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Secondly, you desperately required sleep and how could you under the circumstances? This brings me to the point, why I had to slip you a little lullaby juice for beddie-bye.

You needed it, and I needed it too, because I felt it was my turn to take over for awhile, aside from your taking an eight-some-hour breather, a breather enough for your next turn.

I suspect I owe you an apology…hell, you died, then awoke, then passed out, then awoke to me, then I made you pass out all over again.

Sorry Maxy.

But I have things to tell on my own now.

***

A night of a thousand hours.

Every Watcher when he first starts off being a Watcher is granted a thousand hours to manipulate time. I didn’t know this until I became a Watcher, and when I became one...well, I experienced a new awareness of things. It’s a lot like when one becomes a Watchmaid for the very first time and is suddenly bestowed with a vast knowledge of the universe and her own fateful role within it, but on a far grander scale than even that.

You, dear Maxy, have found yourself immersed into nearly an equally fateful role, but unlike Watchers or Watchmaids your awareness is totally up to what I make you remember or what I tell you. You’re only human, you understand. So far, I’ve made you remember the events leading to your death and just a dim reflection of what took place afterwards.

You knew at the start that I would reveal a great deal more than simply an explanation about what happened to you. You are a mere spring in the grandfather clock, my UFO detective. You’ve never come to realize, not even yet, the degree and depth of what you are actually dealing with here, with this story, with me, with yourself, and just as importantly, with the other characters involved.

In our painstaking endeavor to write this, we are manipulating the sequence of events that we’re writing about.

It’s quite an ironic paradox, isn’t it?

What we’re writing now affects everything that we’re writing about.

For the ultimate benefit of all.

In the process, we’re revealing my kind and the secrets you so sought to disclose to the world.

Or to whomever pays attention, to whoever believes.

We have a thousand hours to do it, but I have no wish to use up my allotted time on this...I have countless other fish to fry...so I’ve halted time in this room enough for us to finish this manuscript by morning, forty-eight hours worth of time. We could use up more time if we need to, but that should be a reasonable perimeter for its completion and submission back through time so Andrew Erlandson can type the entire thing unconsciously and submit it unawares to Ralston, don’tcha think?

This brings another irony to mind….

You never wrote much yourself until now, you’d always have your wife do it for you.

And me...I scarcely wrote anything myself at all.

But my writing got your ass here and it’s going to do a hell of a lot more than that.

It already has.

And who could ever have guessed?

Now that I’ve put you to temporary rest, time’s about due that I indulge myself personally in a much more significant broader portion of the story, the portion that has less to do with you and more to do with the big picture.

Only I can tell this broader portion and it’s better off I’m doing it solo.

Certain facts need to be mentioned concerning our understanding of preceding events, of Everborn and Watchmaids and of one particular Magdalene whose intentions we strive against even in our writing this manuscript.

To confound this Magdalene is our ultimate goal. It is the prize we seek. It is our most urgent mission, our reason for being here and doing what we’re striving to do.

All other factors are both necessary and incidental; in the overall scheme of things, it was all meant to be, if not only to stop short the Magdalene’s efforts to bitterly warp it all.

Don’t worry, Maxy. In time, you too will understand.

Follow me now and stay close.

I’ve something further I’d like to show you....

PART THREE:

THE MAGDALENE SALVATIA