Finding Time

Marvin shuffled slowly down the stones of the hallway. They measured at negative sixty-four degrees Fahrenheit, but they didn't feel cold to Marvin. Nothing ever felt cold to Marvin's metal form. He was a robot, and an unhappy one at that. One might say that Marvin had a cold heart, but then Marvin could respond with what the word "cold" was in over three hundred different languages and give you the name of the coldest planet in the galaxy and tell you the exact degrees of the temperature of this freezing planet and-well, you get the idea. However, it seemed to Marvin that most people did not get this idea. They did not recognize his utter genius, and so Marvin would be hired like a mercenary for the most menial of jobs. Thus, fifty or so years in the past found Marvin scrubbing away at the bathroom floor of a small restaurant on Planet Fintius, home to the "Superb Fintius Bean Burrito."

Now, Marvin had arrived at the monastery of the Monks of History, and he had just reached the cheerful door that opened into the Abbot's study. The Abbot had contacted him about some clock, and Marvin hoped it would be worthwhile.

The door slid open. "I'm so glad I can be of service to you!" it exclaimed. "Have a lovely day!"

Half of Marvin wondered why the monks installed the automatic doors with personalities if they couldn't be bothered with a central heating system, and the other half simply wanted to wreck the door. "I hope you have a miserable life," he muttered. "Oh, wait-you're a robot too! You don't have a life."

The door closed behind him with a quiet whimper.

"Marvin! I'm happy you could make it! I know the Doogians have been restricting travel from planet to planet lately." A scrawny man, probably the Abbot, with a tonsure made permanent from balding looked up from his desk. Eleven cloaked heads clustered behind him shot upward, as well as one wearing a different kind of hood, with a few strands of blonde hair peeking out.

"The Doogians were no problem," Marvin said. He had snuck past them and boarded a taxi ship. No problem at all.

"Wonderful!" The Abbot apologeticly shuffled his papers and set them aside. "The monks and I were just calculating how much time the average male mountain ferret should have. You know-those rare, odd ones from the planet Kerwoundle that look like furry frogs."

"Do they assist the survival of sentient beings?" Marvin asked. He stared blankly at the Abbot, who fidgeted nervously.

"Er, no. Not exactly."

"Then no time," Marvin said bluntly.

The Abbot set his feather pen aside as well. "Well, uh, thank you for your help. I'll certainly consider your proposal." He cleared his throat. "I do believe we have some business to attend to though. Sadly, we can't sit around here chatting all day." He turned to the nun with blonde hair. "This is Sister Jen, the representative from the Naloen Monastery of Kerwoundle. Sister, meet Marvin." Marvin nodded in greeting. The nun batted her false eyelashes. "Sister Jen," the Abbot continued. "Would you mind brewing up some tea while we discuss our business?"

Sister Jen smiled graciously and swept out of the room, the monks' eyes following her figure appreciatively.

"Thank you, dear sister!" the Abbot called after her. Marvin forced himself not to insult the door as it closed happily behind the nun. "So where were we, Marvin?" the Abbot asked.

"Business about a clock," Marvin droned. "I have the letter you sent, if you want to look at it." He held out the paper.

"I don't need it," the Abbot said. "As a matter of fact, no one really needs that thing!" The head monk reached forward, seized the letter, and flung it into the fire. Marvin watched it crackle and burn. The Abbot turned back to Marvin with a forced smile. "Secrecy and things-best to keep as little evidence as possible!"