The Girls Guild Guide to Universe Hopping

Introduction

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜 𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍  𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: unfinished account, 1900

𝙾𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟺𝚝𝚑 𝟸𝟶𝟹𝟶

𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚛  𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚁𝚞𝚝𝚑 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚃𝚛𝚞𝚍𝚜𝚌𝚢

:𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 issued 𝚊𝚝 𝟷𝟹:𝟺𝟻, 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚢, 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍.

:𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 began 𝚊𝚝 𝟷𝟹:𝟻𝟾, 𝙹𝚊𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟸𝟸𝚗𝚍 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿 𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚢, 𝙴𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚍

Processing information...

File opened: 2030, Surrey, England:

Hello. My name is, well that's irrelevant really, but for the sake of this report let's just say it's Jessica. I'm Harriet Trudscys daughter and I am secretly investigating the story behind the phenomenon that is universe hopping; a load of codswallop if you ask me, but ever since my mother died I had to know if there was any truth in the rumors? I am currently at the Girls Guild headquarters, during the past years, it has fallen into such disrepair, my mother's fine reputation along with it, she worked hard to build it and, now, it is at risk of derision, I must fight hard to protect it. It's utterly dismal where I sit composing the known elements of this story: the roof is sagging and water stained, the bookshelves that line the monotonous walls of the filing room have gathered a grey sea of dust and mold, the secrets of yesterday disappearing under the shadows of it: dust, upon dust, upon dust.

I will tell the story from the perspective of my mother's best friend, Ruth Hart. The information I have gathered comes from the aging leather-bound diaries they all kept, where Ruth fully reported her findings of universe hopping. The cover is peeling and the inky swirls of the writing are beginning to fade with age, but I can read what I need and what the children of today need to hear. They deserve to know the truth of the war, not just the children, but every eye and ear that's willing to wallow in Candor.  Illuminated by a gaunt beam of candlelight I read it aloud, my eyes are starting to feel heavy from the attempt to make-out the words, as soon as I begin, I fall into a lull of speech, like a record with no end.

The electrical lights cut out a long time ago, so I use what is left of the candle supply. Before the guild took over it was a place of sanctuary and meditation, a spa for the unique. Many travelers reported here before leaving again. The whole world's power supply was cut out before the war, well before the war was officially declared. Our attacker's first attempt at downfall was destroying all the coal plantations, every wind turbine ripped from the ground, tsunamis sent from the tidal power stations as they went up in flames. Half of the British coastline was destroyed in half a month. 

The lights occasionally flicker on but never fail to dull again, a shiver down racked your spine each time. It's undoubtedly eerie down here, the cold air sweeping around the floor and about all the nooks and crannies. Its whistling sound; husky and low, narrates the perilous events of the past.

It's sobering, how the spoils of war have taken everything unceremoniously from my grasp: my family, my home, and the life I had. I ran away from the refugee camp some time ago and came here, helping me to feel closer to my mother. The other survivors and I were settled around a campfire and at the mention of the Argorians, I was up and away. The stories I had been recited as a little girl came to life overnight. I had to help uncover the mystery that constantly lingers in her shadow. After all, the other heirs of the characters I intend to narrate are all dead or missing.