A sea of red.

The world around Eli glows crimson. Towering pillars of loosely tangled strings have replaced the solidity of the surrounding buildings. The roads now look to be made of tightly knitted yarn. The more Eli observes, the more he understands the world. The information that has been lost to time randomly flows into his brain, unprompted and intrusive. With every passing moment, Eli's control over his power deepens. The more history he consumes, the deeper his connection grows. His cold mind collects this lost knowledge, categorizing it and siphoning it, separating the useless from the useful.

In this short period of time, he’s realized that: although the strings that compose reality are red, there are different shades of red. Those shades are dependent on the age of the observed object. The road is dark, like blood on a cloudy night, while the skyscrapers in the distance are like beacons of fire, blazing in the night. He also observes how the smallest objects, from a single pebble, can interact and entangle with living lifeforms, their strings entwining and weaving into a single thread. A pebble formed from a cracked piece of cement leaves a string, a line of history, that interacts with the random stranger that happens to kick the piece of rubble while walking down the sidewalk. This permanently leaves a mark on both of their strings, allowing Eli to observe the history of both subjects. Such events are happening nonstop around the young man, uncontrollable and unseen in their influence. A piece of trash leaves a rich history as it blows in the wind, crashing into the face of a limping homeless man, causing him to throw it furiously away as it once again gets swept up in the wind.

Eli has also noticed that, although he can see the history of every single object and person in his line of sight, he’s incapable of seeing his own string, leaving him blind to his past, incapable of understanding or remembering his forgotten moments. This means that no matter what object he interacts with, there's no sign of his presence anywhere. He's completely invisible in the eyes of fate and time. This realization leaves him with a vague feeling of sorrow, as he quietly realizes that he’ll never again be able to view those happy days he spent with his family. His fragmented thoughts gently coagulate as he moves his legs in silence. I wonder… Why is it that I'm blind to my own past?

The indistinct shards of innumerable thoughts swirl around his mind, drifting listlessly in the unmoving expanse within. His heart beats with a steady rhythm, a calming thump that leads him to take steady, perfectly even steps. His mind, as still as a lake, ripples ever so calmly, like a brush of wind in the early spring. Unbothered by the passing surroundings, he calmly walks down the road, making turns when necessary.

Despite his conscious decision to not strain himself by thinking, a single conclusion gradually takes shape in the back of his mind, a simple reasoning that he easily accepts without putting too much effort into understanding it. Perhaps if I went far enough back, I’d be able to see how I got such an ability. The reason I cannot see my string is because I'm not to meant to know the origin of this power. It’s not too difficult to consider. After all, as far as he knows, he’s the only one with some kind of special ability. This means there's no chance of him ever seeing someone else receiving their power. He wouldn't be able to know if they always had their power since childhood, as he had, or if they received it in their later years for some mysterious reason. It would make sense that the bestower of such a power would wish to remain anonymous. Or perhaps it is for his own sake. It could be like in the old stories, where if he looked at an incomprehensible being, he would lose his mind and fall into madness.

Eli walks in absolute silence, the red world a place of deafness and solitude. He knows that there are living beings around him, but in such a state, they look closer to monsters or abstract concepts than any mortal being. In such a state, Eli explores this empty world alone, not even the sound of his footsteps registering in his ears. He doesn't seem to notice such an environment, however, as his eyes continue staring at the silver string he’s been following since he left the house. Audrey’s string. The only string that’s not red, a clear sign that Audrey is Audrey. He hasn’t the faintest idea why her string is so vastly different, being such a blinding luminance that never dulls or fades. Perhaps it is a sign of potential, a sign that the young woman is destined for great things. Or maybe it means her existence is special to Eli in a way that nobody else has ever been. Whatever the reason, he can’t find it in himself to pry. That’s just the way Audrey is.

