The Master of Time
The familiar sound of the huge 17th century Grandfather clock was always a source of comfort for him. Some may have called it a tick or even a tock. How ridiculous he thought. It is a heartbeat, an old gentleman’s heartbeat who has survived 100s of years and seen many things change but stood steadfast and strong. Although a little battered around the edges and his finials weren’t what they used to be.
Time. I am the master of time he thought to himself. Without others and I like me how would time be measured so accurately? The rise and fall of the sun and the slow march of the seasons perhaps. But he dealt in real time. The time that mattered.
Did he sound a little egotistical? He mused on this. But not for long. The Master of Time had no time for such small and insignificant matters. No time at all. He raised himself from his bed as the dependable old gentleman in the hall called him to his work. Six times it struck to raise him. “OK, ok do you never stop Sir?” he muttered under his breath, knowing full well it was he alone who had the key to life for the old soul.
“Master of Time and Grandfathers” he said as he put his slippers on and headed for the bathroom.
Today before him he had a task only the most skilful of Time Masters could cope with. Even he with his 50 years of mastering time wasn’t sure he could make right.
Nine thirty and he opened the shop. His task had to be finished by ten. No time to waste.
He sat down at his workbench and his brow furrowed as he looked at the Watch that lay before him. A computerised model for children. One of these smart watches that could do everything including make the tea. Perhaps a large milkshake would be preferable though.
A young boy had entrusted him with his birthday pride and joy the day before and he wanted so much to refuse him. He didn’t deal with these types of watches really, but the sad demeanour of the little lad convinced him that he should at least have a go at mending it.
The boy and his father were due in by ten. So it had to be in perfect condition by then. Time was against him.
He picked it up and looked at the big soppy Panda on the watch face and smiled. Apparently, the boy had said it could display one hundred different animal faces. It had got stuck on the Panda though.
Well it was his job to fix watches and he lay it down again on the bench and prepared to fix this one for good.
The watch made a strange noise as he smashed the large head of the hammer down upon it. Again, and again. Plastic pieces and silicon chips flew everywhere. The plastic band squashed and unrecognisable as each blow put paid to the watches very existence. The poor Panda on the face now very much extinct.
The Watchmakers face one of pure pleasure as he decimated the crime against time.
He looked down at the computerised mess on his table. Not a spring, a wheel, or a balance bridge in sight. He dismissively swept the remains into the bin.
He should move with the times he thought for a millisecond. As he pulled out twenty pounds from the antique till as a refund on the “irreparable” watch.
“Perhaps not” said the Master of Time aloud to no one as he sat down at his bench to work on a beautiful 1928 gentleman’s dress Bulova.