Written By Abdun Nur
Time Runs Slowly for Some
“Nature does nothing in vain is the only indisputable axiom in philosophy. There are no grotesques in nature; not any thing framed to fill up empty cantons, and unnecessary spaces.” Thomas Browne
Seisyll was already working hard in the garden when Gwen got up at six.
Gwen went outside into the predawn to see where her guest had disappeared to, after finding the front living room unoccupied.
She found him busily clearing the staircase leading into the cellar. “I’ll call you when breakfast is ready. Listen out.” Gwen told him then headed back inside to the warmth of the coal fire.
It took a lot of effort to clear the thick thorny brambles and nettles that’d colonised the entrance; it was after ten o’clock before he’d cleared them away.
Sill was keen to see inside, and went to tell Gwen it was clear, but Gwen had other ideas. “I’ve called a taxi, we can go into the town and buy some better gardening equipment for you, and maybe see if we can’t find your friend the jaikey.” Gwen told Sill as she locked the front door and headed towards the road and the waiting taxi.
As the taxi headed towards town it passed beneath the bridge the old jaikey was living under, Sill could see as they passed he was still in residence.
In town they bought a large selection of gardening equipment and a new plastic shed, which was all to be delivered that afternoon. Gwen got some grocery shopping done, and bought Seisyll some heavy duty work clothes, which included some waterproofs, steel toecap Wellington’s and boots, before they both had dinner at a cafe, then headed back in a taxi. They stopped at the underpass and Sill got out to talk with the jaikey.
Gwen watched them talking as she sat patiently in her seat, they talked for five minutes or so before they both headed towards the taxi, as Sill opened the taxi door, immediately the taxi driver said in a firm voice. “That tramp ‘cannea’ get in this car, sorry.”
Sill closed the taxi door and talked with the jaikey for a minute, seemingly explaining directions to a destination with broad arm movements, then got in the taxi as the jaikey wondered slowly back. “He’ll call at the house this evening Gwen.” Sill told her.
Sill worked hard all afternoon, he built up the new plastic shed and loaded it with the new tools, he burned the old wooden shed in his home made incinerator, and he continued to clear the garden. As the light was fading the old jaikey walked into the garden and waved towards Sill.
Sill found Gwen. Gwen led the two men around the outside of the house to the back door, and into a back room, in the corner of that room stood a very large machine with a pressure door, that wouldn’t have been out of place on an old submarine. The rest of the room was filled with marble, and stone carvings, like jigsaw pieces, numbered and stacked in racks.
Gwen spun the wheel attached to the heavy pressure door and it swung open, revealing a circular entrance about two and a half feet across. “Get yourself inside.” Gwen said to the jaikey feeling constrained in what to call him more politely, having no reference for him. “What do they call you?” Gwen thought jaikey might be insulting as a name.
He said you’d be feeding me?” The jaikey replied as he attempted unsuccessfully to climb into the machine.
“It might be easier if you take off some of your clothing, Phil, you appear to have a lot of layers there. Yes, I can give you some food when you’re finished” Gwen commented.
Phil unbuttoned his thick coat and dropped it at the side of the machine, then attempted to climb into the machine again, this time he was successful. “Sit in the seat, get yourself comfortable.” Gwen said as she swung the door closed and spun the wheel to lock it. She set the correct time on the clock at the right hand side of the door.
The sound of the phone ringing broke the silence, I’ll just get that, set the timer Sill, for one minute, OK. Just one-minute no more, the control is at the left side of the door. Then just press the green button underneath.” She said as she walked away to get the phone.
Gwen hurried through the house to the phone, grabbing it up as she reached it. “Hello.” Gwen said as she placed the phone to her ear.
“Hello Gwen, this is Cathy. How are you?”
“I’m fine Cathy, what can I do for you?”
“I’m just ringing to let you know I talked with the universities art professor, and I arranged for him to call around tomorrow evening, I hope that’s OK?”
“Well I suppose it’ll have to be, as it’s already arranged. What’s his name?” Gwen asked.
“OK, I’ll expect him tomorrow then, was that all?” Gwen asked.
“Yes, I’ll ring again after his visit, if that’s OK, to see how things went?” Cathy told her.
“OK, speak soon then, bye.” Gwen ended the conversation abruptly, hanging up and walked back to the back room.
While Gwen was on the phone Sill had set the timer, he turned the clock hands to one minute past twelve on the dial, and closed the cover, then pressed the green button as directed.
