Bread Page 43
TAKEN FROM THE RIGHT AND ORDERLY NOTEBOOK OF SADFAEL THE MONK
The wonders of this time I am now inhabiting are many, from water that boils itself up, long distance speaking tubes through which everybody has their own identification number and other things far too numerous to mention. I have previously spoken about some of the delights to be found here - candles that ignite themselves, quills already filled with ink, the horseless carriages and other marvels that surround me, yet there is one thing that I have never been happy with, ever since the Reverend Pinball introduced it to me on the second day of my arrival.
The offending article is a black, metallic box of huge dimensions, nearly a yard across and two feet in height. Its corresponding depth by my reckoning would lend to it the same volume as one of those large chests used to transport fine linens by those that possess such accoutrements and may need the strength of two burly men to lift it. There is a smoky pane of glass covering the front almost in its entirety.
When ‘switched on’ as my host explained it, you can see pictures ‘beaming in’ from all around the world, like a whole gallery of masterpieces brought to life within a single frame! It accomplishes this with the aid of what I had assumed was a poorly erected sun dial jutting haphazardly from the gable end of the house. This, unless Gawdley is enjoying a joke with me (at my expense, but good naturedly I am sure) is called a satellite dish and catches invisible rays that are fired off into the Heavens from here on earth and bounced off the stars! These then fall back down again in the form of moving pictures which can be seen through the dark glass!
It must surely be a most hilarious jest, although Gawdley’s face as he told it was as straight and serious as if he were delivering a sermon on the Sodomites!
Whether his tale was jocular or not, I cannot dispute the fact that moving images do appear, for I have caught glimpses of them as my friend sits down to watch in front of this box every single night, or has done just lately. He claims he mainly uses it to watch the cricket, whatever that may be, or sometimes a story or two which can be especially entertaining during the long winter evenings.
Personally, I had put it down to some form of heathen magic and was frankly surprised to find it in the home of a man of the cloth. As soon as he moves to activate the thing I arise and come upstairs to my chamber, to write within the pages of this book, say my evening prayers and then take to my bed – indeed, this bed is of such kingly comfort that I must confess it is difficult to resist.
Earlier on today the Reverend was called upon by one of the peasants who quite brazenly asked him to assist them in some task which they probably should have already finished well before that time. The man’s stomach declared to one and all just how slovenly he was and yet he seemed in no way ashamed of it.
As the sun fell into the western sky, Gawdley opened the door to a Mr. Thomas Acre from the village, who asked him if he would join a few of them where they were ‘getting the jars in.’ Maybe a large consignment of butter had arrived for the local shop. Almost without hesitation the good Reverend thrust his arms into the sleeves of his coat and agreed, at once following Acre out into the night.
I wonder whether he is not a little too lenient at times, the Reverend. Although to be kind and charitable is perhaps the most Christian attribute of all, it is a sad fact of human nature that people will oftentimes take advantage of a Good Samaritan, so I was pleased when my friend laid down the law from the outset and told Mr. Acre that he would only help for a limited time.
“I’ll come,” he said, “but just for a quick one. No more than that.”
I nodded a silent approval at the time, for he is such a selfless man and can easily be generous to a fault, but it is as I feared. They have taken advantage of his good nature and must have persuaded him to stay until the task is done, for it is now approaching the chiming of midnight and still he has not returned. These jars must be heavy and numerous indeed.
I must report that my own night has not been without incident either, for the devil has somehow managed to get a foot back in the door, again! Oh, this most relentless of foes!
Although it shames me to admit it, admit it I must - this very evening I finally allowed my curiosity to get the better of me. Ahh, temptation, withdraw thine ugly head! How it happened I know not, nor even when, but the truth of the matter is that at some point in the evening I was enticed by whatever lies the demons living inside that metallic box managed to spin. Their abominable machinations gave rise in me the desire to summon forth the pictures contained in the hellish casket, so I crept back downstairs and pushed the button as I had seen Gawdley do several days ago.
My first impressions of the machine as being pure evil, or heathen at the very least, were all at once proved correct! Without warning and with his face burning with anger, my satanic foe appeared right there before me, ranting and raving and speaking in tongues!
Thankfully, my weakness was dispelled immediately on seeing his tyrant’s visage and though I was mortified by the fact he had so easily been able to cloud my judgment and weaken my resolve into calling him forth, I was suddenly filled with the vigorous strength that is born from the love of God!
I did not waste time in listening to his poisoned words. I closed off my ears and with grim determination began to yell an exorcism rite!
And once more it worked! As I finished the incantation, he simply disappeared, banished to whence he came, to be replaced by dozens of differing images that flickered confusingly past my vision. I hastened to deactivate the box, my head pounding, my palms sweating. I shall inform Pinball tomorrow morning - that machine must go!
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