Write a Comedic Dialogue Between a Time Traveler and a Medieval Peasant Trying to Explain Modern Technology

Time Traveler: Excuse me! Hello! You there in the field! I need help. Aldric: If this be about the goose, I have already said the goose started it. Time Traveler: No, no, nothing to do with any goose. I’m... lost. And I need to charge my smartphone. Aldric: Thy what? Time Traveler: My smartphone. This little rectangle. Aldric: Ah. A black mirror. We have one widow who says she sees omens in a kettle, but this is a finer sort of omen box. Time Traveler: It’s not an omen box. It’s a phone. Aldric: Then why doth it not ring like the chapel bell? Time Traveler: Because the battery’s dead. Aldric: I see. So this phone hath a spirit, and the spirit has departed. Time Traveler: Not exactly. It runs on electricity. Aldric: Ah! Captured lightning. Time Traveler: Yes! Sort of! Exactly! I need more of that. Aldric: Very bold. Usually when lightning visits, we all lie down and reconsider our sins. Time Traveler: Is there anywhere nearby I could get power? Aldric: There is the mill, the smithy, and old Agnes, who can make butter stand up straight by glaring at it. Time Traveler: None of those sound promising. Aldric: Nay, the mill has great power. It turns all day by water. Time Traveler: Mechanical power. I need electrical power. Aldric: What is the difference? Time Traveler: One turns wheels. The other moves tiny invisible charges through wires. Aldric: So... very small wheel-turners. Time Traveler: That is wildly wrong, but I admire the effort. Aldric: I thank thee. And what does this phone do when it is fed lightning? Time Traveler: It lets me talk to people far away, read books, look at maps, take pictures, send messages, listen to music— Aldric: Hold. Thou carriest a monk, a minstrel, a mapmaker, and a portrait painter in this black tile? Time Traveler: In a way, yes. Aldric: And all are tiny? Time Traveler: No. Aldric: But smaller than a chicken? Time Traveler: Considerably. Aldric: Then it is a miracle of storage. Time Traveler: It’s technology. Aldric: That is what miracle is called before the priest approves it. Time Traveler: Fair point. Look, if I can charge this, it can show me where I am. Aldric: Thou dost not know where thou art? Time Traveler: I know broadly. England. Past. A lot more mud than usual. Aldric: This is Little Bramble-on-Wet. Broadly, still mud. Time Traveler: Right. My device has a map. Aldric: Inside it? Time Traveler: Yes. Aldric: How oft must one fold the roads to fit them in? Time Traveler: Not physically. It stores information. Aldric: Ah! Like memory. Time Traveler: Exactly. Aldric: Then thy stone remembers roads, songs, and distant voices, but only if fed bottled storm. Time Traveler: When you say it like that, it sounds much cooler. Aldric: I have a gift for naming things I do not understand. Time Traveler: Do you have any metal wire? Magnets? Acid? Copper? Zinc? Aldric: Thou art either a scholar or a man moments from poisoning himself. Time Traveler: Little of both, honestly. Aldric: The smith has copper scraps. The abbey has bells. Vinegar we have. What seeks thou to build? Time Traveler: A battery. A primitive one. If I can stack enough cells, maybe I can get a little charge. Aldric: So thy lightning may be grown from sour wine and bits of coin? Time Traveler: More or less. Aldric: That is the most believable thing thou hast said. Time Traveler: Really? Aldric: Certainly. We make bread from rot, ale from foam, and sermons from nothing. Why not lightning from vinegar? Time Traveler: You know what? Excellent point. Aldric: And these messages thou sendest—how fast do they travel? Time Traveler: Instantly, usually. Aldric: Instantly. Time Traveler: Yes. Aldric: So if thy lord were cruel, he could command peasants at all hours from very far away. Time Traveler: ...Yes. Aldric: And if merchants had this, they would shout prices ceaselessly. Time Traveler: Also yes. Aldric: And if every fool could speak at once, the world would become unbearably noisy. Time Traveler: That is... disturbingly accurate. Aldric: Ha! Then I understand the device perfectly. It is a pocket-sized kingdom. Time Traveler: That may be the smartest thing anyone has ever said to me in a cabbage field. Aldric: I thank thee. We are very advanced in cabbages. Time Traveler: Can you take me to the smithy? We can try copper and vinegar. Aldric: Gladly. But first, one question. Time Traveler: Yes? Aldric: Can thy phone truly paint my likeness? Time Traveler: If I can charge it, yes. Aldric: Then we must save its spirit at once. My wife says no artist has yet captured my good side. Time Traveler: Everybody says that. Aldric: Nay, I have two good sides. I am symmetrical. Time Traveler: Of course you are. Aldric: And if this little kingdom remembers songs, mayhap it knows one for walking to the smithy? Time Traveler: Several thousand. Aldric: Then feed it lightning, and we shall make it our minstrel. Time Traveler: If this works, I’ll play you something. Aldric: Excellent. Nothing too wizardly. My cow gives less milk when alarmed. Time Traveler: Fair. Aldric: And if thy stone can send messages afar, perhaps we might inform my cousin in York that he still owes me three turnips. Time Traveler: I’m not sure that’s the best use of global communications. Aldric: If a thing cannot help with turnips, it is not truly modern. Time Traveler: Honestly, that explains several product reviews. Aldric: Come, traveler! To the smithy, to the vinegar, and to the bottling of storms! Time Traveler: To the smithy. Aldric: And when thy little kingdom wakes, thou shalt make my portrait. Time Traveler: Deal. Aldric: Good. If I look noble enough, I shall show it to the lord and tell him I have been upgraded.

