by Hugh Macnab
finger-tips deeply into the muscles. The relief was wonderful. He didn’t realise just how much of a strain he’d been under. Feeling much better, he absently lifted the lid of a barrel that was just to his side and peering onto the depths, saw a single lonely apple sitting at the bottom.
‘Help yourself,’ came a voice from above. ‘The apples are mine, and there’s an infinite supply.’
‘Thank you,’ muttered Shylock, without looking up. Not having any idea how long it was since he’d last eaten, he suddenly felt very hungry. Standing on tip-toes and leaning over the barrel edge he just managed to snatch the apple without embarrassing himself by falling in and getting stuck upside down. After rubbing it vigorously on his gabardines, he took a deep crunchy bite. It was delicious. As he made to take a second bite, he noticed that the previous bite mark had disappeared. Biting, and crunching, he watched as the apple grew back…skin and all. An infinite supply of one! At this rate, he thought, the proverbial doctor would stay away for ever.
‘Okay,’ the Dragon said, swooping down to Shylock’s eye level and suspending himself in mid-air. ‘But we foresee one slight problem.’
‘Which is? asked Shylock.
‘You’ll need planning permission.’
‘Planning permission? But it’s only a door,’ he pleaded.
‘Yes, it may be only a door to you, but who knows what else may come of you adding a simple door between two dimensions or worlds. All sorts of things might begin to Change, but fortunately for you however, he’s…inconvenienced for the time being,’ explained Earth, Wind and Fire.
Shylock felt the air suddenly thicken and a flush rise to his cheeks. ‘Ah, yes. Change…I’ve already…eerrr…been introduced to him,’ he said, avoiding the mention of Change’s escape – and certainly his own part in it!
‘Well,’ said the Dragon. ‘You’ll know why it’s so hard to get planning approval these days then? Can you imagine being confined in such a small place for an eternity? Terrible,’ he added, obviously not considering the comparability of his own accommodation. ‘However, why don’t you go along to the Wilderment Council offices anyway, and ask for the department of Time & Motion, or think @T&M. They issue all planning permits.’
‘What’s Wilderment?’ asked Shylock, mystified.
‘That, my dear customer, is where you’re at. This,’ the Dragon explained, indicating all around………. ‘be Wilderment.’
Muttering to himself his regret for asking, Shylock refused a cup of tea – although the prospect of finding out how this strange assortment of characters would drink tea, was mildly appealing - and after thanking the Dragon for being very helpful said goodbye to One, Mass and Absolute Zero, then took his leave.
Stepping backwards onto the automated pedestrian walkway, he was almost halfway across when the Dragon appeared outside the shed and snorted after him. ‘Don’t forget the ampersand!’
Wilderment Council : Department of Time and Motion
The glass in the panelled door looked aged rather than smoked - either way it was impossible to see inside. A small sign above the door stated Time & Motion, another on the door explained that it was a DOOR in large letters, and a tarnished brass letter flap was positioned down at the foot, about a hands-width from the floor. Other than a faint musty odour and a patch of mildew along the bottom edge of the glass panel - creating an impression of disuse - this seemed to be the right place. Shylock was expecting it to be much busier, however, unable to find a handle of any description he gave the door a push, only to be immediately reprimanded by a loud angry voice.
‘How would you like it if you were hanging around minding your own business, then some stranger comes along and starts pushing you around? It could be construed as unprovoked assault you know! Oh, yes, yes, yes….it happens to me all the time – okay, but that doesn’t make it right! People think they can just come and go as they please….in and out of here all the time, never so much as a by-your-leave or a thank-you.’
Shylock couldn’t see where the voice came from, but he had no doubt it emanated from the door. Stepping back, indicating that he meant no further harm, he politely asked the door its purpose.
‘Oh, entering and leaving are not a problem – although it would be nice if some recognition of a good service was offered’ replied the door. ‘But did you see a handle, or a push sign? ….No! That’s because I’m an automated security door. Authorised personnel only, and you;re not on my list!’
‘How do you know I’m not on your list. I haven’t even told you my name yet,’ said Shylock.
