Graham Wells felt a spasm in his side, as he listened to the story unfolding before him. He placed a hand over the spot as he grimaced slightly.
“Are you well, avatar?”
“I’m--I’m fine. Please continue.”
“Very well. In the days before we created the Time Trust Corp., our first servants were living beings. These beings came to be dubbed “The Clockmen.” Outfitted with
ships capable of traveling through time, they operated in groupings of twelve. Their functions were simple: They were to observe and record the passage of events. Over time, some among them came to feel that they were not doing enough. That mere observation was beneath them.
They attempted to alter and change timelines to their whims. They altered things to fit their views. In some cases, they wiped out whole timelines they deemed unecessary.”
“My god. . .and you allowed this?!” Wells was indignant.
“You know well the nature of time. How certain things must be allowed to play out.”
“I suppose.” Wells mind reeled at the thought of the massive chronal genocide the Clockmen had carried on for so long. He thought he felt a bit feverish.
“Finally, the Clockmen did too much. We relieved them of their duties. However, by this time, they had learned how to cloak themselves from our sight. We lost track of them for some time. In that period, we created the Time Trust Corp. Exemplified by the being on your left.”
“Early on the careers of the Time Trust Corp., we came across the Clockmen again. They were now violently opposed to us. There was war. Chronal war on a cosmic scale. The
losses. . .were heavy on both sides. Timelines. . .Multiverses. . .were lost. . .”
Graham took out a handkerchief and dabbed his forehead with it. He felt woozy. “This is. . .this is horrible.”
“In the end, the Clockmen were destroyed. All save one. Now, he has returned. This is the tale of the Clockmen. Are you satisfied, avatar of time?”
“No.” Graham Wells face had grown pale. Another spasm struck him. “I think. . .I need to sit down.”