Time Traveler: (Stumbling out of a shimmering portal, brushing dust off a sleek, dark rectangle) Oh, thank goodness! A village! Excuse me, sir! Could you possibly help me? Aldric: (Dropping his pitchfork, eyes wide) By the saints! What manner of apparition art thou? And what is that… black sorcerer’s stone thou holdest? Time Traveler: Apparition? No, no, I’m quite real. This isn't a sorcerer's stone, it’s… well, it’s a smartphone. It’s a device. From the future. Aldric: A ‘smart-fone’? Does it whisper secrets of the future? Is it a familiar of some dark lord? Time Traveler: No, it doesn't whisper secrets. It… it connects me to information. Like a library, but it fits in my pocket. And it’s not dark magic, it’s technology. Aldric: A pocket library? Does it contain the wisdom of the Venerable Bede? And this ‘tech-no-logy’… is it akin to the alchemist’s art? Time Traveler: Sort of, but… less mystical. Look, it has a screen. See? (Taps the screen, it lights up) It shows pictures, words, moving images! Aldric: (Recoiling slightly) Witchcraft! It glows with an inner light! Does it consume the souls of the innocent to power its infernal glow? Time Traveler: (Sighing) No, it doesn't consume souls. It needs electricity. Power. Do you have anything like that here? A… a generator? A power outlet? Aldric: ‘Elec-tri-city’? Is that a new type of grain? Or perhaps a rare herb for poultices? We have oxen for power, and the mill wheel, but no ‘out-let’ for this… glowing stone. Time Traveler: Okay, okay. Think of it like… like lightning. But controlled. We capture lightning and make it do work for us. Aldric: You capture the wrath of God’s thunderbolts? That is blasphemy! Only the Almighty commands the heavens. You are a dangerous heretic! Time Traveler: It’s not blasphemy, it’s science! We harness natural forces. This phone… it runs on tiny, tiny amounts of this ‘electricity’. But it’s dead. The battery is drained. Aldric: A ‘bat-ter-y’? Is that a small, winged creature you keep trapped within the stone? Does it feed on the light? Time Traveler: (Pinches bridge of nose) No, a battery is… it’s like a tiny, portable energy storage. Like a… a very, very concentrated flask of potent ale, but for power. Aldric: Ah! A flask of potent ale! So, you need a tavern? Or perhaps a brewer? We have excellent ale at the Drunken Dragon Inn. Though I doubt they’d let you plug your… ‘smart-fone’ into the ale barrels. Time Traveler: (Muttering) This is going to be harder than I thought. Look, does anyone here work with metal? Blacksmiths? Maybe they have a forge? The heat… could that generate something? Aldric: The forge? Aye, Master Borin the blacksmith has a mighty fire. But it makes iron soft, not… lightning. Though, he does use bellows to blow air into the fire, making it hotter. Perhaps your stone needs air? Time Traveler: (Eyes widening slightly) Air… bellows… heat… Hmm. Not quite, but you’re getting… warmer. Does he have anything that spins very fast? Like a wheel? Aldric: Master Borin has a grindstone for sharpening tools. It spins with a foot pedal. Does your stone need sharpening? It looks quite smooth. Time Traveler: (A glimmer of hope) A spinning wheel… powered by a foot… Okay, this is a long shot. If I could connect this phone to something that spins fast enough, using the friction, maybe I could generate a tiny bit of power. Like rubbing sticks together, but… mechanical. Aldric: Rubbing sticks? You mean like starting a fire? So, your glowing stone needs fire, but not the fire of the forge? And it needs spinning? Perhaps it is a demon trapped in a box, and you must spin it until it tires itself out and releases its energy in a puff of smoke? Time Traveler: (Forces a smile) You know what, Aldric? That’s… surprisingly close to the concept of a dynamo. Let’s go talk to Master Borin. And maybe stop by the Drunken Dragon for that ale afterwards. I think I’ll need it.