"Next, please."
I rose deliberately and tried to seem confident, but I still had the feeling
that all the others in line who could see me were derisive. In retrospect,
I realize that this was an impossibility given the overall level of nervousness and
tense anticipation, but I've always been paranoid (never liked that).
I pushed the huge oak door, and it swung open easily. He was standing in the
middle of the room, nothing else around except for a small round table, on
which rested an assortment of small objects. As the door fell shut behind me,
drowning out the murmuring from all who still waited, he bade me stand at about
ten paces' distance.
I felt him looking me over.
"Ready?" he asked. I'm not sure I was ever ready, but here I was. What if I said no? It wouldn't
matter, he's never been wrong about me, ever. And now I found myself in a new layer of doubt --
if I doubted my own response to a simple, inevitable question, how could I possibly be ready for
what was to come?
All told, though, there was really no backing out now. Someone would later tell
me that indecision is the only true weakness. Acting instinctively, though
anachronistically on this fragmentary principle, I swallowed, drew another
breath, and spoke, trying to push my reluctance away with the firm ring of sincerity:
"Yes."
He raised an eyebrow for a moment, and then I thought I saw that odd twinkle of understanding
flit across his face. No more than a second later, he turned and picked something up from the
tiny table.
"Alright. You'll have thirty-four thousand, three hundred and eleven days, give
or take a few hundred, and provided you don't do anything overly reckless. Use
these very wisely, because each one is completely unique, even though it might
not seem so at the time, and you never get another chance. I can't stress that enough.
It really is important, and most of you seem to forget." He mused briefly.
At that moment, I felt again the weakness in my knees, but I did not fall. I knew that the time
was at hand, and although I really felt I had no idea what I was getting into, at least the
hour would be past and, ready or not, I would be on my way.
"Here, take one of these," he said, fanning what looked like some jumbo-sized cards
in his enormous hand and holding them towards me.
I selected one.
"Turn it over," he said, motioning with a long finger.
I turned the card over. It was crimson red. Looking more carefully, I could see splotches of
blue at depths inside the red. Before I could contemplate the meaning of such an abstract thing,
however, he spoke again:
"Red/blue? Interesting. Now take three of these," he said, holding a huge fan
of what looked like hundreds of huge cards towards me. I gingerly reached
forward and selected three, completely at random, trying not to drop any or
otherwise make a fool of myself. I clutched the three I had drawn tightly at my
side, as he put the deck back on the table and picked up another.
"Turn them over, face the facts," he said briskly. "Dawdling isn't going to make you feel
any better."
I turned the cards over. They read, "Memory", "Music", and "Resource." I was stunned, utterly
bewildered. What?
"We're almost done. Take three of these, and then you'll be on your way again."
I reached out again and took three cards, quickly. Knowing that dawdling wouldn't make
me feel any better, I flipped them over and read them, my
overwhelmed consciousness barely processing the meanings.
{ambition} {grudge} {detachment}
For no apparent reason, tears filled my eyes. As always, I blinked
them back. Later, I would beg for tears to stream down my face, wanting so
much to let things go and go on, go on...
My torrent of emotion and self-absorption was interrupted by the bright, matter-of-fact voice:
"Go ahead on through that door behind me. Drop the cards in the slot on your way out. I'll
see you in 34,311 days, hopefully not sooner. Go," he insisted, willing me
onward with a vigorous wave of his hand. I lengthened my stride and crossed the room, trying
not to look back. I pushed open the door, stepped across the threshold, and fell.