Post by Shwoo on Feb 21, 2007 12:02:52 GMT
Only it's not set in the KND universe, or even one of the KND roleplay universes. So she's not really Numbuh 239. She's Hope. I wrote the story for school. It's kind of weird, unless you already know her backstory... She built a time machine at the age of 14. Anyway, here it is.
It was the year 2244. Humanity had not progressed throughout the solar system, and was not beginning to colonise planets on the other side of the galaxy. The galaxy no longer existed. And there were only eight humans left alive.
For over two hundred years, the universe had been shrinking down to a certain point on Earth. Of course the point was in America. That was where every interesting thing had happened. When the shrinking was discovered, there had been mass panic, and eventually World War III broke out, near the end of the 22nd century. It was fought in darkness. The sun had vanished 20 years before. World War III eventually petered out as most of its combatants died, and became the Breakdown. The Breakdown also petered out by 2230, or in the new years, 15BE. Fifteen years before the end. The universe was less than 4000 kilometres in radius at that point.
Hope, the youngest person alive, was celebrating her 14th birthday alone. The others in the complex weren’t very interested in birthdays, and they were so much older than her that they generally weren’t very interested in her, either. But Hope thought it was important. It was her last birthday. Ever. She’d even made herself a cake out of their sole food, genetically modified spinach. It wasn’t much of a cake, not like the ones she’d seen on DVDs, but it was better than nothing.
She looked up at the map on her bedroom wall. It had a small circle around her location, with traces of larger circles that had been erased. The circles represented the size of the universe. It was less than 100 kilometres in radius. It wouldn’t be long now.
She had to get out.
Later, at the time designated “evening,” the dinner bell sounded. Soon after, most of the population entered the dining room. Except for Hope.
“Where is your daughter?” said Alexander, the leader by general agreement.
“How would I know?” said Karen. She’d stopped paying much attention to Hope when Hope was three.
“She’s always late to meals,” said Benjamin. “She needs more discipline.”
”What does it matter?” said Jasmine. “We’ll all be dead in a few months anyway.”
It was the same conversation, with a few variations, that they’d had been having for years. Nothing ever came of it, and nothing ever changed. As usual, it ended with Karen going to look for her daughter. Also as usual, she found her in the library.
“Hope!” said Karen.
Hope looked around, and quickly closed the book she was writing in.
“Hi, mom,” she said. “Is it dinner already?”
“Didn’t you hear the dinner bell?” said Karen, for possibly the 457th time.
“I must’ve been concentrating too hard,” replied Hope, for possibly the 456th time. She got up and stretched.
“What were you working on?” said Karen.
This was new. She’d never asked this before.
“Why do you want to know?” said Hope guardedly.
“I’d just like to know what’s so important that it makes you miss dinner,” said Karen, looking curiously at the book. It seemed to be an average exercise book that Karen remembered from her own childhood. Not that schooling had been considered important, even then.
“I don’t miss dinner,” said Hope. “You always come and tell me it’s dinner time. Anyway, it was just some exercises. Do you know what happens when you multiply twelve million, two hundred and seven thousand, seven hundred and three point one two five by two repeatedly on a standard calculator? It’s pretty.”
Karen didn’t know, and she didn’t care, either. She’d never been too interested in maths. Hope must have got it from her father.
“Just come to dinner so we can all eat,” said Karen, getting back on track.
“Okay,” said Hope. “Just give me a second to pack up.”
She hid the book under her mattress, just in case.
After dinner was Hope’s time to relax. She ate her spinach cake and watched a DVD, wondering if she would manage to get out in time. She’d imagined vividly what it would be like in the last week of the universe. By then, the universe would only be 760 metres in radius, and the edge of the universe would have started to enter the complex. She imagined looking at the edge, completely black and moving forward almost imperceptibly. No official plans had been made for when the edge showed up. Nobody ever talked about it, at least not in Hope’s hearing. But she thought some people would run into it, rather than try to squash themselves into a small space. She'd heard that some people had done that when the edge had first touched the Earth, in the Middle East.
Hope paused the DVD and looked out the window. She didn’t know why the complex even had windows. There was nothing to see outside. It could’ve been blacked out, and she wouldn’t have known the difference. She’d read somewhere that the complex had been built while the sun was still around, so maybe—
A knock on the door made her turn around.
“Come in?” she said. She was surprised that someone was coming to see her, and more surprised that that someone was Karen.
“Hope, you didn’t answer my question at dinner today,” said Karen.
“You didn’t ask me anything at dinner,” said Hope. “No one ever talks to me at dinner.”
”Before dinner!” said Karen. “What were you working on, and… Are you watching South Park again?”
Hope looked at the screen. A crudely drawn kid in an orange coat was on fire, and a crudely drawn fat kid was frozen in the process of trying to beat out the flames with a stick.
“Probably,” she concluded.
“You shouldn’t watch that,” said Karen absently. “It has far too much swearing.”
”Are you saying that horrific, deplorable violence is okay, as long as there are no dirty words?” said Hope, quoting South Park.
