A Novelist

Of Mirrors and Clocks

“I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

Benjamin whacked the top of the desk, sending Edmund’s hands flying to his face in fright.  “I’m saying, Edmund, that you arewriting history!”

"What? And how would you know this anyway?”

Quieting, Benjamin replied slowly, “I think I’ve been where you’ve been, but let’s not worry about that right now.”  Clenching his fists in eagerness, he shoved the pages into Edmund’s face and pointed to the dates.  In an excited voice, he rattled out his revelation. “These dates, right here—they’re dates in the future.”

"I know that; it’s supposed to be in the future.”

“Shhh!” Benjamin held up a hand in front of Edmund’s face and continued frantically. “You’re writing what hasn’t happened yet—everything you’re writing is what will happen.”

Edmund scoffed and pushed the pages away.  He threw his head back in frustration and picked at a nick in the desk.  “I don’t quite comprehend.”

"All right.  Hear me out.  Remember, earlier you were going to tell me about a ‘void.’  Tell me about it.”

"You’d only find it comical, and you didn’t believe me the first time—you didn’t even let me finish!”

Benjamin shot back, “I don’t care about what happened then!  You were in a void—what happened?”

"I-I saw mirrors. Each mirror was a reflection of what was going to happen next in my story.”

"You know you write in your sleep, right?”  The corner of Benjamin’s mouth twitched in a smile. His eyes didn’t let go of Edmund’s until he received an answer.

Edmund laughed in embarrassment and scrubbed the front of his head with his nails.  “I wouldn’t know—I would be sleeping.”

"Funny.  This whole ‘it happens’ awareness comes when you’re asleep. But in the morning…” Benjamin paused.  Turning to Edmund, he asked, “What happens in the morning?”

“I continue on with my writing—mostly writing what I did not finish the night before, I suppose. I can’t write half as well in the morning as I do at night. It feels as if in the morning my vision is vague compared to the images I have in my dreams.”

Benjamin tapped his chin with his two fingers and fell into deep thought. When he finally spoke, he looked up at Edmund and did so in a hushed manner. “While you were awake, and I fell asleep in your room, I had a dream, too.”

"Don’t tell me you saw mirrors.”

"No! No, I saw…” Benjamin swallowed and his eyes drifted away in memory.  “…clocks. I saw clocks.”      

It was the author’s turn to be inquisitive. He leaned in and studied Benjamin.   “Clocks? Like the grandfather clock?  Or a pocket watch?”

"Different kinds.  But instead of two hands, there were four,” Benjamin began.  “Each hand was on a number.  Combined together, they made a specific year. There were many clocks, but none of them ticked or chimed.”

"Where were you? I mean, were you standing among the clocks, or did you just see them.  I’m never present in my dreams.”

Benjamin tightened his lips and shook his head in disappointment.  “No, I only saw what was in front of me, I never was there.”

The two boys’ voices grew quiet and neither had anything else to say.  The impossibility of their discovery was enough to keep them silent for days.  Benjamin remained there on his knees, rubbing his hands together in thought.  Creases in his forehead formed and he began wondering why Time had allowed them such strange access.  He stood up and elbowed Edmund back into reality.

“You ever question why you are able to see ahead?” Benjamin asked softly, picking up a single sheet of paper and reading its contents.

"How are you even positive that what I am seeing is the future?”

"I don’t know!”  Benjamin’s hand swung out wildly in the direction of an ornament on the desk before Edmund grabbed his arm.

"Lower your voice.  You will wake the grandparents!  Now, come off it.  It’s absurd for me to be writing future events.  And perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with me and getting my story caught up in your head.  Please, let us just believe it’s just fiction.”

"It’s not, Edmund!” Benjamin cried in desperation.  “It can’t be.  I’ve seen it, too.  I have.”  He seized Edmund by the shoulders. “We can’t both be insane, so we have to agree that we are capable of seeing the future. It’s as simple as that!”

Edmund bit his lips and his feet shuffled in discomfort. He continued fidgeting for a while before he stopped completely and a mischievous smile appeared on his boyish face. His pale blue eyes turned slowly to Benjamin and burned with an idea. “We could prevent things.”

Snorting, Benjamin broke into his own smile.  “Prevent things? Such as?”

"Wars.  There are so many wars that happen.  We could rewrite this.  Make it our own!  And when it comes to the time, it would go our way!”  Edmund’s body tightened with unharnessed excitement and he flew up from his chair, nearly knocking it to the floor. 

"No man can change time.”

“I’m as much in control of this story as it is of me!”  Edmund argued.

“Edmund, perhaps we can only write what really happens.  To change it could be disastrous.  We don’t know enough to shape events to what they ought to be.”

Edmund jumped forward, and, the liveliest Benjamin had ever seen him, grabbed the editor by the shirt collar and said hastily.  “I’ve seen the future, perhaps further than you have.  I’ve seen what our generations have become.  The world ahead of us is going to become something we don’t know anymore—or wish to know.”

“Ed, that’s what centuries before us would probably think of us now!  I’m sorry if I’ve encouraged you to think of such stupidity!”

Edmund shoved Benjamin away and walked over to the window.  He pressed his head against it and closed his eyes.  “For the first time, Ben, for the first time, I feel like I have control over this.  Haven’t the parts you’ve seen given you a strange joy?  Maybe hope?  Did you see things you never thought could happen?”  Speaking in a broken voice, Edmund turned to Benjamin.  “This may be my only reason for being in this nightmare!  If my purpose here is to write this, then I am the author of Time!”

“Edmund—,”

The boy slammed his fist on the window sill and marched up to Benjamin, circling him like a an animal prepared to pounce if challenged.  Edmund spoke in a surprisingly menacing voice.  “Benjamin, please.  Do not take this away from me.  I am bound to this, and I will go as far as I need to.  I will complete this novel, and you will help me.  You have to.  Who else will?”

Benjamin guided Edmund over to the bed and sat him down.  “First, calm yourself.  We have to be adults about this.  We can’t go changing the future or whatever.  Let’s try to keep this calm—,”

“Benjamin!  Shut it!  I know you’re just as wild about this as I am!”

Benjamin’s face contorted as his emotions battled between seriousness and adventure.  He finally gave into the latter and smacked Edmund on the shoulder.  “Yeah, I am!”  He playfully punched his friend before Edmund ducked under his light blows and stood up.  “We’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

But Benjamin knew he wouldn’t talk about it in the morning—it was too stressful to talk about such insane things.  And furthermore, he was just trying to find a reason to end the conversation.