Chapter 3 - The Timekeeper

A Chapter by lepetitprince

The Timekeeper continuation

e started running from the Marble Arch towards north. I let her take the lead because I have no clue whatsoever to do, especially here in London. While running, I took the chance to look behind, and I saw two men, one very thin (bordering emaciation) and the other extremely well-built. Terrified, I ran with the woman, whom I still don’t know her name. I managed to stumble to some people in the side, looking at the Marble Arch and taking pictures. Barely managing to say sorry, I ran, not wanting to be left behind this woman I still don’t know. We got on a bus in a nearby station, just departing towards Soho. Luckily, there were still standing spaces available.

She looked calm and not unnerved at all. I felt I looked horrified beyond wit. Judging from the fair she paid, we were going towards the Buckingham Palace, as stated on the arrival list of the conductor on the bus, sitting in front of me.

When the bus started rolling away, I had the luxury of actually breathing for the first time since we started to run. “Who were those people?”

She answered in quick, clipped tones. “Minutemen.” Then turned towards me. “Are you an Other?”

I nodded absently. “I’m a new Timekeeper.” She just chuckled lightly at my answer.

“A new Timekeeper? How long have you been one?”

“I really don’t know, actually. I’m a Timekeeper and yet I don’t know the time. Quite antithetical. I’m sorry,” nearly forgetting what I was supposed to ask. “What is your name? Spencer Pratt, by the way.”

“Diana Ross. A Visionaire.” Just then, we stopped at a station near the Buckingham Palace. There were lots of crowds, obviously lining up in the tours near the Palace. We got off and hurriedly walked towards the magnificent building.

“What’s a Visionaire?”

“A Visionaire is a person that has the ability of foresight, or to predict the future. But there’s always the possibility of it not happening.”

“Oh, so like a Seer?”

She stopped in her tracks. “Like the ones in Harry Potter?”

I agreed. “Yes. Exactly.”

She was clearly frustrated by analogy. “Yep, but don’t call me that ever again.”

Before I knew it, we were now at the North-Centre Gate. There were many guards, variously clothed from the red ones with the enormous hair, to the ones in blue robes (official ones, I think) with their handguns in their side.

She turned to look at me, as if signaling something that I was supposed to know. I looked at her dumbfounded. “Aren’t you gonna use your powers to enter the Palace?” she asked me exasperatedly.

“Why will we enter the Palace? I don’t want to go to jail. Do you?”

She closed her eyes and bunched her fists, then breathed in deeply, then out. “We need to talk to the Queen.”

I was taken by surprise from what I heard. Why do we need to talk to the Queen of United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Island and the British Commonwealth?

As if sensing my question, she answered. “Because, if you don’t know, the Queen knows about the Man On the Moon. And we’re gonna ask Her if the Man On the Moon has got anything for us.”

“Got anything for us what?”

“You know, our missions. We are like guard- and attack dogs for Him. We should do this on a regular basis. Otherwise, the Sandman will recognize your docile status, and will have the Minutemen kill you.”

I hold her up first by the arm. Evidently, she was annoyed by this, as if she was constrained by time. Like I’m not a Timekeeper. “Hold on. I have a lot of questions you should answer first. If you don’t, then I’m not gonna risk my life going there to talk to the Queen.”

She stopped still, put her hands on her hips, then rolled her head and neck around, cracking her bones near the backbone. “What is it?”

“Why won’t the Man On the Moon just kill these Minutemen? Isn’t he that powerful?”

“If this is the type of questions you’re gonna ask me, pause the time first.”

I took out my pendant and pressed on the ruby hard. As expected, everything stood still. We decided to walk and talk towards the Queen’s office. First we had to dodge the guards with massive (and may I add, ridiculous) headgears, since they were blocking the way. Then we had to scour for an open door, since most were closed. I barely got in through the door, since there was a big man who was walking through it. I had to climb by his side and use his head as leverage to get in. Once inside, I was awed by the beautiful and grandiose interior design of Buckingham Palace, but it struck me that it was all normal for Diana. Her strides were long, slender and graceful, as if each walk had a different purpose suited for her.

