turns from the dream
on his own, not through my doing. Perhaps... perhaps he has found his
reality... his present.
He wants to fight, wants to defy me, time, reality itself. I'll give
him what I can. I could trap him in his own dream, or simply kill him
and be done with it - but I won't. I'll give him a fight he has a chance
of winning. It's what he's been looking for, all this time.
I'd call that an even trade, for the sunlight.
-Starherd
Author's note: I figured that the speaker would be clear enough for
anyone who's seen the film. (If you haven't seen the film, what are
you doing here? Go watch it and come back.)
Anyway... I wrote this because the scene with the Morlock-Lord was my
favorite in the movie (probably because it's sort of a fanfic-type comment
all its own on the original story, where he doesn't exist). This was what
I got out of the scene. Which probably means that I dwell on it too much,
but that's fanfic for you. It just made me wonder: Exactly who was
torturing who here?
...And because I'm helplessly addicted to gothy villains, no matter how
much they might be perceived as trite, tacked-on, and/or useless. (Yes...
I'm a Darth Maul groupie too...)
...And because Theed has gone and made me think about emotional motivations
and stuff like that. Thaaaaaanks, Theed :-)
Disclaimer: I don't lay claim to *any* version of the Time Machine, film
or book. I just love 'em all to death.