Sparks fly, and a boy is thrown across his room. This tiny room has been Alfred's prison ever since he can remember. Sure, the computer walls have supplied him with enough knowledge of the outside world, but living it is what he desires. Before he can even think of the outside, he has to think of the others that might be trapped inside, just like he is. Building a time traveling device to escape walls seems irrational when he could probably look up how to build a laser and make it, but he's under high security. He won't get far before he's shot down. This crazy boy wants to talk to a warlock, seeing as witches seem to be treated the same as his race in his current time. But now, as he stares at the circle in the wall smoking from short circuits, he realizes he has failed. Nothing but a black screen remains in its center. He's still confined, and still frustrated.
Somewhere back in time, an explosion occurs. Arthur curses. His robe stinks of the fire it was just consumed in. For now it's still relatively intact. The brown creaking wood, the dim light of just candles, the smell of magic, and the stench of failure fill the air. The old shack he performs wizardry in might as well be his home for how much time he spends there. The day had already left him, and finding his way back to his house would be impossibly annoying now. He sits in a corner contemplating what to do. This portal should have been a success. The mirror should be a portal now to the boy killed in his name. He'd found out that the boy would be reborn hundreds of years from now. The same would also occur to everyone he knew in the present. That's where the spirit of his friend resided, in another time, but he couldn't wait. He couldn't chance not being able to see him in the future, so he must help him in the past.
Alfred punches the circle in the wall, hand sparking from the unknown circuits and electrons that flow through his blood. A thin layer of glass shatters, and the blood of that primitive DNA drips out of scratches on the poor boy's hands. All he wanted was some hope, something to keep him going, to keep him alive. He slides to the floor, blood staining the lit, and semi-shattered wall before him. Feeling something well up inside him, he is forced to identify this emotion as sadness. Or maybe it's pain. It's hard to know with so many programs running around in your mind. He also doesn't know that his blood is making it to the other side. The pages of spells by Arthur's side begin bleeding, a blue spark flickering over certain letters and words in Latin.
"Ugg!" Arthur screams in frustration. Calming himself down he takes a close look at the mirror, muttering to himself. "Mirrors are natural made portals. Since I've found that time repeats itself, and mirrors are known to be portals to the afterlife, they must also be portals to the past and future!" Seeing no chips on the surface he sighs and sets it down gently. If he truly had much more faith in this theory he would not look at it at night, or keep it so close to him, but his mother had given it to him when he was young, and he cherished it. He believed no evil spirits could come out of it; and if spirits from the "afterlife" came out of it, it's probable they were actually from the future; and thus, might be helpful with his research; but this was all thought fit for daydreaming.
"It's so late, and I can't go home to sleep," he spoke into the night air softly, "I might as well recheck my measurements, and maybe fix the pentagram."
He opened his book, and suddenly a light erupted from its pages. Right in the middle page of the thick, withered book to be exact. A sad voice of a whimpering boy is heard from the pages, taken completely over by white. The light begins to dim down, and intricate blue squares and rectangles begin to take shape. Soon, he finds the shapes to be part of the floor in a room. One dark shape stands out. His eyes catch a trail of red blood leading across the floor to a hand. That hand is connected to the shape of a boy, hunched over on the floor. A hand covers his face, as well as familiar blond strands of hair. Besides the few streaks of blue, he looks like a copy image of his friend.
"Ælfreed? Ælfreed? Is that you?" Slamming his face into the book he smiles. He looks around. He's still in the same dim room. He curses. It must not be a portal, which he can travel through. "Ælfreed! Look at me!" He yells out trying to catch the other boy's attention. Finally He looks up. Piercing blue eyes, just like he remembered. He looks up into the circle of light blue on his wall and smiles.
