The street was empty. Newly fallen autumn leaves, already set with a kind of rigor mortis, scraped their way along the pavement in twisted, grisly attitudes of russet death. The bare, stick-like trees rattled in a cold rush of air. The melancholy peace of the scene was interrupted by the sound of scuffing footsteps along the concrete, and around the corner appeared a vision of vivid crimson. She was only small, with dark hair, and her face was not pretty - her relatives called it interesting - with a sharp strange look in her eyes as if she did not truly belong there. She was wrapped in a bright jacket that seemed to glow amongst the grey and russet of the autumn world. Some would say, if they saw her, that she represented somehow the carefree image of the child, oblivious to the death around her. But they would have been wrong. The bright jacket was only part of a cheerful exterior. If they had looked into her eyes they would have seen a dark, wondering, sad and lonely heart that would have brought tears to their eyes. Why was such a child so terribly wrought with feeling? She asked herself the same question. Raising the little face to the sky, she breathed a word to the wind.
"Why?" It carried to the tops of the trees and whispered through their rattling branches, whistled through her hair and past her ears, through the guttering around the rooves of the silent houses. But no answer came.
You might be thinking that this little girl had met death of a family member or friend too early in life, or had suffered hardships beyond what little children properly should. But if you are, then you are wrong. The thing the child posessed was something in a way worse than a temporary hardship.
It was a feeling so strong she could not always hold it in - a love for things alive, and a mind much older than her years. She saw her parents and knew that she did not want to grow up, and be placed in the world to fend for herself.
She saw an old woman in the shopping mall and wondered if anyone visited her on mother's day, or any other day, for that matter.
And she heard the echoing news from the television that someone had died, or been abused, or that some little animal was becoming extinct, saw the pictures of their pleading eyes, and cried into the night. And from what she saw, she knew in her heart that the reason all this happened was because it had always happened, that people, long before she was born, had tried and failed to stop it all. And because of that, with the weight of the heavy and unintelligible world on her little shoulders, she suffered for the world, knowing nothing could be done.
She stood for a moment on the verge, the leaves scraping past her feet, staring with piercing eyes into the grey nothingness of the sky, and then turned suddenly and disappeared in the back gate of a big white house. With the glowing colour, and the living presence of the girl gone, the scene settled back into its melancholy percussion, a scraping, rattling dirge.
The next morning dawned exactly the same as the previous, colourless and cold. The little girl sat behind her desk in school, and the teacher could see that today her intelligent eyes were sadder than ever. She silenced the babble of the children, tapped her chalk on the new-looking, clean blackboard, and began the lesson.
"Children," she said "Today we're going to do something a bit different. I have an assignment for you, but it's not an ordinary assignment, so put away your books. You have a week to think about what it would be like to meet someone who came from the future. What questions would you ask them? What would they answer? Say they came from, let's see, the year 3000. Any questions? Good." She glanced sharply at the girl in the red parka, and realised that the girl was looking at her. She smiled to herself.
The little girl looked at her teacher and saw something bright in her sharp eyes, a strange look that she could not remember having seen before. For a moment she wondered, but her eyes turned slowly back to the greyness outside the window.
As she wandered home from school that afternoon, the sun burst suddenly through the clouds, filling the world with its rightful colours - greens and oranges, and the occasional yellow of a dandelion. The girl stopped in her tracks, looking in wonder at the transformed world. The sun caught on her eyelashes and framed the scene with rainbows, and for a moment she smiled, a rich beautiful smile, and then wandered on her way. As she entered the gate of her house, the sun, after watching her go, pulled the blanket of clouds back over his head and went to sleep, and the world was grey again.
Inside, the girl's mother, with her lined face, helped her take off the red jacket, glancing at her worriedly.
"Have you got homework today?" She asked gently. The little girl looked up with sad, loving eyes.
"Yes, I have some work to do. Can I go to the park and swing while I think about it. It's a thinking assignment."
