We will now take a short intermission.

Do not fear, as this is nowhere near the end of our story, nor is it truly anywhere near the middle, although to say that this is the beginning would be false. It was simply useful for a few items of the past to be shed light upon for your viewing.

You must be patient if the meaning of these objects is unclear to you now. If things were to be clearer, as is true in all things, nothing would be appealing. Behind the thin veil of ignorance is something so grotesque you must forgive me for sparing you at this time.

Within this section three slices of time have been curated for your viewing. One might say that these slices come in the order of past, present, and future. But I must ask you, dear reader, what, in a tale so smoothed by the sands of time, constitutes the past? Or the present, for that matter?

Dust to Dust

Our first tale begins on an unusually warm winter evening.

A storm rages above a small midwestern town, somewhere between Appalachia and the great louisiana river, north of the mason-dixon line, but south of the great lakes. In the middle of that storm, above that small midwestern town, something big and black and angular hovers.

If you were standing outside in that town, you might notice the sharp smell of ozone- typical of summer storms- as well as an overwhelming scent of holly, indicative of the upcoming winter holliday. None below were aware of what was about to occur from above, and none would know once it was over.

There was great disappointment in the children of Cloversfeld, for that is what that small midwestern town was called. It was supposed to storm, according to the forecast, and all the children in Cloversfeld had done the rituals that all children do when hoping for a snow day. Although the practice varies from town to town, and from child to child, rituals such as those have a 65% chance of influencing the weather- a little known fact. Despite this, the weather was uncooperatively inclimate.

Within the big and black and angular thing, a figure waits, impatient.

"Pétr. How much longer?" they whined, draped across the helm chair dramatically.

"According to spatio-temporal readings, my grace, approximately sixteen point three-five minutes. No interference detected."

"Lovely. I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible, get some real fun in before they make me go back. The palace is ever so dull."

Pétr grinned "Of course, my grace."

Below the big and black and angular thing, a man named Logan Howlett drives home through the storm in his 2013 Honda Civic, blinking rapidly to try to make sense of the abstract shapes in front of him, obstructed by the slanted rain.

On the radio, an old tune crackles through the speakers.

"Little darlin'... It's been a long cold lonely winter..."

The man grunted "Yeah, that's what you'd expect, isn't it? What kind of shit weather is this?"

"Here comes the sun, do, do, do, do..."

Logan took a swig from the half-empty bottle of cheap beer in his cup holder. A long day of work, and what felt like an even longer drive home.

This man could be forgiven for closing his eyes for just a moment, his eyelids were indeed heavy, and his brain filled with fluff like a well stuffed puncture wound.

Close by, the big and black and angular thing, which was quite clearly a spacecraft, landed, and waited.

"Two point one-three minutes, my radiance." Pétr notified his superior.

"Hmm... What do you think, Pétr? Is this one really necessary? He is... rather handsome."

"Your father is quite insistent, my grace." Pétr sighed "Perhaps if you ask nicely he could become part of your personal guard."

"Mmm... Now that would be nice." The being purred.

"Oh, don't give us none of your aaaaggravation!

We've had it with your discipline

Oh, Saturday night's aaaalright for fiiighting

Get a little action innn!"

His face as red as his hair with lack of oxygen, a young man- an adult in age but most definitely not in spirit- drove through the storm, leaning forwards as close as possible to the steering wheel.

He sang at the top of his lungs, biting at the words of the song like it might give him some sort of sustenance, tears mixing with rain pouring through his open windows. He'd just received a piece of horrible news, and figured that at this time of night, on this specific road, he deserved to scream out his feelings.

As his fingers gripped white-knuckled on the steering wheel, he noticed a dim light from up ahead. That was all he could see, the blur of tears and the rapidly escalating rainfall hindering his view.

"Point three-four minutes left, my liege." Pétr stated, looking to the elegant figure who was now standing in the only doorway of the dark room.

"Thank you, darling." The figure stepped out into the downpour, pulling something out of their pocket.

In a moment, two sets of bright lights raced towards each other, the only sound being the hum of two engines and the roar of rainfall. An object was thrown between the quickly diminishing space that separated the two vehicles. Moss-green light radiated in a spherical form, encapsulating both cars and the figure. Everything, excluding the figure, froze completely.

The figure grimaced, wondering how much more of this they could take.

The Star City

Our next tale takes place up in the sky, where most everyone, but not all, were sleeping.

The machinery which kept the stars in the sky was difficult to maintain, even by The Mechanic's standards. Despite what one might think, the city which was the cosmos did not operate opposite to earth, in fact it operated much the same. Working and living when the sun came up, resting and playing when it came down.

But not the mechanic. His schedule was quite erratic, collecting the fluid of dreams in short spurts between his never-ending list of repairs. Needless to say, he quite often filled his sleep flask with other, less wholesome liquids.

