Experimental codes

Tomorrow is a Monday, just like it should be and have been, for every week that have ever passed. Normally, this is one thing that Michael would really look forward to but this time, it is not having quite the same effect to him this time.

Michael lied on his bed, staring at the awkwardly thin and flexible sheet of mirror, concentrating all of his brain cells thinking about what he should do next to figure out the puzzle. He has tried very hard not to do anything that could break it, as he still plans to secretly return the item during the next visit, since the awfulness of taking it without the doctor's permission has already made his conscience feel hurtful enough. That very feeling is however the same thing that is sustaining him in figuring out the mystery of the object as fast as possible. Now that it is approaching Monday, Michael has already spent a whole morning reading though library books on ores, using a magnifying glass to find details on the sheet of metal and hiding it from everyone that catches even a hint of something suspicious. Actually, that was actually almost basically what he has done for the entirety of the previous week, instead with a lesser amount while also with an addition of making sure that his annoying friend, James does not spread any rumours about his latest visit.
Michael's brain once again tried to run through the types of metal elements, compounds, ores and even to mixtures that he could remember in order to figure out the identity of this material so that he could end this madness that he inflicted upon himself. However, he thought, even if he finds a match for the strange material, what could it mean? Why is there just this one sheet of this piece of metal - if it even is a type of metal, as he is doubting about that question every minute he tries to think - in the drawers? Why have he not seen any other bolt, rectangular(he learnt that word during research), or even another sheet made of a material that shares its characteristics? More importantly, what is this feeling that is persuading him to do what he is doing, prompting him to go on this insane quest, to solve a question that no one needed to answer, which might also be unable to be answered despite any effort he may put in? As Michael thought about the questions as they started spreading on his brain like mould on bread during a rainy day, he stared into his reflection on the sheet of mysterigen(that is the name he gave to the thin sheet of mirror), even his reflections felt more and more like the taunting of the questions that ironically he gave out himself to him as he tries to answer them.
Soon, Michael's eyes started feeling dry from staring at the reflection for too long. Giving himself a couple of blinks, Michael carefully put the mysterigen into his the back of his file labeled 'diary'. Then, his flipped forward a few pages to a page with a circle written 'mysterigen' on it with lines stretching from it connected to various words describing what he could see from the material. Then, his eyes suddenly fixated on the word 'paper-like object'. Feeling as if he has struck diamonds in a coal mine, he flipped a few more pages to the one with 'Mixtures' written with a large size on top.
"Mixtures are substances made by mixing other substances together. They can be separated physically by repeating or reversing the process that is used to mix them together." Michael read as his fingers ran over the words "That's it! It's just a piece of encrypted paper! Why else is it in a shape of a sheet and kept with files and papers? It's used just as any piece of paper! If I separate the mixture of the metal, I might be able to decrypt the message!"
Just as Michael turned a couple more pages, he shouted, "Eureka! I'll just have to heat the metals!" Then, after quickly running to the stairs to make sure that his parents are still not home yet, Michael took out the blowtorch he borrowed from the school lab with the reason of doing his 'homework'. Double checking the melting points of metals, Michael carefully turned the knob on the blowtorch to the spot between 'LOW' and 'MEDIUM' and held the sheet of mysterigen over the blue flame using an iron tong.
After a quarter of an hour, several markings started to appear on the sheet of mysterigen. Quickly turning off the blowtorch, Michael started inspecting the markings that appeared. They take the texture and colour of shiny yet silvery and glue-like liquid, which Michael makes a point to quickly note down and copies the colours with water markers on a new page in his diary file before it cools down. Just as he finished it, the metal cooled down again, rendering the markings invisible. Panicking, Michael dived for the tongs and grabbed the metal note with it while avoiding touching the parts where the markings were. As Michael slowly turned on the blowtorch to reheat the sheet of metal, an idea struck Michael. Twisting an iron rod he found into the structure of a swing, Michael carefully used clothes pegs to hang the mysterigen onto the iron rod, also turning the blowtorch a lot weaker such that the flames does not touch any part of his hanging singset mechanism. Feeling lucky for his usage and possession of pegs made of titanium, Michael grabbed and stuck another poster sized paper into his diary file while having one eye making sure that the mysterigen's markings caused by impure metals do not start bursting into flames or start bubbling like actual molten lava. When the red burning markings reappeared, like them, Michael bursted into action as he grabs his pencil with one hand, attempts to weaken the blowtorch to prevent overheating with another, just to have himself dropping his pencil so that he could use both his hands to turn the knob properly when he almost knocked the blowtorch over with his clumsy non-dominant hand. After successfully readjusting everything such that the mysterigen can sustain a constant temperature to maintain the markings, Michael started to copy the markings on the paper with as much precision as possible. After completing a copy of the markings, Michael turned off the blowtorch and crammed his awkward structure of a swingset in a small box and the mysterigen in the back of his file. Checking the markings, he realised that the markings seem to resemble a certain language, or code as they all align in lines and paragraphs, unlike a picture or a map which would have lines and curves crossing over each other.
Just then, the sounds of the gates creaking entered Michael's ears. "Uh oh, time's up!" Michael exclaimed softly as he forced his thick diary file into his sachet and ran down the stairs with it.
"What have you done this afternoon, Michael?" asked his mother when she entered the door.
"I was um, taking a nap upstairs, yep." Michael answered shyly.
