World Travelling

    The sun was past its noon zenith, and a gentle breeze blew up. Michael put on his fleece, suddenly feeling cooler after the heat of the day. He had been hard at work on the farm most of the day, but now had a small bit of precious time to himself. It had been hard, but it was the only way he could save up the money to pay to go to school. Often he wondered at the old, rusty, machinery. Evil, the adults said. They had caused terrible things to happen. Michael had always been fascinated by them. These were the machines that had helped build the Buildings soon before.. what?
    The adults would occasionally talk in hushed whispers of something from the time of their Grandparents’ parents, but never openly in front of the children. When Michael had asked his Aunty Mari she scolded him and told him he’d end up like his Uncle. That, Michael pondered, was another secret. His Uncle was someone his family seemed to want to forget. He’d appeared out of nowhere in Eldon Square and fallen madly in love with Aunty Sarah, with whom he had a fancy, romantic relationship. They married, but he would go off on his own for days on end, and eventually disappeared. Wolves got him, was the rumour.
    "Michael! Where are you? Come here this instant, you bad boy. Lazing around when the dinner needs to be made," the lilting voice of his Mam came through the door of the house. Michael sighed, and got up to go inside.

     "The Joneses boy, Huw, fell and broke his leg today while watching the sheep," Michael’s Father began, over the meal. The food was simple fare, but tasty and wholesome. Mam always could make delicious, piping hot soup, Michael reflected. Mam tutted as she heard this latest piece of town gossip. She was one of those ladies who would know the latest news about anything and everything in Dolgellau, which was where they lived.
"Please Mam, can I have some more, Mam?" That was Michael’s sister Anna. Father gave her a clout over the ear.
"Wait until your Father has finished speaking," he said before continuing. "Since he needed help, I offered your services, Michael." Michael looked up sharply. Father continued.
"Yes. He’ll pay well - it’ll help you get that education you’re so set on. It’ll mean staying up the mountain with the sheep for a while until Huw is better. I can spare you for a few days," Father said, his voice firm and penetrating. It was clear that he would not stand being argued with. Michael didn’t take the hint though.
"But Dad, I was hoping to go to school when you didn’t need me!" he said, blood rushing to his cheeks.
"Don’t you answer me back. You’ll have more money to pay for more days, boy. You will do as you are told," his Father said angrily. Michael mumbled an apology to deflect the further wrath of his Father, but the rest of the meal was subdued.

     It was a week or so later. Michael was high up on the mountain with the sheep. A cold, damp mist hung miserably in the air. The clouds were low and swirling, and the gloomy weather intruded its effect into Michael’s mood. He’d gone off after a particularly adventurous sheep, no doubt in search of a better patch of grass, and now was rather lost. He would recognise a clump of rocks or tree, but as he moved off into the mist, which was thickening all the time, he would soon become disorientated again. He hoped he was making some kind of progress, when he came across a seemingly abandoned low stone hut. It was small and draughty, but since he now had no idea where he was, he opened the door and stepped inside.
     There was a small fireplace in the bare, dull room. It looked (and smelled) like sheep had got inside and decided it was a useful public convenience. There was a low fireplace with some wood by the side. Michael decided to stack it up and try and light it. To his surprise, he found a box of matches behind the wood. He knew what they were, but the only time he had seen them before was those which his Father had got from Taid, which he kept for emergencies. What were these relics of the older times doing here? Michael decided to investigate. There was a doorway into a second room, so he went through.
     When he entered, instead of the expected squalor of the other room he found a relatively clean, tidy place. There were various pieces of machinery, electronics, gadgets and various other bits and pieces. Michael looked around in amazement at the darkened room. What secrets were hidden in the murky shadows?
Most people Michael knew, especially the Witch Hunter, would have set about burning the building and all its contents to the ground. However, Michael was curious and had never shared the abhorrence of machines. Perhaps time had worn away the memories of hate that infected many of the older generation’s minds.
     Michael picked up a long, slender cylinder, which widened at the end. He picked the strange object up in his hand. It was kind of soft, but not like material - more a kind of squidginess. There was a circular button that was harder than the rest of the cylinder. Michael pressed the button down firmly. A beam of light radiated out of the end of the tube, and Michael almost dropped the cylinder in surprise! He had a vague recollection of hearing about electric torches - lights that scientifically lit up with no flame. Deciding the Torch was useful he used it to examine the rest of the room. With regret Michael remembered he wouldn’t be able to use it generally. Should he be found with it, he’d at best be soundly beaten by his father, and at worst, punished as an associate of the Devil’s Tools.
     The light of the torch fell upon a strange looking device, unlike anything else Michael had ever heard of or seen, even in this room of wonders. It was smooth and curved, like an ultramodern television remote control in shape and size, although Michael wouldn’t know that. It was sleekly streamlined in silver and had an air of beauty around it, such as has a beautiful piece of clockwork or a steam train engine. It vibrated with a subtle hum, barely noticeable, yet comforting. Michael picked it up and turned it in his hand, examining it in the torchlight. There were intricate designs across the surface across which electronic light flashed. Dominating the design was a red dial with a central button on the top of the device, which had a small screen built into it. This was a device beautifully made, but men can make even the instruments of death appear wonderful. What was it for? The question begged an answer. Michael slipped the torch in his pocket before fitting the device into his palm, where it fitted snugly. Suddenly, the lights all lit up and flashed, in a way Michael thought looked like it was examining him inquisitively. A voice that was artificial, yet without a trace of clunky mechanicalness rang out:
"To use the local greeting: Hello. Analysis suggests you are not hostile," the device said. "Query: what is your intent?" It added.
"What? I don’t understand the big words. What is this?" Michael said, more to himself than to the machine.
"Language has been duly simplified. Me magic wand, you touch me, whoosh whoosh take you long way away," the machine said slowly and clearly, its voice perfectly free from any trace of sarcasm. Michael looked surprised at the response.
"What? This button here?" he said, giving it a prod. The instant he did so, the air burst outward in a dazzling, shimmering, display of light. Michael felt like it was pushing him, but instead of outwards it pulled him towards itself. His body did a corkscrew through six dimensions before it was tugged through a myriad display of cascading rainbows of time.