Read Previous Episodes Of Two Lives And A Soul
I sat in bed, my back on the wall, my hands clamped between my thighs. I was thinking. Not about 2075, but about 2015. About now. The former was fantasy, the later was more tangible. If I had no ability to get back to the future, I had to think of a way to make a living here. And it had to be now.
Finally, I had been able to a large extent put aside the hatred and pain that brewed in my heart against Kobo Olanta. I had to live, and that meant I had to think of what I could do.
I couldnβt say what time it was, but it was already dark outside, and the noise along the corridor meant that my neighbours had returned from work. Soon the sounds from power generators would increase, and oneβs sanity would be wrapped around the concept of living in the engine room of a train. This was time I usually got home from work, but here I was on my bed for the past two hours, pondering, only hanging by a thin thread of sanity.
My phone rang at that moment. It was out of my armβs reach, and that made me more uninterested to pick it. I waited till it stopped ringing, then resumed my thoughts. If it was Nene, then I probably would call her later. Other than her, I wasnβt sure I wanted to speak with anyone.
The phone rang again, but I only waited it out. The caller was definitely incessant because my phone rang for the fifth and sixth time. By the seventh time, I was furious, and decided to switch the phone to the βdecorumβ mode. Just then, I heaved a sigh, and picked the call instead.
βHello,β my voice was dry, like harmattan came early. I waited for the caller to respond. The caller ID bore no registered bearer.
βBro.β The voice sounded faintly familiar.
βHello?β I said again, eager to get back to my thoughts.
βBro, this is Friday. Friday from the plaza.β The caller said his name twice for emphasis.
βFriday, good evening.β I said briskly, and waited for him to speak. He called me, I wasnβt the one to begin a conversation.
βBro, how are you?β Friday said. I was quickly beginning to get irritated. What sort of question was that?
βIβm fine. Whatβs up?β I asked, breathing deeper to calm down.
βMy elder brother works at the Freedom Park on Broad Street,β Friday continued. βI know that their attendant at one of their galleries had left for school and they were looking to employ someone new.β
βWhy didnβt you take up the offer?β I asked, the offer sounded suspect.
βBecause it pays less than what they pay at the plaza.β He said in a drawl, not sure if he had made the right decision to tell me.
I held my breath to think of the proposition. Grounding my teeth while I thought, I felt my heart pumped faster. I sighed again and finally spoke.
βCan I get your brotherβs number, please.β What was the point having an ego with no job.
βSure bro,β Friday sounded like someone I knew. My mind scanned through my memory bank with the speed of light, and it came up with a result- Dan. He called Sam buggie. And the thought didnβt sound like a dream.
***
By 7:30 the next morning, I met Sunday, Fridayβs brother at the security post. Except for the names their father borrowed from the days of the week, there wasnβt any sort of resemblance between the brothers. He was huge, dark, and had a thin voice, while Friday was thin, lighter, but with a husky voice.
He walked casually like he had been here for a long time, and I wasnβt sure if I should be glad Friday had briefed him of my situation.
βSo, itβs not like we made the vacancy open, but I was thinking Friday would prefer this place. Although the job he got at the plaza pays better, I felt this is more secure. At least, Iβm here to make that possible.β
Save that for the gods, I said to myself.
We walked past bronze sculptures along the terrace and into a building designed with a lot of arcades- a pointer to its nineteen century style. Sunday just spoke casually, and walked casually, but seemed to have forgotten why I was here- I wasnβt a guest, I was a guy in need of a job.
We came through a gallery, and suddenly we stood before a towering exhibition of clocks. This was the largest number of clocks I had seen in one place: wooden, steel, rusty iron, raw gold, silver, bronze, thread, plastic, digital, classic, futuristic, art and abstract, oriental and symbolic. Clocks of all shapes and designs ticked away, creating a drawling and yet amusing effect. It was enthralling. Here, it looked like an international conference of clocks.
Sunday suddenly switched into a business tone, with index finger pointing in a commanding gesture. βThis exhibition will be here for the next two to three weeks.β Sunday said. βYour job is to make sure that no one touches the clocks. They can take pictures of the clock with their phones, take selfies with the clocks- clockfies, smell the clock, take videos, do whatever, but they must not touch them. In fact, no one goes beyond the red square line on the floor. If that happens, the sensor goes off.β
I nodded my head with rapt attention, staring at the red tape line around the square floor.
βThat there is an Aspiral Kinetic clock, and that is a TurnTable clock.β Sunday had already begun the touring with me with almost no introduction. βThere is the Time Turner; there is the Binary, and that one over there is another original from the ancient palace of Pharaoh.β
I nodded my head, and kept nodding, not exactly remembering any name.
βWe have the Good Afternoon clock there which uses light beams instead of the usual clock fingers.β Sunday looked at me, expecting a confused reaction from my face.
βDonβt worry, after a while, you will be better acquainted with the rest, but your job is just to do your job, the tour guard would do his job, okay?β
I nodded.
He smiled. βAnd whatβs your job?β
βTo make sure nothing, and no one touches the clock. Not by accidence, not by coincidence. Not by antecedence.
He smiled. βI like your humour. Any question?β Sunday asked me.
I nodded and shook my head almost at the same time before I could spin my thoughts into words. βHow was all these clocks gathered?β
Sunday smiled his customary smile, and pressed his lips together. βHmm, a trade secret, but I will let you into it. We stole them.β
βAhh!β my Adamβs apple almost dropped from my mouth.
βGotcha! Just kidding.β
Yup, I was caught napping.
βItβs an exhibition by a clock collector, and it is sponsored.β
βHmm, I see.β Truly, this was going to be an interesting job. At least for the next two weeks. I wanted to ask Sunday what would be my role after the exhibition ends, but he had already started walking back out, like I had only the chance to ask one question.
βItβs a tough job, and weβll see how youβll fare today. Please come with me to get your kits, and meet the other people you will be working with.β
Hmmmm, Eli is sure gonna see his clock there o.
Good job Ojay!!!!
Something tells me chances are,Eli might get to see his clock amongst those clocks!!!
Clocks!!!
Yeah. Clocks!!!
what will happen when he sees his old clock on display.. what will be will be.
Now its getting interesting. Weldone Ojay
Someone is going back to 1975 soon…
Lol.
Hmmmmm clock of clocks…..Elis will be the one to break the rule.