- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- Online Availability
- I have a shifting work schedule, so My online times will be random.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- No Preferences
- Genres
- Fantasy, scifi, futuristic modern, fantasy modern, Action/adventure, Mystery, Fan-based,
“Time, it is something for which everyone is only given a finite amount. The problem is no one quite knows the amount they've been given until it’s too late. Time, it is what controls this existence which for any given individual is completely linear. However, the linear direction of one being’s life need not match the linear direction of another’s. In fact, some of us live out our lives outside the timeline of the very planet on which we are born. We are the Servants of Time, and it is our job to preserve the timelines of those who have no idea we even exist. For me, that means the inhabitants of a small blue planet called Earth.”
Esot, Earth’s Servant of Time. That is my designation. My name . . . well I have not gone by my birth name in a very long time. In the grand scheme of things that name is irrelevant. All that matters is that when I work with others they have something to address me by. Now days I tell those I encounter to call me Bode. It’s a simple enough name, pronounceable in nearly any time I may be called upon to visit. I have visited more time frames then even the longest living human has years. And yet I live in none of them.
I exist for the most part outside time. Separated from the rest I instead wait and watch. I correct any problem prevent any disasters. It is my job to ensure that time continues to move forward, whatever direction forward might be.
The sky outside my bubble is an apparent mass of stringy, wispy clouds that twist and change as I watch them from a well cushioned lawn chair positioned on the deck of my home. We perhaps I shouldn't really call it a sky. What it is, is a visual representation of Earth’s time stream projected onto the bubble’s surface so that I can watch it comfortably. In my younger years a simple monitor was sufficient, but I am no longer young. To a normal human I would appear to be in my early eighties, but as I only age when I exist within a time-frame, well, I’m sure you get the point.
There, just above the horizon, one turns red and I know. It is time. Not just any time, but time for me, time for a select few others, time to get to work. I already know who they are. In a way we have already met, even though we have yet to meet, and I know what will happen even though it has yet to play out. Because in a way, it has already happened before.
I stretch and climb slowly to my feet, groaning slightly as I reach for my cane and slide my feet back into my fur lined slippers. No, I am definitely not getting any younger. With slow determination I make my way back into my house locking to door behind me, before heading to the control room of S.T.A.N. This time I do use the monitors even though I already know, or at least strongly suspect, what I will find. A name flashes across the screen Henry yes I had expected that. My mind begins to wander to times long past even as I pull up more files of those people who had been closest to him, most influential in Henry’s life, whether they realize it or not. Five total. I will need their help. I’m getting too old to run after these characters on my own, and besides, in way their help has already been given.
The only decision to make now is which to approach first, even though in a way that decision has already been made.