The End begins

           WhenadaythatyouhappentoknowisWednesdaystartsoffbysoundinglikeSunday, thereissomethingseriouslywrongsomewhere. 

           IfeltthatfromthemomentIwoke. Andyet,whenIstartedfunctioningalittlemoresmartly,Ibecamedoubtful. Afterall,theoddswerethatitwasIwhowaswrong, andnoteveryoneelse-thoughIdidnotseehowthatcouldbe. Iwentonwaiting,tingedwithdoubt. ButpresentlyIhadmyfirstbitofobjectiveevidence-adistantclockstuck whatsoundedtomejustlikeeight. Ilistenedhardandsuspiciously. Soonanotherclockbegan,onahard,decisivenote. Inaleisurelyfashionitgaveanindisputableeight. ThenIknewthingswereawry. 

           ThewayIcametomisstheendoftheworld-well, theendoftheworldIhadknownforcloseonthirtyyears-wassheeraccident: likealotofsurvival,whenyoucometothinkofit. Inthenatureofthingsagoodmanysomebodiesarealwaysinhospital, andthelawofaverageshadpickedonmetobeoneofthemaweekorsobefore. Itmightjustaseasilyhavebeentheweekbefore that-inwhichcaseI’dnotbewritingnow: I’dnotbehereatall. ButchanceplayeditnotonlythatIshouldbeinhospitalatthatparticulartime, butthatmyeyes,andindeedmywholehead,shouldbewreathedinbandages -andthat’swhyIhavetobegratefultowhoeverorderstheseaverages. Atthetime,however,Iwasonlypeevish,wonderingwhatinthunderwenton, forIhadbeenintheplacelongenoughtoknow that,nexttothematron,theclockisthemostsacredthinginahospital. 

           Withoutaclocktheplacesimplycouldn’twork.