WARP, 2024
CHARACTERS
The Narrator
Em
Ae
The Gatekeeper
The Imps
The Guardian
The Jesters
SCENE 1
NARRATOR
PORTAL VIEWS: MESSAGES FROM A NEW REALITY
A place where, if you travel quickly enough, you may pass through a solid object – where shear velocity and will can transport you through a wall or floor, as if they were made of dust.
EM
Dearest Ae,
There is an endless surge of data here, always. Sometimes, I am sure I can see the particles float by in front of my eyes – little grains of information, collections of precious details, on their way out to vanish into the void. From my new server I have a window open with a stream of the portal, keeping me anchored, even when all I wish for is that I could disappear from here.
Today he told me:
“If your body and soul belong to the earth you have come to know, your views belong to me.”
I wish I could tell you that the right moment is here, that I will disappear, that I will be back. I hope you are receiving my messages.
Yours, always.
EM
My Ae,
The passage was horrendous, I am exhausted. It felt as though I was being pressed down the gullet of a giant – slipping down the tight, pink, muscular bottleneck, straight into its big belly.
Where the sky usually clears once you break the cloud barrier, revealing the shining sun floating weightless in an infinite blue space, the portal – now burning in a bright orange – rendered the sky dark grey, likening it to a humid dungeon, an underground grotto full of melting stalactites, sharp as cutting shark teeth.
These surroundings mirror how I feel, at least. Granted, I am not sure what came first; whether my inner emotions are influencing my view of what I see around me, or whether I feel how I feel due to my current backdrop.
Speak soon, I hope.
Your friend.
AE
Their messages light up my screen.
I wish its light would softly break the clouds. Instead there are no clouds and there is no sky. Only my flat, black surroundings and this heinous device, threatening me with its light-up effects.
My screen is supposed to deliver a message, or so I assume. To some, words create meaning but to others they are a stage. I wonder if they remember my smell. Do you think that might make a difference?
I’m looking at each letter of their messages, trying to connect the white-space characters with my memory of them. Or shall I look for the answer in the time of the night?
Their messages light up and turn dark again, leaving me in a vacuum. Light fades to dark, dark fades to light, light fades to dark, dark fades to light, light fades to dark, dark fades to light, light fades to dark. As I fall into a trance.
I knew where I was, I knew where I was going but now, I no longer recognise my surroundings. I must be delusional but it is as if there was a perfectly thin layer of water above the horizon and above my head. Are these waters flowing up- or are they flowing downwards?
The tram stops and I wander aimlessly.