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The walk to the dock was familiar, comforting. Like a friend’s house he visited everyday. As Techno moves further along, the crunch of leaves and squelch of wet dirt transitions into satisfying clops of wood. He slowed down. His second most favourite part of the dock was the view it led him to. Directly ahead of him, jagged, misshapen mountains jutted from the ground, with snow cascading down from the tip. If he follows the trail of snow down, he’ll comes across the edge of the woods. It was too far to see, but Techno knows that the forest has lent itself as a shelter to the wildlife. The blue mountains, green treetops, and thin line of brown dirt blurred together into one, homogenous mass of black life.
Taking off his boots, he meets the waters edge and takes a seat at the end of the pier. He peers down as he feels the tickle of curious fish on his feet. He lets them play around him, until they decided he was no longer worth of interest and returned to deeper waters.
The fish were gone, but he continued to stare into the water. His reflection looked back at him, and now proceeded Techno’s favourite part of the dock.
Thinking.
He never really enjoyed thinking; the whispers of blood came to him when he tried (and he wasn’t always able to resist). And yet, at the thickest part of the woods, an old pier known closer to none than few, the voices stayed quiet.
Loose locks of pink hair landed around his face, disheveled by the journey through the words– and Tommy tackling him earlier that morning. The ripples in the water distorted his reflection and he non-committedly attempts to keep his reflection still.
This deep into the words, his sharp ears could no longer hear the yellings of men. They instead focused on the sound of silence, occasionally interjected by a singing bird. To others, the abandoned, desolate nature of the pier would have frightened them away, afraid of the monsters that could live in there. To Techno, the abandoned, desolate nature of the pier was something he relishes in (he wasn’t worried about the monsters. He has slain plenty of them before).
The lapping water has made it’s way up to his calves, so he pulls his legs out and lays on his back instead. There will be mud and twigs in his hair, but that was the problem of future Techno (maybe he can get Phil to clean his hair when he gets back).
Techno gazes up at the empty sky. It was raining when he awoke, hence the blank blue canvas he was staring at. His thoughts wander around, taking the time to metaphorically smell the flowers. He doesn’t know how long he laid there, but he knows that it was long enough now that the sky had turned orange, his pants were dried, and when he sat up, there was a man next to him.
“Dad told me to stop your self-imposed isolation. Frankly, I think he just wants me out of the house more often ‘cause he said ‘no’ when Tommy asked to come with. Which doesn’t even make since since I’m always…”
As his brother speaks, Techno makes an attempt to fix his hair (the mud has dried. This really was a problem for his future self), then puts on his boots. As he did so, Wilbur briefly cuts off his rambling to ask, “Was it fun?”
Techno shrugs and mutters, “It was nice. Same as before.”
With his brother’s familiar voice leading the way, the clops of wood turn into the squelch of mud and crunch of leaves as they both make their way back home.