“Ii2 that you, my friiend?”
You call quietly, hoping above all hope that it’s him, that this is all a bad dream, and you’ll be able to open your eyes and see him clearly again, no longer a faded memory, a dash of red on a murky background-
Even if you can’t see him, even if your world is still dark, just hearing his voice once more… once more… one more soft word that was not his dying screams…
But as you draw back into your conciousness those words he spoke before, the more your spirits sink.
That isn’t his voice. It isn’t right.
Whoever it is, they’re calling for you again, and you almost don’t answer. You almost can’t bring yourself to shout back at them, but the words leave your lips before you can capture them on your teeth.
“Ii’m riight here, friiend.”
The sound of the stranger’s voice only makes your efforts to get back to your feet bigger, more determined. You don’t know what it is about this place that makes your blood rush in your veins, make your vascular system pump harder, but in the end all you need to know is that there is someone here, and for whatever reason that you cannot fathom, you need to see them.
Finally, the wires seem to get away from your path, and the room, wherever it is, whatever it is, lights up a little more, in shades of pink, but also some familiar red and blue.
Now able to stand on your legs, you look around the place. Wires, wires, wires again, so many wires… And yet his voice sounded so close.
"Alriight, Ii’m here, ju2t hold on a 2ec, Ii’ll-"
You stop right in the middle of your sentence, when you turn around and finally catch sight of the stranger.
You’ve never been so shocked of your life.
Not only his voice sounded familiar, but everything about him looks like a portrayal of yourself. It is just like looking into a mirror — a mirror taking you hundreds of sweeps in the future.
Your voice is lost, as you walk closer to him, slowly, cautiously, until you are right in front of him, looking up directly into his eyes, literally speechless.