He arrives in the previous area, the dreadful place where Audrey lost the largest part of herself. Here and there are people with traces of silver, an unmistakable sign that they’ve heard her music, that they’ve been influenced ever so subtly by her. But that’s not what he’s looking for. Such minor traces won’t help him accomplish his goal, if anything they’ll distract him. He slows his breathing even further, his chest barely even rising as his concentration sharpens like a knife. In the swirling, throbbing, thrashing storm of red, Eli takes in the entirety of his surroundings. The crowd melds together. The pitch black sky seems to grow closer. The brilliant silver flickers and shines, as if on fire. A molten string of concealed history and experience. Finally, he finds it. A bundle of strings made of twisted silver, jolting back and forth in jagged movements as they fade into the distance. A remnant.

A trail.

Looking at that bundle of silver strings, Eli walks forward. Step by step. He approaches the twisting trail, watching closely as he follows along. Though the thief may be long gone, he knows, he understands, that there’s no possible way to ever truly escape from his sight. And so, with the unending patience of a machine, he follows. Unflinching in his pursuit to find the person that stole Tomorrow.

Eli doesn’t know how much time has passed. He walks ever onwards with unrelenting movements. As his sight isn’t reliant upon his actual eyes, he feels with his skin that it’s become night. At that moment, a familiar voice calls out to him from the depths of his mind, gradually increasing in volume, as though not to disturb him. There’s a curfew… you might get caught… Though understanding such things, Eli doesn’t bother giving up on his task. He chooses to ignore the danger of being out at night, instead sticking with his single minded purpose of following the string. The voice speaks out again, louder this time, with a breathlessness in their voice. There are people around you, they might attack…! Out of the corner of his eye he sees groups of complex geometric hurricanes, groups of violence, much like those he first ran into when he chose to leave his old life behind. Before he can respond to the voice, a different voice cuts off the first, it’s tone cold and unwavering. Leave them, they will not stop you. Eli doesn’t respond in any way, choosing instead to ignore the strangeness inside him and continue onwards, following his heart, not considering the possible effects of his actions as he single mindedly pursues his goal. A third voice calls out to him, light and young, bright and cheerful, it has a hint of praise that carries over with its words. You’ve changed, Eli… You’ve become what I’ve always wanted to be, though you might not fully realize it yet… Immediately after saying such things, the voice, the presence, vanishes, along with the others that attempted to communicate with him. Eli doesn’t react in the slightest, his eyes following the silver string with almost inhuman lucidity.

It’s a long walk, one that results in Eli finding himself deeper into the city than ever before. He’s stepped beyond the threshold of safety long ago, and is now swimming through dangerous waters, with icy black depths that hide the most terrifying of foes. Every turn he makes welcomes the threat of violence, of death, of punishment. The monsters that lurk in the shadows follow him with their eyes, their twisted weapons glinting in the strobing lights of the inner city. Though they watch him with the vigilance of a hunter, they also watch the roads, wary of the possible enforcer that could, at any moment, turn a corner and execute them all on the spot. And so, they stay there hands, watching in bewilderment as the young boy walks calmly down the sidewalk, not an ounce of worry in his quiet eyes.

The sound of gunshots ripple in the distance, a signal of punishment, a warning and a promise. The darkness seems to grow thicker, every shadow longer, as the colors of the glowing buildings saturate and blend into a mess of madness. And through the fear does Eli walk, even footsteps clicking down the sidewalk, arms loosely at his side, head looking straight into the distance as his eyes trace the invisible trail down a mixture of main roads and alleys.

The thief was a strange one. Why steal so far from their base, instead of sticking to a nearby area? Could they be part of a gang? Perhaps the guitar has been passed between people, changing hands before Eli even realized it? It doesn’t matter. The thief isn’t his goal. The instrument. The future. Tomorrow. His goal is the silver bundle of strings that weave through the city, not the monster that stole it. And in his unrelenting pursuit of Tomorrow, Eli finally finds it. The source. The place where the string knots and weaves with countless lines of blazing red.

He's found it.

He's found hope.