The Wings of a Butterfly
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
8,009
Reviews:
28
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
8,009
Reviews:
28
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. Laevi of Theed
4
.:4:.
Money could buy more than equipment. It could buy information, as Julian knew for his whole life, and as he realized it again. He put some historians at work, to tell him all about the history of the manor, its occupants and owners.
He requested as many paintings and images as possible.
By now, Simon was convinced the investor was crazy. But as Greg so subtlety pointed out; with that much money you weren’t crazy, but eccentric. Which was a whole other thing.
Crazy or not, Julian was successful, and learned more about the manor in a week than the two scientists would ever find out in a year. As the days passed –time on the screen seemed to pass at the same rate; it was, as Julian had asked, ‘real-time’– they received reports and thick envelops with prints by mail, and other information by e-mail.
Julian read it all, sitting in front of the glass monitor, until he was certain who the man was. “Frederick Vane,” he said eventually, more to himself.
The other men paused their work and walked towards him. “Who?”
“Hon. Frederick Vane… Born 1732. He owned this place, and my friend placed the fashion in the late 18th century. It has to be him.”
“Never heard of him,” shrugged Simon. “What makes him ‘honourable’?”
“Only that he’s a son of the 1st Earl of Darlington,” said Julian, lost in his thoughts. “The youngest. So that makes him honourable, and not an Earl. Hmm…”
“Alright, so now we found out who he is, can we move on? I want to see if this device can go to other eras and if it works in other places.”
Julian’s head jerked up, and his eyes shot fire. “What? No! We’ll keep on watching, and go from here!”
Simon backed off at the snarl. “But—”
“No buts!” Julian stood up, and walked towards the scientists, driving him backwards with ever threatening step. “I pay for this shit! I own you! You’ll do what I want, and as I say, you hear me? We’ll stick to this time, we’ll continue to watch, and you’ll work on something else! Make me a time machine to transfer objects to the past! Create something, to let me go to the past!”
“Uhm… I—” Simon stammered, paling significantly.
“Do it!” yelled Julian. To his pleasure, both scientists ran away, and he turned his gaze to the window, looking into the past. “Just do it,” he said quieter, walking to the device. He pressed his hand to the glass, just as Frederick returned. “Frederick… I want to meet you, my Frederick.”
Greg returned not much later, and found Julian eye-to-eye with the image on the large monitor. Now the investor was convinced the man couldn’t see him, he didn’t pull back anymore. Frederick put on wig –his hair underneath was blond– and wiped his face with a damp cloth, clearly looking into a mirror.
“Are you sure you don’t want to look into other rooms, sir?” asked Greg, carefully approaching. “We might find out more about him…”
“That will take too much time,” mumbled Julian. He lifted a hand, and traced the face in front of him with his fingertips. “You know what I want, Greg. Sorry I yelled like that, but it’s important to me. I want to go the past. I want to meet him in real.”
“With all respect, sir…” Greg sighed softly. “Even if we find a way to transfer objects, or even humans, there’s always more than one risk. We may not be able to bring you back, is one.”
“I don’t care,” shrugged Julian. Frederick was finished, and turned around to pull his coat on. “I’ll continue my life with him.”
“Second, we don’t know if he wants to get to know you,” tried Greg, seeing things more realistically. “You know his history; didn’t he marry, or something?”
“Marry… Yes,” nodded Julian. “He did. Twice, even.” In the room on the screen, the door opened, and a woman stepped in. Julian narrowed his eyes, and almost growled. So did Frederick, looking into the mirror… “It seems he’s not happy with it,” breathed the investor.
Greg came closer, and looked at what Julian meant. He laughed softly. “Too bad we don’t have sound. Looks like a quarrel to me, sir. I believe you’re right. If that’s his fiancée, then he’s not too pleased with it.”
“He’s unhappy. Remember the tears? I can make it all better for him.”
“Excuse me,” snapped Simon behind them, “but even if you manage to go to the past, you won’t be allowed to interfere. Have you ever heard of the Butterfly Effect?”
Both men turned around, Julian with a questioning expression. “No,” he said. “But you’ll explain me, won’t you? Please tell…”
“The Butterfly Effect is a phrase which encapsulates the more technical notion of sensitive dependence on initial conditions in chaos theory,” started Simon.
“Hang on a second. Pretend I’m an illiterate billionaire and stop citing an encyclopedia, please. Use human language.”
“Alright,” shrugged Simon, “it means that if a butterfly flaps its wings in China, it will cause a tornado here. In other words, if you go back in time and change something, then it will affect the present. If Frederick doesn’t marry, a whole branch of his pedigree will cease to exist. It never existed at all. It can change everything.”
“He’s right,” said Greg with a soft sigh. “If you go there with your knowledge of today, it may rewrite history. Another risk, sir.”
“I’m not fussed,” said Julian after a moment of thought. “Get on with it. It’s all theory, and great for movies, but so far no one has ever proved it, right?”
“Of course not,” muttered Simon. “Even if someone had, no one will ever know. If one of us ceases to exist, the other wouldn’t remember.”
“Then I see no limits,” concluded Julian. “Give me something to transfer an object to the past. Let’s say… a letter. Make me a letterbox. That will give you something to do, hm?” A letter… Julian already thought of what to write.