"It really worked!? Oh my God! Am I talking to The Arthur Kirkland!?" He exclaims, jumping to his feet. He wipes his tears away. "Dude how did you know my name!? Well, my name-ish. You're saying it kind of funny it's pronounced 'Alfred'. Aw man, who am I kidding!? I'm Talking to Arthur Kirkland!" Electricity flows from his fingertips with joy. He shakes it off with a shameful grin, hiding his hands behind his back.
"The Arthur Kirkland? Yes I am Arthur Kirkland, but your name is Ælfreed." Arthur says stubbornly. "I'm so amazed. My book's become a portal! I must research this more." He fumbles out a piece of paper and jots down some notes quickly. "Is your life nice in the future? It must be nicer than now."
"W-well it's great! Compared to your time, we've come along way. We've developed electricity, made phones, microchips, apps; our cars can defy gravity, and improvement installments. None of it I get to use, but it's fascinating. Lets see, what else..." Alfred puts a hand on his chin and begins to think of more things to add to his list.
"Hmm? What's this Electricity you speak of? And what are cars, and I have a way to defy gravity with magic! I have no clue what most of what you're "inventions" are, but they sound interesting, although I am more concerned as to whether you know how to make a portal to transport matter..."
"Hell, that's easy! Portals are thing of the past. Everyone has improvements now." Alfred says, sitting down and crossing his legs. He lifts his hands, sparks flying from them. The circular screen he sees Arthur through is now off the wall and floating in the air in front of him. He holds it in his hands, staring at the man on the other side. "You're a lot younger looking in the photos." He mumbles, gazing at the floating image before him.
"Excuse me, for I have just witnessed a huge explosion and haven't slept in over 24 hours," he scowls. "I don't exactly feel ravishing let alone look it." He calms down and sighs, his green eyes softening to the younger look he was used to. "It's nice to see you again. I missed you."
"Am I missing something? We just met... right? I mean, I Googled you ass a lot, I feel like I know you. But we've never met 'till now."
"Er, you're- we're- you- we were good friends. Until," he pauses biting his lips, "Until you died."
"Are you referring to the witch trials of 1692? Are you... Are you in them right now?" Alfred asks, sadly. "That was a very lonely time for you... I'm so, so sorry."
"I just... I'm sorry that because of me you're not hear anymore... but you said you had ways to transport matter? Like through space through information? Magic maybe?"
"Technology. That's what we use. But it's also why I'm stuck here. Much like the witches and warlocks of your society, there are people like me in my society that have a certain gene. Were hunted for it, because we threaten others." He looks down sadly, away from the warlock. His voice suddenly sounds different, with an electronic undertone from his normal, warm and happy voice. "I'm really sorry about this. I'm trying to suppress my emotions but my brain doesn't compute. It's fighting with the microchip. Hold on." He instructs with his strange voice. Alfred then grabs his head, sparks flying from his fingertips and all around his head. The glasses on his face break from a quick shock of electricity. He jumps, it startling him. The sudden jolt snaps him out of it. In a flash, the dancing blue sparks are gone. He removes his glasses with a frown. "Dam it not again." He curses, his voice returning to normal.
Eyes wide Arthur crawls backwards slamming into the wall dropping and staring at the book. "Were you just possessed"
"No, it's nothing like that I swear. It would be a lot easier if you understood." Alfred splits the screen in half. One side shows him, and the other side he displays a document for kids explaining electricity. "You're a smart man I'm sure you'll catch on real quick. With this, we created a chip, a microchip, which you can place in your brain. Once it's in, you can install improvements. The chip controls your brain waves to help you do so. Say you want to eat better. You install that program and the chip manipulates your brain to make you eat better things. The only problem is, the more programs installed the less human like you become. Your emotions tend to go first. You don't have to think for yourself anymore. My parents both had these chips, and I somehow inherited the traits of their improvements. Electrons, and all this other stuff," Alfred explains, highlighting the word as he talks along. "as shown in the doc, flow through our veins. That's how it works." He stops talking to watch Arthur scan the article with confusion and wonder. "I had a chip put in my brain when I was three. I didn't have a choice. Because of my deformity, the government took me away from my parents and locked me away in here. The chip is there so they can watch over me. Literally get inside my mind and try to control it to believe whatever they want. In a way, they tried to possess me, but I have learned how to control it."
