Old story thingie


I was cleaning out clutter of the comp, and I came across some old-ass stories that I left off and just forgot due to laziness. And I’m talking about old stuff, like five years old stuff. So, here’s one, very short.

High in the Forbidden Tower, he waits.
In front of him are numerous television screens, each one depicting an event that needed to be recorded into Time’s history. He saw the Towers crash and burn, the invention of the computer, the creation of Garfield, along with many other historical events.
And in all of this, he does nothing but watch.
Below the screens is a console, filled with levers and buttons, all of them covered in a thick layer of dust, almost as if the man never used them.
He had his command: From the dawn of time, just watch and record all events, for the future is made from the past, and the present can be manipulated from the future.
So he watches.
All of a sudden, from a distant room, the faint ting-a-ling of a telephone was heard. His eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t gotten a call in millennia. The caller could be only one, however.
He gets up, and goes through the vast libraries, each room, each volume containing a facet of humanity’s dream and nightmare known as history. Soon, he is in a room that has an even thicker layer of dust than that the console has. Stirring up the old dust, he crosses the room and picks up the phone.
“Hello?” he says, his voice hoarse from disuse.
A lightly lilting feminine voice comes through the other end. “Greetings, Watcher. I take it that History is doing well?”
“As it always is, Clotho. What do I have the honor of this visit for?”
“I have something to tell you, from the Highest. He says to pull the Randomization Lever.”
Watcher almost fainted. No one would ever order him to… “Is this a joke?”
“No, Watcher, it’s an order, from the Highest. Pull the Lever.”
“B-b-but why—“
“Our’s not to question why…”
“…Our’s but to do and die.” The Watcher finished, quoting from the motto that Tennyson wrote down so long ago. He sighed. “Fine. I shall do it.”
He could hear the smile in her voice. “Very well then. I shall call back later.” The phone went dead.
The Watcher hung up the phone and went back to the screens. On the dusty console, there was one lever, extremely forbidding.
“So…it has finally happened…”
He gets his gumption up, puts his hand on the knob, and pulls. A slight rumbling is heard, almost as if the world itself is revolting in what was just done. He lets go, sits himself down in the chair and continues to watch.
And what he sees will be seared into his memory forever…


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