I live alone atop a small cliff, in a location of no importance. Waves from the joining ocean stir my sleep with their patronymic rock, keeping my faltering will alive and focus prime. My pathetic shack is no less a home than a coffin acts as a cover for a carcass. The walls sweat and laugh, trembling at my intelligence and insanity. The diploma on the wall, entwined in a tangle of soggy vines, continues to gather patience and sorrow as times passes, numbing me with a cry for purpose. Amongst the broken boards and cracked dreams of a lifetime past, I have finally come to give that degree finality, and present myself with an escape to greatness.
I walk into the kitchen, moving amongst shattered birch wood chairs, a toppled brown coffee table, and water droplets that breech my thatch ceiling. Opening the cupboards, cockroaches scatter, thinking of better environments to infest. The holder is barren except for the single heirloom I have secured from previously squandered journeys of pathetic accord.
The Chinese lettering on the cup is still a mystery to my gray. It sympathizes with my solitude, for his partners have long since been mislaid in tragedy. This piece of my life, all too safe in my stems, begs for re-balance. The wonder of a lone soldier, wandering aimlessly as the clock spins towards the eleventh hour of our existence, rests in my palms, and in my heart.
I re-position one of the chairs, still solid enough to hold my skinny frame and align the coffee table to center. Quickly boiling a quart of water, dropping a damp lemon tea bag in the liquid, I rest the cup next to the last working burner and wait for the bubbles to blossom. Sitting back down with my warm delight, we enjoy each others' passive company, all together scared and infinitely enthralled with my ultimate adventure.
When the warm wash is consumed, I attempt to store my friend back in its locker. As I get footing, and walk toward the cabinets, I stumble from a queer lodging caused by a hole in the floor and drop the relic from my hand. The porcelain shatters against the lower furnishing, destroyed. My associate is soon beyond.
With a huff, I regard this final straw as a decent egress and quickly retreat into the living room. Inside, I take a swift look at my components and make sure all is in order. Once the module is sheltered, and my being is happy with its loading points, I enter the machine. Pushing buttons, and turning knobs, I don’t think it unwise, or unfair, that I haven’t wished a single goodbye to my stead even though it has lent me this victory amongst such turmoil. A stunning blue light consumes me and my machine transports to the desired destination.
Securing the retrieval device in my back pocket, I take wind of my new surroundings. The looming willow trees and drafting leaves of a New England autumn bring a rare and whimsical smile to my mug. I soon spot my first wife strolling from the gravel paths to the clean cut grasses of the courtyard. The administration buildings are in the foreground, but before I can truly appreciate what topples of fine architecture they are, my vision steadies and I gaze at the teen I came to warn.
Approaching the tactless fool with a speedy shuffle, I don’t father the buck’s attention until I’m hovering him. The angler bobs his head as the sun stream he was using for reading light vanishes. He peers up and questions me about my prerogative.
I pause and am suddenly dumbfounded by the all too familiar voice and sense of determined pompousness. My own accent collapses on my lips and a cauldron of thought soon bursts from my swell, all too intrusive to realize, all too important to ignore.
I want to tell him everything. I want him to realize the burden he will bare; explain the troubles of a not-so-distant future, the heat and dust of a wealthy knowledge gone mad.
I cannot. I will not. It is not my place.
The rear sees no fault in quizzing me again, this time with a firmer tone. Snapping me from my daze, I smile and answer him with a smooth spill of words.
“Take care of the tea set.” My grin chokes back tears of revolution.
The stud’s lazy demeanor shifts to a state of nervous energy. He rapidly gathers his things, mostly books on quantum physics if I remember correctly, and catches up to the fox I witnessed ambling earlier.
When nobody’s peering, I active the retrieval command. The flash of blue waves through me and I’m back in my living room.
I step from my masterpiece and the anticipated malfunction follows - strange buzzes and unhealthy beeps from the giant construction. Then, with a weak sputter, combined with a streamlined escape of solutions, it smokes and is rendered useless. A lifetime of work vanquished in a few moments. My age acts as a weary facsimile now, for time gives me no ground to recreate such a fantasy.
Wandering back into the kitchen, all the sordid blessings I have created around me are intact: the walls still chuckle, my degree still screams, and my dorm, as a whole, is still feeble.
A vague understanding of a previously undiscovered truth begins to glow somewhere in my fumbling resolve. My existence is justified in remedial tackles of incomplete indulgence. This hallow retreat is an obvious beginning. My attitude soars, as a second grin flourishes about my features, bringing with it further knowledge and joy.
Opening the cabinet, I remove the Chinese tea set in its entirety.