"How old are you, exactly?" she asked, frowning at the good looking thirty-something, sitting across from her. "You've done an awful LOT, in a short amount of time."
"I'm older than you think," he said, smiling at her.
"What does that mean and why did you tell my boss that you wanted me to cover your story?"
"I've been reading your work. You seem like someone who could tell my story accurately and without emotion."
"Your story? About your industry? Your playboy lifestyle? Your car collection? The Children's Health Organizations you started in Third World countries? About the fact that you're still single? Or..."
"No. None of those things," he sighed. "It seems you know quite a lot about me, Miss Andrews."
"I did my homework."
"Unfortunately, none of the things you mentioned are important."
"Mmmm, you sure about that?" she asked.
"Positive."
She nodded. "Okay. Tell me about the important part."
He leaned forward. "Give me your word that you will tell no one what I am about to tell you, until the time is right."
"You want me to sit on the story?"
"I do."
"For how long?" she asked.
"I don't know. I'm sorry, but that's the truth."
"Okay, you have my word."
He sat back in his chair and relaxed. "The first clocks were built around 1270. They were in towers in Italy and Germany. They didn't have hands, bells rang to denote the time. People thought they were the only clocks that existed. They were wrong. My family was wealthy. I was born on a large estate in Italy, to doting parents. An only child, I had the best of everything that was available at that time."
"Wait," she said, holding up her hand. "Are you telling me that you are eight hundred and fifty two years old?"
"I am."
"You don't look like a vampire or an immortal," she said.
"I can say for certain, that I am neither."
"Please continue."
"My father came to own a clock that was different than any clock anyone had ever seen. It had hands and was small enough to sit comfortably on a shelf. He kept the clock hidden, of course, since it was quit valuable and the only one of its kind. One evening a cloaked woman came to our home and spoke to my father in hushed tones. My mother and I were sent out of the room. and retired for the night.
We did not speak of the clock or the woman until many years later, when my father was on his death bed. I was called to his bedside and the servants were told to leave the room. My father told me that I had been chosen. And before you ask, I have no idea why, or by who. He said the clock was mine. He told me to keep it with me at all times. He said when I was a young man, the clock would begin to tick and the aging process would cease.
My father said the woman told him that living for many years, carried a heavy price. One would watch loved ones die, time and time again. Relocation was a must, since people would notice someone who did not grow old.
And there's one other thing," he said. "The key."
"The key?"
"The key that fits into a lock on the back of the clock. If I turn it, the aging process will reverse itself and I will grow younger, until I no longer exist."
"Are you saying that you will become an infant, then cells, then...whatever comes before that?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
"How can any of this be true? And why are you telling...me?"
"I assure you everything I have told you is the truth and I'm telling you, Ms. Andrews, because I've grown tired of living."
"But you have everything," she said.
He smiled. "I'm bored and weary of man's insanity and cruelty."
"Are you thinking of killing yourself?"
"That's one possibility."
"Am I supposed to stop you?" she asked, eyes wide.
"I don't see how you could."
"Maybe...I can talk you out of it, or you could stick around and give me more details about your story. Names, places, loves..."
"Or, I could give the clock to you."
"Excuse me?" she said.
"The woman in the cloak was your very distant ancestor. You are next in line to receive the gift, such as it is."
"You're kidding me."
"Not in the slightest."
"How could you possibly know that?"
He smiled, and handed her a photograph of her sitting exactly where she was sitting, wearing the clothes she was wearing. "I know because I have had this picture since I received the clock."
"This is impossible," she whispered, staring at the photo. The edges were worn, but the picture itself was clear. "Impossible."
"I agree. But over the years, I have seen many impossible things."
"What happens if I take the clock?"
"I'll begin to age naturally and live out a normal life."
"I don't know," she huffed. "It's a big decision to make in a few minutes."
"I suppose you're right," he whispered.
"Tell me the good parts."
"You see history change, and you're part of it."
"That's it?" she said.
"It's fun...for awhile."
"Everything is fun...for awhile," she said.
"It can be."
"How long will I live?"
"As long as you want to live."
"And if I want to die?"
"You will know who is next in line."
"You must have seen a lot in your lifetime."
"More than you can imagine," he said, softly.
They looked at each other for a few minutes, when she said, "You really are ready to leave, aren't you."
"Yes."
"Fine," she sighed. "I'll take the clock."
No comments:
Post a Comment