"No intervention admitted."
That was one of the mottoes written on that long, no, that endless straight corridor called, oddly, 'The Circle'.
Archy had seen other mottoes on other nights. he had been dreaming of this place and its dense population of immortals, manifesting in corporeal form, seated neatly every two metres, quietly facing their featureless consoles, all fitted into the same wall, for several weeks off and on, so that the dream was semi-lucid. By that I mean he had become very much aware that he was dreaming but found himself unable to alter one jot of it. Struggling simply woke him up.
"A little addition is easier than a big subtraction."
That was another motto. Seemed very prosaic. Every school-kid knew that one. Add on to subtract. Every teacher had offered that old 'shopkeeper' method for mental arithmetic.
"Don't you get bored, sitting there all day... I mean all the time?" he had asked one of the so so subtly different, apparent humanoids.
"Not at all. We are totally fascinated by our work. We do not experience hunger, thirst, tiredness or muscle wastage; we never sleep or require diversion, though we do cooperate on little - projects from time to time."
He/She grinned almost impishly up then returned to a peaceful concentration. This was after a few glimpses of the place over consecutive days. Each night, Archy found it easier to return for longer, and that's when he'd begun his questions. he was going to ask them about the deep black consoles they faced without stirring. He believed they must be wirelessly activated by the brains of these beings.
"What are all those yellow arrows on the floor behind your seat, pointing into the wall?"
"They remind us that Time does have an arrow, and whatever we do moves forward."
"That's a lot of reminders. One for every one of you. A lot of yellow paint."
Archy knew a lot about paint, being in the multiskilled handyman line. He could paint and plaster; he was a fair joiner and could hang doors, fit kitchens. He would do plumbing but not for gas-pipes - he held himself better than a cowboy.
"I woudn't go too deeply into the appearances here, Archibald, Vincent Kerr. It's a dream analogue set up to have some familiarity for you. Best we could do."
That use of his full name shook him a bit. But then he silently reasoned: - It's a dream, after all. I am dreaming it. Of course i know my own name. Haha!
"Well what are those smaller projections behind you all on the other wall?..."
But the very next visit answered that question. All the beings had moved their seats to face these projections and were sitting quietly, glowing, for goodness sake --- like something out of that film Cocoon. He touched one gently on the shoulder. It didn't stir, but a soft voice in Archy's own head murmured, "Leave us alone. We are in Union."
Archy decided to go for a little walk. More than a walk, actually. You know how it is. Sometimes in dreaming you can run effortlessly, exhilarated with fitness, acheiving speeds you can only attain otherwise in certain video-games. He sprint-bounded in a straight line between the beings and their forsaken consoles. He ran for miles and miles, but discerned no change in his location, everything was an enless replication. Did the faces look slightly different? Maybe, maybe not. Between them there was that subtle variation. But beyond that, he could just as well be miles back for all he could tell.
There was an odd motto on the wall here, though: "There is a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow."
"I think that's Shakespeare. Now I am back at school, am I?"
