Professor (a self-bestowed honour) Von Fountain de Marc, Prof VFM for those short of time, took a bold step many visionaries had in the past, and pointed his invention at himself, then pushed the undramatic button. Instantly the display updated: 63 years, 3 months, 7 days. He checked his calendar… correct! He pointed at his wooden workbench for a result of about 5 years, yes, that was when he had made it. But the wood was older, no? He adjusted the focus deeper, past the cabinet it had been before and to the wood itself, and got 80 years plus change. That sounded about right. His device was a success! By tapping into the inherent chrono-mastic vibrations and applying the proper focus he could determine the age of any object!
After a few more control tests which all returned perfect results he had his first disappointment with an egg his chicken Henrietta (6 years, 2 months, 27 days) had laid that very morning. It exploded and the display showed nonsense pictograms rather than numbers. He made a note not to point at any thing less than a day old. Or eggs. Well, yesterday’s eggs were worth risking and they all came out okay, so it must be the zero thing. That made sense. (It would be the last moment in his life where anything seemed to.)
Filled with excitement and having no-one to share it with, he ran out of his workshop, up the stairs and into the town square, crying, “It works! It works!” and pointing the device at a pigeon: 2 years, 2 months, 2 days, then another: 2 years, 2 months, 2 days! Oh. Was it the same pigeon by mistake? No. Well, maybe a nest-mate then. He pointed at another, and another and another. All the same. 2 years, 2 months, 2 days. Oh dear. Was the device stuck? No, he still came out at 63 years, 3 months, 7 days. The fountain they’d built in the town square when he must have been about twenty… 42 years, 9 months, 15 days. An oak tree he didn’t know by name, but about a cubit across the trunk, came out to over sixty years. That all seemed reasonable. He checked some pigeons again. All 2 years, 2 months, 2 days. What on earth was going on?
He felt a dizzy spell coming on and retreated back to his lab to collapse in peace, trusting it would all make sense on the morrow. Just as he was about to turn the device off, his dog Dr. Tail-wag strolled over and laid a paw on his leg, putting him in the path of the device. By instinct, he pushed the button. 7343 years, 2 months, 3 days. There was a long, tense pause. It was broken with Dr. Tail-wag rolling his eyes and intoning, in a surprisingly high voice, “Well, I suppose I have some explaining to do…”
Addison Trev lives in the UK but tries to leave whenever he can. He turns up in interesting places and usually brings back stories.
Patreon keeps us going. You can be part of that.