Her mother smiled down on her, wondering at how this child could think so much, feeling a distant pang that maybe this little girl had already left childhood behind.
"All right, you can go. But be home before dark, all right?" The little girl thrust her arms back into the bright red sleeves, nodding.
"I love you, Mummy", she called as she ran back out the door, and her mother's heart was still again.
Sitting on the swing in the shabby brownness of the playground, the little girl glowed redly, as she swung back and forward, back and forward on the old swing. She smelt the almost warm smell of dusty, rotten tanbark, and watched a little dog trotting past with a bright air of purpose. She did not want to do this assignment. She could not bear to think of the future the way it would be - the little dog, for all its purpose - dead, her mother and herself, dead, the baby seal with its bright eyes, the sleepy, barnacled whale, the thin little child in some african country, all dead.
So many people crying in the night, with sore hearts, old ladies with no-one to visit them, their husbands dead in wars. All the beautiful flowers blackened. A tear stole down her cheek at the thought.
She did not want to find out about the future, because she knew from the grim faces on the news that they had already tried and failed to change the world. The little dog wandered around a corner, and she was alone again.
The wind gushed and pushed her higher for a moment, the clank of the swing's chains joining in the slow cold cacophony of the despairing voices of nature. The little girl turned her eyes out on the world, and something caught her gaze and held them. It was a little girl with dark hair, and wild, wide wondering eyes, gazing up at the girl on the swing. She was swathed in a large white jacket, that, rather than making the day around greyer with its contrast, brightened the whole autumn world a few shades. The girl on the swing scuffed her feet in the old tanbark to slow the swing, until she had stopped all together. She stared at the girl in white, and the girl stared back. And then the girl smiled.
"Hello," said the girl in white. Her voice was beautiful to hear. The little girl in red answered her with an echo.
"Hello."
"Guess where I'm from" said the girl in white The little girl in red shook her head. The girl in white tossed her head. "You know." The girl in red shook her head again. "Yes, you know," said the girl in white.
"You come from Yesterday and Today. I come from Tomorrow." The girl in red was silent.
A gust of wind caught the girl in white's hair and whirled it around her head, and she laughed.
The little girl in red smiled, because the sight was beautiful. The girl in white smiled back.
"Do you want to know about Tomorrow?" She asked. The girl in red shook her head, but her eyes were filled with curiosity. This girl in white, if she came from the Tomorrow she imagined, how could she have such wild, wide eyes, with the shine and wonder still in them?
"Don't you want to know?" The girl in white was teasing, now. The girl in red did not speak, but she did not shake her head as before. "I'll tell you just one thing, then," said the girl in white.
"I'll tell you that Tomorrow no-one is lonely." The little girl in red looked at the girl in white in disbelief.
The girl in white giggled. "I'll tell you one more thing," she whispered.
"Tomorrow there is no war." The little girl in red's eyes widened. The girl in white giggled and spun around in a wild circle. "Just one more thing. Tomorrow, no man or animal lives in fear."
The little girl in red stood up quickly, her eyes wide open, and as the girl in white watched, a gleam came over the little face. The girl in red spoke.
"How?" The girl in white suddenly looked older than before. Her smile was wise.
"Because," she answered "someone got tired of watching and wishing, got up and started loving and living." She smiled again. The little girl in red looked at the girl in white and smiled. There was the hint of a shine in her sad eyes. Then she looked up into the sky, and realised that darkness was creeping over. She took one more look at the girl in white, and took to her heels, pushed along by gusts of wind as she scampered toward her house.
The girl in white watched her go. There was another watcher, too. From behind the curtain in her front room, the teacher watched the receding red figure, and the still white one. The girl in white turned, as the red figure disappeared, and the teacher saw the dark hair, the intelligent eyes, and the interesting-but-not-so-pretty face. The difference was that these eyes were wide with wonder.
For a moment the girl looked straight at her, winked, and then a glimmering light surrounded her, there seemed to be a hint of the shape of giant wings, and then she disappeared. The teacher smiled.
