The Tale of Oberon Davy

Oberon Davy, artisan watchmaker, told himself he'd only wait another five minutes for the old man. But, when he looked up again from his wristwatch, he saw him strolling down Acheron St., approaching the park bench, his gaze fixed upon the stars.

"Oberon Davy," surmised the old man.

"That's right, and you are--" Oberon offered him a handshake.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." The old man looked down at Oberon's offered hand. "I'm afraid I don't have much time." He sat down on the park bench beside him. "Shame about your plight, Mr. Davy. A man, young as you are, given such a short time on earth."

"Guess word travels fast. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Well, Mr. Davy, it's just when you think you've got the whole world planned, you learn life has plans of it's own; it's as if there are no guarantees," the old man mused.



"Everyone dies." Oberon peered up at the stars.

"Exactly why I tracked you down, Mr. Davy. When it's your time to go, it's your time to go." He leaned in to Oberon's ear. "But, what if you could borrow just a little more time from someone who has all the time in the world?" He pulled from his pocket a Nuremberg Egg made of opal, ticking with gears, and tied to a simple piece of twine. He lifted the twine between his thumb and his forefinger, he squinted at the pocket watch with one eye as it softly ticked from side to side. A curious whirring echoed down the empty street, and everything seemed to come alive. It ceased when the timepiece finally came to a rest, square with the moon. Oberon was taken in by the Egg. He'd seen old pocket watch's like it before, but none had ever seen one encased in opal, the fire of it shimmering with every star. The old man muttered, "Of all things, it will not be destroyed."

"Time?" Oberon marveled at the impossible artifact that with abandon hung from the twine.

"Well there's that." The old man began to swing the curio from side to side. The curious whirring resumed down the street, and the old man continued "I meant the watch, actually." He turned to Oberon and smiled, "Nor can it be thrown or given away. It can only be sold, and sold for a most reasonable price. I am prepared to relinquish it to you, Mr. Davy, for this most reasonable price. Though I assure you it is in fact priceless," he rasped, "It can be taken on faith alone that whoever should purchase it will not perish for as long as they possess it."

"I've never seen such a thing." He transfixed upon the watch, the irregular beat of it transfixed upon his heart. Surely the old man was delusional in his tall tale, but was indeed correct in valuing the watch as priceless. "How much to take it off your hands?" Oberon inquired.


"Well in there lies the responsibility, Mr. Davy. All I ask is that you keep the watch in tip top condition, and when the time comes you must find the next recipient, a watchmaker like yourself, and ask no more for it than what you have paid."

Oberon, perplexed, peered deep into bottomless sockets of the old man's eyes, their tell all color; the canyon lines paved into the furrowed chasms of his face; every pock mark, every scar faded into the next. He was ancient, and Oberon was almost drawn into the old man's tale. "You say it can not be destroyed?"

"Will not, Mr. Davy."

For a moment, Oberon felt guilt for entertaining the old man's folly, and the possibility of obtaining the pocket watch for such a pipe dream price. But the moment faded into the opal gleam in Oberon's eye.

"Fair enough." Oberon said, and in spite of his good sense found himself suddenly taking the terms of this transaction quite seriously.

"Well then, Mr. Davy, you wont be disappointed." Then, by the end of the string, the old man flung the egg immeasurably into the air. Before it could disappear into a thicket of stars, Oberon heard a crack, and the egg came quickly down. By the end of the string, between his forefinger and thumb, Oberon caught it, and looking up from his newly acquired treasure, he saw the old man walking away, his gaze again fixed upon the stars.

Oberon, himself, looked to the sky. To his horror, the sky had begun to hatch in many directions, the surface of the night chipped away, revealing a bright abyss that devoured the surrounding stars. Through the cracks the bright abyss ran like candent water, streaking down the night above. Oberon looked up Acheron street, and saw the old man, who persevering in his midnight stroll, was being drawn back by the void. Oberon remained unaffected. Tree limbs snapped upward as they were stripped of their leaves. Surrounding foliage, trash cans, and shingles from the rooftops were sucked up all around him in a whirlwind, further feeding the ever increasing abyss. Large fragments of the night shattered into the street. Shards of pavement tore from the earth and from under Oberon's feet, followed into the void by shards of buildings. He was awestruck, but remained untouched. He looked back up Acheron St. The old man turned and winked just before he too flew into the engulfing void. The earth crumbled as the sky and earth drained into a vacuous white singularity.

All that remained was Oberon in the white hot abyss, with an Opal Egg that too, began to hatch. From it, the universe unfolded, and thus was rebuilt. Thus, Oberon Davy, till his time was up, kept time very well.