Been writing a book for fun and wanted to share it even though it's not complete yet!

Immortals Anonymous

Chapter 1: in which a man desires a better office

Seven Hodges worked on the second floor at the Federation of Time Travel. He longed to have an office on the top floors where the executives worked, not because he was dissatisfied with his job or wanted more power or authority in his life, but because he preferred a view of the sprawling city and a long elevator ride on the way up and down from work. He knew such a luxury was not available for someone of his position, and an office in the basement was a far more common fate. He should be grateful to have any window at all, but as he looked out at the treetops above the parking lot, he couldn’t help but feel that his second-floor office was no better than one on the first.

There was a knock at the door and Seven hurriedly pretended he had not been daydreaming as he grabbed the nearest folder and cleared his throat.

‘Come in.’ He mumbled.

The door creaked open and Dasha Cisneros poked her head around the bend. ‘Got a moment?’

Seven threw the folder back on the pile. ‘For you, always.’

Dasha smiled and flung open the door only for it to slam back in her face. A pile of books at the base blocked the way.

‘Again?’ She exclaimed! ‘Seriously Seven, you have to declutter your office.’

Seven didn’t see anything wrong with the small room, covered floor to ceiling in packed bookshelves and leather chairs. Any floorspace capitalized on as potential book space, piled high with articles and novels he had been sorting through for the archives that he commanded just outside his office door; the smell of fermenting, yellowing pages stained the air; the windows, even from its pathetic, two-floor height, cast the most beautiful golden sunbeams onto his desk. It was a perfect heaven to him. Who cared that the doorway was cluttered?

Dasha swung her leg over the books and plopped down into the chair across from him. She sat there for a moment.

‘I’m screwed.’

Seven gave her an unseen, sympathetic smile. His dearest friend was often overworked.

‘Why?’

‘I got three orders for hand-painted silk kimonos.’

‘When are they due?’

Dasha breathed out heavily. ‘A week.’

‘A week?’ Seven exclaimed!

Dasha just nodded.

A week was a very little amount of time to hand paint one kimono, but three… Dasha was in for a very long week, indeed.

‘I have at least four all-nighters in front of me.’ She let the words linger, then shot a look at him. It took Seven a minute to decipher.

‘No.’ He said, getting up. ‘No. No. No.’

He grabbed her arm and attempted to pull her to the door. ‘Please?’ Dasha begged, unmoved.

‘You always do this! Not again.’ Seven yanked on her arm again but wasn’t strong enough to even jokingly drag her to the door. ‘I’m not staying up all night just to keep you company!’

Dasha let out a sound like a dying cat and followed Seven’s lead. ‘You stay up all night in your office anyway, why can’t you come downstairs and read your books with me?’

Seven looked out the window of his office, again. Dasha’s studio was one of those unfortunate enough to be in the basement; no sunlight, no treetops. But Dasha was right, he’d be up all night reading about whatever he hadn’t yet become an expert on. He knew his fate for the evening, but he looked up at Dasha to confirm it for himself. He saw the face of someone who cared about him, and as far as Seven knew, that face was unique.

‘Fine, but I have to grab some files before you take me prisoner.’ Seven gathered books and manilla folders strategically from the scattered piles on his desk.

Dasha let out a hollow laugh, ‘The only thing you're a prisoner to is this archive. You never le--”

She cut herself short but it was too late, the words had left her mouth and Seven had heard what she said. Both of them knew it was true, Seven never left his archive, but it wasn’t always his desire to stay locked up in the FTT building.

It was true Seven could spend days, even weeks, buried deep in the archives of the Time Travel Facility, reading testimonies and writing reports on the customs and histories of a particular location at a particular time in the distant past. Seven loved it.

Seven was made for it.

Almost 30 years ago, the most brilliant man in the whole world, Steven Hodges, creator of modern space travel, inventor of new technologies, founder of the very Federation of Time Travel Seven and Dasha worked for, started a series of experiments. A new type of clone that would emphasize certain qualities and traits of the donor. The clone that shared Stephen’s knowledge of mathematics and astronomy was Two, an eccentric man who rarely left the observatory on the top floor of the FTT. The clone that shared Stephen’s obsession with invention and science was Four, a quiet man who most people thought crawled around in the walls. Employees were always careful to watch what they said for fear Four would overhear them. The clone that shared Stephen's physical strength and quick mind was Five. Five’s birth was the beginning of the end for the clone program. Five was strong, fast, and clever just like Stephen, but he shared none of his intellect. Not a smidge.

Steven could never find the reason for the deterioration of the clones, and by the time Seven came around, the program was considered not worth the time or money. Steven often went on record stating at least he got three successful clones out of the program in the early years.

Seven didn’t have the intellect of his creator, nor the physical strength, nor the cleverness or quick wit. For many years, Seven lingered around the dorms of the Clone Project unsure what his true purpose was. The scientists said, unaware Seven was listening, he was the greatest failure to come out of the Clone Project, not only had they not created a successful clone, but they had barely created a successful human.

The scientists had made a lot of mistakes when it came to Seven’s case. The most glaring of which was their belief that Seven did not harbor an inherited trait from Stephen, but Seven had inherited Stephen’s passion.

The scientists never knew Steven back when he was a child. They never met the young boy with stars in his eyes, who had no idea the world was against him because he was so in love with science and invention, he couldn’t take his eyes off it for one minute. If Stephen had ever let that part of his life be known, if he had not let it die out by the time Seven was born, the scientists might not have thought Seven was such a failure to the experiment. They would have seen the potential in his frail body and poor grades.

Due to Seven's status as an experiment, he was not allowed to leave the Facility without some grand reason and a thousand eyes watching him. So Seven grew up with those same starry eyes and set them on reading about the world outside and the world long ago and he eventually found his way as the Head of the FTT’s Archives where he felt very much at home among the ghosts and specters of the past, and Stephen Hodges felt very pleased he would not have to give his greatest failure a place where someone could see him.

As Steven Hodges’ research turned from clones to the invention of time travel and, after his inevitable success, began various experiments and travels into the past, Seven’s work as Head Archivist proved invaluable. Every Agent Steven sent back into the past was clueless without the detailed Reports Seven wrote. Every Report contained information on customs, common history, colloquials, and much more that would give the Agent enough background knowledge to fit in perfectly with the time period they traveled to. No-one acknowledged the importance of the Archivists position since no one had ever sent an Agent into the past without submitting the standard request for information to Seven and the forms for an outfit to thoroughly blend in to the time they traveled from Dasha. I doubt anyone but Dasha really knew how vital Seven’s role was.

Which is why Seven tried not to let her comment hurt him so much. He longed to be a part of the history he had read so much about, but he knew, just as it was impossible to get an office on the top floor, it was impossible for him to leave the facility and live a life on his own.

“Let’s go.” Seven said.

“Really?”

“I’ll get more done with you.” But both Dasha and Seven knew that was a lie.