Archivist's Log

Evening. In my suite.

It's been a month since the Pilgrimage. Work has slowed these past few weeks, so there is less and less to report.

Another house collapsed today. Chief Oaken expressed his frustration as we were clearing the debris: None of those that remain are builders. I followed it up by reminding him that that would only matter if there was material to build houses out of. I was asked leave.

My day shifted when Twig grabbed my arm. He said he wanted to show me something he had been working on. Normally I don't support Twig and his antics, but it gave me an excuse to step away from the wreckage. He beckoned me into his misshapen shed and closed the door, sending the room into darkness. Twig lit a lantern. In front of us sat a large table covered in cloth. Twig pulled the cloth away to reveal an array of instruments: A violin, a banjo, and a musical saw, among others. I looked at him in confusion.

“I know these just look like regular instruments,” he said. “But these can do so much more.” I reached to pick up a bow and had my hand swatted away. “Be careful.” Twig sounded stern. “I’m not entirely sure what they are capable of yet.” I inquired about where the instruments came from. Twig crossed his arms and began to explain how he constructed them out of resources he salvaged around the village. Once Twig started using intricate scientific terms that I had never heard of like “harmonic convergence” and “quantum projection”, I started to tune out.

He proceeded to explain that these instruments had the power to create a new universe… one where The Pilgrimage never occurred, one where our planet wasn’t left a desolate wasteland, and one where our people were whole again. All we needed was a band to play a powerful enough song. I obviously did not believe him.

Twig huffed and said he would prove it. He stepped forward and picked up the banjo. As he stepped back, he tripped and fell backward. Twig lost his grip on the banjo and it tumbled to the ground with a musical clang. The sound reverberated throughout the shack. Then there was a loud rumble from outside the shed. Twig looked just as surprised as I was. We bolted out the door and saw… nothing. I thanked Twig and told him that I remembered I had other appointments to keep. He said he wanted to take the instruments to Oaken to propose his ideas. I wished him good luck and left promptly.

I am still deliberating how I felt about the experience. I plan to speak to Twig tomorrow to quench my curiosity.

Before I am off to bed, I will shovel more coal into the fire. It’s unusually cold this evening.

- The Archivist


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