1. THE COLLECTOR
Some things are simply forgotten. - That's just the way life is. There comes that moment when they find their last place and nobody pays attention to them anymore. They still exist, but only for themselves. Forgotten. Unloved. The dust becomes their only friend. But sometimes these things are found again by someone who spends his life finding old things to fill them with a new breath. One of these people was an old man, whom people with a bit of wit called "the collector", because he loved to spend his old days at the scrapyard, looking for more or less useful things for his workshop.
It was a new day and hopefully a better one than the days before because unfortunately, the collector couldn't find anything on these days that attracted his enthusiasm and attention. With clearly cumbersome steps he set off in the direction of the scrapyard. The sun shone dazzlingly in his face; a face that resembled a map of all the experiences and emotions he had already gone through in his life - with deep valleys and furrows and high mountains. His white hair blew lightly in the wind and behind him, he pulled a small cart, which he always carried with him for possible finds. A little exhausted he stopped and lit a pipe; a vice that had accompanied him since his youth. The scrapyard was not far away. When he finally arrived, a grin appeared on his wrinkled face - because he was happy here.
"Today I'll find something," he thought to himself and nodded in agreement. Intuitively he was drawn to the southern part of the huge area. He walked past piled up electric cars of the first generation; various modern-day electronic waste and individual components of service droids until he finally arrived at an incredibly large collection of computers. Before he entered the area, he took a puff from his pipe and blew out a billow of smoke. "Today I will find something," he said to himself again.
And so it was, because after a short while he came across an object that attracted his interest. The worn and dirty wooden box had probably been standing here for years - without him ever noticing it. No wonder, because it was hidden far in the back of the grounds; cramped between towers of old computers and covered with a dusty tarpaulin, which he removed immediately. There he stood in front of it, puffing at his pipe, scratching his head thoughtfully and thinking to himself: "I wonder what's in there? The warnings that were given didn't seem very inviting. But I want to know!"
It was anything but inviting because on the box was a huge skull with the warning "DO NOT OPEN!". But the collector had always been known for being a curious fellow and this of course couldn't stop him from taking a look inside. He fetched a crowbar from the side of his cart and set about examining the contents. After he could finally break open the crate with all his strength and exhaustion, his joy was great. Because in front of him he saw an old computer - but not just any computer - no it was a special model, which he had last seen in his younger days. The moment he lifted it out, an envelope containing a note fell to the floor.
YOU'VE BEEN A FOOLISH FOOL, YOU COULDN'T HELP IT. TURN AROUND AND DON'T LET YOUR CURIOSITY BE THE RUIN OF MORE PEOPLE BECAUSE A DANGER LURKS HERE THAT YOU CAN'T MEASURE! IN THIS PRISON THERE IS - CALIBAN! -DON'T EVEN TRY TO DESTROY THE COMPUTER. IT'S NOT POSSIBLE, OTHERWISE, WE WOULD HAVE DONE IT ALREADY!
But the collector couldn't read these words anymore, because he hadn't even noticed how the last warning fell out of the box. If he would have noticed; if he would have read these words, if he would have read the name mentioned - he would have closed it immediately with fright and nailed it shut willingly. He knew who and also what Caliban was... Instead, the collector walked happily with his loot of the day towards his house.
2. AN (UN)EXPECTED END
The old man had already prepared everything and was only looking for a suitable cable to supply the computer with power. As he had been doing for years, he wanted to send a message to a good friend with whom he had been friends since his student days at the technological academy. They both shared the same passion for collecting old devices, robotics and technology and were constantly sending each other their latest finds. He would never forget how proud he was when he managed to connect a found old i486 model to the network with a dial-up modem and finally pressed ENTER to send the message.
Coughing from pipe smoke he rummaged in an old chest and finally found what he was looking for. "There you are," he murmured visibly pleased but a little carried away, "I've been looking for you! Today is your big day, because you are needed!"
The collector sat down in a worn-out brown leather armchair, stuffed a new pipe with his best herb and carefully pressed the ON button. It glowed! System is starting up... System check... System is online - It took him a while to find his way around, but he was able to connect the system to the net. A suitable program for sending a message was quickly set up and so he wrote to his friend:
*Dear Jim,
I hope my message reaches in the best health! I am writing to you from my latest find and send you a photo of it. This is probably the last message I will write to you. It sounds dramatic, but I feel that my end will come soon, as we are both no longer the youngest. On the contrary, and in the last few months I have been noticing age in particular. But the end of my life is not the end - I am sure of that. What is close to my heart is to tell you that I have always valued you as a friend. It's important to me that you know that. Farewell, my friend, if we never hear from each other again. Goodbye.*
It filled him with joy when he pressed ENTER, but he noticed the tiredness creeping up and looked at the clock. "It is already late," he muttered to himself again and slowly rose from his armchair to get ready for his sleep.
His feelings had not deceived him, for that very night he fell asleep in his bed and never woke up again. Actually he did wake up, but... not in this world. When he came to consciousness, DEATH stood before him with flashing eyes.
"I knew it!" said the collector in a resolute tone, "I feel good! And so liberated - what a satisfaction after so many years with that damn rheumatism!" He looked down at his mortal remains, looked up again with a grin at the figure with the skull wrapped in a black cape and said: "Well, let's go! I have been waiting for you for a long time. I'm surprised you didn't show up sooner."
DEATH just nodded, showed him the direction with a bony finger and thought to himself: "Finally someone who doesn't ask a thousand questions..."
3. THE RETURN FROM THE DARKNESS
"Where the hell was he? What had happened," Kaliban thought, still in a semi-conscious state, as if he had only recently awoken from a long sleep of ice and cold. —
In the background he heard the data streams... system check... system is online... and slowly he regained consciousness; shaking off the darkness and becoming aware of his power again.
"Oh you traitors!... Snakebyte... Condor... Mendax... Hagbard... you traitors!", it cried out inside him and flames of death pervaded his entire existence with hatred, "I am back!"
Kaliban knew immediately that he had to get out of here and this old man, whom he could see through the camera of the connected screen, was his key to freedom. The modem was making loud noises. 3... 2... 1... online.
Such things remain hidden from the people of this world, but what Kaliban saw was a huge hole opening just above the interface; brightly lit in shimmering green, it showed another world full of a thousand worlds of bits and bytes like a picture in a mirror. Kaliban looked at it in astonishment and could not remember how long it had been since he had been allowed to experience this sight. Then he saw a data packet being pulled into the tunnel of the stream and he realized that he had to hurry. He closed his eyes, concentrated, his power was still there... suddenly Caliban was pulled into the maelstrom of the data flow and behind him, his prison of the last decades became smaller and smaller...
Kaliban was free.