The next morning, the little girl in red carried a flower with her into the classroom and left it quietly on the teacher's desk. The teacher watched her silently as she sat drawing at her table; saw the not-so-pretty features, and the melancholy face. There seemed to be a difference, though. The face glowed with a new light. The light of hope.
Where is the little girl in red now, you ask? Well, sometimes you can see her with her piercing eyes and her sleeves rolled up cleaning out the cages at the dog pound, or glimpse her as she wheels an old lady through the door at the flower-bedecked nursing home, or catch her whispering secrets in the ear of a flushed little child who stopped to stare as she tried to catch a thistle seed floating through the air. Sometimes she thinks that the girl who came from Tomorrow was just a dream, but it doesn't really matter. The thing that matters is that she knows what it could be like Tomorrow, and so Today she has hope. The melancholy has not gone from her face, her eyes can still be dark, her tears frequent, but sometimes you can see her on the top of a hill, with the cold wind in her face and wild, wide, wondering eyes, as she smiles down on her little piece of the world, and sees promise.
Lorien sighed deeply as she lay back on her ergonomically modified sofa. She slipped her sensible slippers slowly off her feet.
"Monitor on" she commanded and virtually the whole wall in front of her lit up.
She stopped, unsure of what she wanted to watch for the evening. She glanced around her quarters - oh what she would do for some colour. White walls, white furniture, white clothing. Her surroundings reminded her of that disgusting food they ate back in the 90's That was 1990's not 2090's. What did they call it? Oh yes, tripe! And for some reason people preferred it smothered in a thick white substance that they called sauce. Revolting! Yes she felt like she was living her life in a bowl of tripe!
A smile danced across her lips, she had an idea.
Lorien levered herself off the couch and headed for her wardrobe module.
"Wardrobe... floral!" she commanded cheerfully.
"Malfunction," came the reply. "Floral does not compute."
She cursed under her breath. But not quietly enough. Suddenly she was covered from head to toe with a sticky, smelly brown substance.
"Ewwwww!"
She rushed over to her shower module.
"CLEAN!" she yelled and reminded herself to be careful what she said next time she was in the dressing area.
Wandering back to the wardrobe area, she decided she would need to modify her request. Doesn't understand floral, how about... "Flowers?" she asked
The request gained her a rather attractive lily stuck behind her ear. A white one of course! She sighed as she removed the flower and decided to give up.
"Incoming visitors," came a call from her door.
Lorien grumbled... "that's all I need," she muttered. She didn't feel like being serene. Ever since she had been modded, she had been unable to return to her previous unemotional self.
"Identify," she commanded.
"Lorien... it's me Alana. I have Jenny with me."
"Enter," she replied sullenly.
The door slid open and Lorien threw herself back on the sofa.
"Hey... are you okay?" Jenny quizzed as she sat herself down on a fluffy white chair that resembled a chinchilla cat, before curling her feet beneath her.
"Oh yes," she sighed again. "I guess I'm just a bit bored."
"Bored? What is bored?" questioned Alana. "Are you unwell Lorien?"
"No, I don't think so," she replied, ruffling her fluffy brown hair so that is stood more on end than usual. "I think I spent too much time back in the 1990's. I seem to have contracted several virus forms. Boredom being one disease that we have eradicated by the year 3000 for anyone other than me."
"Oh...," replied Alana. Jenny merely nodded. She understood boredom. She had endured the brainless rap music of the 80's and 90's.
"So what brings you here?" Lorien questioned.
"Well, I came for a visit," said Jenny, "I'm so glad you managed to find a way that I could travel here without disrupting history. Anyway I couldn't go home without calling by to say hello."
"I'm kicking back and watching what you would call a 'home movie'. You are more than welcome to stay," continued Lorien.
"Yes, party!" cried Jenny.
"Party?" asked Alana, raising an eyebrow.
"Ahhhh... she needs to be educated," said Jenny with a mischievous grin.
"Monitor on," commanded Lorien.
