Snippets

all the time in the world

TW: mentions of death and sickness
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"There's about a sixty-five percent chance this'll work. You understand the risks, right?"

Wilbur nods at the scientist that is pacing circles in front of him and running nervous hands through her wooly, white hair. As she runs through the safety information for the thousandth time, Wilbur finds it easy to tune her words out. Instead, he points a cheeky grin towards the team of scientists hiding behind the thick wall of glass. They all hold clipboards stacked with papers, and all sorts of computer equipment is set up around them, turning the observation room into a mess of wires and screens and people in white lab coats.

One of the scientists, a man with long, blond hair, gives him a wave that Wilbur returns.

Finally, Wilbur focuses his eyes on the empty, black door frame in front of him. If all goes to plan, when he walks through, he'll end up several centuries in the past; he'll be the first person to ever time travel.

It's not a widely known effort, what they're doing in the labs. The head scientist reminds him that it's kept quiet for three reasons. The first is to keep people from protesting against it, and the second is to keep the observing room void of paparazzi and news reporters.

The third and final reason, she explains, is that with the chance of success only being sixty-five percent, the odds are very high that Wilbur might die or not return ever. She casts her eyes towards the floor when she says it.

Her reminder makes Wilbur's hands turn clammy and tremble. He gives her a nod and a smile, this one more forced than the others. Shaking his hands out, he wipes them on his jeans. Both excitement and fear churn his stomach, making him regret the blueberry muffin he had for breakfast. His knees feel weak, and he wonders, for a moment, if he'll fall when he takes the first step. Part of him wonders if he'll even be able to take the first step at all or if his fear will cement his feet to the ground.

"Are you still sure you want to go through with this?" the head scientist asks. Wilbur nods, not trusting his voice. She gives him a soft, almost sad look. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Soot."

With one last look back at Wilbur, she leaves the room and enters the observation room. The metal doors close with a loud click that echoes in the now silent room, the only other sound being Wilbur's breathing that gets more and more shaky with every breath.

He is alone in the cement room with the doorway.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and then another. He tries to steady himself.

Before he can overthink his decision or back out, he gives the scientists a thumbs up, and several of them get to work to set the portal up. The others lean closer to the glass in anticipation. The blond haired man flashes him a bright, encouraging smile.

The whole building starts to hum with electricity as the portal builds power. Wilbur can feel his hair standing on its end, like lightning is about to strike nearby. His heart pounds inside his chest loud enough that he swears the scientists can hear it on the other side of the glass wall.

With the flip of one final switch, the portal lights up.

'Woah," Wilbur breathes, speechless.

The portal is something out of a dream. The obsidian door frame fills with a purple, liquid-like substance that shimmers and swirls. Particles, similar to ash, float out of the portal before dissolving in the air.

Wilbur is drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. Worries forgotten, he quickly crosses the room without so much as a glance towards the scientists.

Just before he can enter, however, Wilbur pauses. Some part of him, the part that keeps reminding him of the danger he's in, has broken free from the trance he's in. He hesitates to step inside. With a single, shaking hand, he reaches out to touch the strange, purple substance.

It's pleasantly warm against the palm of his hand. Instantly, it seems to energize him; it feels like a weight is taken off his shoulders. The warmth spreads through his body, and it's intoxicating. When the warmth reaches his head, it seems to numb his mind, slowing his thoughts and soothing him into a docile state.

He steps through without another thought.

Every hue of purple imaginable surrounds Wilbur. The feeling of warmth and tranquility engulfs him entirely, and he smiles dopily. He never wants this feeling to end; he never wants to leave.

Then, the portal makes a strange sound, something similar to a whimper or a cry that sends a sharp pang through Wilbur's chest. The warmth fades away, leaving Wilbur shivering and hunched over in pain. The cry repeats, and Wilbur moves to cover his ears, but his limbs don't listen. He's frozen in place.

The cry gets louder and louder until he feels like his eardrums might burst. Wilbur pinches his eyes closed and pleads for the sound to end.

A loud cracking sound is the last thing Wilbur hears as his conscious fades to black.

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When Wilbur opens his eyes, he's lying on the ground. Twigs and rocks poke his body, digging into the skin on his face uncomfortably.

"Oh, dammit. I thought you were dead," he hears a voice complain. He groans in response before sitting up slowly. His vision dances for a second, and he swallows back the warm saliva that begins to pool in his mouth. His entire body aches. It's a miracle that he stays sitting up. "You are very inconsiderate, making me lose a bet to my brother like that. He will never let me live this down."

"I'm... sorry?" Wilbur responds, his voice raspy and his throat sore. Wiping the dirt of his face with his palm, he finally finds the source of the voice: a blond, teenage boy. The boy sits in the tree above Wilbur, swinging his legs back and forth. He wears a white poet's shirt and tan trousers, and he's barefoot. "Who are you?"

"You don't remember me?" Tommy asks sadly, and a bot of panic shoots through Wilbur like a bullet through his body. What if he's forgotten everything? He can't even remember how he got here, so it's possible.

When Tommy sees the look on Wilbur's face, he bursts out laughing.

"No, I'm just fucking with you; we don't know each other. My name is Tommy! I'm the Biggest Man ever," Tommy declares. He drops his messenger bag to the ground a few feet from Wilbur and scrambles down the tree, his climbing akin to that of a raccoon's. Once he's on the ground, he reaches his hand out to Wilbur. "Since you're in such a sorry state, I will grant you my forgiveness- just this once. Be more considerate next time, my fine gentleman."

"I'll try my best?" Wilbur responds, not sure what he's agreeing to. "I'm Wilbur." He takes the hand offered to him and pulls himself up, regretting the movement when the whole world sways beneath him.

"Woah, Big Man, let's stay on our feet." Tommy is quick to steady Wilbur. He throws Wilbur's arm around his shoulder and lets him lean most of his weight against him. "Wilbur, you look like shit. Don't worry. Since I'm the nicest man ever, I will take you to Phil, and he can help you."
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(1264 words)
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AN: First post; kinda nervous :) I really don't know how to write old-timey dialogue :,) Thanks for reading, loves!