by Sunforge
I'm sure at some point in your life you've wondered what you'd do if you could only fit a few extra hours into the day. That of course always leads on to that that other age old question, no not the one about Minmatar women's fascination for pulling the legs of spiders, because I don't get that one either, but the one about twenty three hours in a day. I have to admit it's just as puzzling as the whole spider thing and I must confess that I don't have an answer for you but I do have a story. You know how I like my stories, so make sure you're seated comfortably and I will begin.
Did you ever have to sit there whilst Praktor Skarnon Lor got up behind the lectern to beat us round the ears with lessons from Pax Amarria? Probably not but let me tell you, it's an experience up there with chewing your own earwax. In hindsight I think I'd have enjoyed chewing my own earwax more , because the torture of the lesson was compounded by father's interesting attitude towards history. You see my father, the cussed, bad tempered, crotchety old fiend, couldn't resist a wisecrack if his life depended on it. Mind you neither can I, but that's another story for another time. I'd better tell you about my father: he's a veteran of the interminable border skirmishes between Amarr and, well, just about everyone else really and this gave him a skewed view of life to say the least. The fun would normally start when I started reciting some passage from Pax Amarria that we'd been asked (well ordered would be a better word for it) to memorise.
"..and Dorium the first" It'd always be the names that set him off.
"The asshole.."
"..invaded and conquered.."
".. pompous…like he ever saw the inside of a battleship"
After mentioning the name of any member of the great and the good, there would be a period of about five minutes when he'd verbally snipe at the commentary that I was reciting before he'd stalk off to another part of our house with a harrumph. By the point he'd finished, I'd completely forgotten what it was I was meant to be memorising and I'd have to start again. Oh the joys of schoolwork. As you can imagine this made any kind of recitation a fraught experience since I had to juggle the Pax Amarria party line (Kill Everything and Enslave what's left) with my father's guerrilla editorials (Take the Money and Run) from the sidelines. Now I think about it, one more thing springs to mind which lent additional spice to the whole recitation thing: the Praktor was a man who had many moods, most of them bad, if you couldn't quote large chunks of Pax Amarria off by heart his mood got a whole lot worse. Guess what? I sucked at recitation: thanks for the commentaries dad.
Anyway you don't want me gabbling on about Pax Amarria do you? I thought not, so let's take a break and head straight for graviton physics department shall we? I'm sure you had to suffer though at least one class on this in your lifetime and if you haven't, count your blessings now. Our teacher in graviton physics was a knowledgeable slave who had been captured during a border raid many moons ago. I think he was a Minmatar freedom fighter originally. He was a knowledgeable, if forgetful, man who appeared to enjoy his enforced career change. Anyway he was busy boring us to death with another lecture on the Spextot Wave Equation when a question just popped into my head. Not just any question mind you, this was THE question and I could not more keep this question in than I could permanently stop myself from breathing.
Before I get to the question, or indeed the answer, I'm going to have to take a left turn again; you'll get used to my random driving soon enough. I'd read somewhere in Pax Amarria that there were 24 hours in a day on old earth but mysteriously only 23 hours this side of the Eve Gate. It had been a permanent source of puzzlement to me that someone, or something, had stolen a valuable hour off the lot of us without so much as an explanation, let alone an apology. The mystery of the missing hour had prompted much musing amongst my school friends but no firm answers. We were, after all, schoolboys, not the knowledgeable gods our teachers claimed to be, but guess what? They never brought the subject up, not once. I was convinced it was a conspiracy. But let's push on to the heart of the story shall we and please pay attention, the next bit is fairly critical. You will recall, before my most recent detour, that I had this burning question and before I knew it, the darned thing had wormed it's way out of my mouth and made itself known to all who would listen.
"Sir, why are there only 23 hours in a day?" He blinked in surprise. Interrupting any teacher wasn't something you did unless you had a death wish but I was never one for following the rules. He blinked in surprise again.
"Because, there are." He answered. It was the kind of pat answer that never satisfied me, so ignoring the closing door of opportunity I carried on.
"The Pax Amarria says there used to be 24 hours a day." I continued, ignoring his answer.
"The Pax Amarria is.." The Minmatar in him bridled at its mention and you could see him wrestling with what to say next.
After a moment's pause he continued: "The Pax Amarria is not the primary text on time and it's relation to gravity is it?"
"No but it is an established doctrine isn't it? There were 24 hours and now there's only 23. Who stole the extra hour and what did they do with it?" I asked cheekily.
"Sunforge…" Mention of my surname made me prick my ears up as our teachers only used surnames when they were displeased "Sunforge, I think Pax Amarria questions are a matter for Praktor Skarnon Lor rather than me." He paused and gave me a hard stare to reinforce the "leave it alone" message.
Would I listen? Would I learn? Naaaaah, sorry, nope, no can do. Must Push On. So I did. In hindsight I really should have seen the red warning lights all over this one but being young and full of the foolish joys of spring I carried right on.
"But sir, what happened to the extra hour? I mean does someone this side of the Eve gate pull a big lever and shut down the universe for a whole hour every day?"
