Buying Time

By Robert Cely

Three stories in one collection. In "Buying Time" Quin gets the incredible offer to buy the world’s most precious commodity - Time. But can he afford the price? Also included are "Forgotten Songs of Avalain," a story about the tragic downfall of the Lethe, once the most gifted and beautiful creatures of Earth, and "The Lonely Levite," where the last man alive, along with a world-controlling supercomputer struggle to restore a near-extinct humanity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bard and Book
• Release date: Nov 25, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311254702

Book preview

Buying Time

by Robert Cely

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Copyright Robert Cely 2013. All Rights Reserved

Published by Bard and Book Publishing.

Cover by Julius Broqueza.

Contents

Buying Time

Forgotten Songs of Avalain

The Lonely Levite

Buying Time

1For Randall Quinten, all his real trouble began because of an hour. Just one hour, and his life changed forever. Some time later, on a tearful day, when he felt desperate and at an end to hope, so desperate that he hefted a gun in his hands and considered using it on himself; on that day Randall Quinten, known by his friends as Quin, would reflect on how strange it was that life could be that way. So much can often hinge on so little. The destiny of an entire life can swing on the pivot of only the briefest time.

For Quin it was an hour.

But that was when Quin thought a lot differently about time. He wouldn’t think that way for a while yet.

It was that damn hour.

That’s all I need, Quin thought to himself as he raced to finish his project. Of course, he didn’t have an hour. According to the gold plated clock encased in faux crystal that sat upon his desk, Quin had exactly seven minutes. In a mere seven minutes he would stand in front of all the executives and present the results of his momentous fourth quarter project.

Except his report wasn’t ready. At least not presentable.

Quin knew damn well that this report would be compared to Derek Hanalan’s from Human Resources, and whoever impressed the higher-ups the most would be earmarked for the new VP of the Southeast. And that position was the gateway into the elites at Visatech Pharmaceuticals. He knew that if he could just squeeze his foot into that narrow doorway then the sky would suddenly become his limit.

Too much rode on too little time. And Quin felt his future slip away from him one unnaturally hasty second at a time.

In moments such as these Quin found himself reflecting on how much he really hated his life. Maybe hate was too strong a word. Quin reflected on how much he didn’t like his life. On the surface there was no reason to think this way. After all, at thirty-nine Quin was reasonably young. He belonged to an extraordinarily mobile class that possessed little in the way of hindrance to a blossoming career. This meant no wife or kids. And though that also meant times of poignant loneliness, Quin would happily endure that for the sake of his freedom.

That freedom was something he had taken certain advantage of. Slightly ahead of schedule Quin had climbed the ranks of Visatech Pharmaceuticals, easily outstripping his more burdened colleagues who had to attend piano recitals, baby showers, couples nights, and take those compulsory summer and Christmas vacations. He had successfully struggled his way to upper management. Now, he efficiently governed his empire of Quality Control, consisting of four middle-managers, a vast area of cubicle space, and twenty-three lower level employees. Technically, he answered to the VP of Operations, but more often than not Quin worked with the COO himself.

No reason not to like his life.

The only fly in the proverbial ointment, as Quin mulled over in times of exceptionally high stress, was that this was nothing close to what Quin wanted out of life.

In college Quin had studied history. It came naturally to him as he loved to pore over stories of past war and conquest, rise and fall of empire. He hoped this would lead to a career in teaching, or archaeology, or even work in a museum. Wherever it would lead, it most certainly wasn’t in the direction of quality control for a giant drug company.

Things changed in that limbo between end of college and beginning of career. While Quin took a slew of easy come easy go jobs, his friends had started to settle down in work that showed signs of definite potential. Quin contemplated grad school from his crummy duplex while his friends bought their first homes. He struggled to make rent while they opened their 401ks. He fell in and out of contemporaneous love while they proposed to college sweathearts. Grad school kept getting delayed and seemed a further and further possibility.

Feeling horribly inadequate, Quin jumped at the chance when a friend, Charlie Berget known affectionately as Beergut, promised to get him in at Visatech for a temporary project that required the bright kind of mind he possessed. Quin didn’t disappoint and Visatech offered him a permanent position.

Quin made the understandable mistake of seeking his father out for advice. Randall senior was well-meaning, but had lived a life paranoid about stable work. All of his life Quin heard his father fret over the dread of being fired and cast into the hell of long-term unemployment.

You ain’t goin’ nowhere fast Randall boy, his father said when Quin asked his advice regarding Visatech or grad school. Not many chances get thrown at a man’s feet like this. Take it boy. It’s what I would do.

Of course it was what his father would do. Eventually, it was what Quin did too. He quickly outstripped Beergut, though he remained grateful, pulling his friend along whenever he rose in the ranks.

Four minutes.

Damn.

Quin shook the self-pity from his head and fell back into his project, knowing his efforts were futile. The report would not get finished, and his great career, for which he had sacrificed so much of his ideal life, would stall here. And all because of an hour.

Self-pity found fertile ground and grew as Quin thought of how much his predicament was due to uncontrollable circumstances. True, he had fallen asleep last night before his work was done, but that could hardly be helped. Two straight weeks of late-night work had tired him out.

Then there was the toaster. The maid must have unplugged it cleaning so Quin wasted ten minutes waiting for bread to toast in a cold toaster. Then there was ice all over his car and traffic was worse than normal. All told, he lost a precious thirty minutes that he could dearly use.

Two minutes.

The clock mocked him. Its gold-plated hands ticked unmercifully forward, digging into Quin with each persistent jump of the second hand. Each movement was another nail in the coffin of Quin’s career. And to ice this bitter cake he would have to watch that asshole Derek Hanalan take VP while he floundered in upper management.

Frustration building to an irresistible crescendo, Quin took hold of the desk clock and flung it across the room. He heard it hit as the faux crystal shattered against a marble pedestal that served no discernible purpose. He dropped his head into his hand and waited for the inevitable buzz of Vicky on the intercom wondering if everything was ok. Half the damn floor probably heard it.

Quin waited, but the query never came. When he was certain his last two minutes had petered out, Quin gathered up his laptop and incomplete notes and headed for the door.

Just stepping around his desk he froze. And odd sensation washed over him, like the world had shifted in some fundamental way. He shook his head and blinked hard, not believing what he saw.

There, in front of him, floated hundreds of pieces of shattered faux crystal, suspended unmoving in the air.

What? he asked to no one in particular.

He walked up to the cloud of broken crystal, inspecting it from many sides. Other pieces of clock mixed in with the shattered glass. Springs, gears, even the face of the clock floated in front of him. He picked up a shard and turned it over in his hands. Letting go he watched it float suspended in the air, just inches from his face.

It was as if...

Time is standing still, a voice behind him finished his thought.

Quin turned around slowly, already too stunned to be startled further. There he saw the most exquisitely and strangely dressed man he had ever seen.

A good morning to you, the man said in a precise voice that carried a hint of the British Isles. He lifted a top hat and inclined his head in Quin’s direction.

Reeling from shock, Quin couldn’t find a response. His eye moved up and down the stranger, marveling at his odd appearance.

At first glance the man seemed to have stepped off the streets of nineteenth century England. He wore an old style suit, complete with vest and top hat. His face was thin and pale, accented with round, gold glasses. Every piece of his attire was perfectly placed and meticulously kept. Precise, was the word that came to Quin’s mind. The man was precise.

Quin might have mistaken him for one of those