It was, for a time. Pitch black and worse at night. But human ingenuity prevailed over itself eventually. City ordinances and construction codes. Innovations in street light technology. All for a glimpse of something that had never gone anywhere.
[ somewhere, on a beach with a total station set up nearby, eobard thawne sits back on one hand, lets his head loll back up skyward in thought. ]
Touché. Go on. One question. I don’t intend to be transactional; you must know, instinctively and intellectually, that time isn’t to be trifled with. Can’t have you running home with some theory of quantum gravity you didn’t rightfully earn.
My Earth stabilized CFL quark matter years ago. My Earth is doing fine, I'm sure we'll stumble into all your advancements eventually.
[In his rented house, still pitch black except for the light from his phone for the last hour, Harrison taps his glasses against his lips and slips them back on.]
[ impossible to tell in text whether the words are touched with anger, or acidity. they might even be gentle. in real time eobard stands up, flips the phone onto mute and pockets it, picks up his black duffel. the sun will be rising soon. he’d like to be home before then. ]
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Good to know Central City’s light pollution is a multiversal constant.
[ the dryness practically audible, like in the ashes of sentiment eobard latches too quickly to dry humor. ]
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[And then, almost as an afterthought, tentatively coming a few seconds later:]
Is it a problem in the future?
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But human ingenuity prevailed over itself eventually. City ordinances and construction codes. Innovations in street light technology. All for a glimpse of something that had never gone anywhere.
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[Another long pause.]
I have so many questions.
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Touché.
Go on. One question. I don’t intend to be transactional; you must know, instinctively and intellectually, that time isn’t to be trifled with. Can’t have you running home with some theory of quantum gravity you didn’t rightfully earn.
no subject
[In his rented house, still pitch black except for the light from his phone for the last hour, Harrison taps his glasses against his lips and slips them back on.]
Who are you going back to when you leave?
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Good night, Harrison.
[ impossible to tell in text whether the words are touched with anger, or acidity. they might even be gentle. in real time eobard stands up, flips the phone onto mute and pockets it, picks up his black duffel. the sun will be rising soon. he’d like to be home before then. ]