CAPTURE_FAILED_23_05_15.MP4

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File Name: CAPTURE_FAILED_23_05_15.MP4

Last Edited: 15:51 23/05/15

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The camera swivelled from left to right, rotating back and forth like a pendulum as it panned over the shopping centre - the door, however, always remained in its sight. The sun’s weak rays refracted through the windows at the end of the arched hall, though were invisible to the naked eyes in contrast to the dull electric lights.

The faint buzz emitted by these blocky lamps was absorbed by the trapped damp air lingering in the sealed building. The faint wind whistled quietly against the outer walls, occasionally picking up and blowing the odd stick into the door.

The camera watched all of this, recording perfect two-dimensional replications of its surroundings. As this happened data, words and numbers, flashed periodically in the upper right side of it’s limited vision. Always still, never moving, despite the camera’s active hinge. Some words depicted names, most likely of places. The Grafton Centre was one of these, Cambridge another. Two codes, of sorts, also flashed in and out of existence: “CB1 1PS” one said, “#031” said the other. This was followed by a long string of numbers; one pair of these numbers appeared to change every several flashes while the other alternated through its cycle considerably slower.

Some might say these numbers hold the most significance over all the values. Others would argue that without some of the words, or at least one of the codes, the numbers will hold little use. More intellectual people would state that we have both of these, so holding an argument over such things is a waste of time - which was coincidentally what the numbers represented. Not the waste part, but more specifically: time. And that “time” was 11:45 23/05/15.

Tranquil balance was maintained in this building for some time. Little happened as the camera bussied itself by pursuing its simple commands: pan left, pan right, stay in focus, and record all. This continued until the third number switched to a “2”.

Silence.

The sun’s ray disappeared from the camera’s limited frame. Blocked by dull grey clouds. The old calm quite broke like a dam and drifted out of the room. The humming of the lights and the slight hissing of the winds seemed to cease. Sounds that before seemed unimportant were now noticeable once gone. In a way, this made the past seem like the usual bustling crowd of hungry shoppers - though such a thing would not appear for many years.

It was over swiftly. Javelins and lances of rain hammered down on the glass roof, trying to punch through to the ground only to be deflected. They grated down the adjacent cool metal, threatening the cut through. The noise of which equally matched the magnitude of the water’s strength. The building held, however. After all, it was just British weather.

Muffled by deluge cascading out of sky, the door opened, and a peculiar creature shuffled in. In the past, and for some time to come, many would regard such a creature as strange. It had wide eyes, like those of a kitten in comparison it it’s facial size. Despite this, they appeared inattentive and unfocused in the artificial light. On four hooved legs it scuttled away from the door and shook its matted striped fur. Water was splayed around the animal, but it’s coat continued to drip.

The door swung backwards and it spoke in a gruff voice.

“Well that’s just bloody typical.”

It was masculine sounding, and, based on what the camera had seen and heard before, the voice was distinctly alien to the equine-like body. After all, it was atypical to hear anything other than a human speak.

Nevertheless, the pseudo-zebra trotted onwards, either unaware or uncaring of his mechanical watcher. His short black and white mane shifted due to his jerky and wooden movements. The camera began to pursue the left side of its repeating cycle. The zebra moved to the right.

As the camera silently turned, the sharp sounds of clopping deteriorated. When it turned back, the dissonance emanating from the creature’s actions was the only thing that indicated its location. Occasionally a jumbled word would be picked up by the camera’s sensitive audio recorder, or a bang and crash followed by an assortment of aggressive sounding language.

The camera continued as it had before. The zebra was unseen. Little changed, again. The advances rain through the robust gutters was all that could be consistently heard; the floor, the door, and some of the walls were all that could be seen.

Then it changed. Thunder clapped. Lightning flashed. The floor was no longer white; it was no longer a floor. It was an abyss; an empty hole. Even if the camera has depth perception, it would still have appeared bottomless. Nothing - save for a circle of shapely symbols.

Static. Then darkness. Then light.

Colours, sunlight, and the clear blue sky were the first things to register. More creatures, like the zebra from before, chatted to each other in a village. They had no stripes, instead they portrayed their uniqueness through an array of colours - mostly soft ones. Their manes bared little semblance to their bodies as both types of keratin contained visually different pigments.

All of it was strangely in focus despite the lenses’ usual perception problems. Crisp images of winged equines were recorded in phenomenal detail as they pushed the very clouds above the small hamlet. The ground dwellers expressed dominion over nature by forcing plants to grow with their hooves. Lastly, the third type of these equines possessed a cone shaped horn with an engraved helix spiraling from top to bottom. There was no clear pattern for determining their occupations, however. Though the majority seemed to leave both the flying and default variants to their own workload - weather and agriculture.

Conversely, there were exceptions, such as retail, which were mostly mix and match. Therefore, one could deduct that each race or species depended on each other to provide the materials and services that kept the herd going. Presumably the unicorns also filled one of these key roles, but due to the limited scope of the vision it was impossible to tell.

The vision. Never before has the camera recorded something with meaning. Just raw frames. Pure data. This was different, it carried emotion and feelings. Harmony and hope. The wiring of the camera buzzed with strange impulses, yet it had only seen mere seconds of this strange world.

Fizz. Crack. Hiss.

Smack. Grey and white was its vision, speckled with randomly positioned empty spots. Then it levelled out again, back to the hall. The shiny greyed hall floor with specks of vivid colour yet to be restored. Wind and rain was it’s hearing as the claps of damp hooves slowly getting nearer.

Crackle and pop. Red, orange and green were the colour of the flames. It flowed in a circle, around the remains of the runic ring.

“Crikey. What the bloody ‘ell happened over ‘ere?” Questioned the striped animal, from the corner of the camera’s vision. This no longer pivoted; it was locked onto the flames.

They were beginning to spread now. Smoke was rising from the fire. The zebra backed away letting out a string of inaudible words.

Snap. Hiss.

Water fell down from the roof, a fine spray converging on the greening flames. Sparks flew off to the sides from the contact, one made contact with the fleeing lifeform eliciting a short yelp. He was now pushing two trolleys overflowing with supplies - one was in front of the other making it look like a small train.

Coloured gasses floated out of the combusting floor. Purple and orange particles began to twist around each other in the air creating a small vacuum. Air, then water and flames, and eventually solid pieces of newly chattered glass were sucked in. Pressure was building up.

Raw energy was burnt into the camera’s vision as the inferno rose. If there was an explosion, it did not render in the surviving footage. Everything had gone black.

File closed.