milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[OOM: Do you hear the people sing
Lost in the valley of the night?
It is the music of a people
Who are climbing to the light.

...

Do you hear the people sing?
Say, do you hear the distant drums?
It is the future that they bring
When tomorrow comes...
Tomorrow comes!]

He can hear a distant song, the fading echo of drums, and there is a light that is too bright to be of the world he knows. He stumbles toward it, eventually all but falling through a doorway into...

Well, into he isn't sure where. He looks around him. Surely his comrades should be with him also, if this is indeed the afterlife the priests often spoke of. But there are no faces he recognizes, and he does not believe that the world beyond would take the form of a wine shop even if such a place did exist.

Bloodstained, tattered, smelling of gunpowder, he weaves his way toward the bar, feeling an overwhelming need to sit.

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"There must be something we can do. Even from here," Enjolras insists. Why has he come here if not for that?

"You can visit other worlds, and the future of ours", he allows. "The dead can't stay long except in special cases, or they turn to ghosts, but you can visit."

"What good is that? A visit now and then? What can I do with that?"

"You can write", Gavroche says soberly. "Have it published, no one will censor it in the future. Or find the right people to encourage."

"And what then? Writing only goes so far. I have seen for myself the power of words, yes, but there comes a time when words must give way to action."

"Encourage others to action", he repeats. "Or spend as much time in that world as you can, and come back here to get solid again."

He sighs and sets his glass down.

"My friend, you remind me of my duty, and for that I must thank you."

"Every man needs a rest from duty, once in a while", Gavroche says, watching him. "And you'll need to find a world to go to, first. Take some time. Meet new people."

"You said it was possible to travel to the future of our own world?"

"Or a world much like it, yes. I used to know a dancer called Meg who came here from Paris, but she doesn't come in anymore. Maybe there's someone else with a door."

"I will seek them out, Gavroche. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiles. "Try to relax a little, hm?"

"Not something I'm terribly good at, I'm afraid."

"Yes, I remember", he says teasingly. "There's a library upstairs if you want me to show you."

"I would like that. Are there books from the future?"

"Lots of them, about lots of different things, and you can get more from the Bar if you want. Just, ah... best to stay out of the magic section of the library."

"I hope I know better than to meddle in that."

"Sometimes it meddles with you. Just don't even go through the door to that part, would be my suggestion."

"I shall keep to history and philosophy, I think."

"Good plan." He glances towards the stairs. "Want to see it now? Make you feel at home."

"Yes, all right," he says, then glances down at his clothing. "Perhaps I ought to clean up first."

"Ah, as to that - Bar, a room key for my friend? And clean clothes on me."

Enjolras frowns slightly. "Pride tempts me to refuse, but I fear I am at your mercy."

"None of that. For once, I have money, you don't, and how many meals did you buy me back in Paris?"

"When you put it that way, how can I refuse?"