Since I really didn’t know how things went around here, I followed her lead. In here, apparently, there aren’t many doors: just archways which kind of serve as the portal for each room. And before I knew it, after some round-the-corner thrill of being caught, but recalling that time was paused, we were already standing in front of the bed of the Queen, who was still in pajamas. Taking her nod as a cue, I un-paused time. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, the Queen didn’t budge at all. She was sipping her tea and eating biscuits in her bed one thing then a couple suddenly appeared out of nowhere. If I were her, I would have had a heart attack. But no. I guess that’s why she’s still the Queen even after 80 years. Maybe she’s a Timekeeper?

“No, she’s not.” She told me in a hushed tone while approaching the frail-looking woman on the bed.

“Oh, so you can read minds now?” I asked her sarcastically.

She looked at me like a feline. “Yes, in fact I can.” Then rolled her eyes at me. She directed her attention towards the woman, now sitting up. “Queen Elizabeth.” Diana said briefly then did a small curtsy. I did too, since I was so caught up with meeting the her.

The lady simply nodded then reached for a small parchment of paper near her nightstand. It looked old and fragile (the paper I mean). I think it can even rival the age of Tutankhamun. “I haven’t read it. It was delivered by the Messenger. He said it was written by the Man On the Moon Himself.”

Without any goodbyes, Diana just stood and turned to leave, with me standing there like an idiot, because I really don’t know the proper protocols when it comes to saying goodbye to the Queen in bed so I just followed her out of the room.

Walking down a bridge, which I don’t know the name, I casually asked her a question just to keep things light and not boring. “How come you’re a Visionaire…?” I asked first.

“And yet be a Timekeeper?” she easily deduced. Damn, I have to get a way around this woman. She just chuckled.

“No, there’s no way around it. I can just read your mind, you know.

“As for your question, actually, I was first a Visionaire. I was chosen by Him, unlike those pathetic others that worked hard just to get his sentiment.” Then looked at me. I just took it in stride. “Go on.”

She breathed in the continued. “While walking down a dark alley once, I saw this old man being bullied by three youngsters. So I taught them a lesson. I told them each of them their own ulterior motive after mugging the man, then turned them against each other when I bore false witness against one. They continued to fight while I ushered the old man from there, and into a street near a policeman.

“Before I could go, he gave me a ring. He said that he was a Timekeeper and that I was the only person he thinks is fit to be the next one. After wearing the ring, I turned to ask him if he was joking, but the only thing I saw was ashes. Then I learned about this,” she pointed to her ring. “How it is a Time Machine and the things behind it operates.”

“But is it possible for a person to be two types of Others simultaneously?”

She turned to me with a disapproving look. “Are you stupid or something? I am a Duo, right?”

“Oh, so you have a name, huh?”

Diana slapped me at the back of my head. “For your information, I’m a very special person. In my whole lifetime, I haven’t encountered a single Duo yet.”

We gently stopped and eased on about mid-way of the bridge and faced the railing, taking in the musky scent of the river, blowing all her might. I saw some tourist boats blowing some smoke underneath. On the side of the road, I saw people cycling, with happy written in their faces. And here I am, stuck beside a grumpy old woman, although somewhat pretty.

“Why thank you. I’m gonna disregard your comment about me being a grumpy old woman, but nevertheless, I appreciate your comment.” she suddenly blurted.

Right. She can read minds. “Wait, tell me, how do you Visionaires read minds again?”

“We read them like a book. Although at a hurried pace. But not me, ‘coz I’m a Timekeeper.”

“How does that help you at all?”

“Can you get any stupid?”

“No, not when you’re around.”

She bitchslapped me on the face. I know, how un-manly of me to say. But she slapped me so hard I think my jaw was unset. “Ow!”

“That’s what you get for being stupid. It helps me since it slows down the time, the time I need when reading someone’s mind. As such, it makes me more accurate, in a word.”

Now I get it. It does make sense actually. “Of course you should, everyone gets it but you.” She interrupted.

“Why do you always interrupt my train of thought? Don’t you know it’s rude, woman?”

“Of course I do. It’s just that your head is full of wonders it’s exciting to even just take a peek inside your memories.”

“Aren’t you reading them now?”

She adjusted her eyes towards me, slowly focusing them, bringing them to about a small line, then looked away.

“I can’t.”

“Why not? You do it all the time.”

“No, I read your thoughts, not your memories. A Visionaire, no matter how good, cannot read memories. The person must open himself up to the Visionaire-“

“Meaning the Visionaire should be a friend, not a foe.”

“Exactly. You’re not as dimwitted as I thought you, are you?” she turned her attention on the note in her palm. “Let’s see what the Man On the Moon has for us.”

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