"So what are we watching?" asked Alana.
"Tomorrow's End," replied Lorien.
The girls let out a collective groan. "What are you into self torture since I returned to 1990?" asked Jenny.
The screen sprang to life.
"Oh I don't know if I can bare to watch," complained Jenny.
"It's not too bad," replied Lorien, "I've watched it over a few times... I only have bits and pieces though."
"Good," replied Alana as an image of Draco passed in front of their eyes.
"Booooo," Jenny cried. "Nasty thing he was!"
"He was a bastard then, and he'd still be a bastard today," mumbled Lorien.
"I've heard him referred to in those terms," replied Jenny. "He was just totally unreasonable. He'd make a good I.A. Detective."
"What's an I.A. Detective?" asked Alana.
"Long story," replied Lorien with a grin. "But I do believe they spent long days in their offices back in the 1990's."
"Everyone wore hideous clothes," added Jenny before she noticed that Lorien and Alana were still wearing the same shapeless garb. "Oopps, sorry!"
"It's not from a lack of wanting or trying," sighed Lorien thinking of her earlier attempts. "Perhaps when you come and visit next time you could bring me something *bright*?"
"Lorien, you don't seem yourself today," stated Alana. "Perhaps you should speak to Bruno?"
"Ohhh...," giggled Jenny as she turned her attention back to the screen. "Doesn't Silverthorn look fetching in his flowing *blouse*?"
"You're not afraid of him anymore?" asked Alana.
"No, not at all. Not since I know he went back to the dinosaur age. He'd be a bit of an old dinosaur these days eh? Prehistoric time, a very good place for him! Hey Lorien, do you have anything to drink?" asked Jenny. "I could go a Scotch and coke."
"Jenny!" exclaimed Alana. "You know we have eradicated the need for artificial stimulants like alcohol."
"Besides, you're too young to drink alcohol," added Lorien.
"While I'm here I'm a few thousands of years older so I think I would pass ID," she laughed.
"Oh there's Silverthorn again," said Alana.
"That jacket is such a lovely shade of brown," said Lorien sarcastically.
"Oh the ponytail and ear-ring does it for me everytime," sniggered Jenny.
Alana looked on in horror. She was used to Jenny's radical theories and speech whenever she visited. But Lorien's input was down right bewildering.
"I think bright red is more is shade, don't you think Lorien?" asked Jenny.
"Yes, I could see him in red. I wonder how he is coping with his lifestyle these days?" replied Lorien.
"Oh I don't know, with all that uninhabited land. I bet he's claimed most of it and trying to sell it off to cavemen. He could sell ice to Eskimo's. He's such a lying conniving conman. He'd make good real estate agent."
"That's if he and Draco didn't kill each other five seconds *after* we sent them there," replied Lorien.
"I hate to say it Lorien, but this is all rather depressing," sighed Jenny. "It's probably time I headed back."
Lorien nodded. "Monitor off."
"I'm sorry if we disrupted your free time Lorien," apologised Alana.
"Oh well there's no future in the past I always say," replied Lorien with a smile. "I'm just so BORED here!" she added in an annoyed tone.
"Lorien?" started Jenny with a rather bemused look on her face. "Why don't you come back with me now and visit for awhile? We could hit the clubs, party for awhile. You would really like it!"
"Jenny, pleassseee," whined Alana. "I really don't think... I mean in her current mental state she shouldn't..."
"Let's rock this place!" laughed Lorien with wide eyes.
"Lorien you're scaring me! Jenny this is madness!" chastised Alana.
"Wanta come too?" Jenny asked her friend.
"Me? What would I do?" Alana asked inquisitively.
"Well you could always pretend you were a wine-taster I guess," said Lorien.
"A what?" replied Alana who by now was totally confused.
"Let's Party!" Lorien and Jenny stated in unison.
"Party? Party like there will be no tomorrow?" asked Alana.
"BEAM ME UP BRUNO!"
The End.
(but is it? )