...a brief extract when Joe finally meets Trader, our antagonist, or is he ?? I hope you enjoy and, as always, feel free to comment !
P.S. -- Trader has just handed Joe a fob-watch that belonged to a now deceased man.
“If you are who I think you are, that
instrument should suffice,” Trader tells Joe as he walks into the dome. “Like
his bones, it was a part of him.”
“The last moments of a man’s life aren't made of metal, cogs and wheels.”
Trader begins operating the mechanical
winch within the dome - the suspended timepieces dormant. Joe keeps his
distance, listening to the grinding of the gears and cogs as they entwine like
the innards of a Victorian flour mill.
“True, but they are made of Time, and Time has a memory, a recollection. Time is
energy. It has a positive journey - always going forward and collecting
information, emotions, and even thoughts...just like ourselves. After all, are
we not governed by it?”
Joe steps into the archway, glimpses the
suspended timepieces as moon and star light invade the room through the opening
in the dome’s ceiling.
“This is my collection - my archive. Here
survive the dead -- their history continues. A library of the power of
collected Time - just waiting to be read, just waiting for the light.”
“Then go ahead, light it up,” Joe tells
Trader.
Trader swings on his heels and confronts
Joe. “Don’t patronise me!”
Trader tries to recompose himself as he
takes the timepiece from Joe’s hands and begins to suspend it from a waiting
thread. "Like most, my thoughts are as polluted as the atmosphere above - as the
air we breathe. Unlike you, Digger, the souls that walk the remains of this planet
have had their very essence, their inner being, their spirit, corrupted and darkened
- the consequences of counter evolution perhaps? Our light has been eternally
snuffed out.”
Trader stands back, the fob-watch in its
glass cubicle attached, hanging. “But your light is bright, Digger. It shines
eternal. You are fortunate. Some may
even say Blessed.”
“I follow a road. That is all.”
“Yes. Yes I suppose we all do in the end,
but yours is chosen, by whom or what I doubt even you can answer.”
Trader stands back from the chandelier of
Time. He pinches the nerves on the bridge of his nose. “I believe it is all in
your hands now. The wall, I think, is separated by seconds...by time, which is
an obstinate beast, dangerous if you try to separate it from reality.”
(...and we cue the music roll...visit Dog at the following website...all currency accepted! )
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