Tick Tock Pick Pock 7 o'clock My mind and body rested, it was Tuesday. Off to work by bus and train, back from work by train and bus. They should combine the two - that would give us a brain or a trus, although it's more commonly known as a tram. O! Idiot! Idiot! Last night's little fuckup came back to mind. O! what a stupid question - is Elvis still alive - of course he's dead. They've got the photos, they did the autopsy. Death by hamburger. Of course he's dead. But let's get ready for work. I fell out of bed and onto the ground. Ouch. My body's not quite working yet. Sore muscles and a full body ache. But those imitation Elvises are so convincing. But they should age shouldn't they? Last night's little run certainly did the trick. Embarassed me in front of Death, and left me a living wreck. No wonder I only do it once a year. I got myself onto my knees. Then a slow ascension of the body through the ankles and knees. We are now in vertical position. A starlight express motion and I'm at the wardrobe. A quick dapper change and I'm a quick dapper man! O man! man! O idiot! idiot! A man man yes he can A man man of course he can Idiot, bidiot jidiot, gidiot O I am an idiot, idiot! Idiot! - Is Elvis still alive? Idiot! What tie shall we have today? I have large tie collection - all the iridescent colours of the rainbow are represented here. Not that I'm a rainbow man, I'm just a rainbow can. Here's a really pink Pink Panther, a canary yellow Tweety Bird, and a lanquid bottle-blue Ebenezah Scrooge. I think I'll go for the Superman-in-a- Wheelchair - that's what I feel like today. O Yeah! Let's get into it. Life - the constant proposition Man - the eternal contradiction The eternal contradiction. That's me. I think. O Idiot! Idiot! I better prepare better for tonight's performance. No sleeping through, and no stupid questions. Is Elvis still alive? - geez! My Superman-in-a-Wheelchair is on, and I'm clad for a hard day's work. Black slacks, white shirt, black hair, white white. White white? White socks. And a super-duper tie. Super! Superman - there's a hero and a half. Or was. I wonder which takes more courage - to end it or to go on. I've always admired Papa Hemingway's explosive end. But let's go on. It's work time. I catch the 7:32 bus, the 8:04 train, in the city before nine, seated at my desk at nine. An unvarying routine, but it keeps my life in unvarying good shape. Tick Tock Pick Pock Nearly time to go o'clock Thanks tick tock. It's a wonder how those morning minutes fly isn't it? Eaten up by some edacious entity - peak hour. Back pack set, back pack on, let's go! Out the door, no time for breakfast, not even time for a piss. O piss! I'm back through the door and take a good long piss. A real water fall. Niagara. The gurgle-gurgle of a half-flush, then I'm out the door. The door's locked, my shoes are on - black peddlars to go with the white socks - and I'm in the air, the bright streaming sun, the start of my last Tuesday day! I walked down the street, then another one, and there it was - the bus stop. Not much of a stop really. No shelter, no seats; just an aluminium plague nailed to a telegraph pole saying "BUS STOP". Vertically, going down: That was my bus stop. Some poor person's driveway. Actually a rich person, but a poor person none the less. The usual crowd was there. An old lady, a nearly old lady, and a not old schoolkid. We acknowledged each other's presence without any direct acknowledgement. A sort of covert nod of the head, a slight twist of the wrist, a knowing shuffle of the feet. Yes! we were a happy bunch, the 7:32 crowd! The old lady always got on first. Although I am an aggressive queuer, she always got on first. It was not age which made me defer, but rather her umbrella. She had it there everyday. Wet, unwet, halfwet, notwet - there it was. It had a sharpened tip, and the gleam of shiny metal made me suspect it was sharpened daily. I never tried pushing in front of the old lady. Never. The other two I elbowed and jostled frequently. The nearly old lady was obviously related to the not old schoolkid. I suspect an aged spinster aunt from their unemotive displays. No shouting, no screaming - yes, an aged spinster aunt. So this quartet of queers awaited the bus. The bus pulled up. $1.40, $2.80, $2.80, bus pass, and we were on our way. I sat up the back. Half up the back, half up the front, but never halfway. I don't like sitting in the middle. But I was in the middle now. Middle of school. I listened to the chatter of kids. Schoolkid #1: Ange's going with Mark. Schoolkid #2: No! S K #1: Yeah! she told me last night. S K #2: I can't believe it. She's so dorky and Mark's so cute. Did I tell you? Last week Mark ... Good on you Ange! Schoolkid #3: I played Final Fantasy 3 all last night. I got to the Gates of Doom, but I didn't have the key, so I had to go back and see the wizard Necromicon. Schoolkid #4: Wow! S K #3: and he said I had to kill the Evil Ogre before I got the key. And the Evil Ogre was in the Haunted Forest and ... Final