“Tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it yet.”

— L. M. Montgomery, “Anne of Green Gables”

If you count the steps of a robin that dances on your eaves in the most ungodly hours, let it be day or night, there would be no end to it. Sometimes it fades, or just abruptly stops. There is no way for you to know where the little bird eventually ends up to. Perhaps you would be kind enough to wish it has gone home, safely, and that it might not come again tonight or the next morning, for you have been losing sleep.

You would consider it luck if you could just drift off to sleep right after you have tugged yourself in bed, or if you wake up energized, ready for a new day.

But even when you are asleep, there is no rest. Your brain never ceases to work, and it refuses to let you rest as well. It takes you through journeys, it brings you images, memories and imaginations, distant past and unknown future.

The constant tapping on the metallic plate guides her back from a land that only exists in the strangest of dreams. There aren’t any birds. It is snowing.

She wakes up not remembering whether this is where she was before she fell asleep or not. All she knows is that she is on the brink of being frozen with the thin fabrics she is wearing, and somehow this house has exactly where she needs.

It looks like it was abandoned in such a haste that the wardrobe is still open, revealing to its new guest that its past owners, a couple supposedly, had only packed less than half of its content. As weird as it could get, all the food in the house are still not expired.

Making her way to the broken window of the master room, the city welcomes her with open arms—everything but just not any sight of a single life. Not even a wisp of smoke coming from the chimney across the street.

She hugs the huge jacket closer to her tired body as she walks away from what has remained of a window. Human survival instincts tell her to hole up at this house and go scavenge outside, but her own guts say otherwise. Because she knows there is no end to wait here.

Easily picking the lock with some simple household tools, she is not surprised to see nothing but only the hollow shapes of some firearms in the gun safe. She spares a glance at the other black box, buried deep in the drawer. Her hunch pays back as this one is heavy – then, carefully she strips the tactical knife on her waist.

As if it has been rehearsed, the lone girl scouts around the house and packs the things she might need for a road trip in the most meticulous way – food, water, make-shift tent, handy tools, a lighter…… You name it. There is also a car with little fuel in the garage but she decides not to hotwire it at the moment.

For she has set her eyes on the house with the cold chimney already. Because it looks familiar.

Abandoned vehicles scatter on both sides of the road, including some unusual ones like police cars, firetrucks, and tactical vans. One’s imagination could easily go wild witnessing such sight. A hint of eeriness creeps into her head as she crosses the seemingly frozen street – frozen as in the “time and space” kind of way. She watches her breaths vaporize into a small ball of fog just to make sure.

The front door isn’t even locked and she lets herself in without any hesitation. This house is no different however. No signs of being ransacked, just hastily evacuated. Strangely, something catches her ears, something rhythmic but not totally plain like mechanic ticking she finds distasteful. She stops by the flight of stairs and checks the wristwatch she woke up with. It doesn’t even tell time when its digital dial only reflects a pair of dark eyes, hers.

It gets louder when she is upstairs and by this time she could tell that it must be some sort of music. Alarmed, she puts a hand on the holster on her waist. Making a left turn to the spacious study, she spots the gramophone at the far end of the room and a computer that is still on. Nevertheless, no one is home.

“Why do robins sing in December,

Long before the Springtime is due?

And even though it's snowing, violets are growing,

I know why and so do you.”

She must have some knowledge of music as well, or else it is quite fascinating for her to be humming along only after having heard a minute or two of this old tune.

The only certain thing now, is that there is power in this house but not the one she woke up in. So, she walks up to the study desk for the computer but only finds out that it is secured by some password. Well, that is new.

Wasting no time, she goes on to turn the house over for clues, not forgetting to check the stoves while she is at it. And she has made a fair share of attempts by trying a handful of possible combinations, such as the numbers of paintings hanging around the house, the numbers of rooms, and the circled dates on the half-torn calendar.

