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The Irish Tales

The Year We Ran Out of Fridays.(10)

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In Camera meeting; 10th March, late evening.


Present : December, April, Tuesday.


Venue : December's apartments




I watched, mildly amused, as April rummaged through the humidor until he found my finest Cohibas, (which were given to me by Castro himself) then selected an even finer Napoleonic brandy and poured himself a very large one into my very largest balloon glass.
There was a bowl of shelled plovers eggs on the sideboard which he collected as he swept past to my dining table.

He was a tall man, powerfully built, exceptionally handsome, with an entrancing smile when he chose.
Yet through it all ran a rich vein of cruelty that could not be hidden for long.

He sat down at the table, swung his booted feet up on it, plopped an egg into his mouth, then took a large swallow of brandy, before letting out a long, satisfied sigh of approval.

He saw me looking at him and grinned.
"A condemned man is always allowed a hearty last meal, ain't that so, Dec?"


Under the circumstances, I ignored the over-familiarity, for I had indeed almost certainly condemned him to death.

He nodded towards Tuesday and muttered, through a mouthful of plover's egg, "What's with the muffin ?"
I said nothing, waiting and watching. Tuesday merely stared, those coal-black eyes fixed steadily on April.

"Have you been to the Pond before, April? I asked.
He shook his head and blew smoke rings, affecting an air of nonchalance which was let down by the nervous tic in his left eyelid.

For a moment I hesitated - had I made a bad choice ?
Then I mentally shrugged. Too late now.

"I will guide you. You should enter the Pond naked. You will have roughly 15 minutes before the forces at work there begin to corrode your body. Fatally."
I watched him carefully as I spoke, but detected no reluctance at all, no sudden cowardice or fear. If anything, he seemed curiously enlivened.

I continued.
"All I wish you to do is to find the leak, then report back to me. We will then consider what action to take."

Even as I spoke, I saw that he relished the task ahead and even welcomed it. Eternal life held no more thrills for him, no more pleasures he hadn't already tasted a million times before, no more excitement.
All at once, the arrogant façade vanished and he leant forward, intrigued.
"Tell me more, Dec."

So I did. As Tuesday sat silently staring into the distance, I told him bluntly the truth about what he was going to endure.

"The process by which seconds and minutes are refreshed and exchanged is, of necessity, fairly crude. It does not discriminate because it does not need to; it never has to deal with anything more complicated than the smallest particles of Time."

I paused to take a sip of my brandy and a plover's egg, barely noticing as Tuesday brushed it lightly with celery salt.
It did not escape April's eye though and of a sudden, he seemed to regard me with something approaching respect.

"Now. You've heard of mechanically reclaimed meat ? A process where animal bones are forced under pressure through a sieve to strip them of all possible edible flesh ? A similar process takes place in the Pond. So you may imagine what would happen to a complex body such as a perennial. The Pond would be in turns confused, then suspicious, then hostile. It would, in short, attempt to to break you down into simple particles of time, The Minutes and Seconds for which it was designed to cope. It would fail, of course, but by the time it gave up, your clock would be utterly and finally stopped."

I fell silent, wondering if I had said too much. April's cigar had gone out and he laid it down on the table, absent-mindedly.

Suddenly, I felt utterly exhausted. I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep, ideally with my head nestling between Tuesday's beautiful breasts, a thought which immediately woke me up, in more ways than one.

"Okay," I said, louder than perhaps I intended.

"Two more things. 1. You do not have to do this and I will understand completely if you refuse. 2. I emphasise again; you have just 15 minutes before irreversible damage to your existence takes place. Whatever you see, or think you see or simply guess at, you must get out and report back or your life will have been lost to no purpose. Do you understand me, April ?"

Even as I spoke, I became vaguely aware that Tuesday was looking at me curiously and I wondered why.
April knocked back the last of his brandy and grinned crookedly.

"Two things. I wouldn't dream of backing out, since you make it sound so inviting. After all, who wants to live forever ?"
I studied him intently. All the old insouciance was back, no trace of the earlier nerves on display.
I arched an eyebrow. "And the second ?"
He laughed, a deep, rich, merry laugh which warmed my heart.

"I'd like another brandy, if that's permitted."
I poured it myself, an extra, extra large one.




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