The Last Time Machine. Forum You walk into the bar.

Walks into the bar in redstriped black silk boxer shorts and a stained blue Jackie Howe vest. Wipes his hands on a passerby. Surveys the bar. Hmm juicy. I see one, two, three at least who'll do me. Walks up to the bar. "Drinks all round, my shout." Hands the bartender a huge wad of bills. "Let me know when it runs out, plenty more where that came from." Nudges the little Japanese girl and winks. Walks over to the guitar picks it up. Makes a godawful racket. Puts it down. Sits at the paino. Opens it up. Hits one Giant A. Hits one giant D. Hits one Giant E. "Alright lets gets this party started!" And launches into a fullforce gale of "Goodness Gracious Great Balls Of FFFFIIIIRRRRE!!!!"

The bar looks fun, there is a man playing the piano. I long to stay, but I need to sleep.
I wander through towards the darker, quieter lounge.

I walk inside and pause to take a quick look around. Noticing the quiet flamboyancy of the crowd, I silently debate either going to the bar or finding a more comfortable place to relax. After deciding that with choice number two I might have both, I pick my way through to the lounge, looking for a nice long booth to stretch my legs. As I walk, two thoughts pop into my head. One is, "I wonder if there's service in the lounge?" Finding an empty bench, I slide in. The audible crack of knees, that had spent the last thirteen hours pressed against the back of seat 10A in Coach, sound like twin gunshots. I sigh with relief. The second thought I voice aloud, as thoughts sometimes do when one is weary with travel, "Why on earth did I pack all that marmalade?"

The squeak of shiny fairly new Reeboks carries me through the marble entryway to the bar. In my right hand I grip the handle straps of a duffle bag and a shoe store bag. My left hand is stuffed in the pocket of my jeans, digging for my cigarettes and lighter as I approach the bar. I�m wearing a light brown turtleneck sweater and a pair of cheap Gargoyles knock-offs. I light a smoke, order a Yuengling longneck and a Jager Bomb and take a look around the bar. I see a guy in boxer shorts and a vest being surrounded by clapping and cheering people. To my right there is a young girl, whispering something to the bartender. She has a devilish smile on her face which makes me think she's just propositioned the chap with some dripping erotic admission of desire.

My order arrives and I take a long pull from the beer before slamming the shot. I order another bomb and take a look at my watch out of reflex. Stuck on 12:33...for how long now? Two, three weeks? As if it mattered, really. This was time wasted, time lost and never to be gotten back. There simply were no jobs in this town.
Nobody willing to take a chance on an applicant with a known history of being smarter than their boss.

The bartender brings me another shot. �Start me a tab, if you will, I�m going to check out the gift shop real quick.� I pound the shot as the bartender replies, �I have a tab started for you sir.�

�Good man.� I polish off my beer and head out into the terminal towards the gift shop.

I quickly get bored of playing shot glass bowling, so I walk out of the bar.

I head out, looking at the arrival/departure board, and again, I'm relieved to know that I won't be flying to Sydney. It not that I don't want to, I would much rather cruise....but hey. He was the dumb a*s who shouldn't have left the suitcase of cash with the plane tickets under my bed....

I go to my locker, with my black notebook slung haphazardly out of my bag. I set the bag on my feet, and use the key to open it up.
I pull out my massive travelling bag, and I begin to pull clothes out. I settle on some green/blue plaid pants and a white button down, I go through the bottom of my bag, looking for my black and white chuck taylors.

I put all my stuff back, looking around, then peeking once more into my travel bag to make sure everything is still there, I heave it into the locker.

I then wander aimlessly, looking for a shower.

She's approached by the waitress with a fresh drink. At first she protests, saying that she wants to leave, but the waitress informs her that the gentleman in the sidebooth requested that she bring it over.

She looks over and see's him leaning back with him arms outstretched. Her emotions are still shakey and she quickly considers running out. Instead, she calmly raised her glass to him and mouthed 'thanks' with a smile.

The bar was getting busy. She couldn't shake the feeling of loss and confusion. She decided it was time to kick back a few gins and join in the party - she was the master at pushing her feelings deep into her gut ... things were getting feisty in here and she was going to join in.

As the lady waves away the waitress and looks at the gentleman in the side booth i realise that i am invisible... sat before her. clicking my fingers in vain. Unable to interract with those around me.

Having finally pinned down that tricky preppie on the chess board and calling mate I pick up my guitar, carefully guarded by Mamu, Thanks Mamu, who loves ya' baby? and head back into the bar. I see the lovely lady who was drinking with the duck looking rather sullen so I go over and offer to buy her next drink. She accepts and I offer to play her a song. What would you like to hear hon?

i run toward the airport knowing no flights will take off any time soon with this terrential downpour... hugging my battered notebook under my chest i push the doors open and head to my familiar spot; hte dinky old bar i practically grew up in.

