THE ECLIPSE
BY OVIDIU BUFNILA
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When Major Sanchez's coach came, the daring Florio had just succeeded to get over the wonderful world of the primitive atom from an end to another, and as he was back now, they could find some betterment in his metabolism. Pricim, the newspapers seller, searched for a while, curiously, both the famous coach and Major Sanchez – a handsome, tall, and smiling man – asked him to get in, promising him a travel in time. “Your attention, good people,” shouted the Major, “the time of the great travel has come,” even the Major was walking nervously up and down the Townhouse yard, waiting for a messenger from the capital to bring him the user’s directions of the new time-machine, sitting under a chestnut tree, while he was pulling on his much too big cherry-coloured socks now and then. Begal, the school keeper, was sobbing and scampering away, “Well, the sky was clouding over,” said Florio, while he was fanning with his hat. “What is it like inside an atom?” wanted to know a young woman, a shop-assistant at the supermarket. “Isn’t it tiny?” laughed Florio, and for the first time he exposed his theory of the widened inner atomic space, “only apparently everything is settled, houses, people, streets, but actually, we are growing together with the Universe.” “Nonsense,” replied Podol, the botanist, who made from every trivial thing a creed of his life. Pricim was doing something in his kiosk telling us very loudly that for him the travel in time is but an utopia, he blew his nose loudly just out his window, he came out tightening his belt and gave us a lecture about Utopia, telling us the sad story of Mart and Cart, two scientists upon Io, working away from the world and solar light, to an universal pigment which, they hoped, could bring a total annihilation of the racial policy, everybody could have been, not blue or green skinned, as they were, but violet, understood? Violet men and women in the shops, on the streets, at the cinema, in the factories, an entire violet world, they even had experimented their pigment on the basis of an international agreement, only that the racial behaviour strenghthened, they stopped you on the street and asked you angrily what colour you had been before the violet, then pitch into him, and Pricim was hitting the air with his fists, and kept going untill he slipped and fell down. Florio helped him to get up, “You mean the scientist mustn’t live far away from the man on the street, something like that?” said Pricim dustying himself. “This is a theory,” Begal screamed while sweeping the schoolyard, but, he went on with anger. “I’ll be damned if you aren’t right, there’s indeed something with those travels in time,” said Podol, “for instance, I’d like to travel in the future to pick up some of the last species of plants existing on the planet that time.” “Damn it, Podol! I didn’t know you were being pessimistic,” said Raul, the waiter, putting clean napkins on the tables from the “Quantilina” terrace, “look, here’s what I think – in the future everything will be diferent, men and women will surely be changed, come on tell us how, how,” said Podol fiercely. “You have always been an idealist, ha, ha, ha,” laughed Pricim, “if I remember well his bills clearing the poor drinks’ pockets, I wouldn’t say he’s an idealist but on the contrary.” During this time, Major Sanchez found some people wanting to make a trip in his mysterious coach, he even swung them through time, they came back in about an hour, amazed, frightened, delighted and they spread yesterday’s news and tomorrow’s news all over the city, after some thuds got down from that coach, too, Dogmar, the monster of the stars, instantly annihilated by the commander of the volunteer firemen unit of the city, who used the giant house from the Smith’s Tower, then something surprising happened, it got dark all over and in the whole city you could hear only our shouts, “Who has forgotten the door open?” screamed Major Sanchez desperately, running who knows after who, just for one second a light blinded us and we all saw in the wide open door of the miraculous coach, coming up to us, from yesterday, the Moon. [Forever after at http://eyeshot.net/bufnila.html] *
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