1. Desmond's Lunch-Break

    Desmond Sprout had been out taking some fresh air during his lunch break. He was sitting on a municipal bench, staring at the pigeons fussing around his feet. 

    'Are you following me?' asked a man at his side. 

    The words surprised him and not just because they were spoken in such an affected, exaggerated way, but also because he had watched the man who was speaking them climb the steps and enter the town hall just a few seconds earlier. 

    And what's more, Desmond had been following him, in a fashion. He had spotted this odd looking man in a nearby street and couldn't help himself from turning after him and into the town hall square. 

    The man beside him stood at no more than five feet tall. His hair, though, only managed to get to four foot eight. His bald head was lobster pink and protruded through snow-white hair, which was long enough to cover his collar like a ruff. He had a very thick but neatly trimmed white moustache. His coat was a long, mustard coloured tattersall check job with a cape attached to the shoulders. On his feet he wore heavy looking goth boots with buckles which ended somewhere up inside his coat. 

    His presence beside Desmond left him speechless. Instead he looked at where he had seen him disappear to only moments ago and wondered if he was imagining things. He knew that he had been working too hard recently, his wife had been urging him take things easy, to let his colleagues take on more of his workload. Maybe she was right, he thought. 

    'Well?' asked the white-haired man, tetchily. 

    'How . . ?' Desmond started to ask. 

    'Are you looking for The Regulator?'

    'Im sorry, I don't know what you mean,' he said. 

    The Regulator looked Desmond up and down as if evaluating his worth. 'So you haven't come for the job then?'

    'No, sorry, I haven't.'

    The Regulator puffed through his moustache making it flair out from under his nose and glanced about the square.

    Desmond was the only person there who wasn't with friends, colleagues or with children. He had to be here for the job. 

    'Are you sure?' he said, looking a little perplexed. 

    'What job is that?' Desmond said. He had for a long time longing to be earning his dough doing something a little less corporate, creative even. He was curious. 

    'What do you know about time. And clocks?'

    'Time is money,' he said and at once realised how crass it sounded. Without pausing he said, 'Time is the great physician.' He wasn't sure who he was quoting but thought it sounded good anyway. 

    The Regulator studied him for a moment and said;

    'The universe is timeless, but if you imagine breaking it into pieces, some of the pieces can serve as clocks for the others. Time emerges from timelessness. We perceive time because we are, by our very nature, one of those pieces.'
    
    He nodded emphatically. 

    Desmond was sure that he had heard this somewhere before. He wondered if it was now his turn to say something clever and was still searching his memory for a reply, maybe something by Shakespeare, when The Regulator said, 'STOP!' and turned to point rather theatrically at the town hall clock. 'What do you see?'

    Desmond smiled at him, but on realising that he was being serious looked up at the clock, as requested. 'I see time. Measured mechanically,' he answered, pleased with his matter-of-fact response. 

    'Did you know that the early clock makers were feared as magicians?' The Regulator asked. 

    'No, I didn't,' Desmond said, and wondered to himself whether it was true or just a part of this crazy man's fantasy world. 

    'They opened up the trade routes with their 'magic' and made many a fortune for those who understood its power. They made slaves of the workers, ordinary people. Even now, look how many lives are ruled by time.' Again he gestured with an extravagant sweep of his arm encompassing all those people sat around the square. 

    Desmond looked around, thinking that everybody in the square looked pretty relaxed. But then he spotted a young man glancing anxiously at his watch before standing up with a heavy sigh. 

    'There was a time when this clock was the only one in town, a time when everybody's activities were controlled by whoever had control over this . . ' he pointed, his arm trembling for effect.

    'CLOCK!'

    Desmond, startled, wondered where this was all going and asked him, 'Are you the keeper of the town clock then?'

    The Regulator looked pleased that Desmond was starting to understand what he was trying to explain. 

    'No', he said making a clown's sad face gesture. 'That job went many years ago. But I am the Town Clock Regulator', he said with a wide grin as though somebody had just asked him for a photograph. 

    'Once a year I come along and tighten up its bits and bobs. It stops time from slipping around,' he said as if explaining the most obvious of facts. 'And when I spotted you sitting here the minute hand had just that moment slipped down a couple of mins. I thought that it'd be fun to use the time to nip over and surprise you.' He laughed as it was the funniest thing that had ever been. 

    'Oh, I see', Desmond said, not believing him at all. But he knew also that a part of him wanted to, but he didn't know how to react to something as surreal as what he was hearing. 

    'Do you want the job then?'

    'Your job, you mean?' he said, suspending his disbelief for the time-being. He was warming to this man. 

    'Yes, of course! Well, I never had any children myself, did I? I've got no heir, so to speak.' The crazy old man winked before laughing so loud that everybody around looked at him. The mothers in the square looked concerned. Suits bristled. 

    'How would I learn?' Desmond asked him. 

    'You have all the time in the world to learn. The rest of your life. And mine!'

    And so The Regulator took Desmond by the arm and together they crossed the square to the doors where he was seen to pass through a few minutes earlier. 

    'There will, naturally, be one or two other small tasks that you will be required to carry out in the course of your duties,' he said as he steered Desmond through the imposing doors. 'But we don't need to concern ourselves over details right now, do we?'