Chapter 2 - Strange

I tossed, realizing the comforting closeness of the coffin I sleep in was not there. My eyes shot open and found myself in a strange room. Where...? Then it came rushing back. I groaned softly and rested my head between my knees. I trembled. What the hell would happen to me? Could I survive in this foreign place? I heard voices from another room. I slugged myself off the bed and staggered forward. I opened the door and followed the noise, until I came into a small kitchen. The two girls-Roselle and Abbey- sat around a tiny table, talking in low voices. Roselle's head jerked up and saw me. "Good morning."

I felt so uncomfortable, with the both of them staring at me. I checked my mask; Mon dieu, but it was still on. "I-"

"Ok...Erik, sit down. Where should we start?"

I obeyed, but the table was so small our elbows nearly touched. I leaned back slightly. "How do you know my name?"

The girls exchanged glances. "Um...alright...but...it's complicated..." Abbey sighed.

I hardened my eyes and stared coldly at them. Roselle shrunk.

"Okay," she squeaked, and handed me a book. I sighed. She was afraid of me. But why wouldn't she be?

Then I saw the book's cover. The Phantom of the Opera. My jaw dropped and my hands began to tremble.

"HOW? What in hell- how...I...what the hell?" I usually refrained in swearing before women- what few women I have been around- but I was flabbergasted. I glared at them distrustfully.

"It was published in 1910 by Gaston Leroux." Roselle said softly.

"What...does it say about me?" I whispered.

"Ask Roselle. She's read it a million times." Abbey instructed.

I looked expectantly at Roselle. She wouldn't look at me. "It says you were a recluse...you lived beneath the Opera Populaire. Before that you'd been a assassin for Persia, a carnival attraction-" at that, the shy girl's eyes met mine with a look of sadness and pity- "and a masonry contractor."

My breathing was getting dangerously unsteady.

"You..." As she reached this point, Roselle's voice was more quiet than a whisper. "You fell in love with Christine Daae, and exceptional singer, and lost her to the Viscount Raoul DeChangy."

I was fair panting now. Undefined rage poured into my eyes. Roselle's eyes widened and she looked as if she wanted to run. Abbey was nervous, glancing at her friend in concern.

"You asked me," Roselle breathed. "You asked!"

I lifted my hands to hold my head, and she flinched. I was momentarily confused but I didn't ponder it long. I rubbed my scalp vigorously.

"What else should I know?" I looked up again.

Roselle sat again, still anxious, I could see, but better. "Alright...but I think...you must swear not to leave us until you can understand our time and its technologies."

Abbey nodded and added. "For your safety."

My eyebrow jerked up. "My...safety? Believe me, Mademoiselle, I can take care of myself."

"We know. But that was in the 19th century...this is the 21st. Big differences." Roselle said.

I sighed, seeing no other way. "I swear." Then a new thought hit me. "What will your husbands or parents think of this?"

Abbey snickered, but Roselle's eyes turned ghostly.

"We're not married," she said quietly. Her eyes looked suddenly haunted.

Abbey stopped her laughter and laid a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Your not..."I struggled..."Sapphists?"

Roselle head snapped up and met Abbey's gaze, and the 2 of them burst out with gales of laughter.

"Oh, that's rich! He thinks we're lezzies!" Abbey guffawed, hanging over her chair.

"No, no, no...We're friends! We took vacations from work to come here for 4 weeks!" Roselle gasped, tears of mirth pricking the corners of her eyes.

"Work? I-I don't understand..." I was becoming increasingly befuddled, and I hated it.

"Women these days do every kind of work men do. They live alone if they wish, or with their boyfriends-beaus- although both of us detest that- or with their parents or husbands." Roselle explained kindly.

I shuddered. "What kind of work?"

"Military, secretary, politics- government positions such as governor and senators- mailpersons, fire-fighters, police women..." Abbey rambled.

I shook my head. "And they all dress as you do?"

"How do you mean?"

I hesitated. "Men's clothes, tight tops, skin showing..." I blushed, glad for once that the mask covered my face.

"Yep!" Abbey said cheerfully. "Although most women's clothes retain a more feminine appearance."

"And now, there's no need for carriages. There's cars- you saw those; air planes- They are motor geared to fly like a bird, sorta; we've even built a spaceship that went to the moon!"

I snorted. "Flying? To the moon? You lie."

"No! Anway, there's phones that allow you to talk to someone miles away; cell phones are the same only mobile; Computers that you can create a book on, visit these things called web pages..."

Roselle again cut in for me. "Ab, you're scaring him again. Let's give him something he'll enjoy."

My head began to ache. She handed me an odd, round-shaped device connected with a wire, and to that, a U shaped thing with fuzzy stuff on the end.

"This is called a CD player. It plays music."

My head processed the thought easier.

"Put these earphones on your head..." she handed me the U thing, "And press play right here."

I did so, and not a second later, orchestra music poured into my ears. I jumped. "Where's it coming from!"

She opened the round thing and showed me a disk. "It's recorded on here. If you want to take a break before dinner, you can go listen to that for a while."

I nodded and jumped up. "I beg your pardon, but you needn't cook for me...I...don't think I'm hungry."

Abbey and Roselle shared glances. "Alright, but we'll torture you with aromas, then. Mean while, once you regain some brain cells, you should read this stack of books; American History, World History from the 19th century on, and other various things about technology. But no hurry."

I nodded hurriedly and escaped to the little room, cautiously pressed play, and let my thoughts whirl away with music called Pirates of the Caribbean Soundtrack - whatever that meant.