"I think I get it, but this is all so magnificent. I barely dream of making objects fly, and you can put chips in brains?! Although I'm curious why you're putting chips in people's heads... How are potatoes going to watch people? I guess it could kind of make sense. Potatoes do have eyes... It seems electricity works a bit like magic seems to share some of the same properties."
"No! Not like that!" Alfred giggles, pulling up another document for him to read. He smiles at his intrigued expression, running over the words of science. "Arthur I'm so glad you're here. I adore you and your work, I really do. I feel honored to talk to you. And now... I'm not so lonely."
"Hmmm, well Ælfreed, I'm glad you're here too, but I'm curious why you would call configurations of metal and plastic potatoes... I'll roll with it, you are in the future after all." Arthur pauses for a long moment almost dreading to say what's on the tip of his tongue. He says it anyway, "So are you happy there? In that world?"
"I..." Alfred stops. He knows that if Arthur's was a government official, he'd have to lie and says he's happy. Lie about his true feelings and smile as if it's all right. "I'm not. To be honest I hate it. It's like torture. Sure, the walls are computer screens and all that, I can look up whatever I want and know all about it, but I can never feel it. Its like saying 'See all this wonderful stuff outside? Do you want it? Too bad!' They do have simulations. I think I'm supposed to have one tonight. Did the sun already set?" He asks, standing. With sparks from his fingers he leads the floating circle, so Arthur is on to the wall. He stretches his image so he's bigger, taking up about a 4th of the wall. Now, on Arthur's pages Alfred appears smaller, getting a better idea of the size of the room he's in. It's roomy, and obnoxiously too big for man to live in all by himself.
"Well I wish I had all that space for Alchemy, but, to be honest I'm glad you said you didn't like it so now we need a plan to get you here. Do you have any ideas?"
"Arthur, I can't leave. If I do I'll die."
"What do you mean you'll die? How will you die if you come into my time? No one will follow you! You have to come to me." Arthur's tone and eyes became more pleading with every word, ending with emerald eyes near tears staring back at Alfred from the mechanical screen.
"They give me medicine, daily. If I don't get it I'll die. I get shots. Sometimes, if I'm doing badly, they put a gas in the room to help me breathe better. It usually clears out by the afternoon, and that's when they can run the simulations." He shrinks the screen again and stands beside it. He seems about the same size as him now. He clears away the text he gave him and places his hand on the screen. "Believe me, if I could be with you, I would in a heartbeat."
"But, you would die? Is the air poisonous where you're from? I-I" A single tear falls from the eyes towards the book but Arthur wipes it away before he could even risk it touching the precious parchment. "I got you back, but I don't have you."
Alfred places his forehead on the screen, nuzzling it.
"Soon, someday, we'll be together." He tells him sadly. His hand on the screen begins to spark. With a startling jolt he pulls it back. "Ooops." The white walls that surround him turn blue, the various electronic work shown on the floor glows brighter. "Shit. Arthur, your going to have to hide somehow or they'll take you away from me!" Alfred quickly makes the portal smaller, and stands in front of it. "No, that's not going to work. What if they beat me? Um..." He mumbles, turning to face the screen again. Waving a hand in front of him, documents flood the walls around him. Deleting a few, he leaves up the ones about Arthur and place them around the portal in such a way that it looks like just another document. "You have to say really quiet! Maybe, act like a picture or hold up one? Anything!" He begs, his fingers sparking uncontrollably now.
"Ack!" Britain sets the book down and takes out the mirror admiring it in a way that he can see the book and what's going on. Oh god, I'm going to be stuck like this for a while... he thought with an inward groan. The door opens, making a loud noise and echoing through the silent room. Alfred smiles warmly, but only Arthur can tell it's fake.
