Fast life vs. slow death

Quick Death

 

The drive from Paris to central England took longer than they had expected. Initially setting off to the north on rutted dirt roads made for an uncomfortable trip in the little 1967 Volkswagen beetle. Making it out of 1897 Paris was becoming exceedingly tiresome, and even slower. With the traffic being either horse draw, or travellers on foot, the VW was reduced to a first gear crawl. After ten minutes of slow grind, Maude with the steering wheel loosely gripped in her left hand, announced quietly to no one in particular “Bugger this for a game of sailors.” She time slipped them through to late 1930’s, pre-German occupation. The results, whilst instantaneous, increased their speed markedly, yet the most they could get out of the battered little car was no more than 40 kilometres an hour, all thanks to the condition of the road and the traffic comprised of slow moving motorised vehicles, and the ever present horse drawn affairs. A further five minutes, and they had jumped forward to 1996. This time the difference was spectacular. Volvo trucks fully loaded zoomed past them on the right, with Porches zipping passed on their left like they were standing absolutely still. Horns blared in every direction around them, the battered car now no longer able to keep up with the speed of the traffic. And then it started to rain, yet none of the surrounding traffic seemed vaguely concerned about it.

 

“The pox on this!” hissed Maude, her visibility reduced to three or four car lengths, and time slipped them back to 1967, the year of the car’s manufacture. Rain disappear instantly, the traffic slowed to a pace the vehicle could cope with.

 

“Maude,” asked Cat.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Does it take this long to go places with Death?”

 

“No, and I don’t know how she flits from place to place either.” answered Maude between clenched teeth. “When we drive places, time stops. It’s like opening a door to one place and time, and stepping through into the next without having to deal with the area and time in between. Although usually we need to drive a little way toward the physical destination, and arrive a small distance away from it when we get there.”

 

“Merde.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

 

Click the picture, there’s a crash at the end.

 

N.

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