She has herself perched by the window again and notices that the weather is only getting chillier as day turns into night. And there is still no signs of people starting a fire or turning on a light. Is she the only living being here? Should she try the mountain behind this residential area next?

“Why do breezes sigh every evening,

Whispering your name as they do?

And why have I the feeling stars are on my ceiling?

I know why and so do you.”

The snow is not stopping. And the house she was at before looks ever so lonely and out of place, surrounded the other buildings much taller yet less neat than it is. She can’t help but stare at the tree house just little over the fences. The leaves are still fresh yet the tree house is long left forlorn.

She is quite sure that she had been in this neighborhood. Maybe it is the one she was born in, the one that her family left for a foreign country. She can’t recall where they left for exactly nor when they eventually came back, or it was just her. It hits her when she can’t recall her parents’ faces. Only a vague image of a woman cradling her whilst a man looked daringly over her. But then there was a hand tugging her little foot too, maybe it was her sibling. She can’t be sure. But if so, where are they? Are they safe? Was she left behind? Why is she here?

Her mind stops at the door sign nailed on a pillar at the front porch, hoping that it might ring a bell or something. Suddenly, there seems to be too much at hand and she desperately wishes to get rid of whatever she could first. Purely out of desperation (and the fact that there is nothing to do anyway), she enters the house number on that sign into the computer. The number of digits fits.

It works.

In a blink of an eye, it takes her to a completely white screen instead – where codes start to run automatically. 

>Program442315_431515251542 successfully launched

>Code22113111231114 activated

>Code3111331315313444 activated

She watches them sprint at a speed that she could barely catch up with as if they are racing each other to the other end of the screen. Now she is certain that she is no computer expert, and jots down the new sets of numbers on an old notepad conveniently placed next to the desktop, in hopes of them being eventually crucial later. If this is some sort of survival nightmare, she would better make a good use of everything she could find.

Air in the study grows denser as the music loops at the back. What if she is being watched all this time? What if she is literally the only one left here? Either way, it is scary.

This is not the time to give up. Still, too many questions with too little answers.

= Greetings.

= My friend, my wanderer.

She unknowingly lets out a long sigh not sure what to do with such twist of the plot. Is this controlled by someone? Who is behind this?

Or, this is just a program made for someone else but is left behind somehow?

= Wendy.

= You have come.

Her body jerks and sends the armrests of the chair to the edge of the desk, creating a low thud that truly wakes her up from head to toe. Wendy means the wanderer, the friend. She is Wendy. She remembers it, it must be. The man who looked down and smiled at her named her, for he wished her to be so. She could almost make out his face, a kind and gentle man.

But she forgets her mother’s eyes. She would like to believe that they are as bright as light would be, which always guide her to where she needs to be.

= But this is only the start. You have somewhere else to be.

= Go to this location. There would be what you seek.

= Godspeed.

Let it be whoever but Wendy would like to believe that this is the right thing to do. With all the stuff she has gone through so far, she guesses there isn’t much to lose. Not that she has anything to lose in the first place. Fragments of memories won’t get her anywhere anyways.

Even having remembered her name now, she still doesn’t know who she really is. It would be cool if she is like an agent of some sort, she smiles to herself.

If it shall be light, let there be light.

>Code803201 launched

>Now shutting down

The last code seems to have activated her wristwatch that it, again, automatically has a set of coordinates marked as her destination. She can tell that she is not really into gadgets but this is her best shot right now.

On the tiny map, it seems to be a university located right on the other side of the mountain. Much better than she expected though, at least it does not ask her to infiltrate a military base. It is just a hike, a very steep hike.

Wendy is taken aback once again when the computer shuts itself down along with all the power in the house, leaving her no choice but to take off right away. The last note echoes louder than her own heartbeat when the song is abruptly cut short. Skillfully lifting the polished bronze tonearm, she tries to ignore the coldness of her fingertips.

The world is grey and she must take the road before the hike becomes an icy tramp.