“What I’m saying is…” began Karen. She sighed. “Stop changing the subject.”
“You’re the one that mentioned South Park,” said Hope.
“And stop being so pedantic!” said Karen. “What are you working on?”
”Um…” said Hope, thinking quickly. “Hypercomplex numbers… In a four dimensional plane… substituted into the cubic formula three pi times, and their effects on… theta, as designated by the subtle shading of light onto autumn leaves?”
Karen hadn’t completely understood the words, but she understood the tone.
“You’re making that up,” she said. “I’m not as stupid as you seem to think.”
“You’re not?” said Hope. “Could you grill me some other time? I’m trying to watch a movie.”
“Hope…” began Karen, then sighed and closed the door. Hope went back to her movie.
The next morning, Hope put on all the warm clothes she could find and went outside. She shivered, heading towards a nearby house that had been abandoned when the sun had vanished. It wasn’t in very good shape, but that wasn’t what concerned her. Inside the house was where she kept her time machine.
She’d been working on it since she was seven, and hadn’t known that time machines were impossible. But now it finally seemed to be ready. She’d been checking all her calculations for two weeks, and she’d corrected every mistake. Now was the time to test it.
Hope pulled the time machine out of the house, which was conveniently missing a wall, and got inside.
Twenty-four hours earlier, she got out. Nothing seemed to have changed, but of course it wouldn’t have. Nobody but her had been out here for years. She went inside and headed for the recreation room. There were a few adults in there, including her mother.
“Hope,” said Benjamin, who was playing pool with Jasmine.
“What are you doing here?” said Charles, who was watching a DVD.
“Um, I live here?” said Hope. “What’s the date today?”
“It’s the twenty-seventh of September,” said Karen. “You know, your birthday?”
“Thanks,” said Hope, and left the room.
“I wish I knew what she was up to,” said Karen.
“What does it matter?” said Jasmine. “We’ll all be dead in a few months anyway.”
So now she knew it worked. It suddenly occurred to Hope that the adults might like to come along with her to the past. But the time machine wasn’t even big enough for two people, let alone eight. Maybe she could post the schematics on the bulletin board so they could build their own. And if they didn’t want to, then that was their own problem.
Hope spent the rest of the day keeping out of the way of her past self. She didn’t want to explode or change the future the way she’d read in novels or seen on DVDs. She slept in the kitchen. When twenty-four hours had passed, she winced when she heard the sound of the engines. She hadn’t realised it would be so loud.
She quickly scribbled a note to the others telling them to look in her books, and put it on the bulletin board. Then she ran outside, found the time machine where she’d left it, pushed it off the road, and used it again.
This time, she came out somewhere warm and sunny.
It was the year 2244. Humanity had not progressed throughout the solar system, and was not beginning to colonise planets on the other side of the galaxy. The galaxy no longer existed. And there were only eight humans left alive.
For over two hundred years, the universe had been shrinking down to a certain point on Earth. Of course the point was in America. That was where every interesting thing had happened. When the shrinking was discovered, there had been mass panic, and eventually World War III broke out, near the end of the 22nd century. It was fought in darkness. The sun had vanished 20 years before. World War III eventually petered out as most of its combatants died, and became the Breakdown. The Breakdown also petered out by 2230, or in the new years, 15BE. Fifteen years before the end. The universe was less than 4000 kilometres in radius at that point.
Hope, the youngest person alive, was celebrating her 14th birthday alone. The others in the complex weren’t very interested in birthdays, and they were so much older than her that they generally weren’t very interested in her, either. But Hope thought it was important. It was her last birthday. Ever. She’d even made herself a cake out of their sole food, genetically modified spinach. It wasn’t much of a cake, not like the ones she’d seen on DVDs, but it was better than nothing.
She looked up at the map on her bedroom wall. It had a small circle around her location, with traces of larger circles that had been erased. The circles represented the size of the universe. It was less than 100 kilometres in radius. It wouldn’t be long now.
She had to get out.
Later, at the time designated “evening,” the dinner bell sounded. Soon after, most of the population entered the dining room. Except for Hope.
“Where is your daughter?” said Alexander, the leader by general agreement.
“How would I know?” said Karen. She’d stopped paying much attention to Hope when Hope was three.
“She’s always late to meals,” said Benjamin. “She needs more discipline.”
”What does it matter?” said Jasmine. “We’ll all be dead in a few months anyway.”
It was the same conversation, with a few variations, that they’d had been having for years. Nothing ever came of it, and nothing ever changed. As usual, it ended with Karen going to look for her daughter. Also as usual, she found her in the library.
“Hope!” said Karen.
Hope looked around, and quickly closed the book she was writing in.
“Hi, mom,” she said. “Is it dinner already?”
“Didn’t you hear the dinner bell?” said Karen, for possibly the 457th time.
“I must’ve been concentrating too hard,” replied Hope, for possibly the 456th time. She got up and stretched.
“What were you working on?” said Karen.
This was new. She’d never asked this before.
“Why do you want to know?” said Hope guardedly.