‘Oh, I know al-right All plans for everything come in and out of this door, therefore, either you must be associated with something that has already been built at some time, or else will be in the future…I must therefore have some record of you.’
Shylock could sense the door’s smugness and couldn’t resist testing him out. ’Okay, so who am I and what do I want.’
‘Too easy,’ the door mocked. ‘Your name is Shylock and you want to build an inter-worldly door…well actually, it’s more of an inter-dimensional door I’m told. With an inter-worldy option'
Shylock took in a deep breath of surprise, and raised his eyebrows. Then, recovering his composure, he tried again. ‘Al-right, who created your list of authorised personnel?’
‘Why, I did of course,’ replied the door.
‘And where do you get the names to put on your list?’
‘I told you,’ replied the door, as if he were speaking to a child. ‘I know everything about anything that has ever happened, or ever will. Everything has had, or will have to have, planning permission. Everyone, no matter who, has been or will be associated with something that has already received planning permission or will in the future…so, you must be on my list…and you are – but not for entry!’
‘And you can access all this information?’ Shylock asked, an idea springing into his head.
The door replied that it could.
‘Then you will be able to tell me the location of my door and when it was built?’
‘Yes,’ the door replied, confidently. ‘Let me just see…’
Shylock waited…and waited…and waited a little longer until eventually prompting the door for an answer.
‘Eeerr, well,’ replied the door, far from confidently. ‘It appears there has been some kind of error,’ he explained, almost inaudibly.
‘Surely not,’ Shylock replied, barely managing to keep the mocking tone out of his voice.
‘Yes. It appears that I have no record of your door ever being built or planned for in the future,’ the door admitted. ‘This has never happened before,’ he said, flustered.
‘Perhaps I should come in and see if I can help sort this out,’ suggested Shylock.
‘Yes, yes! Of course, good idea,’ said the door, swinging open with a loud nerve-jarring squeal. ‘Must get that fixed. Hasn’t had enough use recently,’ it announced.
Stepping forward, Shylock entered the Department of Time & Motion. There was no sign of anyone and the room was as silent as a silent place. A thick layer of dust covered the four cheap wooden desks and their associated stackable plastic chairs. Trays full of paperwork were piled on top of each desk, and accumulated paper-filled boxes were piled to the ceiling and stacked all round the walls. Spiders worked furiously trying to untangle themselves from the confusing plethora of entangled webs hanging everywhere. Looking closely, helping the spiders by clearing some cobwebs aside, Shylock read the nameplates on each desk in turn. Time, Motion, Change and Permission.
‘I’m afraid there’s nobody working here anymore,’ the door elucidated.
‘Where are they?’ asked Shylock, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.
‘Well,’ the door offered. ‘Time had been around for a long time, in fact a very long time, well actually forever really! So, he eventually retired.’
‘Time, retired?’ Shylock repeated. ‘I’d heard time had stopped, but wasn’t he replaced?’
‘Ah, inter
esting question. One quite a few off us have asked,’ the door added, in a conspiratorial hushed voice. ‘However, the answer is – no! The rumour is that a replacement wasn’t funded early enough to train someone up.’
‘So, there’s no Time, and no Time in training?’
‘I guess you could say there’s no Time at the present, and no Time for the future - yes that would be true,’ acknowledged the door.
Although sensing that there may be more to this than he had already found out, Shylock refrained from commenting further, instead asking about the others.
‘Motion quit,’ the door explained. ‘Suddenly, without any warning, he just got up and hit the road. Then, Change – boy that was a real hoo-hah. He was really unhappy when they told him he was to be retired. They had to come and take him away.’
‘They locked him up, didn’t they?’ Shylock asked, innocently.
‘Well, they had to didn’t they. What with there being no Time, there just wasn’t any need for Motion – you know, feet per second, kilometres per hour, that sort of thing - so he, very sensibly, just ran off. Then, if Change had still been here, with no Time or Motion…and he’d still been changing everything, it would have been Chaos! …and he certainly wouldn’t have been pleased at getting dragged in to everything!’
Shylock shook his head. He could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. A very bad headache. ‘So, who took Change away?’ he asked, pressing one eye closed with the