The year is 2005. YouTube was becoming popular with people around Mike, especially with the children. Mike was nearing thirty, and wasn't caught up to date in the newer things that weren't around when he was younger. Mike thought it was delightful, really. How much things have changed. It was a bit disappointing; however, since the numbers of kids going back and forth in the library has steadily declined ever since the Internet became faster and more easily accessible.
Mike laughed a little at himself. He sounded just like his grandfather had when he was really young, and talking about the new theater the town had. Of course, he never got to go when he was younger. His granddad had told him not to go to the areas where more people went.
Mike shook his head, trying to turn his thoughts off the subject. He heard the chimes over the library door go off. By instinct, he looked over, and saw a young kid holding on to his mother's hand while she led him in the direction of the children's section. The boy whined, "Mom, can't I just watch Stan Uris on YouTuuuube?"
Mike's eyes flew open. He cleared his throat, waving slightly to get the woman's attention, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but did your child say something about a Stan Uris?"
The woman pulled her curls over to rest on her shoulder. She laughed lightly, "Yeah. It's this channel he watches about birds."
Birds. Mike felt a small flutter in his chest. "Really? Your son, he likes birds?"
The woman nodded, "Obsessed with them." Her son was trying to peek over Mike's desk, "I'm trying to find a bird book!"
Mike gave the kid a smile. "I think I have something of the sort." Mike left his desk to lead the two guests to an aisle where Mike knew there to be books on animals. "Here it is." Mike pulled out a book, small and crisp enough to be considered almost unread. Mike handed the young kid the book.
They were quick to check out after that. Mike supposed the kid was eager to get to reading. The mom flashed a smile at him, then turned to her child.
Mike watched them leave, humming thoughtfully.
All that day, Mike pondered about what that channel could possibly hold for him. If it was really Stan...Mike wouldn't be able to describe how he'd feel.
Mike went back to his office after hours to his computer. He clicked his tongue, typing in some key words to the computer's search engine.
"Let's see...Stanley Uris...bird..channel?" Mike shrugged. That should probably work. Mike hit enter, and was greeted with a link to a YouTube channel, just as he was told it'd be. The icon for the channel was a robin, its beak open as if in mid song.
Mike clicked on one of the more recent uploads. The camera focused on an American Goldfinch, resting on a branch and singing its sweet song. Then, a familiar shaky voice spoke, "I mean, they're not rare birds to see here, but it's still nice to focus on some of the underrated, common birds."
Mike's face was illuminated with delight. It really was him, wasn't it? Hours passed and Mike hadn't gotten close to going through all of the videos Stan had of birds he saw.
Mike rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted. Mike decided to go ahead and walk home, (really no point in driving back and forth between work and home when it's just a couple of doors down.)
Mike wasn't sure how to feel. He was elated that Stan was doing well. He just never expected that the first time he'd hear Stan's voice again would be through a video.
Mike changed into some pajamas and slipped into his bed. He closed his eyes, almost immediately falling asleep. That night, he actually dreamed about the technology he'd been dealing with...
Mike smiled, gazing at the screen of his computer.
Stan's voice rang through the air, sweet and soft, as he was watching another type of bird that Mike didn't happen to recognize. "It's so beautiful, isn't it?"
Mike had to agree with Stan. Birds, though they were more Stan's thing, were something he could always appreciate. They were gentle animals, graceful, really. They were so peaceful, and chirped out songs that Mike used to hum along to.
Mike remembered Stan's expression when he sang along to the birds. Stan would hold his binoculars, watching the birds, and tapping his foot to Mike's voice. Mike could see how happy it made Stan. No, happy isn't quite the right word. Relaxed. Yeah. It relaxed Stan. The predictability and patterns of the notes. It made sense to Stan. Maybe it wasn't because of Mike; maybe it was just because Stan liked the birds' songs.
Mike heard Stan start to hum. His voice was so calm, so peaceful. Mike had never heard him quite as relaxed as he was now.
"Do you remember this, too, Mike?" Stan spoke, and Mike had to blink a couple of times to make sure he heard that right. Mike made the video go back a little, "Do you remember this, too, Mike?" Stan said again. Mike.
Stan said his name.
Mike nodded, "Yeah. I do, Stan." Mike's heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he felt like it was going to explode. "I do."
Mike could hear the smile in Stan's voice when he started to hum again, his voice cracking at a higher note, at which Mike grinned a little.
"Sorry. I can't sing as well as some people." Stan was blushing, Mike could tell.
"No, you're great. Sing more, dude. You're fantastic." Mike felt lighter than air.
Stan turned the camera around to show his face. He looked so young, so happy. His eyes were sparkling a little as he laughed. He opened his mouth to let more notes flow out of them, "BEEP BEEP BEEP!"
Mike frowned, "Wha-"Mike woke up with a frown already settled on his face. He sighed. He hated when his alarm clock would slip its way into his dreams. But, this dream? Wow...He could barely contain all that he felt about it.
It made sense why Stan's face was so youthful in that "video" now. It was the last time Mike saw him, when he was thirteen. Stan never showed his face in his videos.
Mike swung his legs from their curled up position underneath his blankets to hit the floor and slide into his house shoes.
Mike looked over at his older model personal computer. He sighed, walking over to it. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, exactly. He felt somewhat ridiculous, looking for a video that he knew didn't exist.
Mike's eyes lit up. Stan's channel did have a new video. Livestreaming? Why was he doing that?
Mike clicked on it, drumming his fingers lightly on the table.
And, he heard Stan's voice, groggy and tired. No wonder, it's an earlier time where he was than where Mike was. Why's Stan up so early?
Stan spoke, his camera focused on his pet parakeet, "I don't know why exactly, but something told me to make a video. I, um, I had this weird dream. It was really realistic, and I don't know, I just feel weird about it. I-" Stan actually turned the camera around.
Mike's breath was knocked out of him. Stan's hair was unkempt, like he'd just woken up. His eyes were lidded. He rubbed his cheek, "So, I don't remember much about the dream, which is rare for me, but I have this song stuck in my head now." Stan cleared his throat, "Excuse my singing. I know I'm not that good, but-" Stan started singing quietly. It was Mike's favorite song as a kid.
Mike hummed along, mouthing the words but not vocalizing them simply because he didn't want to overpower Stan.
Stan stopped, then shook his head. "I don't know. But, if you guys know anything about memory loss, or hell, even what that song could mean, then comment below. With that, I'm going to cut off the livestream. Seeya next time." Stan gave a little wave toward the camera, and the screen went black.
Mike thought he should leave something, but he couldn't begin to think of what. Should he try to contact Stan? He hadn't talked to any of his old friends since they all left Derry. In fact, he had made a silent promise not to, unless It came back.
He didn't want to intrude upon their lives, but this was *Stan*. They even seemed to have matching dreams.
Mike's hands were shaking slightly. He didn't leave a comment. He would feel like he would be hurting Stan.
Mike pushed his chair away from his desk. He made a promise to them that he wouldn't drag them into danger, and Mike knew that if he triggered Stan's memories, he'd be doing just that.
Mike sang quietly as he walked back to work.
Meanwhile, in a busy Georgian town, Stan Uris was trying desperately to fall back to sleep, as that same strange song that he swear he'd never heard before, kept playing over and over in his mind. Eventually, he looks it up, but it doesn't sound right. The voice he was remembering didn't match that of the artist.
Stan began to obsess over that. His mind couldn't get off the subject. He had decided one thing, though, the voice he heard in the dream was much more pleasant to him than that of the original artist's. He wondered why.
Stan fell back asleep, finally, humming the tune gently.