Mum, Dad and I were flung into space.
We flailed around.
There was a bright white flash.
We all died.
Care and Maintenance of the Fabric of Time, second edition
3.2: The time shift
On Friday, May 15 at 2.36.15 Sol time, one of the oddest events of recent eons happened. The entire universe moved forwards 5.0125 seconds.
It is not clear why this happened. At the time of writing, investigators are still conducting an enquiry into the incident.
The only agents who could possibly have achieved such a thing are the Stitchers. But all were present and accounted for, doing legitimate tasks, at the time of the incident. So far, the implications of this event remain a mystery.
I never did find out what the white flash was.
I sat in the playground writing faster and faster, because all sorts of things were speeding out of my head. I’d already forgotten what I’d scrawled in the previous chapters.
I was sure there were lots of very very important things in my head, but every moment it was becoming harder to reach them. It was like trying to remember a fading dream. Or like trying to reach a paper boat on a pond—when you stretch out to grab it, the pressure of your touch sends it sailing out of reach.
Hadn’t I just written something about being in space in my dad’s X31?
Then again, I’d also written that I died when, clearly, I was alive and sitting on the green bench in the playground, writing in my journal.
Maybe I should ask Mum or Dad. I think they were with me. Was there someone else in the car? Mum, Dad, me and—? I keep thinking that someone else was driving the car into space. But maybe not . . .
After all, I’m not dead, am I?
My eyes keep wandering towards the utility block, and I didn’t know why. There’s nothing in there but toilets and janitor’s equipment. I know because I snuck in there to check. So why do my feet keep taking me there?
I am sitting pondering all this, when someone interrupts me.
‘Hello,’ said that quiet, serious-faced girl who sits at the back of the classroom and never smiles.
‘Hi,’ I said.
‘You’re always writing. Are you writing a book?’
I moved so that she couldn’t see what I was scribbling. ‘I’m writing a record of important events for somebody.’ ‘Who?’
‘Um, it’s a secret,’ I said.
There was silence.
‘I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you. I’ll go. It’s just that . . .’ She looked down at her feet.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ She started to walk away.
‘What?’
‘Well, it’s just that . . . Mrs Stoep said we need a partner of the opposite gender to do our Ancient Greeks project with and I wondered whether you . . . I think you and me are the quietest people in the class.’ And then she gave a pathetic little laugh.
‘What’s your name again?’
‘Amy. Amy Dala.’
‘Is your middle initial G?’
‘How did you know?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where are you from?’
‘Hawaii.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
She kept looking at her feet when she spoke. She really was shy.
I puffed out my chest. ‘Amy, don’t worry. I used to be shy. Being shy sucks. I mean, I’m brilliant. I’m probably the most intelligent person in the whole school, including the teachers. But no one realises it because I was too shy to speak up.’
Amy smiled. I think she thought I was making some sort of joke.
I smiled, too. ‘Anyway, the important thing is that I am not shy any more. It’s easy to get over it. You’ve got to smile. You’ve got to relax. You’ve got to look people in the eye. You’ve got to learn people’s names. You’ve got to make yourself interested in other people. You can get over shyness, you know. I’ll tell you a good trick. You look in the playground and you find groups of people in odd numbers: three or five or seven in a cluster.’
Amy Dala was still staring at her feet, unused to having anyone talk so passionately to her about anything.
‘Where did you learn that?’ she asked.
I paused, confused. Where did I learn that?
Amy looked up, and I noticed her gazing at my neck.
I touched my throat and found a silver chain. How did that get there? I’d never worn jewellery before. I pulled the chain to see what was at the end of it, and found a small heart.
‘That’s nice. Is something written on it?’ Amy asked.
‘Yes. There are two words on it. It says . . .’ I looked at it more closely.
There were no words on it. I stared in silence at the necklace until Amy cleared her throat.
‘Okay. Bye. See you,’ she said nervously. ‘I guess I’d better go and—’ She turned to look back at the green benches where the shy kids sat.
‘No,’ I interrupted. ‘Stay. I want to show you something.’ I pulled a pencil out of my pocket. ‘Getting over shyness is really easy. First, you have to take a pencil and put it sideways in your mouth. No, it really works. I’ll show you.’
And that’s all folks.
You can stop reading now. I’m not sure why you started in the first place. I’m pretty sure I told you not to. Anyway, this is where it ends. Or maybe this is where it begins . . .
I’m not going to be writing in this book any more. I’m far too busy hanging out with friends and stuff. John McCloud said I used to be really weird and spent all my time in the janitor’s office in the toilet block. But I think he’s just having me on, because this school doesn’t even have a janitor.
It says at the beginning of this book that it’s dedicated to my Secret Sharer.
I’m not sure who that is. It may be John, or one of my other friends. If you’ve read all the way up to here it may even be you!
Or maybe it’s Amy.
But I’m not going to write anything about me and Amy. That story’s not for sharing. I don’t think you’d like it anyway. For a start, I think there’s going to be KISSING in it.
Care and Maintenance of the Fabric of Time, second edition
4.3: Maintenance Crew
Key numbers:
• The number of threads in the fabric of time is 16 quintillion.
• The relationship between time and matter is E=mc2.
• The number of Stitchers is 19.
Author’s note
Although I don’t really know how many celestial seamstresses there are, the scientific parts of this story are based on fact. Einstein really did have a vision, or daydream or fantasy, about riding in a super-car that could fly at the speed of light. And in his dream, he really did use a hand-mirror and discover that it wasn’t blank. Once he worked out what it all meant, he wrote a book, in 1905, which revealed for the first time that time itself could be bent, altered or damaged. This idea was called ‘the theory of relativity’. No one knows where a man living 100 years ago got the idea of a hover-car that could fly at the speed of light. This story tries to explain how it could have happened. If you’d like to find out more about Einstein or want to contact the author, you can go to www.allenandunwin.com or the author’s website at www.jam100.com
Twilight in the Land of Nowhen Page 11