Killing time. Chapter two.

Never say never again.

I glanced around, nervously.

The old man had seemed harmless enough when first he‘d taken his seat. Physically, he didn’t seem to pose a threat, unless he carried a knife in that satchel. I’d dismissed that possibility since there couldn’t possibly have been enough room in the little, leather bag to hold a weapon and enough buns to choke a pig but, still, I felt uneasy.

“I can see you’re struggling to come to terms with it, my friend. But you will.”

I smiled.

“This is a wind up. Are you filming me? Is this going to be on the internet?”

“No filming, no internet, no wind up. I’m going to need your help, it’s important.”

Frequently, whilst wiling away time on my infrequent journeys home from the university I had chosen (primarily based upon it being as far from home as possible) I’d imagined being on an adventure. It was a trick my father had taught me as a small child in an attempt to stop me repeatedly asking “are we nearly there yet?”, pretend you’re an action hero, act like James Bond, time always passes faster when the imagination is raging. I absentmindedly toyed with the ring on my left pinky finger and smiled.

Right now, time seemed to be standing still. I glanced around again, checking the exits like any good secret agent would when under threat, and wriggled nervously in my seat.

“Why me?” I pretended to play along whilst waiting for an opportunity to escape or to get the attention of a member of staff.

“Why not you?”

“Look, mate,” I held my hands up, palms facing the old man, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to my brother’s wedding where I shall be getting shamefully bladdered. I may try my luck with the chief bridesmaid, unless my brothers betrothed chose her mate Hairy Sarah, and finally I shall be falling asleep on a Travel Lodge mattress. I don’t have the time to help you create your, what did you call it?”

“Temporal paradox.”

“ Yes, that. I don’t have the time.”

“There‘s no immediate rush. Enjoy your sibling‘s nuptials and the delights of Sarah first. That’s the thing with time travel, there’s rarely any pressure to get a job done quickly when you can just do it earlier, later in the day.”

“Not Hairy Sarah. Never. Never.” I shook my head.

“Yes, so you said. You also mentioned getting “shamefully bladdered”, a condition known to reinforce one’s determination, moral compass and standards.”

“Ha. Fair point.“ I grinned, then continued to indulge the old man. “What is it I’d have to do?”

“Nothing more dangerous than wipe chalk from a chalkboard.”

“Sounds do-able, tell me more.” I narrowed my eyes and leaned forward in an attempt to look like I gave a shit.

The old man shook his head.

“Don’t lie to me.” He whispered.

“I’m not, honestly, I’ll help.”

“Well that’s plainly not true. You’re just fobbing me off, young man.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because we’re about to have this conversation. If you’d already earnestly agreed to do as I am about to ask then I wouldn’t be asking because you’d already have done it. See?”
I squinted and tried to make sense of his words.

“Nope. Not a clue.”

The old man sighed, leant back and removed another bun and a pair of spectacles from his satchel.

“Right, to start with…”

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