Money could buy more than equipment. It could buy information, as Julian knew for his whole life, and as he realized it again. He put some historians at work, to tell him all about the history of the manor, its occupants and owners.
He requested as many paintings and images as possible.
By now, Simon was convinced the investor was crazy. But as Greg so subtlety pointed out; with that much money you weren’t crazy, but eccentric. Which was a whole other thing.
Crazy or not, Julian was successful, and learned more about the manor in a week than the two scientists would ever find out in a year. As the days passed –time on the screen seemed to pass at the same rate; it was, as Julian had asked, ‘real-time’– they received reports and thick envelops with prints by mail, and other information by e-mail.
Julian read it all, sitting in front of the glass monitor, until he was certain who the man was. “Frederick Vane,” he said eventually, more to himself.
The other men paused their work and walked towards him. “Who?”
“Hon. Frederick Vane… Born 1732. He owned this place, and my friend placed the fashion in the late 18th century. It has to be him.”
“Never heard of him,” shrugged Simon. “What makes him ‘honourable’?”
“Only that he’s a son of the 1st Earl of Darlington,” said Julian, lost in his thoughts. “The youngest. So that makes him honourable, and not an Earl. Hmm…”
“Alright, so now we found out who he is, can we move on? I want to see if this device can go to other eras and if it works in other places.”
Julian’s head jerked up, and his eyes shot fire. “What? No! We’ll keep on watching, and go from here!”
Simon backed off at the snarl. “But—”
“No buts!” Julian stood up, and walked towards the scientists, driving him backwards with ever threatening step. “I pay for this shit! I own you! You’ll do what I want, and as I say, you hear me? We’ll stick to this time, we’ll continue to watch, and you’ll work on something else! Make me a time machine to transfer objects to the past! Create something, to let me go to the past!”
“Uhm… I—” Simon stammered, paling significantly.
“Do it!” yelled Julian. To his pleasure, both scientists ran away, and he turned his gaze to the window, looking into the past. “Just do it,” he said quieter, walking to the device. He pressed his hand to the glass, just as Frederick returned. “Frederick… I want to meet you, my Frederick.”
Greg returned not much later, and found Julian eye-to-eye with the image on the large monitor. Now the investor was convinced the man couldn’t see him, he didn’t pull back anymore. Frederick put on wig –his hair underneath was blond– and wiped his face with a damp cloth, clearly looking into a mirror.
“Are you sure you don’t want to look into other rooms, sir?” asked Greg, carefully approaching. “We might find out more about him…”
“That will take too much time,” mumbled Julian. He lifted a hand, and traced the face in front of him with his fingertips. “You know what I want, Greg. Sorry I yelled like that, but it’s important to me. I want to go the past. I want to meet him in real.”
“With all respect, sir…” Greg sighed softly. “Even if we find a way to transfer objects, or even humans, there’s always more than one risk. We may not be able to bring you back, is one.”
“I don’t care,” shrugged Julian. Frederick was finished, and turned around to pull his coat on. “I’ll continue my life with him.”
“Second, we don’t know if he wants to get to know you,” tried Greg, seeing things more realistically. “You know his history; didn’t he marry, or something?”
“Marry… Yes,” nodded Julian. “He did. Twice, even.” In the room on the screen, the door opened, and a woman stepped in. Julian narrowed his eyes, and almost growled. So did Frederick, looking into the mirror… “It seems he’s not happy with it,” breathed the investor.
Greg came closer, and looked at what Julian meant. He laughed softly. “Too bad we don’t have sound. Looks like a quarrel to me, sir. I believe you’re right. If that’s his fiancée, then he’s not too pleased with it.”
“He’s unhappy. Remember the tears? I can make it all better for him.”
“Excuse me,” snapped Simon behind them, “but even if you manage to go to the past, you won’t be allowed to interfere. Have you ever heard of the Butterfly Effect?”
Both men turned around, Julian with a questioning expression. “No,” he said. “But you’ll explain me, won’t you? Please tell…”
“The Butterfly Effect is a phrase which encapsulates the more technical notion of sensitive dependence on initial conditions in chaos theory,” started Simon.
“Hang on a second. Pretend I’m an illiterate billionaire and stop citing an encyclopedia, please. Use human language.”
“Alright,” shrugged Simon, “it means that if a butterfly flaps its wings in China, it will cause a tornado here. In other words, if you go back in time and change something, then it will affect the present. If Frederick doesn’t marry, a whole branch of his pedigree will cease to exist. It never existed at all. It can change everything.”
“He’s right,” said Greg with a soft sigh. “If you go there with your knowledge of today, it may rewrite history. Another risk, sir.”
“I’m not fussed,” said Julian after a moment of thought. “Get on with it. It’s all theory, and great for movies, but so far no one has ever proved it, right?”
“Of course not,” muttered Simon. “Even if someone had, no one will ever know. If one of us ceases to exist, the other wouldn’t remember.”
“Then I see no limits,” concluded Julian. “Give me something to transfer an object to the past. Let’s say… a letter. Make me a letterbox. That will give you something to do, hm?” A letter… Julian already thought of what to write.