Fantasy 13, eh? Schoolkid #5: What'd you do last night? Schoolkid #6: Just watched some tele. S K #5: Yeah, what? S K #6: Some Water Rats, and ... ... so it goes on. Different faces, but the same talk. That's life. It got me thinking about my own schooldays. I was always a good student, though never an outstanding one; I found schoolwork too easy to really work at it. Socially, I mixed without too many problems, and physically I was fairly active; a solid member of the cricket team, and a keen runner at all distances. School was OK. It wasn't until uni that I found my forte. It was a genius for computer programming. It combined various talents - mathematical, logical, structural, artistic - into a form that was both personally satisfying and universally acknowledged. I blitzed those three years. Then stunned the academics with an almighty Honors year. My thesis was published in a journal, and I had offers from everywhere. I took advantage of it. In industry I made money, gained contacts, and acquired immense experience. Five hard years I worked (intensely, passionately, obsessively) and then I realised (as we all do) that there was more to life. So I cut back. Back to regular hours, and back to a life of broad learning. That's where I am now. The bus was pulling up to the station. It was a terminus. All out! All change! I outed, and I changed. My monthly got me through the gates, and I was soon on the platform with teeming others. We waited. And waited a bit more. The people teemed and multiplied. The train was late. And then it came. Woo! Woo! I liked to imagine it was the days of yore, but it wasn't. Woo! Woo! We waded in. God! It was like the Somme. Sheer carnage. Elbows, and briefcases, and kicking feet, and poking arms. Carnage! My back was protected, so I felt safe. A few well placed kicks, and some timely headbutts, and I was in. Phew! as the doors closed on the packed train, I looked out onto the platform and saw the ones who hadn't made it. Poor sods! Collapsed on the ground in sheer despair, they would have to wait a whole five minutes for the next train. Poor sods! Marx was right. The economic system determines the social system. Co- operation or competition, you takes your choice. Not that the Russians got it right (no system founded on terror can ever be justified) but we don't exactly have it right either. Down with governments! Give us anarchy! Enough of spiel, on with the train As I said, the train was packed. Packed? More like chocas. Japanese style. To block it out is the goal, and I can, at times, thanks to the Holy Maharishi Maharesh Maharash and his super-duper technique of TM - Transcontinental Meditation. It goes like this: Om Om Om or Um Um Um or Bum Bum Bum Actually, it's whatever you like. You select the sound and say it again and again. And again and again. And again and again until you're numb to the world and fall asleep. Very good for Japanese-style trains, I'm telling you. So I TM'd all the way into the city, bought the paper and some OJ orange juice, found my office, sat at my desk, and whom bom, it's Tick Tock Pick Pock Nine o'clock. Don't you love the sound of Tick Tock Pick Pock? Though there's nothing quite like the 70's Rock Rock. Well, here I am at work. I better say hello to a few of my colleagues. Jeffrey Knight: Hello Colleague #1: O, Hi there Jeffrey. And here comes #2. She's pretty good looking. Jeffrey Knight: Hi! Colleague #2: Good Morning Mr Knight. And there's more of them. About 30 all up. We take up a whole floor of the New Colonial, an office building in the middle of the CBD. I better check my in-tray. Well! Here's work already. I better get started. Tick Tock Pick Pock 11 o'clock OK, time for a break. I take the elevator up to the roof where there's tables and chairs kindly provided by building management for a sun-smog lunch. It's a wonderful view, being fenced in by the taller buildings, but here and there there's a break to the city skyline; the glimmerings of a sun-washed sea just yonder, the peeping of vocal birds from afar. It was sereneous. I swirled the orange juice in the bottle and in my mouth. It tasted sweet. Too sweet. There are a few others up here, taking their mid-morning smoko, adding to the dusty air, but no-one I know. Just wait! There's #3! But he looks a bit busy, so I won't bother him. Let's talk a bit more about work. Because it is only through work that he can come to understand a man. 8 hours doing it, up to another 4 preparing for it, it is half a man's life. And love, the other half. Work and love, love and work, this is life. But first work. Where do I work? I work at work. And where is work? Work is where work is done, in the CBD, the heart of a city, the hub of a nation, the CBD, where work is work, and work is perk. A perky pig pag poo paw. I work in the CBD. The CBD. The New Colonial, as I've said. One of whose floors is alotted to Database Management Systems, Pty, Ltd, for whom I work for, and have been doing so for the past year and a half. A year. Does it go fast