The machine made a low humming sound that steadily accelerated to a high speed whir. The floor vibrated slightly, but very rapidly, and a green light lit the machine.
Seisyll stood watching the machine, but nothing else occurred, he waited for the minute to elapse, the machine continued, another minute passed and still it kept running, he heard Gwen’s footsteps coming back.
“Is it still going?
You set it for just one minute, right?” Gwen asked.
“Yes.” Sill replied.
Gwen examined the timer. “Sill you set it for a minute past midnight, what have you done!” Gwen looked very concerned.
“Well switch it off, I thought you had to zero the clock. Sorry Gwen.” Sill replied.
“Once set it can’t be shut off without the soul and body permanently being separated, and we don’t want a dead body in the machine.” Gwen explained.
“I’m sorry Gwen. Five hours won’t be that bad, it’ll soon pass.” Sill replied.
“You don’t understand. One minute in the machine is more than a full day for the soul inside, he’s in there for the better part of a year or more, time is funny outside of our perception.” Gwen said concerned.
“Oh shit, that’s bad.” Sill now felt concerned as well, they both stood silently looking at the machine and feeling for its unwitting victim within.
“My brother used psycho-reactive energy to power his devices, others have called it orgone, it’s the energy of the mitochondria, the power house of every cell, it reacts to thought directly, using this form of energy he was able to create many amazing devices.” Gwen explained.
“It seems a badly thought out timing system, Gwen.” Sill said in his defence.
“It was built with salvage from things designed for other uses, so it’s a cobbled system, and that means it’s a little quirky in design.” Gwen explained.
“We can check his note book, see if there’s anything that can be done.” Gwen rummaged through some draws at the far side of the room and produced a note book, which she handed to Sill.
Sill opened and read out loud. “Only consciousness truly exists, death is the detachment of the perception generated within this shared mental representation we perceive in life as material reality, death is your consciousness disconnected from that community and returned to the ocean of thought. The depth of the ocean your consciousness is submersed in, is dependent on the fractal growth of the consciousness in question. The machine allows the consciousness to disconnect from the shared perception as if dead, while allowing the consciousness or soul, which is another term for empathic consciousness, to be able to return to the shared perception while retaining the memories of the experiences during that disconnection.
Consciousness is the origin of thought, all thought is the product of consciousness, just as with light which will return to darkness the instant the source is extinguished, all perceptions would return to absolute nothingness the instant the thoughts of consciousness are extinguished. To extinguish a consciousness would extinguish all consciousness, as we are one. Every consciousness may evolve infinitely within a fractal matrix of endless growth, as anything of the infinite is itself infinite.”
Sill flicked through the pages of the book, looking for information on how to stop the machine before the timer ended. “I can’t see anything on turning it off early.” Sill commented after a few minutes of skimming the pages.
“This is interesting.
Each loving soul is their own arbiter, emerging from the sleeping coma of the perception of their material existence, the soul sings its song out into the infinity of the sea of consciousness, a song that cannot conceal self-deceit and self-delusion, the song is the irrefutable nature of the singing soul, its vibration either harmonises with all creation, or it’s in dissonance to it, and is repelled.” Sill read out.
“It’s a long time since I read that particular note book, but hearing it read brings my brother into the room again in a sense.
The machine has profound effects on some, it made me more than a good artist, and it has helped me to realise leaps of imagination.
The person I think the machine had the most profound effect on by far, was my brother’s girlfriend Joanne, that was something to see.” Gwen reminisced.
Sill read out another excerpt “There are only two directions in all creation, out and in. Creation flowing into the heart or flows out, if your heart is haemorrhaging grief, it cannot draw in the flow of creation, if it haemorrhages hate, fear, anger, or loss, it’s forcing the flow to reverse, the toroid drawing out an ocean of emotion can no longer draw in creation; creation being shared perceptual realities.
The soul is held within an imaginary toroid, viewed from the inside it seems as if it’s forever expanding, while it’s simultaneously collapsing toward stillness, reversed it’s forever emptied, simply collapsing toward disequilibrium, this is the stripping of perception to a pattern that is formless, isolating the song of the conscious voice.
That doesn’t sound good for Phil.” Sill fell silent.
They both continued to look at the machine feeling helpless. “Well nothing can be done, we’ll have to see what the effect of such a marathon will have on him.” Gwen headed to the living room, followed by Sill who continued to study the note book as he walked.
Gwen made cups of tea and they both sat in front of the fire drinking it. “Gwen, can we have a look in the cellar, now I’ve cleared the entrance.” Sill asked.
