EUDIO: IC INBOX

[harrisonwells]

"This is Dr. Harrison Wells. Leave a message. A relevant message."

text | voice | video | network un: starlabs

Comments

[malingerer]

[ another long pause, then: ]

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. ]

[harrisonwells]

Worse at home. Our light is different. I can actually see a few stars from STAR Labs on your Earth.

[And then, almost as an afterthought, tentatively coming a few seconds later:]

Is it a problem in the future?

[malingerer]

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.

[harrisonwells]

We like to enjoy our conveniences as we see a sky full of stars and imagine this must have been what it was like for our ancestors.

[Another long pause.]

I have so many questions.

[malingerer]

Better times to ask them than four in the morning. Don’t you think.

[harrisonwells]

Oh I'm sorry, which of us started this at three in the morning? Remind me.

[malingerer]

[ 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.

[harrisonwells]

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.]

Who are you going back to when you leave?

[malingerer]

[ long, long pause. ]

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. ]