I sat back in my chair feeling very pleased with myself as the rest of the class roared with laughter. Then the laughter suddenly stopped when we realised that somehow, without a word of warning, Praktor Skarnon Lor had been listening in to our little exchange through the open classroom door. I'd forgotten that he had a habit of doing this, so he could catch cheeky kids (that'd be me) when they said something they shouldn't (ah: me again then).
The Praktor stalked into the classroom, drew himself up to his full height and cast his flinty grey eyes round the classroom.
"Thou shalt not …" Pause, listen to the stunned silence, continue "Question the authority of thine superiors" he boomed. Pause, stare hard at me, point accusing finger.
"Sunforge, will you repeat your original question please".
"uhm…sir?"
"You will address me as Praktor Sunforge, that's two demerits. Now you will repeat your question for the benefit of my delicate shell-like ears."
"Yes Praktor" I said. Oh crap I was in it up to my neck now. If you were a keen forecaster of the Praktor's moods you would have noticed that he had gone from sunny with intermittent dull patches to storm warning since he'd walked into the classroom. I repeated my original question:
"Why are there only 23 hours in a day?" I said.
"Sunforge, that is the wrong question to repeat" He boomed. "What was your final question?" I rapidly fast forwarded my brief conversation and then of course remembered my last statement.
"I didn't ask any further questions Praktor but I did make a final statement." Wrong answer. The Praktor weather bureau would be frantically upgrading their stormy weather forecast to a hurricane warning. His face darkened. He jabbed his finger in my direction, which was an indication of almost certain trouble. I think he vibrated slightly with the sheer power of his own outrage. Even I, the intrepid explorer of the outer limits of every teacher's patience, realised that this time, I'd gone that little bit too far.
"Thou shalt NEVER" he roared, "NEVER" he roared again for emphasis "be cheeky, you little pod pucker" For the record I'd like to say that i've never pucked anyone's pod. The Praktor strode across the classroom and picked me up by my lapels.
"Have you ever come across any temples of The Big Hand?" He practically yelled at me.
"The Big Hand Praktor?" I had been completely thrown by this new line of questioning.
"Yes Sunforge, The Big Hand. Presumably if someone pulls a lever to shut down the universe, you'd need a hand to pull the lever. It stands to reason therefore that someone with a hand of that power would attract worshippers." He paused for breath "So have you ever seen a temple of The Big Hand?"
"Uhm, no" I replied crushed by his logic.
"So it must follow then Sunforge, that since there is no temple to The Big Hand and since the Emperor hasn't made a sacrifice in its honour, that there is no Big Hand that shuts down the universe every day." He ended on a triupmhant note and smiled at me. His teeth were a dentists nightmare, all crooked and broken adding a very sinister air to the smile he was giving me.
"But the Pax Amarria says.." My voice trailed off.
Hurricane category 5 due any moment said a far off mood forecaster.
"Oh and you've suddenly become .."He paused to appraise me, "An expert on the Pax Amarria have you?" The word expert was stretched out to epically ironic lengths for the sake of emphasis.
Making statements about Pax Amarria to the Praktor wasn't my brightest moment. I decided to backtrack a little in the hope that a tactical retreat might mollify him.
"Well no but…" I didn't get much further because of his forceful interruption.
"So you aren't an expert but you do claim to have some special insight do you? Do share that insight with us: enlighten us with your knowledge so we may bask in your reflected brilliance"
It's at times like these that you find out what you're made of. I found out that I was made out of marshmallow with a topping of wobbling jelly. My mind was thrown into confusion. Having sat through a lesson about the Amarrian Grand Inquisition earlier in the week, I knew that whatever I said would be used in evidence against me by the Praktor. In my confusion I blurted out
"But 23 hours is a stupid number of hours to have in a day"
The Praktor Skarnon Lor weather bureau must've thrown the towel in at this point and taken up an alternative occupation. I would have hidden but for the fact that he held me firmly by my lapels and wasn't letting go.
"Stupid!?"
The word was ejected with considerable force and I swear my ears were left flapping in the breeze as it passed me by to circulate the classroom. The word was both a statement and a question at the same time. The statement was "You are wrong!", the question was "And you clearly think that I'm an idiot?" The rest of the class were cringing at their desks. Even our teacher was crawling to the back of the classroom to avoid the Praktor's attention.
I'm going to draw a veil over what happened next but suffice to say what started in the classroom ended up in the Big Office. Did I ever tell you I have a pathalogical aversion to Big Offices? Well if I haven't, consider yourself told and it all started with this particular visit over this particular incident.
My father was called in to account for my behaviour and of course my mother just had to come along too. The Praktor indulged in an hour long rant at my parents and let me watch so that I was left in no doubt about what he thought about me. After that I was packed off for punishment detail which was to last exactly twenty three hours. I can't tell you how much I laughed at the irony of that punishment. At the end of it, I went home and slept the sleep of the unjustly punished.
When I woke up I promised one thing to myself and that was to put right an ancient wrong; so I founded the ancient order of The Big Hand. A lot of my friends joined up when I told them about it, since they could sniff rebellion a mile off and we built a small shrine to the Big Hand which included a rather lovely statue of a lone figure, which could have been mistaken for Praktor Skarnon Lor, cowering underneath a huge hand about to crush him.
I've still got that shrine in my cabin to this day and every day, at the twenty third hour, a small bell