"Everything ok in here?" A voice asks, entering the room. He has a cloth tied over his nose and mouth.
"Yeah I'm fine. The uh, the alarm really wasn't necessary I just had to avoid a virus is all."
"I see. Looking up that warlock again are ya?"
"Yup!" Alfred chirps. "So do I get another dose or, is there a simulation tonight?"
"No and yes. Your medicine didn't come in for tonight so we're hoping the simulation will make up for that. For tonight: the desert. Most people can't even enjoy this in the real world right now, so you're lucky." As he explains this to Alfred, he types in a code to the wall. He's uncomfortably close to the portal. He stops, and stares at it. "Did that just blink?" He asks, touching it and moving it around.
"I-it's a GIF! D-don't touch it please!"
I begin to blink every few moments in time, catching on quickly.
"Wow, quite accurate. Whatever, I know your protective of your research, especially of this guy. Good night, enjoy the desert." He waves his hand, and the screens around me turn into a desert setting behind the pages of work on them. As soon as he's gone, I start deleting the pages. "You're free to move now."
"Oh god I thought I'd never get to scratch this itch!" He quickly scratches his nose for relief. Looking into the book more closely he gasps, "You're in the desert! What is this wizardry? How did you get there without me seeing any traces of magic but that code!?"
"Its not real, it just artwork displayed on the wall. I wouldn't last long if I was in a real desert." Alfred giggles. "So, this is where I shall sleep. Under the LED stars of the ceiling." He sighs, lying down by the wall. He pulls the portal down to his side so he can talk still. He lies on his side, facing those green eyes. "Where do you sleep?" He asks, looking around the wizard's surroundings.
"Er, I usually sleep at my 'house', but I stayed too late here to go back to my house, so I guess I'm sleeping in this shack. He folds out the rather large book so that he can sleep using the other half of the book almost like a pillow. "Hah, if I look only at the book it's as though we're sleeping in the same bed," his green eyes soften sadly. "I miss that so much. I want to see and touch and smell you again. Oh, how many times can I tell you I miss you?" He sighs sadly, "But you probably wouldn't understand would you? The only way to describe how I feel right now is to say that the feeling you have constantly of being able to see and not touch is magnified a million times over."
"So, these are feelings? Emotions, right? I'm not sure what they are besides a dictionary definition. Emotions: A natural instinctive state of mind deriving from one's circumstances, mood, or relationships with others." Alfred nods, thinking a little. "Tell me more about these?"
"Didn't you say you were born with all your upgrades? Shouldn't you then still have your emotions?"
"Believe me, there still there. I don't get to use them very much, so, I'm not sure what they are, even if I am experiencing them. How do they feel?"
"I'm sorry, they're impossible to describe. I take it poetry and music are no longer popular in your time? I wonder what music would sound like without a soul driving it. I wonder what things would taste like without memories tainting them for better or for worse. I wonder, is the sunset even beautiful without the emotions drawn from them, and I wonder most of all, can you even feel what you touch? Does warmth exist to a soul who doesn't know love?"
"So it's all that? Then I'm feeling them right now!" Alfred smiles. "I feel tingly inside, that's normal right?" Alfred sounds excited, but looks tired. He yawns, still listening. He listens as if these emotions are like a bedtime story, like a fairy tale to a young child.
"I'm glad humanity hasn't lost its humanity." Arthur yawned as well. "Well if you had a day as busy and eventful as I have then I'm sure you're tired too. I wish I could stay up longer," he yawned even larger than his friend. His eyes grow droopier.
"Yeah! Using emotions is tough work!" Alfred smiled and looked back.
For a moment they just took in the other tired soul wondering what they were thinking until both of their eyes closed to images of the other's angelic portrait.
Arthur's last feeling before he finally fell asleep was a smooth and cold object gently sliding toward his grasp as he gently caressed its surface.
