The Return of Triton
Copyright 2015 Richards Hall and e.
The Return of Triton
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“Why aren’t you dead? All of you?” asked Triton.
“Not sure,” said Hjalmar, not sure if Triton was inebriated or insane. “Am I supposed to be? All of me?”
Triton positioned his hands over the table and started to rub his palms together until flakes began falling. “Dust,” he said.
“Dust?” asked Hjalmar. It certainly looked like dust.
“I used to be all me,” said Triton. “I’m crumbling. Too much time spent too far in the past.”
Ouch.
|m|*
The screwy thing was, there was a reservation for Triton on file from before Hjalmar’s time running the Hall, which was almost just a speck’s worth of time equal to the time Triton spent in deepest past. Hjalmar had been focused on the reservation ever since he came across it, as he puzzled over the muddled payment arrangements that were already taken care of, and now that Triton arrived, all the peculiarity that could seem possible seemed possible.
When Triton slept through the second day of his stay Hjalmar made a call to Danny Brinbort. “Too much time spent too far in the past?” Danny echoed.
“That’s what he said,” said Hjalmar. They were sitting in the kitchen of Richards Hall, located on the campus of Bossche Bol College, although the Hall was not College property, even if both were owned by the same continuum. It was rare that Hjalmar located a discussion in the kitchen, but Triton was a rarity, and Danny a bit of a secret.
“Let’s suppose that’s true,” said Danny. “Although I don’t know the more pressing issue, spending time in the past or turning to dust because of it.”
“I’d go with dust,” said Hjalmar. “At least for today.”
“Did you by any chance collect any of that so-called dust?”
“I so-called did,” said Hjalmar, having collected it in a plastic bag that he took from his pocket and placed on the table. The very same table from where it was collected. “Hell, Danny, I got it from right there in front of where you’re sitting.”
“Mulligan’s up to no good?” asked Danny.
“Who? Mulligan’s? What? No, I don’t know,” said Hjalmar, having worked out the question of who made the reservation for Triton. “Just someone. A woman. Arranged for a week-long stay. I didn’t handle the call.” Couldn’t.
“And then back in time?” Danny asked, mainly of himself, but also in Hjalmar’s vicinity in case Hjalmar had insight.
“Pobbible? You think?” asked Hjalmar.
“Of course it’s possible. Of course I think. You can be such a dope.”
“Pobbible. Grace Pobbible. Not possible,” Hjalmar clarified.
“It’s very possible, Hjalmar,” said Danny. “Both going back into time and that Grace is behind this.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“It is? Grace Pobbible, I couldn’t imagine anyone else,” said Danny. “Any other sort of clue where this Triton came from?”
“I did speak to Helen. She took the call. She didn’t recall Pobbible saying Triton would be arriving from the past. Or where he would be forwarding to.”
“You know it doesn’t work that way,” said Danny.
“What doesn’t work what way?”
“The past. He couldn’t get here directly from the past. He would have to pass thru the future.”
“You know I don’t like you talking that way in front of the kitchen,” said Hjalmar.
|m|*
A kitchen where talk of passing would have been welcome belonged to one Peter Strand, who had the unenviable task of locating Daniel Birnbort. Why unenviable? Here’s an example. Danny frequently telephoned Pete to let him know he wasn’t where he was looking, or when.
Why unenviable? When Pete did locate Danny, and more than once, he called it in to the home office, was congratulated, and told to take the rest of the day off and try again tomorrow.
Pete’s wife Jane was not sympathetic. “Find him and get on with it,” she complained, regularly. It were as if she didn’t get it. It wasn’t as if it even affected her. Pete worked regular hours, came home and left for work as expected, and helped around the house, did most of the cooking. He just wasn’t getting the results he desired locating Danny, despite the quarterly bonuses on his pay check, and Jane was indignant when it came to failure.
“You don’t have a clue of what I’m up against. No one does, at least no one who’ll listen to me.”
“My father told you not to work for them.”
“Not because of this. I was hired as a morale officer for Divided, now I’m investigating metaphysical disappearances for Mulligan’s. I get the feeling they’re bugged because they’re not happening.” That was the bitch of it. When Pete found Danny, Danny wasn’t missing. They wanted him to find Danny when he was intentionally unavailable. Unavailable with extreme prejudice. Danny wasn’t quite careless enough to be found when unavailable by a Pete even bandying valid proof. Not yet, but maybe in time. Be careful, Pete.
“I am so unimpressed,” said Jane, clearly unimpressed, yet again. Still.