“I’d just like to know what’s so important that it makes you miss dinner,” said Karen, looking curiously at the book. It seemed to be an average exercise book that Karen remembered from her own childhood. Not that schooling had been considered important, even then.
“I don’t miss dinner,” said Hope. “You always come and tell me it’s dinner time. Anyway, it was just some exercises. Do you know what happens when you multiply twelve million, two hundred and seven thousand, seven hundred and three point one two five by two repeatedly on a standard calculator? It’s pretty.”
Karen didn’t know, and she didn’t care, either. She’d never been too interested in maths. Hope must have got it from her father.
“Just come to dinner so we can all eat,” said Karen, getting back on track.
“Okay,” said Hope. “Just give me a second to pack up.”
She hid the book under her mattress, just in case.
After dinner was Hope’s time to relax. She ate her spinach cake and watched a DVD, wondering if she would manage to get out in time. She’d imagined vividly what it would be like in the last week of the universe. By then, the universe would only be 760 metres in radius, and the edge of the universe would have started to enter the complex. She imagined looking at the edge, completely black and moving forward almost imperceptibly. No official plans had been made for when the edge showed up. Nobody ever talked about it, at least not in Hope’s hearing. But she thought some people would run into it, rather than try to squash themselves into a small space. She'd heard that some people had done that when the edge had first touched the Earth, in the Middle East.
Hope paused the DVD and looked out the window. She didn’t know why the complex even had windows. There was nothing to see outside. It could’ve been blacked out, and she wouldn’t have known the difference. She’d read somewhere that the complex had been built while the sun was still around, so maybe—
A knock on the door made her turn around.
“Come in?” she said. She was surprised that someone was coming to see her, and more surprised that that someone was Karen.
“Hope, you didn’t answer my question at dinner today,” said Karen.
“You didn’t ask me anything at dinner,” said Hope. “No one ever talks to me at dinner.”
”Before dinner!” said Karen. “What were you working on, and… Are you watching South Park again?”
Hope looked at the screen. A crudely drawn kid in an orange coat was on fire, and a crudely drawn fat kid was frozen in the process of trying to beat out the flames with a stick.
“Probably,” she concluded.
“You shouldn’t watch that,” said Karen absently. “It has far too much swearing.”
”Are you saying that horrific, deplorable violence is okay, as long as there are no dirty words?” said Hope, quoting South Park.
“What I’m saying is…” began Karen. She sighed. “Stop changing the subject.”
“You’re the one that mentioned South Park,” said Hope.
“And stop being so pedantic!” said Karen. “What are you working on?”
”Um…” said Hope, thinking quickly. “Hypercomplex numbers… In a four dimensional plane… substituted into the cubic formula three pi times, and their effects on… theta, as designated by the subtle shading of light onto autumn leaves?”
Karen hadn’t completely understood the words, but she understood the tone.
“You’re making that up,” she said. “I’m not as stupid as you seem to think.”
“You’re not?” said Hope. “Could you grill me some other time? I’m trying to watch a movie.”
“Hope…” began Karen, then sighed and closed the door. Hope went back to her movie.
The next morning, Hope put on all the warm clothes she could find and went outside. She shivered, heading towards a nearby house that had been abandoned when the sun had vanished. It wasn’t in very good shape, but that wasn’t what concerned her. Inside the house was where she kept her time machine.
She’d been working on it since she was seven, and hadn’t known that time machines were impossible. But now it finally seemed to be ready. She’d been checking all her calculations for two weeks, and she’d corrected every mistake. Now was the time to test it.
Hope pulled the time machine out of the house, which was conveniently missing a wall, and got inside.
Twenty-four hours earlier, she got out. Nothing seemed to have changed, but of course it wouldn’t have. Nobody but her had been out here for years. She went inside and headed for the recreation room. There were a few adults in there, including her mother.
“Hope,” said Benjamin, who was playing pool with Jasmine.
“What are you doing here?” said Charles, who was watching a DVD.
“Um, I live here?” said Hope. “What’s the date today?”
“It’s the twenty-seventh of September,” said Karen. “You know, your birthday?”
“Thanks,” said Hope, and left the room.
“I wish I knew what she was up to,” said Karen.
“What does it matter?” said Jasmine. “We’ll all be dead in a few months anyway.”
So now she knew it worked. It suddenly occurred to Hope that the adults might like to come along with her to the past. But the time machine wasn’t even big enough for two people, let alone eight. Maybe she could post the schematics on the bulletin board so they could build their own. And if they didn’t want to, then that was their own problem.
Hope spent the rest of the day keeping out of the way of her past self. She didn’t want to explode or change the future the way she’d read in novels or seen on DVDs. She slept in the kitchen. When twenty-four hours had passed, she winced when she heard the sound of the engines. She hadn’t realised it would be so loud.
She quickly scribbled a note to the others telling them to look in her books, and put it on the bulletin board. Then she ran outside, found the time machine where she’d left it, pushed it off the road, and used it again.
This time, she came out somewhere warm and sunny.