I nearly slip on the marble in the doorway. Who the f**k thought up that brillaint idea anyway? Lets raise the doorway by an inch and make it slippery so we can laugh at the a******s falling through the door before they've had their first drink even. I notice a well dressed man at the piano, not the usual saddned creature with his tip cup, but a man i've seen in here with a wad of twenties and a s**t eating grin plastered on his face with whiskey and valium im sure... maybe some yak too, who knows man. Everyone's bumbling around the place like someone just died. trying to up their spirits, or drowning in their misery. i can't decide which face i should put on for the night... but i refuse to let the drama of the rain over come me.

i sit at a barstool surrounded by vacant stool so no one has an easy time starting up a conversation. i catch eyes with a few good looking young guys in the room, maybe mid twenties if that, and i know for a fact one of them isnt even eighteen yet. I order a margarita and brush some rain off my cheek, then shake off my book. A page falls out onto the floor, and i know it's one i needed. i scan the floor but don't see it. i hop out of my seat and crouch down to peer under the bar...

I come back into the bar, hair still dripping wet, and I let the people know that they have showers.
I feel better, more awake....rejuvenated.
I see different people in the bar, and I see the piano man has undergone a personality change. Whatever.

I see the guy looking at his watch, he taps it, twice, and he gets a weird look on his face.
I ask the guitarist to play You're So Vain, and I flash him a smile.
Walking up to the guy with the watch, I stare at it.
The hands don't move. Nothing is moving. I turn around, and everyone just seems utterly frozen.
Drinks held in mid-air. Mouths opened in speech.

I have stumbled onto something totally unexpected.....

I have walked into something here. When I walked through before it was buzzing. Why all the alabaster statues? Why the time-stop hesitation?
I am the only one moving, clicking heels.
Oh, OH S**T, there is a girl at his table, a young girl, clever and bolshy looking. She is looking around at everyone looking at her. Has she no idea?
Piano man has seen, I think, but there is only one who can tie him down.
It's crucial, it's in the balance.

There is one man, on his own in the booth where the bolshy girl was sitting before she went and got herself in trouble. I take his hand and pull him to his feet.
"Dance with me." I tell him.
I hope, really hope that the regulars will help me with this one.

Piano man show your stuff.

I stand up tall and straight. Draw the girl close. I find her strangely attractive. Is it the fact no one else is moving?

"Take me around these statues." I whisper.

A click of the fingers and the piano man finds his groove. Is he aware? Yes. Is he in control? Not a chance.

He moves. He grooves. Dancing around statues under the moonlit rafters.

The world feels like mine but i know who is really in control.

So, we dance. He is taller than I thought.
Decades pass.

who is playing this videotape?

rewind rewind.

No videotape. Pause, chapter select.

"We need a silky smooth voice to go with that piano. Any request?"

When the world stops i am at home. But i wonder. How did this girl who dances so well, though only comes up to my chin, moves when she should be frozen.

She goes to move but her legs feel like they are draped in treacle. She needs to be who she wants to be here. She stares into the mirror behind the bar. Everything there is moving as it was but here, in reality, it seems that time has stopped. Her mind is no longer her own. Someone is in her head and he is whispering to her. She opens her mouth to speak but her voice drifts across the room on a surge of warm air and touches the surface of the smoked glass. Like fingers scraping a chalkboard she sees her words (her thoughts?) etched in the reflection...

'Find me'.

Look above. There are some things which may never be paused by time.

The dancing woman.
She was in the other room, talking to a stranger. She did not notice that everything was frozen until she got here.
Is ignorance an escape route?

Perchance she is too damn stubborn in her yellow dress.
Chin height in heels.

Reselect chapter:

Chapter selected: Deleted scenes.

We stop our dancing. The velvet voice chuckles. A heart warm chuckle that could banish the flu. The voice fades away. There is just you and me. Amidst darkened figures. Figures that feel like treacle.

We kiss. Our lips touch together. As they do the world starts again. The treacle melts and i with it.

I collapse upon the floor. A faded husk save my lips which glow red.

One last sigh. A breath of crystaline steam seeps out.

"Ah, the power of ignorance."

He is gone.

The myth, tangible for a decade of dance, vapourised.

He is gone, tic, tic, tic, tic metronome. Started by piano man. Movement starts, real selves emerge.......

Be free to be now, the air is lifting.

I find my way to the gift shop where they have one battery left, that fits my needs. I pay for it and walk out into the terminal. Across the way I see a video arcade so I fold the cardboard panel battery package and stick it in my back pocket as I make my way to the arcade to drop a few quarters. Inside I'm disappointed to find the machines are all old Reagan era rejects of Asteroids, Galaga, Tron and Donkey Kong.
Still, I see a credit left up on the screen on the Asteroids machine and decide to play a free game. The game doesn't last long as I'm distracted by the fact that I have to take a piss and I soon leave the arcade to head back to the bar.

Through the barfront windows I see a woman in a yellow dress dancing with some lucky guy. Everyone else seems to be petrified in awe of the dance. At the bar, I see the young writer that tried to save the duck. She's standing close to some guy in a light brown turtleneck sweater and blue jeans. He looks familiar, but I can't see his face. If only he'd turn around. But he doesn't move. Nobody moves, except for the dancing couple the piano player and the young writer. Something tells me to come back later to pay my tab, and I decide to hit the food court instead, to look for a restroom.

Her legs come back to her... finally she can move and shed her wolf's clothing. She races to the restroom with her bag. As she passes the bar, she stops and looks at the mirror. Nothing but a haze.