“Let’s eat first.” Gwen left Sill in the living room and set about making something to eat.
She came back with two plates each with a roll on it. “This is a lovely recipe Sill. It’s very low in carbs, four scrambled eegs made into an omelette, then you mix avocado and cream cheese, with mixed herbs, and butter a thick layer over the omelettes surface, then roll it up like a carpet.
After they had eaten Gwen found the cellar key and they both headed to the side of the house.
They both went to the bottom of the staircase leading down to the cellar door. Gwen tried the lock, it was stiff, but with a bit of force, turned, and the door swung open.
They both peered into the pitch blackness of the room as Gwen reached around the side of the door for the light switch. She flicked the switches, nothing happened. “Lights are out. We’ll have to try again tomorrow, and see if we can’t fix the lighting in the day light.” Gwen told Sill.
Sill was disappointed. “Gwen, I was wondering, if I found out what happened to your brother, is the reward still available?”
“If you find out Sill, you can have the reward.” Gwen smiled, thinking his efforts would be futile.
“Well, with that in mind, could I pick your brains and learn more about the circumstances of your brother’s life, and the events around his disappearance?” Sill asked.
“Let’s get in out of the cold and we can chat about it.” Gwen replied as she made her way up the stairs.
Sill sat in the living room with Gwen and produced a very grubby note book and quarter sized pencil from his pocket. “OK. Let’s start with the basics, what was your brother’s full name and date of birth?” Sill asked.
“He was named Isambard, after Isambard Kingdom Brunel, the family name is Carnock. He was born nineteenth of October, nineteen thirty-two.” Gwen replied.
As sill was writing in his notebook he said. “I’d like to get in touch with your brother’s old girlfriend, could you tell me her name and if possible where she might be found?” Sill asked.
“She was studying music back then, she’d a great musical talent, her name was Joanne Rhoads, but she may well have married and changed her name after all this time. She may be dead, she’d be, what? About sixty-five now.
She was at that time a local girl from the town down the road, I’ve no idea where you’d find her today.” Gwen replied.
“Where did your brother buy supplies from?” Sill continued
“Many places, quite a few scrap yards, if you search the cellar you’ll find invoices I’m sure, but some of those companies may well have gone out of business by now.” Gwen answered.
“When was the last time you saw your brother, and what was the last thing you talked about?” Sill asked.
“The last time I saw him, he was very excited, he came rushing up from the cellar, ‘I’ve done it, I’ve done it!’ he said, we were used to his over excited states, and all were fairly disinterested at the time. That was about a week before we realised he’d vanished.” Gwen explained.
“Is that all he said?” Sill pressed.
Gwen deliberated for a while trying to think back to that last meeting. “I asked him ‘what’, and he said ‘I held the spinning moment’, to which I think I said something like, oh that’s nice, I was busy painting and so very distracted.” Gwen lingered in her memory on that final meeting.
“What was the date you noticed him gone?” Sill asked.
“It was June 6th 1975.” Gwen replied.
“OK. I can do some digging with this information, see what I can discover.” Sill told Gwen.
“Quite the junior detective.” Gwen smiled.
Sill returned to reading Isambard’s note book, while Gwen sat stroking a cat on her lap as she stared into the fire.
What to do with Phil, played on her mind, what had been a five-minute job of him using the machine and then going his merry way, had become a problem with such an extended situation.
“Phil is very smelly and very dirty, I can’t have him sleeping in the living room when he gets free of the machine.
I do have an old camping tent, if you set it up in the garden he could use that to sleep in tonight. Could you do that Sill?” Gwen asked.
Sill agreed to set up the small tent, which took him quite a long time as he’d no instructions to follow, and this was the first tent he’d erected. When it was built he headed back inside, he checked the time, it was eleven already. Gwen was nowhere to be found. He found a note in the living room.
‘Gone to bed, I’ll come down at twelve to see that Phil is OK. Gwen’
It’d been a long day and Sill was very tired, he got undressed and lay in his warm and cosy couch bed and closed his tired eyes, ‘Gwen will wake me’ he thought and drifted off to sleep.
The light of the autumn dawn shining through the windows, and the sound of birds woke Sill. He lay there thinking something important was wrong, then it hit him, Phil.
He shot bolt upright, leaped from his bed and rushed in his bare feet and underwear to the back room, hoping Gwen had released him at twelve. The machine was as he’d left it, the pressure door was still closed, but the green light had changed to white and the machine now made no sound.
Sill quickly spun the wheel and the door swung open.
Click Link: Chapter Seven
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