The Importance of the Insignificant

The Importance of the Insignificant (pending title)

By Vlana

Prologue

She looked around, surveying the screens around her. The screens stood in rows, millions upon millions, each showing a different thing. She frowned, then snapped her fingers. One of the screens about halfway back shot forward until it stood right in front of her. She watched the figures on the screen for awhile, before clapping her hands once.

The picture on the screen disappeared for a moment, leaving an empty black space, until a new image showed a few seconds later. It was different than the first one, and the woman watched it carefully. Her eyes swept around the screen, searching for something that was not there. She frowned, then clapped her hands once more.

The image started to shift, as if rewinding, and went back to the beginning of the second image. She watched it over and over; searching for something only she knew was there. After she had watched it for the ninth time, she jerked suddenly, staring at one particular spot on the screen. Giving a sharp whistle, the moving image froze, then zoomed in on the spot she was looking at. Her eyes widened as she saw what it was in clarity, then she snapped her fingers and rushed out of the huge room.

When she reached an office with the silhouette of an eagle on the door, she knocked once, twice, thrice, before opening it and sliding in, bowing immediately. A man at the desk in the room shifted impatiently. "What do you want now, Angela?" The man never turned in his chair, his face never revealed. His voice was low and croaky, full of power.

Angela straightened up slightly, but still kept her head bowed in respect. "I found the problem, master," she whispered.

The chair swiveled around suddenly. The man could still not be seen, for he wore a cloak drawn up over his head, and he wore gloves and a mask. The only part of him that could be seen was his eyes - a startling white, the eyes of a blind man. "Can you stop it?" he said, his voice shaking, as if afraid of the answer.

Angela stifled a sob. "Not by myself, master. I cannot do anything at all. They must do it on their own. No warnings at all."

The man sighed. "How much will it change?"

The woman looked up curiously. "Change what, master?"

"Everything." Angela was now confused. She stared at her master, willing him to keep going. He did.

"How much of the past? How much of the future? Will it affect others? Will it affect only them? Can they know? Has that incident changed everything? Was it meant to happen?" He whispered the last question, almost to himself.

Angela drew herself up. "It will change everything, master. I do not know if they can survive it. The room shows everything, and what will happen is not good."

"Can they use someone else?"

A shake of her head. "No. Only she will work. They are lost without her."

"Can you prevent it?"

"No. Have you not always told me to not meddle with things below me, master?"

The white eyes flashed. "This is not below you, Angela." The words were soft, harsh. "This could affect everything. If anything, this is above you."

She bowed her head in shame. "Forgive me master."

"If I gave you permission, could you stop it?"

Another shake of the head. "It is in Fate's hands now, master. She will decide."

The cloaked figure bowed his head, then looked up at his most faithful servant. "No, She will not. They will. They can stop this, I know they can! They just need a little boost of faith." These last words seemed to be said with a smile.

Angela looked up quickly, a look of astonishment evident on her face. "What am I to do, master?"

The man turned his chair around once more. "Nothing."

The woman gave a start of surprise. "But master…"

"But nothing. You will do nothing. Those are your orders."

"But…"

"Did I not teach you to never defy your orders? You will do nothing! Now go!" This was said in a shout, startling and powerful.

The woman bowed, then exited the room once more.

The man in the chair brought his hands up and pulled the cloak off his head. He lifted up the mask. The man was old, wrinkled, but quite obviously powerful. His hair was white, the same colour as his eyes, quite clearly sightless. He smiled.

"If I know you, Angela Roma, then you will go after them. Try to stop it. Try to change things." The smile widened. "And that is exactly what I want you to do."

He lifted his hand out to the side wall. A panel slid up, revealing a large screen. The man snapped his fingers, and an image flickered on to the screen. The figure looked extremely surprised to see the man. "M-Master…" it stuttered out, before the first man interrupted.

"I don't want to hear it, Riddle. She's gone. I can't tell you why, or where she's going, or even when she's going. You'll have to find that out yourself. But I want you to follow her."

"But…"

"That was an order, Thomas. Don't fail me again." The panel slid shut, and the old man pulled his mask and cloak back on. "We'll get through this one." You could almost hear the smile in his voice.

"I'll make sure of that."