IV

The following day I met a few more members of this motley family I had found myself suddenly adopted into. Abby and Jason were my tour guides, minus the canned introductions and sluggish bus. “And this is Mr. Wells.” Abby motioned to a bearded man in rags leaning against a wall whittling on something. I think it was a soda can. “How’s it going?” she asked. He barely looked up from his work. “Well, I’m still breathing. So I guess that’s good,” he replied with the corners of his mouth tugged up in an almost-smile. The Pessimist. Or the Comic Relief. Not sure. Maybe both. So far I’d met the Optimist, the Busybody, the Engineer, the Cynic, the Visionary, the Doctor, another Mother… The Interior Designer even had a broken bottle full of dandelions on display in her living area. These people made me smile. Some things will never change. Not so many Dreamers down here. No Children either, though there’s more than a handful of minors in this place trying to make the best of their lives

Next on the agenda was a smug-faced, lanky preteen wearing a tattered, navy blue men’s blazer. The sleeves were bunched at the elbows and cuffed to reveal a pair of youthful hands with spider-like fingers so fast you’d never know you had been relieved of your wallet until you had gotten home. The clan’s own Artful Dodger. Fast-talking Gerard was responsible for supply running, making the right connections, and getting himself into trouble. Yet no matter how deep it was, he always managed to get himself out again. And he never told anyone how he did it. He just did and went on as if having a near-death experience was nothing to blink at. I think I’m really starting to like these people.

After a supper of lukewarm beans, rye bread, and a bruised apple courtesy of Charles, I had a little time to think before I bedded down for the night. A flickering candle stood alone, rooted to the mortar between two of the stones which made up the floor. Even by itself, my little chamber was dimly lit to the very corners. Maybe it wants to tell me something. I brought my knees up to my chest with the wool blanket wrapped snug under my chin. I stared off into space. That’s what it looked like. Actually, I was somewhere else. I was in my thoughts. Everyone here seems to have found a job. A purpose. A reason for living. They’ve found themselves. And what about me? What do I have? What am I supposed to do? And how long will it take me to drive myself insane?

I relaxed my eyes. I leaned my head against the cold, solid wall behind me, pointed my chin upwards. My eyes flashed open again. I better get used to seeing walls. Both of my marks looked down on me. I wasn’t sure if they were pleased or angry with me for creating them in this place. What did Abby say earlier, about time? She said time blurs so easily down here. “It used to run our lives. Now we don’t have much use for it. But it’s stability, and sometimes it’s our only stability left.” I grabbed up a shard and twirled around on my seat as if I was in a revolving chair. Another mark. Mark number three. I decided they were pleased. The Timekeeper was pleased.

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