Shhh! Scribbler at Work

The Clicks of the Clocks

[prompt: 'debate' 7/12/2018]

"I say it's 12:30," said Arthur the younger. His voice was brash. Strident even, as if he alone had the right to be right.

Mentally old Jens dropped his chin and shook his head in despair. His usually mellow, tuneful voice held a harshness clearly showing he did not accept disagreement lightly without a fight. "You're wrong! Again! I tell you it's 1 o'clock. How many times must we go through this? Every. Single. Day?"

"And twice a day, just to rub salt in the wounds," growled Arthur.

Luckily, no disagreement was possible half an hour after this particular debate began, when with one single chime the crusty old timekeepers appeared to agree. Unfortunately, as always, within another half hour the argument would resume.

And somewhere high above, in the Great Clock Workshop in the sky, the even older Klaus [the village clockmaker, creator of old Jens] smiled. In his ultimate element, surrounded by myriad clock parts like levers and wheels, hands and dials, washers and nuts, forever [or so it seemed] he was challenged with the decision of which casing he would carve next from his all-time-best-beloved oak. He would take a peek earthward now and then - usually on his coffee break - greatly entertained by the two old timekeepers.

Klaus knew the two would never agree. It was an obligatory pastime for the irascible old fellows. He loved 'tuning in' to their interminable debates. As a creator, he knew intimately what went on behind their bland faces - a virtual city of tunnels and seemingly dead ends. Eternal wheels spinning, going nowhere... all directed by a magical key wielded by a human just like himself, providing the wellspring for hours of life as these two knew it. Klaus sighed. He was well-satisfied with this descendant of the grand couple he'd made the magnificent Jens for... on their wedding day, no less.

Although the births of these two old rivals had not been that far apart in time - a mere nine years - that was an unlikely cause for their everlasting disagreement. And Klaus knew they had a grudging admiration for each other's degree of handsomeness [though they would never admit this out loud], so it was not that either. Maybe it had to do with their birthplaces on opposite sides of the world. He shrugged. In his wildest dreams he could never have pictured his beauteous wall-clock spending well over half its life Downunder. He was amazed. Over the decades he'd carefully observed his treasure withstanding first the lengthy sea journey, and then life in a climate he'd never built it for. But to this day, nary a crack could be found.

Calling on different skills than those needed for his his clockwork creativity, Klaus did a little mental maths. 2019 years minus 1909 equalled a quite fantastic 110 years! Old Jens had already passed his centenary and nobody heard him singing out his triumph.

Or had they?

"ARTHUR!!"