island.”
“I think I get it,” Owen said slowly, “but what I still don’t understand is, where are all the people? I mean, the whole town, for all I know the whole country, even the whole world … where did all the other people go?”
“That is complicated,” Dr. Diamond said. “The Harsh long for emptiness, for cold nothingness. A time beforepeople. Before history. That is the reason they have turned time backward—to get back to that place. It seems that their Great Machine does away not only with time but also with the idea of human life itself.”
“So they’ve already done away with life?”
“It seems so. Nobody has died; they have just never been.”
“So they got rid of life and now they’re getting rid of time. Kind of a mopping-up operation.”
“I wouldn’t have put it like that. But yes, essentially you’re correct.” Dr. Diamond knelt down in front of Owen, his eyes examining the boy's face. “I know you didn’t give the right answer to Samual when he asked you about Gobillard.” He put up a hand to stop Owen from speaking. “Your instinct was, I think, correct. There is dangerous knowledge involved, however I—”
The door opened behind them. It was Samual. His face darkened at the sight of Owen.
“Time to go, Owen,” Dr. Diamond said swiftly, standing up.
Owen slipped by Samual without meeting his eyes. Whatever Dr. Diamond had to tell him would have to wait.
The Sub-Commandant and the others were busy and preoccupied, so Owen was grateful for the company of Wesley and Cati. Much of the countryside was wooded now and there were mushrooms to be picked in themorning, and wild berries and fruit, and hazelnuts on the banks. The weather felt like autumn, with dew in the morning and cold, crisp days. There seemed to be a mellowness in the air. Sometimes the wind would blow hard, but it never reached the strength of the storm that had trapped Owen in the warehouses. Wesley brought fish and prawns from the harbor. At night they would build a fire in front of the Den and cook fish or rabbit stew, and eat it with potatoes that grew wild in forest clearings.
Owen slept deep, dreamless sleeps, and when he woke in the morning the cold nipped at his hands and face until he had lit a fire. He had a good stock of tea bags, but he knew they might be his last, so he was miserly with them. Wesley and Cati tasted the tea and made faces. They drank only water, or thin wine, or a warm drink that tasted of honey. Owen was surprised at how quickly the Den became a home and how much he liked to lie dozing and listening to the sound of the wind swaying the trees. He missed his home and his room, and he missed his mother, but he did not miss the miserable tension that had seemed to lurk in every corner and crevice of the house.
He realized too that he felt fitter than ever before. One day, as they raced down the forest paths, he was surprised to find himself pulling easily away from Cati. And when he looked in the mirror of the old dressing table he saw a fuller, more cheerful face looking back at him.
At night they sat round the fire after they had eaten,the flames casting shadows about them. Sometimes they sat in companionable silence and sometimes they talked quietly, Owen telling them about his life and the town, and Cati and Wesley talking about the Resisters. Owen started to understand that the Resisters had emerged many, many times to battle the Harsh, but of those battles he learned little. Cati had only a dim memory, for she had been born on the island in time and was growing up among them as any child would. However, Wesley had stumbled into the Resisters in much the same way as Owen. He had fought on several occasions, but he did not like to talk about it and would fall silent if pressed.
Sometimes Owen saw the Sub-Commandant and Chancellor in the distance. Both men seemed strained. In the evening the Sub-Commandant would stand on the roof of the Workhouse, shading his eyes and staring
“I think I get it,” Owen said slowly, “but what I still don’t understand is, where are all the people? I mean, the whole town, for all I know the whole country, even the whole world … where did all the other people go?”
“That is complicated,” Dr. Diamond said. “The Harsh long for emptiness, for cold nothingness. A time beforepeople. Before history. That is the reason they have turned time backward—to get back to that place. It seems that their Great Machine does away not only with time but also with the idea of human life itself.”
“So they’ve already done away with life?”
“It seems so. Nobody has died; they have just never been.”
“So they got rid of life and now they’re getting rid of time. Kind of a mopping-up operation.”
“I wouldn’t have put it like that. But yes, essentially you’re correct.” Dr. Diamond knelt down in front of Owen, his eyes examining the boy's face. “I know you didn’t give the right answer to Samual when he asked you about Gobillard.” He put up a hand to stop Owen from speaking. “Your instinct was, I think, correct. There is dangerous knowledge involved, however I—”
The door opened behind them. It was Samual. His face darkened at the sight of Owen.
“Time to go, Owen,” Dr. Diamond said swiftly, standing up.
Owen slipped by Samual without meeting his eyes. Whatever Dr. Diamond had to tell him would have to wait.
The Sub-Commandant and the others were busy and preoccupied, so Owen was grateful for the company of Wesley and Cati. Much of the countryside was wooded now and there were mushrooms to be picked in themorning, and wild berries and fruit, and hazelnuts on the banks. The weather felt like autumn, with dew in the morning and cold, crisp days. There seemed to be a mellowness in the air. Sometimes the wind would blow hard, but it never reached the strength of the storm that had trapped Owen in the warehouses. Wesley brought fish and prawns from the harbor. At night they would build a fire in front of the Den and cook fish or rabbit stew, and eat it with potatoes that grew wild in forest clearings.
Owen slept deep, dreamless sleeps, and when he woke in the morning the cold nipped at his hands and face until he had lit a fire. He had a good stock of tea bags, but he knew they might be his last, so he was miserly with them. Wesley and Cati tasted the tea and made faces. They drank only water, or thin wine, or a warm drink that tasted of honey. Owen was surprised at how quickly the Den became a home and how much he liked to lie dozing and listening to the sound of the wind swaying the trees. He missed his home and his room, and he missed his mother, but he did not miss the miserable tension that had seemed to lurk in every corner and crevice of the house.
He realized too that he felt fitter than ever before. One day, as they raced down the forest paths, he was surprised to find himself pulling easily away from Cati. And when he looked in the mirror of the old dressing table he saw a fuller, more cheerful face looking back at him.
At night they sat round the fire after they had eaten,the flames casting shadows about them. Sometimes they sat in companionable silence and sometimes they talked quietly, Owen telling them about his life and the town, and Cati and Wesley talking about the Resisters. Owen started to understand that the Resisters had emerged many, many times to battle the Harsh, but of those battles he learned little. Cati had only a dim memory, for she had been born on the island in time and was growing up among them as any child would. However, Wesley had stumbled into the Resisters in much the same way as Owen. He had fought on several occasions, but he did not like to talk about it and would fall silent if pressed.
Sometimes Owen saw the Sub-Commandant and Chancellor in the distance. Both men seemed strained. In the evening the Sub-Commandant would stand on the roof of the Workhouse, shading his eyes and staring
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