ticked

Samantha

Hector had gestured to a clock on the wall and told her that when the big hand moved from one thick line to the next thick line, he would be back. She said nothing.

She sat on a cushioned chair, then promptly stood up as she realized no, her legs were still numb, the hallway walk had helped, but wasn’t enough. Tick, tick, tick, tick…

Everyone should own a clock.

Well, no. There are those who don’t deserve a clock. They should be killed or enslaved or otherwise ‘conditioned’, as Hector so cavalierly put it. Really, Anisa was pretty good with that, though she should execute more. Perhaps it was one of the few things they agreed on: maintaining a functioning society required a firm hand, even if they disagreed on how the hand looked. But no, Casse had had a firm hand, and so reasonable law enforcement is tyranny.

Though, who can be expected to follow laws when so many are illiterate, ugh. And when no one actually cares to read. And when books are so expensive.

She had read. She liked words more than books. Tick, tick, tick…

As well as a clock, Hector had a bookshelf. For the books needed for a school, they’d likely gone from manually scribing to stamps. Or maybe there was some form of magic that allowed easy book duplication. If they had book duplication, she’d definitely need to bring it back to Felkner…

The desk was sufficient. It was the bread and bread and bread of desks. Doubtless Hector had a better desk somewhere else, for more important work. She slapped it. Yup, not a ghost desk. It wobbled. Yup, not sturdy.

The chair she’d unsaddled was of similar mindless make, though it at least had a cushion.

Shame. From the clocks, to the books, to the desks and chairs, so much time was spent recreating the same objects… Tick, tick…