or slow? It goes fast from the remembering of one year's markers to the previous (Christmas, birthdays, etc etc), but it goes slow, for most, in the course of a year, and slowers as one ages. The reason? Declining change. We use change to distinguish time, and with less change, there are less distinctions - everything starts seeming the same, and slow. How do we get change? Any way we can! but the easiest and most reliable way is through learning. Learning is empowering, and enjoyable, and life- yielding. So learn! Back to Database Management Systems Pty Ltd. Here I am employed as a factotum, a do-it-all. My general experience in software engineering, and a good knowledge in hardware, gave me entry to this position. The varied work is invariably invigorating, and I get a chance to meet lots a people. It's one of the best positions I've had. About 30 people work here. They're divided into teams of 4 or 5, working on individual client projects. When a problem comes up, that's when they call me. The Sage of Software they call me. But enough boasting, back to work. Rushing the stairs, I gain my level, and pass someone I know. Jeffrey Knight: He-He-Hello! Colleague #7: G'day there Jeffrey! I slow down, and stride to my work area. At my desk was a beautiful blonde, just kidding, at my desk there was a beautiful brunette whom I knew as #8. Jeffrey Knight: Well, Hello! Colleague #8: The boss wants a word. We're setting up a new team, and we'd like you in. J K: Now? C #8: If you're not busy. #8 sauntered back to her desk with that curious businesslike backside twang. I looked nicely. I rose, and directed myself to the boss' rooms. Standing Supervision was the Secretary herself. Jeffrey Knight: That's a nice blue suit, Miss S. Something new? Secretary: Something old, you merry rogue. That tie, very distasteful. J K: My distaste is for the false, my true taste for the true. This is the man as he is, a man's man. S: No, a woman's man, but no more. J K: No more indeed. The boss in? S: He's in but he's out. J K: How so? S: He's in his room, but out of humour. J K: Well I guess that means I'm out, but I'm in. Be so kind as to buzz him. S: I'll buzz him kindly. And she did. A kinder buzz there never was. Miss S was a kind and clever woman. I blew her a kiss. J K: If I don't come back, weep for me. S: If you don't come back, I'll weep for myself. Treat softly! J K: I'll tread where I dare. I treaded. I dreaded. The red door, not a blood red, but a haemoglobin red, opened inwards, and I entered. There, as this cliched James Bond scene continues, was the boss with his back to me, hidden by a giant executive spinning chair. But there were still bits visible. My boss was big, as befits a big boss. He swivelled, and turned his granite features towards me. "Jeffrey, I know we brought you in as a factotum, a know-it-all, a handiman with a man's handle. But we've just got a big project. Something that could put us in the big time. I'd like you to join this special team I've set up. There's a big bonus in it." How could I refuse? A big project in the big time with a big bonus from the big boss? I couldn't refuse. I nodded. The Sibelius double continued: "Good, good. I knew you were a smart man. Here, take this." From his voluminous body he withdrew a brown envelope. It was fat. He slid it across the black marble tabletop. "We'll need all your expertise on this one. Have a talk with the team leader it 3. Work your best." With that, Mal Colston's brother again swivelled out of sight, and out of light. The room darkened, and it was obviously my cue to take my leave. I cued, and took my leave. ---------===ooo===--------- Tick Tock Pick Pock 12 o'clock. I returned silently to my desk. O man! Why do these things happen to me? First Death comes knocking, and now the boss has given me a big payoff. Or has he? Of course he has, what else could it be? Better check. Doing the quiet swivel in my own semi-executive chair, I surveyed the surroundings. Colleagues here, colleagues there, colleagues everywhere. Some in groups, some alone, some talking, some not. These damned partitions don't hide a thing. But no-one was looking; everyone seemed busy in his business. The most productive hour - just before lunch. Everyone does as much as they can, because they know when they come back they'll do bugger all. I reversed swivelled to correct my motion. The coast was clear. The packet was in my pocket. I went to withdraw it while looking elsewhere. O God! It was stuck! I'll have to stand up to get it out. I stood. Slowly. Panning my eyes, I monitored the scene. Oh no! Here comes #9 at a slovenly pace. It looks like he's heading in this direction. He always likes a chat. And I do too. But not right now. Falling into my chair, I quickly logged on and feigned absorbtion. #9 approached and spoke: Colleague #9: Hey there Jeff. How are things? Jeffrey Knight: Yeah alright. Just a bit busy at the moment. Talk to you later. C #9: OK Jeff. See you later. There we go, another successful snub. But let's forgo