Bradbury, Ray - Chapbook 13

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Authors: Ahmed, the Oblivion Machines (v2.1)
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the companion to light and ceases to exist as the enemy of dreams."
    "It is so big," said Ahmed,
"I'm afraid!"
    "Yes," said Gonn ,
"for it's Time itself we fight, Time and the way the wind blows, Time and the way the sea
moves to cover, hide, wipe away, erode, change. We fight to be born or not be born. The
Unborn One is always there. If we can fire it with our souls, welcome it into living, its darkness
will cease. I need you for that, boy, for your youngness is a
strength , as your innocence is.
    "When I fail, you must win.
    "When I falter, you must race.
    "When I sleep, you must fix your eyes on
the stars
to learn their journeys. At dawn the stars will have left their celestial roads, their
Kings highways
as faint breaths printed in the air. Be fore the dawn erases it, you must print it in your
mind to show the way!"
    "Can I do that?"
    "And win a world and change men's
destinies in clouds and flight? Yes] If you fly high
you cannot
escape Time, but you can pace it, and in the pacing, finish as its keeper."
    "Still ... I have never flown!"
    "There was a day when you never lived. Would you
have hid forever in your mother's womb?"
    "Ah, no!"
    "Well, then, before Time buries us, hear this—"
    Gonn stretched his arms to
the sky.
    "I am the god of all the heavens and
airs and winds
that ever blew the earth since Time began, and all the dreams
of men at night who wanted flight but lost their wings. So! I will summon windship ghost craft, to sail down Time to cross your
sight and joy your heart! Now lo! hark , look, to truly see 1 ."
    Gonn in that instant
exploded up till his nos trils plumed the clouds to crack the sky:
    "Let all the kite machines arise, let
storms of time erupt to summon ghosts. Hear me, all you north winds that haunt the lands. All
the gales that rise from
the south to fire summer around the globe. Hear me, east and west winds, full of flimsy skeletons of impossible
machines] Hear!"
    Then Gonn the Magnificent
gestured like a player of harps.
    "Ahmed, who knows the future but does not know he knows! Run, jump,
fly!"
    And Ahmed ran, jumped, and then . . .
    "I fly!" gasped Ahmed.
    "Indeed!" Gonn wove his fingers to pull the strings of this puppet. "But if we go north we miss what lies south.
If we go west we shun the mysteries of the east. Only if we fly in all directions can we
find what we seek. Wings, boy. Wings!"
    Ahmed spun about, crazed and alarmed. "But if we fly
in all directions, how can we arrive somewhere? Are there no maps?"
    "Only those
written in your blood."
    "But," cried Ahmed, "oh, god
of confusions, where are we going?"

" i fly!" gasped Aljmed .

'' Yestermorrow ! '' Yestermorrow !?''
    "That which once was and that
which will be 1 . Locked in your heart, remembrances of lost time. Ghosts buried in the
past. Ghosts buried to be awakened, in the future."
    "In what year?" cried Ahmed, upside down.
    "Any year; there are no such things as
years. Men
made up the names of years to keep track. Ask not the year."
    "What day, then, and what hour?"
Ahmed felt
the words spun from his mouth.
    "Clocks are machines that pretend at
Time. There is only the
rising and the setting of the sun. There are
no such things as weeks and months and hours. Say only that we move in
space."
    "Toward what once was? Toward what one day will be?"
    "Clever boy. That is all that Time
truly is. The
past we try to recall, or the future which is just as impossible and unseen!"
    "We move both ways, then?"
    "Truly, that is our motion. Witness!" And Ahmed looked down and saw: A vast sea of sand
which lay shore upon shore upon shore, surfing itself, falling to lay itself out in
shuffles of white, flourishes of stone and rock and pebble that had gone through the
granary of
the sea a million years ago, before the sea pulled back to leave this endless desert and
men to
stake their tents and drive their camels and raise the walls of cities. But now it
was all stillness,
a great blanket of silent dunes from which, here or there, soft

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