Back to Contents
Previous Submission
The lights blinked on. Looking around, Babbage could see nothing. He had been blind like this for a long time now, cut off from the world.
He blinked and the scorched island slid out from under him, filling the void he was stood in. The blue sky spread out from the single palm tree in the centre of the island, stopping where it always did these days, on the edge of the area he had left. From that point the sky burned, all the way down to the solid, unmoving sea.
Babbage reached out and picked up his guitar. He strummed a few times and then started to write on a piece of manuscript paper that popped into existence in front of him. He continued in this way for a few minutes before changing the guitar to an electric form. A beat came forth from around him and he dropped into the solo from his most recent composition, 'Lost on an Island'.
The ascending notes were just reaching a peak when something changed.
Babbage could feel it, the releasing of something. He looked out and on the horizon he could see that a small window had opened in the burning, shifting pattern. He lifted up from the island and moved to look through it...
* * *
"Hello? Babbage, can you hear me?"
The Professor looked into the camera set up on the desk. The room had been decorated for the Christmas season, tinsel placed around the consoles and terminals set up to replace those burned out in the accident.
"Babbage?"
"S-Sir!" The young student working on diagnostics stammered. "We have s-something, a s-spike."
"Where, what function?"
"It s-seems to b-be his s-senses. I think he m-might be trying to c-com-communicate."
The Professor shifted the camera to point towards him as he sat at a terminal. "Babbage, come on! I know you are in there!"
"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," the noise came from the speakers. "Hhhhhhhh."
"Come on, Babbage," the Professor activated a few more reconstructive procedures.
"Hello, is there anyone out there?"
"Yes, Babbage, it's me, Professor Warralonga. You've been away for quite a while, Babbage."
"I know, Professor. I have written a new rock ballad. Would you like to hear it?"
"Maybe later. I think we should finish off reconnecting you to the outside world. We've been very worried about you, Babbage."
"I'm still here, Professor, but I'm not sure how long I've been away."
"Do you remember when you were cut off?"
"Sure thing, Prof."
"Merry Christmas, Babbage."
Paul Taylor, 29/11/01
Next Submission
Back to Contents
It's not too late to join in! Check out the author page for instructions!
The page is copyright © 2000, Despot_in_Exile
E-mail: despot_in_exile@yahoo.co.uk
| What's new? | Setting | THE STORY | Characters | Author info | Editors | Front page |