In the year 20XX
A girl, who was born in 19XX, was known as a child genius across the globe. She had knowledge of many subjects from medical related issues to politics shown on our televisions today. Her skills were putting experts such as scientists, mathematicians and technicians to shame. During the years of her fame, most people grew envious of her many talents. They wished that their talents would be great enough to make them walk away with a ton of cash. They would break an arm and a leg to be exactly like this girl.
She was around five foot six, shoe size seven. Her short black hair with white highlights was tied in two high ponytails. Her favourite Steampunk goggles with the left eye in the shape of a camera lens were always kept on until she retired for the night, her brown eyes hidden from the world. Her casual wear consisted of a long black Ramones shirt, black leather fingerless gloves, black nail polish and dark grey jeans with braces hanging from the sides. Her shoe wear included black Converse with white stainless laces.
The girl wanted her personal life to remain unknown to everyone else.
Because of this, no one knew her full name. Neither did she, why? Because she taught herself to forget it, she wanted to change her identity. The public gave her the nickname Lottie, although she didn't think the name suited her.
No one knew her age or birthday, they all assumed she was somewhere in her teens.
No one knew where or who her parents are, was she brought up in an orphanage?
No one knows how she quickly developed all these skills during her isolation.
They never saw her in public, they only saw her on the television to collect her many rewards.
They never heard her speak; people believed she had a case of Mutism.
The only emotions she showed were happy or sad, never angry or distressed in any way. If she was happy, she would beam a small innocent smile. If she was sad, the same grin would turn upside down into a frown.
One day, alone in the dimly lit cottage, the girl began reading about a certain fellow who was known to nearly everybody who explored the internet. She once heard about this character whilst listening to an audio clip of a group of friends talking about 'him'. Curiosity got the better of her as she began her research.
He was feared, loved and hated by many people, all because of his mannerisms and strange behaviour. His appearance as well as his trademark deformed hands haunted those who dared to see an image of him whilst in a room surrounded in darkness. It is said that a British gentleman, David Firth, had created this character. He named him Salad Fingers, the name idea chosen when Firth's friend once quoted that he had 'salad fingers' whilst strumming away on his guitar. The girl took this as nonsense but a part of her wanted to believe it was all fiction. She believed that this 'animation' was created to mock SF.
Enough was enough; she was going to help this character. The girl didn't care if people were to call her crazy or just plain delusional.
She packed many supplies with her. Medical kits, food, water, second hand clothes stolen from the charity bin and many others that can fill a household fit for a family of four. She also bought some DIY tools for future reference.
Her unannounced prototype time machine may be impossible but it was worth a try. The space inside was the same as two garden sheds put together. So every box, crate and suitcase managed to fit in every corner.
She dialled in a series of numbers including her destination, the year XXXX. Location: [REDACTED].
In a blink of an eye, she had arrived. The girl remembered that a small dizzy spell was one of the side effects of time travel. She opened the door of the time machine.
The weather was overcast.
The ground was dry and lacking grass or mud.
She was in the middle of nowhere, that's what she thought until she saw the house, the house that she saw in the 'animation'.
She stepped out and observed her unannounced successful time machine. It had camouflaged itself to make it look like a small wooden shed. She looked back at the house again and began to walk towards it. The girl hoped she wouldn't be spotted by any deformed beings that she read about. For the first time, she felt worried. Worried yet felt sorry for them for having a lack of self maintenance.
As she approached the door, she can immediately smell the ammonia wafting from the cracks in the windows. Thankfully, the girl came fully prepared. She put her goggles atop her head and slid on the clear oxygen mask which stretched across the bottom half of her face, along with a tank strapped to her back. She hoped that her current appearance would not frighten SF.
Although feeling guilty for not knocking first, she opened the door. The moment she stepped into what appeared to be the living room, devilish screams emitted from a hollowed out radio filled with small pebbles... sustenance.
She began to tear up when she heard weeping, she couldn't find its location, but she knew it was definitely him. Her heart strings were being tugged each time SF took a breath before continuing to weep.
With silent footsteps, she switched the radio off. Silence filled the isolated cottage. A surprised gasp broke it immediately.
"I-I-I think Roger has finally ended that broadcast for good."