This is a continuation of Hey You, Electric Blue (now that I've finally caught up)... and this is a rewrite due to ideas becoming more fluid and together.
"Entry One... I uh... Haven't done this in a really long time." I looked directly into the camera, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly and quickly running my fingers through my short, brown hair, "It has been... probably ten years since my time in Chorus... and the same amount of time since the last time I have died." I let out a sigh, glancing over my hands as scars littered my tan skin, "Lazerus and I have been trying to find home. We've been researching the 'Jumper Gene' in an attempt to go back. The only problem is that universes run at different rates of time in different planes of space."
A crash echoed through the halls, causing me to jump. I let out a sigh, pushing my chair back as I watched the open doorway, "Everything okay there?" I shouted, waiting for a response. Everything was silent, aside from footsteps growing louder.
Lazerus walked in, holding his head with one hand and a tool box in another. He walked up to my desk, slamming the box down, "For the millionth time, please stop leaving your shit in the middle of the walkway!" He removed his hand from his forehead, a bright red lump forming. After observing longer, blood began to bead, showing off a small cut.
"Might wanna stitch that up." I motioned lazily to the damage, rolling my chair toward the toolbox, "Sorry, man... I... must've forgotten where I put it."
He let out an audible sigh, resting a hand on my shoulder, "You're fine, just keep an eye on your stuff." He noticed my computer, quietly clicking his tongue before beginning to walk away, "Happy New Year, Girly."
"Yeah, Happy New Year." I spoke softly, propping my head up with an arm, "Stupid sand planet."
Only a couple of days ago marked the start of my eleventh year here... and it isn't even home... And Lazerus explained to me that my death seemed a lot like hyperkalemia, an overdose of potassium. That orange-eyed bastard lied to me!
I looked into the camera once again, anger present in my gaze, "This is Michele Walker, signing off." And I turned everything off, holding my head in both hands.
"Isn't there something you need to do?" My AI spoke, slight irritation in his tone.
"Yeah." I muttered quietly, picking up my toolbox and placing it on the respective shelf, "Days seem to be getting faster, huh?" My eyes kept their focus outside, watching the clear, starry night sky as the sand made little cyclones before dispersing, becoming one again with the ground.
"That is only your perception." Omega went in and out of focus before properly materializing.
I though through my words carefully, "You need a tune up any time soon? It's been a few years." My words sounded somewhat excited. I was too hopeful for something to do. Repair would be better than waiting for a passerby stopping for gas, or even more rare, another jumper that had fallen.
"..I'm fine." He spoke eventually, disappearing into nothing.
I let out a sigh, seating myself on the desk to watch the whiteboard across the room.
-Different universes run at different rates.
-Expiration of jumps differs between jumpers, most not exceeding ten (more data necessary).
-Jumps are only performed through death.
-Universes have different "hubs" for their newcomers.
-Manipulation of destination?
Just a block in our research. According to the Book of Inter-Universal Transportation, there is no method to have any self-determination of jumping destination... but what if it's wrong?
I stood up, approaching the board. There's something in here, hiding just in plain sight... we were only stupidly missing one thing.
The sound of thunder rumbled loudly, the ground beneath us vibrating.
"Southwest." Omega responded quickly.
"Lazerus!" I began to run, passing my shoes, "We got a jumper! Set up the basement!"
I bolted out the door, sand still somewhat heated from the day.
There was a light in the distance, crackling before slowly disappearing. I continued to run, the sand clinging tightly to my skin.
It was a girl... we'd never seen a jumper younger than twenty, but she seemed to be much younger. Sixteen? Seventeen? I swept her curly, brunette hair away from her face, revealing freckled of almost incomprehensible quantity. She wore a maroon romper that had been well over-sized, a black fedora burying itself into the sand beside her.
I was barely able to pick her up, carrying her most of the way to our tiny gas station before Lazerus came in to help.