The wooden attic floorboards cradled the dying body of Mr. Evergreen.
“What happened, sir?” I set down my candle and wicker basket, palms sweating. Long shadows raced across the floorboards, the light illuminating a knife. The smell of moth balls and old cedar flooded my senses as I knelt. This was not an accident.
It is a little-known fact that the universe runs not on love, money, or the speed-of-light, but on appointments. Missed ones, mostly. Civilizations have collapsed because a royal overslept, galaxies have failed to form because a bureaucrat’s lunch ran long, and a million-year war was fought because someone misplaced a tea invitation.
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“My, my, you have aged. Haven’t you, old friend?” Dorian whispered through his electronic voice box. He paced the control room overlooking Alice and the Timekeepers clashing with his stony, anthropomorphic titan down in the cavern. Alice piloted her 1910s diesel mecha, as always.
She was not the young Victorian blonde that he, the dashing Dorian Gray,
Dorian Gray stepped through the shimmering portal, the air of the Nexus Hub a crisp, metallic tang compared to the musty London alley he’d just vacated. Another dimension, another opportunity. His reflection in the polished chrome walls was, as always, flawless. The Nexus, a sprawling interdimensional crossroads, was a haven for those seeking new experiences, new pleasures.
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Dorius swaggered into the arena as the crowd roared.
The Praeco shouted, “The fourth gladiator in this final combat of our games is the Emperor’s champion! Visiting us in Hispania from distant Rome, victor of sixty battles against men and beasts, I give you Dorius Gratius!”
Dorius raised his short sword in salute.
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