-

It turns out to be the girls’ dormitory of the university. Wendy checks twice before marching through the unguarded gate. The now-functional wristwatch indicates that it is almost nighttime and she quickly makes her way inside.

Power is running smooth and stable throughout the whole university while other areas of town fade into the night as Wendy finds a good outlook for the view. Like time has forgotten this city, as well as her.

Club posters, school notices, cute decorations are still on the walls, slightly yellowed and crumpled. Every time she passes by a door, it is just like moments passing in front of her eyes, those fresh faces and bright dreams, now long forgotten too perhaps.

All doors are either locked or blocked except one, the one she needs to be in – Building 803, Room 201, in which the small key she found in the well-stocked garage of the first house fits perfectly. The single dorm room looks as good as new despite the fact that it seems to have been abandoned for some time already. She even woke up in short-sleeves, how long has it been really?

Things are making more and less sense at the same time. It even has water supply. As positive as she can, Wendy feels a little better since this seems to be a much more ideal place to hole up in. For facilitates in a university must be much more diverse and useful, compared to a small neighborhood.

Using the same password as last time, she quickly gains access to the laptop laying idle on the corner of the room and plans to reach out to any other possible “survivors”. And much to her dismay, all the websites are down. So, okay, one drawback of this place.

Counting her limited options, she tries with her limited knowledge to run the program and codes she noted down. Much to her expectation, it is in vain. To her, the digits are just plain numbers which make no meaning. Even though her encounter with the “voice” in the computer earlier must be leading her to something more, something stronger.

The roaring winds knock onto the sealed windows and Wendy looks up just to see snowflakes forming a vertical of white before her. The intense contrast of the velvety snow and the vigorous night drives her dizzy even with just one look.

Her body calls for a nice break after all the physical labor today and she gladly complies, ping the backpack for a bag of fruits. The heavy backpack reminds her that she should find a stove and cook herself a decent meal tomorrow, since the ingredients are definitely not a problem for her.

Yes, she should definitely do that tomorrow. It could help warming her body up too. But for now, even her brain cries for some rest. Still, she learns something new in the shower – that the wristwatch is not detachable unless she gets her hands on some special tools. Maybe, she is an agent on a secret mission but she could not recall, maybe it is somewhat intentional, maybe she has to retrieve some important data that could save mankind. Once again, too many questions with too little answers.

Anyway, she knows she would always be a small existence amid something much bigger.

The snowstorm isn’t making her life easier as its every step is loud, its knocks softer and its howls longer. Uneven and unrhythmic, like a yearning crooned for someone who never returns, from a journey with no end.

Therefore, she naturally turns to the books on the shelves for some comfort. The bed is more than comfortable but she keeps seeing the peculiar scar on her lower neck whenever she closes her eyes. Others could hardly spot it in normal circumstances, not even herself if she did not decide to have a full inspection of her body after shower.

Flipping a book on Cryptography on her lap, Wendy’s mind sinks deeper as the world upwells upon her. The rule of thumb is that, water gives life and takes it away in the same way. It scares her that water submerges you into a stretch of the unknown when it could be sailing your boat a moment ago.

Slowly but surely, drowsiness begins to take over. Yet again, she could feel a hand hovering above her and it is already too late to do anything – as she is knocked out by someone who doesn’t even bother to be discreet about her own identity.

Song: I Know Why (And So Do You) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOv_2zHwrTk)

Happy Birthday to Wendy even though it is late :( She is the reason of me getting into Red Velvet. Her "Speak Now" cover is forever holy to me.

And this is the very first chapter of the grand project! 

It is obviously more slow-paced as it is to set the mood for the whole story, which I hope it works haha. Kind of apocalyptic-ish?

As my usual style I guess, everything will be explained as the story unfolds. 

Chapter Two, "The Order", wouldn't be out until April or even May since I have to hand in the first chapter of my master thesis by the end of this semester.

xo