In the year 2030, they weren't actually called the Warps at this time, but rather, the Williams.
The Williams, a suburban family, existed in the middle class.
Stationed in the living room, Wendel who was wearing pajamas held a coca cola can in his hand. He had just started his sophomore year of high-school:
His father, who looked immensely bored, was watching a cartoon series.
"Dad, I know you and mom have been arguing. I can also see that you're sad, I've always seen that, why is that?" Wendel asked Patrick :
Lounged out on the family couch, Patrick responded to his son:
"While it may look like that, I'm not sad, just lost in a maze made of greedy humans. Life." He chuckled before returning to his dismal continence, "Wanna know what I think of him? He's a duality of crestfallen and joyful notions." He grabbed the remote, pausing the television before continuing:
Swiftly, he turned his body to a sitting position, his two hands tangled together in the creation mantra, "It's about time I really enlighten you on this world." Patrick sighed once more, the despondency of his weave a true testament to his perceived reality:
"Conversations. That's when I'm most happy. When we talk to each other, we create reasons to live. It's why we do this or that, which is ultimately the root of all purpose." Making eye contact with Wendel, Patrick's face was nothing short of depressing, as if he, a mortal was the embodiment of despair, "It doesn't matter how much we tell ourselves otherwise, it doesn't change the opposing reality that…"
There aren't any mortal words to describe how hopeless he felt at that moment.
It was just there, an energy so dark, it was automatically understood by the real ones.
"In most living moments in this conceivable universe, we are alone. Soon, this present reaper will catch us and everything we know will cease to exist. Distant and confused from all life. I can believe in this god, or that god, but that doesn't change a possibility I have to accept."
"I have this way of operation that goes on in my brain Wendel, I can't lie to myself."
He kept going, his expression drowning in the somber words of a broken man…
"When I'm driving to work, or when I drift asleep, who's there for me to talk to? Only one guy. My ever descending, forlorn soul."
Patrick's sullen speech extended further, "Sorry for the negativity, but you asked. This is my life. Don't end up like your pops, when you graduate… reach for the stars. Don't waste "god's gift."" His smirk fell to the vast pit of his own stygian soul, where shortly after, Patrick laughed sarcastically.
Wendel, with an agreeing utterance, inquired another question, "I get that, but shouldn't you focus on the good rather than the bad? Sure, we all want to be superstars, but that just isn't always our destiny." He asked, questioning his fathers clear pessimism.
Patrick turned his head in surprise, gazing back at Wendel, "You got a point there, and I do practice that daily. But truly…"
"Bad is life, without that, we'd just be a bunch of people roaming a shallow utopia, and that's just nonsensical." He turned his head slightly, "People fake their happiness until they can't anymore, It's their depth that decides their eventual emotional destruction. Maybe then they can rebuild, but like each and every structure ever made, they will eventually collapse."
Wendel, not surprised, couldn't really say anything.
"Dad… No, Patrick. Thank you for everything you've taught me when raising me. I don't know who I'd be without you."
Because he, a mere boy, understood that fact of reality.
Patrick looked back at the television, scrutinizing the frozen picture: "You'll only evolve with each year. You being my son is merely a head-start amongst humanity. There will be people who catch up, they forever do." He smiled before continuing, "Wendel, along with my computer, you're one of the only positives in my life. All of you have and will always be."
"Appreciate that dad." Wendel said, his smile replicating his fathers.
Lifting his head to the white sheetrock known to humans as a ceiling, a slight grin adorned Patrick's face:
"Only one person can help us now, and that being is a god known to no mortal."