As he screwed yet another dead solar-crystal out of its socket- this particular star had been blinking for weeks- moving to replace it with a fresh one, he heard the subtle creaking of boards indicating someone had sat on the nearest maintenance catwalk.

"Oi!" He called "I dunno who ye are, but ye cannae be here, this is a restricted area!"

There was no response.

Reluctantly, The Mechanic hoisted himself up onto the narrow catwalk.

He was greeted by a woman, the most beautiful he'd ever seen. Long black locks cascaded down her shoulders, a loose green tunic falling in all the right places. Large green eyes, inviting and mysterious, stared at him with a mix of fear and urgency.

"They call you Scotty, do they not?" The woman asked, speaking in hushed tones.

"Aye, that they do, miss. But you can call me-"

"Scotty. I need your help. This matter is urgent." she spoke plainly.

"Ah. I see." The mechanic grinned, leaning closer to this mystery woman.

She stared unblinkingly at him, and it was at this moment he realized the woman had eyes like that of a snake. "You must listen, I do not have much time. There is a man in this place that is not what he seems. A visitor from a place neither land nor sky. He could be the most vital of tools, or the most deadly of weapons."

The mechanic blinked "I don't think ye understand, miss. I'm just a mechanic. There isn't much I can do in the field of otherworldly visitors or dangerous weapons. It's the president ye should be talking to, or the governor."

The woman smiled, placing a pale hand on his cheek "I know... If I could access someone with more influence I would. But in my experience, the smallest of people can do the largest of goods."

The mechanic blushed "Ah. I will do my best, miss."

"I know you will." She kissed him on the forehead, and with that, the mystery woman disappeared into a cloud of smoke, her touch still lingering like a sunburn.

Two Celestial Beings Discuss the Matter of Ships

The last slice of time is the strangest, but perhaps the most telling.

On a tiny little asteroid floating in-between star systems, vegetation, lush and overgrown, basks in the light of the tiniest of stars.

Two men sit under a fruit-bearing tree, sharing a meal and a conversation.

"I still don't understand why you picked here, of all places." One said to The Other.

The Other hummed, amused. "Of course you don't. It's too isolated for your tastes. That's precisely why I like it."

"Because you want to avoid me?"

"You misunderstand." The Other shook his head "I enjoy isolation. That doesn't mean I don't enjoy you."

One smiled, "It's good to know you're still obsessed with me, after all these years."

The Other shook his head, looking up at the starry sky, neither day nor night, a small smile gracing his features."No, not obsessed. Obsessions are for love-starved fools. You give me friendly company, which I appreciate. I... appreciate you."

One shifted uncomfortably on the picnic blanket, picking at a frayed edge with clever fingers. Genuine compliments were something he was unfamiliar with "What do you even do, out here? Garden? Sit in your tiny cottage and read? Think?"

"Precisely." One took a sip of a hot green liquid encased in an intricately cut crystal teacup "What else is there to do except that which you enjoy? You act, dear friend, like I never leave this place."

"Oh, but for how long? Your last excursion lasted for several hours." One laid back, letting himself become enveloped by the soft green grass.

"I had to return. Without my presence, this place withers and dies."

"Yes but so quickly?"

"Ah, you've caught me. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I found myself unfamiliar with how to compose myself. I was... embarrassed."

"Precisely why you must leave more often! You've fallen out of practice."

The Other stared down at the fertile earth,"Why would I ever leave this place?" His eyes had glazed over, obstructed by long-passed terrors.

One sighed "So I cannot convince you to come back? I grow bored of my brother and his ignorant benevolence."

"Come back to a place which I never fully was in the first place, you mean? I'd rather not. Your brother, for all his shortcomings, is strikingly wise when he needs to be."

One Grumbled "And yet at all other times he is numbingly useless."

"That is the way, with all leaders. They are, after all, only people. Even gods make mistakes."

"Would you stop waxing poetic at me? I came here to visit you, not to be lectured."

"Apologies, my friend. When by yourself your only companion is your thoughts."

"I thought you said you enjoyed it here."

"I am a man," The Other gave a toothy grin. "I contain multitudes."

One shook his head "But what of your true nature remains?"

"The nature of nature is change. What is true nature when that is the only thing true of it?"

One stood up, sighing "You're too far gone, my friend. I cannot visit you any more." 

(A/N)

This is a thing I did to flesh out my big project right now (The trek fic). I know it's hella pretentious and everything, I was inspired by a guy in my creative writing class. See if you can spot the thing (or person) that ties everything together! All of this is semi-cannon in some way or another, so you could consider this spoilers (especially since I'm publishing this when only one chapter of FS is out), but I feel like it's shrouded enough to not be outright- That being said!  

There is totally enough pieces of the puzzle for anyone to infer what will/has happened! Speculation is encouraged! I'm trying to make this as close to a real type of book as possible, even though it's fanfic so I wouldn't dare actually publish it! This is really just a work out for my creative muscles, to see what I can do. :)