The Extra Day HTML version
Time Goes On Again
Hardly had Judy closed her eyes for the second time, however, than the globular object
she had noticed in the corner stirred. It turned, but turned all over, as though it were a
ball. It made a sideways movement too, a movement best described as budging. And,
accompanying the movements, was a comfortable, contented, satisfied sound that
some people call deep breathing, and others call a sigh.
The globular outline then grew slightly longer; one portion of it left the central mass, but
left it slowly. The lower part prolonged itself. Slight cracks were audible like sharp
reports, muffled but quite distinct. Next, the other end of the ball extended itself, twisted
in a leisurely fashion sideways, rose above the general surface and plainly showed
itself. It, too, was round. It emerged. Upon its surface shone two small pools of blue. It
was a face. Even in the grey, uncertain light this was beyond dispute. It was Maria's
Maria awoke. She looked about her calmly. Her mind, ever unclouded because it
thought of one thing only, took in the situation at a glance. It was dawn, she was in bed
and sleepy, it was not time to get up. Dawn, sleep, bed and time belonged to her. There
certainly was no hurry.
The pools of blue then disappeared together, the smaller ball sank down into the pillow
to join the larger one, the lower portion that had stretched itself drew in again, and a
peaceful sigh informed the universe that Maria intended to resume her interrupted
slumbers. She became once more a mere globular outline, self-contained, at rest.
But, in accepting life as it really was by lying down again, the lesser ball had
imperceptibly occupied a new position. Maria's head had shifted. Her ear now pressed
against another portion of the pillow. And this pressure, communicating itself to an
object that lay beneath the pillow, touched a small brass handle, jerked it forward,
released a bit of quivering wire connected with a set of wheels, and set in motion the
entire insides of this hidden object. There was a sound of grating. This hard, metallic
sound rose through the feathers, a clicking, thudding noise that reached her brain. It
was--she knew instantly--the stopped alarum clock. It had been overwound. The weight
of her head had started it again.
Maria, as usual, by doing nothing in particular, had accomplished much. By yielding
herself to her surroundings, she united her insignificant personal forces with the gigantic
purposes of Life. She swung contentedly in rhythm with the universe. Maria had set the
clock going again!