–
Chapter 2
–
“My name is Tomorrow.”
The Chronicler coiled oddly at the statement. “Yet you are not Tomorrow itself? It is just your title and nothing more?”
“Yes.” You replied, straightening up to show emphasis at the factor. “I am Tomorrow.”
“Well, Tomorrow, would you please consider my appearance for the record?” The Chronicler spoke, jotting down your every thought and statement onto the blank page of a large book.
You politely nodded and looked at the Chronicler. He was a thin, worm-like creature, which seemed to hang in the air by invisible strings, suspended from gravity by sheer force of will. Two of his four arms were dedicated to penning the current events down in a large book he held with the other pair, and the tail end of his form seemed to trail off into nothingness underneath a ragged, tattered robe.
“Eeugh.”
The Chronicler looked up in surprise. “What? Is there something wrong? And if so… How do you know it to be so? You did not exist until a moment ago.”
“I just…” You responded, trying not to look directly at the Chronicler. “You unnerve me somehow. Can you… Not do that?”
The Chronicler shamefully looked away. “I had no idea this form was… Unappealing. Much less revolting. But I am afraid I have no control over how I appear, Tomorrow. It is decided for me.”
“What does tomorrow have to do with tod- Oh. Wait.” You stopped, realizing the obvious.
“Yes, I suspected conversation would be difficult.” The Chronicler rubbed what might be considered a chin. “May I call you Tom?”
“No.” You sharply responded. “My name is Tomorrow.”
“Understood.” The Chronicler said. There was an uncomfortably long silence. "Well, I should probably explain how my presence here operates. I am your Chronicler. I keep up to date on all events; I record everything that has occurred. If something happens, I write it down. Every thought or action. Nothing is left out. Try thinking of something.”
So you thought for a moment. There was a struggle in your mind - you were incredibly certain that there had been something before all of this. But what could it have been? No indicator, no hint or suggestion that anything had ever been. As far as you knew, you really had come into existence only a moment ago.
Then this sense - this nagging thought that something had once been - must simply be a notion constructed to-
“I remember something.” You said against your better judgement and reason. Surely reinforcing that concept was a foolish endeavor. He would inquire, and how would you answer?
“What specifically?” The Chronicler responded.
You rubbed the base of one palm into your brow. “Never mind, I can’t- I can’t think of anything. My mind is a total mess. I keep thinking I remember things and then I go completely blank over and over. It’s incredibly annoying.”
The Chronicler mused silently for a moment, his odd head tilting back and forth curiously. “Perhaps it would help for you to list off things that you are decidedly certain of. Facts, places, things, people… Things you know for certain do exist and do not rely on a possibly faulty memory.”
So you thought for a moment. Things, what things… Your eyes involuntarily closed and thoughts filled your head, thoughts about mountain peaks and clipper ships, frozen wastes and grass-covered fields, ominous forests and contraptions of steel, the starry night sky and the warmth of the sun.
The sun…
Your eyes flew back open and your mouth grew into a snarl of disappointment, but it dropped into undisguised amazement at the sight which now lay before your pupils. Green hills sloped and curved across a massive meadow, leading to a dark forest surrounding the base of a mountain taller than it was wide. Atop the peak sat a full-rigged clipper ship, bow pointed directly at the sky, suspended in place by ice and snow. The sun proclaimed the blue sky far above.
“WHAT.” You retorted to this series of events. “How did- I don’t- WHAT-”
“This is your story, mister Tomorrow.” The Chronicler chuckled. “Now shall we get started?”
–