For Task #5 of the Second Writing Challenge headed up by @steemfluencer, we were told to write about this:
Let me introduce you to Adam. He's a 25 years old man that has graduated from University of South Florida. His undergraduate program was done at the College of Arts & Sciences and his favorite course was the Creative Writing course. Adam never had a girlfriend, although he felt in love few times for the past 7 years. He had a lot of free time now and instead of hanging out with friends he has decided to devote time on recording a special message.
One morning he woke up with an idea to record a message to his future grandchildren. It would be great for them to see who their grand father was at young age, he said to himself.
It was September 29, 2017. A rainy day. The perfect atmosphere to finally start working on his message.
Time Capsule
A thin beam of white light sliced through the air. Dust danced in the beam out of protest from being disturbed after decades of rest. Subsequent plumes of dust billowed out as someone, or something banged on the weak door, the beam of light widening enough to show the silhouette of a person on the other side. The faint whirring of machinery is heard from the figure, and odd bulges here and there dotted with various colored lights could be seen against the bright outdoor light.
The figure gave the door one last kick, it finally giving way and crashing to the floor in a heap. Stepping through the cloud of dust like smoke, the figure raised a hand to the side of it’s head - a helmet, it seems - and a flashlight shone from its forehead onto the dusty remnants of the apartment.
Its gaze moved about, letting its light fall upon the couch and coffee table in the small studio, quickly dismissing these objects as insignificant. Thats not why it was here.
It stepped over to the dining table in the small kitchen, which had a pile of books that appeared to be melded with the table by a thick, dusty coating.
The figure carefully, gently began opening one of the books, a thickly gloved finger tracing the words on the title page, “History of the World.” It opened a stiff sack that hung from its shoulder and gently closed the book and set it inside. Not bothering to look at the other books, it carefully collected the rest of the pile on the table, then considered the pile of loose papers lying there as well. It reached into a side pouch of the bag and pulled out a flat metallic box, roughly the size of the papers. Setting it down on the table, the figure opened it and carefully lifted the papers with a pair of metallic tongs and inserted them into the box.
Upon extracting the last page, however, a shiny black object lay beneath the stack, it’s sheen preserved from the clinging dust by the papers atop it. The figure gently set the last page inside the box, snapped it shut and returned that and the tongs to the sack at its side.
The beam of light from the helmet quickly flashed back to the black object, a small rectangle that could fit in one’s palm. The figure picked it up gingerly and turned it over to examine its sides and back. Upon seeing one shorter edge, it set the object down again and quickly opened another pocket in its sack, rummaging through various wires and adapters, taking one out to inspect it closely, rejecting it, and continuing its search until it found what it was looking for.
It then pulled off of its belt a small metal box with several red lights blinking. It roughly plugged one end of the cable into the pack and the other end into the black rectangle. One by one, the blinking red lights turned green and stopped blinking. When all the lights were solid green, the figure looked at the black object, paused as if preparing itself for this moment of truth, and hit the button on the side.
At first, nothing happened, but after a few seconds, the object chimed and a Samsung logo appeared on the screen. The figure waited patiently for the phone to go through its start up routine. Of course, it would fail to connect to a signal, the cellphone towers long having been destroyed. But valuable information could be found, so it was worth the risk to wait.
Finally, the home page appeared, and the figure immediately clicked on the Camera icon. The phone pulled up the directory of pictures and videos, a mirror image reflecting in the figure’s mask. It looked through and decided to select the first video on the list. A shaky video feed appeared and some random popping and rustling sounds erupted from the small phone speaker. The video settled down as it must have been set down on a solid surface, and the body and then head of a young man appeared in view. The man gave a wide, kind smile.
“Dear grandchildren,” he started, “I'm Adam, your grandfather. I know what are you thinking about - I'm that young, because I'm recording this in 2017 and I'm only 25. Cool, isn't it?” The man gave a short, awkward laugh.
The figure watched, transfixed by the video, a tentative, gloved finger reaching out as if to touch the face behind the screen.
“At the moment of watching this video you might be already 10 years old older. I don't know your names, how you look like and the strange thing is that I don't even know if you exist.”
A sudden bang from outside some distance away broke the figure from its reverie. It quickly turned, the flashlight swiveled toward the opening. It quickly put out the light on its helmet, tucked away the phone and replaced the battery back to its belt.
It stood and gave one last scan of the small studio apartment, as if longing to stay and regretting it must leave so suddenly. It hefted the sack onto its back and stepped toward the doorway, loosening the firearm at its side and lifting it as it carefully stepped out into the blinding light.
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