"Ah, good," his father said to his response. Then noticing the sachet he asked, "wait, where are you taking your bag, huh?"
"Oh, I am going to play a game of the soccer with my classmates." Michael stammered as he forced himself to stand straight in order to hide his hidden wishes.
"You'd better make sure that you do go, I have my ways of making sure of things. If you did not actually go there, I'd know that you went to the library again!"
"Yeah, I know. You're going to call my friends' father. I promise I will play soccer with them." Michael promised, and he will not be lying at all.
Then as he rushed out of the door, he checked on his watch and after making sure that there is still a lot more than ninety minutes before dinner, he walked slowly in the direction of the field. Just when the door closed behind him, he instantly turned around and sped off to the town library.
In less than five minutes, Michael has finally arrived at his destination. After creeping under the counter to successfully avoid being seen by the nosy nag of a librarian, then like a little squirrel Michael scurried along to the 'Language' section where just as expected, he successfully found the book 'Different languages in the world'.
"Viola!" Whispered Michael as he tried to hold his excitement "I bet that with this book, I would find the answers to all my questions in less than a quarter!"
However to his major disappointment, even after twenty minutes, Michael is still unable to find anything related or close to the markings that he has copied. Quickly scanning the table of contents once more just to make sure, he is however still yet unable to find anything relevant, not even one character that matches with each other.
Looking so focused and so desperately at both his watch and the book, Michael barely noticed the presence of the librarian creeping up behind him, that is until she is so incredibly close to him that he could feel her heavy breathing upon his neck. Steadying himself, Michael slowly closed the book and with slightly shaking hands pushed it back into the empty slot in the shelf. Maintaining his eye contact on the end of the aisle, Michael crammed his file right back into the sachet, and before the mad lady opened her mouth he sped off to the soccer field faster than an Edward scared out of his limited wits without even a word.
After an hour of soccer, Michael walked back home, his mind still circulating around what the markings could be. Feeling like he has actually once seen the markings before, Michael started blaming the football the hit him in the head for his sudden amnesia. Continuing to try and search for the answer in his mind, he was so concentrated that if it were not for the tree planted right outside his house, he would have walked right past his house and end up at the borders. Just as he entered the door, he saw his father trying to turn the television on.
"Dad, you need to push the red button on the top to turn it on." Michael called out, "Then you press the left and right sides of the ring around the 'Confirm' button."
"I don't need you to teach me that," his father objected, as he then turned the television on and switched the channel to watch the documentary channel. This is very much predicted of him, as the only show other than documentary channel that he watches is the sports super bowl, and that show is only on in the end of Summer, which is still more than a season away. "Hey, it's another episode of' 'The town of Olympia'!" he said in a surprised tone, "Come here, boy. You should watch this, it will really put you in the know."
Michael merely sighed as he put his sachet on the drawers and sat on the sofa. No matter how high the enthusiasm and surprise there is in his father's tone, he still finds it as boring as an unwanted and uninteresting routine. "Come on dad, I not dumb. I know that the programme comes on every first day of the week. Why do you always want me to watch it anyway? They only occasionally create new episodes, most of these are just replays of older ones. The only reason it could be premiered every week is because it started so long ago that there are more than fifty episodes even though they barely make anything new." Michael pointed out, as the intro started rolling. "See? This is still 'The creation of Olympia', the first episode of the first season. At least it's not the pilot video."
"Wait, I didn't know there was an episode on planes?"
"No, what I meant was the first clip that the company aired to both advertise and test out their idea of the documentary series."
"Kiddish slangs." His father muttered as the intro music sprang to a joyous tone, then stopped as the the title card appeared. "Hey look! It's starting!" He shouted, lightly cupping Michael's mouth, to which he gave a light sigh. "Stop talking and concentrate on what it says!"
As Michael watched the mildly interesting documentary half-heartily with his eyes half open and less than half his heart filled with interest, while having the rest of his interest invested in grasping the meaning of the unidentified markings. Just as he sneakily gave himself a ten second long blink near the end of the episode, the host in the show called out "This is where we found the documents written by the our mayor and the Olympia officials of the early 20th century, almost up to a century ago. As most of these are written in English, Spanish, and Arabic languages, while some of them used the Enigma machine. However, as you have all seen, we were able to decipher all of them, well actually, most of them. There is still one of them remaining, will we, well anyone in the town of Olympia be able to decipher them? Wait till the next episode to find out!"
"They won't," Michael sighed under his breath, "Instead all they do is analyse and introduce the different languages people tend to use here." Then as he prepared to stand up and leave, he noticed the unciphered message shown on screen. It looked very much like the markings that confused him for a very long time. Sliding to his sachet, Michael quietly took out his note compared it with the one shown on screen. Just before the credits that are slowly creeping up the screen started to cover everything, Michael realised that although the two of them look slightly different, the 'letters' that they contained are of the same.
"What are you looking at, boy?" his father asked suspiciously.
"Oh, it's my homework!" Michael lied as he swiftly shove it into his diary and grabbed out a sheet of paper that is actually his homework. He then showed it to his father and said, "See?"
As his father gave a huff, he went up to his room. Feeling like a champion returning from war, he took a comfortable and steamy bath and changed into his pajamas. After sort out the books in his sachet, he went to sleep, thinking that he would no longer run into any trouble nor problems with his efficient progress.