The Realm and the Writer

“I quit!” Bernard yells. He’s the only one in the office, the only one who is ever in the office. It has seemed like eons since he last saw someone other than the morning and night secretary who bring him fresh paper and refill his cup. But today was the last straw. He had been planning his resignation for some time, right down to the finest detail. He had packed his bag the night before, being there wasn’t very much to pack it was a quick job. He set his job right as soon as the first secretary had said her ‘good-byes’ and now sat waiting for the familiar click of the heavy door lock, alerting him to the night secretaries arrival.

He’d play it all cool and keep to his work, nothing should awaken suspicion. He placed the envelope containing his resignation letter perfectly in the center of the immaculate white desk. At that moment, for the first time, he took notice of the color of everything around him. The desk was white. The walls were white. Everything other than the taupe desk chair and almond colored square ottomans that lined the walls were white. It sickened him; a man could go mad looking at white for so long. Bernard chuckled to himself at the thought.

The buzzer sounded and the heavy door latch made a grinding click. A squat little woman with a dark black bob and oriental eyes rushed in with a stack of manila folders, the kind with little flaps. Her strait black dress did nothing to accentuate her femininity and only swooped slightly as her pale short legs hurried across the white tile floors. She busied herself with replacing my paperwork and organizing the usual day’s paper mess. Bernard watched her solemnly from behind one of the large metal cabinets. It churned from inside for a moment and almost made him yelp. He had to wait for just the right moment.

Being finished with her duties the stubby woman turned quick on her heel and scurried to the door. To Bernard she resembled a fat black rat startled by a predator. He rushed from his prone position and scooped up his bag as he watched the giant white metal door slowly swing shut. He had less than two feet to go before it shut and just when he thought he’d missed it he slipped through to the dark night beyond.

The office remained large and still, the only sound came from the slight whirring of the metal cabinets in the center. It took till the next morning for the one in charge to find that Bernard had gone. It was the morning secretary that found the resignation letter. She had hurried it on to the one in charge and he had read it calming upon receipt. It said:

I, Bernard B. Cloggin, here by resign my position as time keeper.

The one in charge shook his bearded white head and cleared his throat, “Murial, would you please reset the sands again. This is the third time keeper in over 4 millennia and I’m getting rather tired of starting over.”

“But sir,” the secretary shifted uncomfortably in front of the desk, “wouldn’t it be easier to just create another mass extinction?”

The one in charge peered over his spectacles, “My dear, it has taken me far to long to get that place going and I will not have some silly sands destroy millions of years of evolution. Besides, a little jolt in time while do them good.”


Meanwhile, all across the globe, every individual is experiencing a simultaneous déjà as time is, once again, restored. No thanks to Bernard.