the bullshit. Let's see what's in this packet! Standing up, I whipped it out, opened it up, and there it was. A big wad of 100's. There must have been 5 grand there. Oh dear! Clandestine and clandestiner! I didn't want to deal with this. Let's work. I finished off the SQL queries, and it was lunch. Tick Tock Pick Pock 1 o'clock Let's go take a long lunch somewhere secluded and think this one out. First I go buy me a burger. Actually, you buy me a burger. Buy me anyone you want. A ham-burger, a beef-burger, a bum-burger, whatever. Just make sure it's a burger. OK? You've got me a burger? Let's go. I'm out by the stairs, and I'm out in the central CBD (sort of like an ATM machine, go figure). People are buzzing and bombilating all around. Cars are zooming and booming too. Ah! Take it in - the atmosphere. This is busy life - the business life. A B for U and a B for me. Let's sing a song! I was in the city one day When, hey ho And a big hey hee I found I had lost the way. I looked around for the sacred signs The neon lamps That down discamp But not I could read their lines. O! It was dark, the coldest kind of dark The dark of a bath The dark of a laugh And I shivered as a shivering lark. Around, there were people, and there were cars Moving and moving Doing and undoing But they were as distant from me as the Sun from Mars. Come, come! walk straight and you'll surely find The narrow path A woman's half For those who walk straight have an upright mind. But I was too scared to step A step there A step nowhere And so I screamed to the bottomless depths. Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! O! O! O! No! No! No! No! Ah! Ah! Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! A scary song, wouldn't you agree? One day I'll sing you the rest, but not now, this is a separate story to tell. So, with burger in hand (what did you get me? I hope it doesn't have beetroot. I don't like beetroot.) and a cold drink too, I find my way to a secluded spot. What secluded spots are there in the CBD? Not many I can tell you, but there are a few (though not in central CBD, rather in uncentral CBD, you might say eccentric CBD). (Locations around libraries are always a shot, and if you're game, try munching lunch in a car park). While I walked I had a bit of a think. Now tonight, what should I ask? I have the entire Ashkaric Records at my disposal - all I have to do is say the right words. Not "is Elvis still alive?" - you stupid git! And what about this mysterious money that has suddenly appeared? Is my boss involved in criminal dealings? If he is, he's certainly bringing a lot of other people into it. Or is he? "We'll need all your expertise on this one.' What did he mean by that? Expertise. I have worked for DoD, the Department of Defence, but that was a long time ago, and no state secrets, I don't think. Something for Sun Microsystems, about 5 years ago, for their new operating system Sun 2.34, that was proprietary code. But what relevance to Database Systems? Another mystery. By walking I found myself a secluded spot. Actually it wasn't secluded, it was quiet. Actually it wasn't quiet, it was relatively unfrequented. Sort of. The declining steps of the State Library! Looking out onto a main road, but buffered by a wide walkway. Beyond these two traffic arteries was the green of grass and the green of trees - the Botanic Gardens. The steps in light, the light on me, it was a lightful day. I saluted the sun with a quiet nod, and sat. Others more active ran past, a safe smell-distance away. Away! Away! I sat, and I thought, and I ate. Before I knew it, Tick Tock had come again. Tick Tock Pick Pock 2 o'clock. Here are the conclusions to my midday musings: 1) The boss is a crook but that doesn't concern me. 2) Tonight I will ask a question on Life and Fate 3) I need to go to the toilet. Article 3 is really Number 1, so let's take care of that now. The library toilets are nice and clean, I'm relieved. Article 1 evidence is in my pocket, and will be at my disposal for 5 more days. Enjoy! Article 2, well, that's a toughie. There's so much to ask. Life and Fate is religion, Life and Fate is whatever you want. Let's make a list. 1. Which religion is true? 2. Could I really get one hand around Buddha's waist? 3. Did Jesus come back to life? 4. Did he die in the first place? 5. Why are Jews so stingy? 6. If I run over a cat, will I come back as a cat? 7. Why saffron robes? 8. Why am I blind in the Third Eye? 9. Is penis size a measure of spiritual development? 10. If so, does that mean I'm spiritually bankrupt? 11. Is God male, female, or neuter? 12. Who was better, Abraham or Moses? 13. Was Confucious a funny guy? 14. Are all people before Jesus instantly damned? 15. Surely good deeds count no matter what religion you are? 16. God willingly permits evil in the world? 17. Surely God wouldn't play favourites with any one race? 18. Corollary: is there a universal truth applicable to all peoples, at all times? 19. Why do all religions become immensely wealthy? 