"Wait, what do you mean by this is the final generation? And why do you Spacers care about us normals anyway?"

"Well all Spacers are as you put it "normals" too. We just have been trained how to jump around in time. We're all still part of the same tribe if you know what I'm saying, we feel some responsibility to each other. Kinda like if you saw me standing in the middle of the street I hope you'd be decent enough to push me out of the way of oncoming traffic.

Don't worry about the 'final generation.' There isn't solid evidence that it exists."

"But what is it. And why are you hiding this information from me? And why did you contact me anyway?"

"Like I said the final generation doesn't really exist in the first place; it's a phenomenon that only happens with your generation. Just because it's happened everytime so far doesn't ean it will from now on. I...I shouldn't have contacted you in the first place," Cory said, washing down some of his cheeseburger with a a final gulp from his chocolate malt. "They don't like interference...they being the Spacer board of executives. I'm only here because this is my world too, you know? They've tried to do this before; throwing people into the fray with the hopes that it will somehow 'fix' whatever happened. The kicker is...most of the time they don't even know. They see an anomaly, or a blip, or something out of place and they want to fix it, but the only things they see are the symptoms, not the causes."

"But...how do they know? How do they know they're not making it worse by interfering?" Scarlet asks. Cory shrugs.

"Well the Cuban Missile Crisis was no accident I'll tell you that. History is full of these events. Can't stop them, can't fix them. In one timeline earth has been at peace since 150 BC. They call it the Great Pax. The board hasn't interfered with it. And you know what? The final generation phenomenon doesn't exist there." he looks at his watch, and then at your barely touched food. "Our time is limited. You'll see me again, I promise. But you have to promise me something - when you go down to breakfast, please eat something. Spacing is incredibly fatiguing."

"What wait -"

Scarlet jolts awake, breathing heavily. You are still in your room, and it looks like dawn just broke. Judging by the lack of technology in your room, you can assume you are still in 1951.

Shower and get dressed, then find your boxcutter and put it in your pocket. Go downstairs and eat a large breakfast.

You look on your chair beside your bed - your clothes from yesterday are folding neatly. You don't remember coming home, or getting undressed or going to sleep. Was this all a dream? You walk quietly to your dress and sift through the pockets. Finding the box cutter you slip it into your bra and get dressed for the day. You arrive at the table as your brothers are running down the hall, nearly knocking you over. You take a seat next to your father, grab a piece of toast and gingerly butter it. You munch on it as your mother spoons some eggs onto your plate. "How are you feeling dear?" She asks, setting the pan on the stove again. She places the back of her ice cold hand on your forehead. "A nice boy from your algebra class took you home yesterday. If you don't want to go to school today, you don't have to."

Clearly he has something to do with this. He cannot be trusted.

Go to school.

You wave off your mother's concerns and run back up to your room to grab your satchel and to get ready for school.When you return back downstairs everyone has left for the day except for your mother, who you hear humming in the den as she cleans. You walk out the front door and find waiting at the end of the walk is Jordan, looking more concerned than he had the last two days. "Are you alright Scarlet?" he asked, opening the front gate for you, "your mother called my mother and told me you were going to school today...I thought I might want to keep an eye on you, just in case. Shall we go?"

Why is he always there? I think he's up to something.

Hide any suspicion.

You smile and walk beside him, not making eye contact but measuring his movements. "So, well, you missed quite a bit in class yesterday..." he starts, droning on about lectures and notes, and offering to let you borrow his notebook after class to copy down anything you missed. The walk to school is otherwise uneventful, as are your first three classes. The other students treat you indifferently, but you can tell most of them have already formed their own cliques. At lunch time you feel pretty weak and exhausted.

Determine who the theater kids are, and sit with them while you eat a huge lunch. Ask someone there about signing up for the drama club.

You know, assuming that such clubs even exist at this school in this era.

Post has been edited 1 time(s), last time on Oct 12 2012, 7:21 pm by Azrael.

You grab a bottle of chocolate milk, tater tots, and two cheeseburgers and look around the cafeteria watching for some sort of trademark sign that a drama club exists. You see a group of upper classmen leave the cafeteria with lunch in hand, walking in the direction of the theater. You follow them, keeping a respectable distance, but their voices echo off the lockers, their talk of Hamlet labeling as theater kids for sure. A dashingly handsome upper classman halts outside the double doors leading into the theater, pulls out his key and unlocks it. You catch up to the group as the others file into the theater, the man holding the door doing a double take as you approach. "Are you lost?" he asks. You can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not, but you hoped optimistically he was being sincere.

"No, I'm...I'm interested in auditioning for Hamlet, and I saw you outside here so I thought I'd ask you how..." you blurt out. His chizsled jawline and swept back hair made you blush. He was almost normal by your modern standards.

"You don't want to audition, trust me." His blatant comment took you back, "no no that's not what I mean. I mean you should do crews - you know, makeup, or costuming," he grinned at you and held out a hand. You maneuver your lunch tray to shake it. "My name is Derik. Here come in, I'll introduce you to Callie. She does costumes."

You follow Derik into the theater. The other students have their lunches laid out before them on the floor of the mezzanine isle. The theater is huge - much larger than you would have expected of a high school. "Everyone, this is...ah...what's your name?"

"Scarlet," you say. Your voice echoes off the walls and seats.

"Scarlet, and she's interested in doing costuming."

"Well actually I-" you start, but you stop talking as Derik escorts you by the arm to a girl in a pale blue skirt, nibbling neatly on a salad. Her dark hair is pulled back into a meticulous bun. She eyes you.

"Callie, this is Scarlet."

"Thank you, Derik," Callie said, Derik grinned and went to go sit with two other guys a little ways off. "Here, sit down with me and Liz, she does makeup," the other girl, a blond with tightly wound curls, waved at you. "You've already met Derik...he's the crewhead. That means we all defer to his never wavering judgement," she shared a look with Liz and they both giggled. "He has a tendency to try to evangelize for crews before freshmen get the chance to have their hearts broken in auditions."

"Heart broken? Why?" You ask.

"Well...the fall play never has many roles, let alone many female roles. It'll be hard for a freshman to get the roles; they're practically already chosen anyways. I don't want to discourage you though. It's always good to practice auditioning. And the spring musical is much easier to get into. Lots of chorus positions and such."

Yay Kame came around to her monthly visit on SEN and blessed us with continuation of her story!

It hadn't be quite a month!

Tell the girls that you come from 60 years into the future.