20. Why does dog spelled backwards give you god? These are my 20 religious questions. I'll ask one of these tonight. But let's get back to the office, there's a talk with Team Leader in an hour. I decide to shuffle back (those outrageous ideas!), you know, like a shuffler, where you try to wear out as much shoe-stuff in the shortest possible time. Shuffle, shuffle - the whole body's involved. A human train, homo locomotion. The shoulders, the elbows, the hips and thighs. Shuffle! Shuffle! I shuffled my way back via a food court. Very courtly, and so many of them! Yet all the same. I did the rounds, and bought enough containered food for about 3 days. I pride myself in being a male man, in not knowing how to cook. In fact, I boast of it - I don't know how to cook! These consumeable boxes will sit in my fridge until they face execution by microwave. 3 minutes on medium-high and they're hot hot pot. Then poured, or scraped, or scooped onto a toasted slice, and then devoured with a voracious bite. Yum! Shuffle! Shuffle! I was getting a few weird looks now, but that's OK, I know I'm sane. Sane, sane Haine, haine Pain, pain Gain, gain! See? I'm sane. Sane as a woodie, hoody, tookin' cookie. I'm sane. Back in the office with some time to spare, I unloaded my load, and stashed away the bribe. Deep in the backpack's breast it rested. Black money in a black breast. Ohh! Lascivious! A few emails to answer here and there, colleagues that say hi and bye, oh!, there's a bit of paperwork here, this super checks out, the daily chat with #9, drop off the morning's work to #10, and time has fribbled away to - Tick Tock Pick Pock 3 o'clock. Show Time! I go to see the Team Leader (formerly #8, the beautiful brunette), the Team Leader comes to see me. We meet halfway and shake hands. Team Leader: Nice to see you could make it. Jeffrey Knight: Nice to be here. T L: That's a very distasteful tie. J K: I'd be lying if I said you lie. T L: What? J K: Exactly T L: OK ... Look, the big boss says we've got a big project that could put us in the big time. Are you in? J K: I'm in like a salacious sin. T L: What? ... OK, here are a few outlines I want you to look over, sketch a few plans and get back to me on Thursday. Is that alright? J K: As all right as a perpendicular light. T L: What? ... OK, see you later Jeff J K: Bye-Bye. There she goes with her twinkle butt. Nice butt. Bad brains. Bye-Bye Team Leader! OK, we have some outlines to look over. I look over the lines, make some sketches, and before you know it, it's Tick Tock Pick Pock 5 o'clock. I catch the train and the bus home, walk through the door, collapse for a while, and before you know it, it's Tick Tock Pick Pock 7 o'clock. I watch the news, have a shower, heat some food, eat, drink, piss, and before you know it, it's Tick Tock Pick Pock 8 o'clock. I watch a movie, and it's Tick Tock Pick Pock 10 o'clock. I listen to a CD, it's Tick Tock Pick Pock 11 o'clock. Wow! Time flies when you run a routine (or is the author getting exceptionally lazy?) I lay in bed thinking some private thoughts (no readers allowed!) and wham bam, it's almost Tick Tock Pick Pock 12 o'clock. but not quite. So just wait a while Tick Tock. And then it is the witching hour - Tick Tock Pick Pock 12 o'clock. ------------===ooo===------------ Whoosh! the whip of a crack, the thunder of a smack, the swoosh of a push, the lang of a bang! Death made his entrance with an assortment of sorted noises. Whip! Thunder! Swoosh! Lang! The light swirled and curled, it bent and leant, the black and yellow of a banana fellow. It mixed, indistinct, then unblurred like the spoken word. Death had come as a smily face! A yellow face! Oh! Oh! About the size of a basketball, but flat and happy. Oh! What a chilling sight! Death personifies death in the form of a skull, but death personifies absolute horror in an angelic form. The cold, grave, worm-ridden voice of Death greeted me: 'Good midnight, Jeffrey Knight. You are ready?": I shivered. I nodded. I wasn't. 1 of 20, 1 of 20, my mind ran through the listed choices. Like a wheel of fortune, the pointer spun, and landed, randomly, on ... Oh God! Before I could stop myself, the words came tumbling out: "Is penis size a measure of spiritual development?" Oh my God! Idiot! Idiot! "A surprising question, but one that has a surprising answer." "Yes, over 4 inches, penis size is a measure of spiritual development. Under that says nothing. Apart from being inadequate. Goodbye." With those balmful words, Smiling Death departed. Rather unspectacularly. The face halved, then quartered, then eigthth, then sixteenth, and so on, in a predictable geometric series. If it had been a strict mathematical operation, Death would have lingered to eternity, which is exactly what he does, when one comes to think about it. But Smiling Death at least disappeared from view; slumbering sleep came in his stead, with a pocketful of dusty dreams, and I too faded from the world, or at least the world from me. So the second day of my last seven ended. Sweet sleep.