goal, and all because of the girl you propose to eliminate!'
A deathly hush had descended on the boardroom. 'That's all very well,'
protested someone, 'but you know it's impossible to lie to the girl.
Remember what happened to Agent No. BLW/553/c. We'd all end up like him.'
'Who said anything about lying to her?' retorted the seventh speaker.
'We'd tell her all about our plan, naturally.'
'Then she'd never go along with it,' the sceptic persisted. 'The whole
idea's preposterous.'
'Don't be too sure, my friend,' a ninth speaker broke in. 'We'd have to
make her a tempting proposition. For instance, we could promise her as much
time as she wants.'
'And break our promise later, of course,' said the sceptic.
The ninth speaker gave an icy smile. 'Of course not,' he said. 'If we
didn't mean what we said, she'd sense it at once.'
'No, no!' cried the chairman, banging the table. 'I couldn't agree to
that. If we really gave her all the time she wanted it would cost us a
fortune.'
'Hardly that,' the ninth speaker said blandly. 'How much time can one
child consume, after all? True, it would be a minor drain on our resources,
but think what we'd be getting in return: the time of everyone else in the
world! Momo would consume very little, and the little she did consume would
simply have to be charged to overheads. Consider the advantages, gentlemen!'
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The ninth speaker resumed his seat while everyone weighed the pros and
cons.
'All the same,' the sixth speaker said eventually, 'it wouldn't work.'
'Why not?'
'For the simple reason, I'm afraid, that the girl already possesses all
the time she wants. There'd be no point in trying to bribe her with
something she has plenty of.'
'Then we'd have to deprive her of it first,' the ninth speaker replied.
'We're talking in circles,' the chairman said wearily. 'The child's
beyond our reach, that's the whole trouble.'
A sigh of disappointment ran the length of the boardroom table.
'May I venture a suggestion?' asked a tenth speaker.
'The floor is yours,' said the chairman.
The tenth speaker gave the chairman a little bow before proceeding.
'This girl,' he said, 'is fond of her friends. She loves devoting her time
to others. What would become of her if there were no one left to share it
with her? If she won't assist us of her own free will, we must concentrate
on her friends instead.'
He produced a folder from his briefcase and flipped it open. 'The
principal persons concerned are named as Beppo Roadsweeper and Guido Guide.
I also have here a list of the children who pay her regular visits. I
suggest we simply lure these people away, so she can't get in touch with
them. What will Momo's abundance of time amount to when she's all on her
own? A burden -- a positive curse! Sooner or later she won't be able to
stand it any more, and when that time comes, gentlemen, we shall present her
with our terms. I'll wager a thousand years to a microsecond that she'll
show us the way, just to get her friends back.'
Downcast till now, the men in grey raised their heads.
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Every face broke into a thin-lipped smile of triumph, every pair of
hands applauded. The sound reverberated along the interminable passages and
corridors like an avalanche of stones rattling down a mountainside.
TWELVE
Nowhere House
Momo was standing in the biggest room she'd ever seen. It was bigger
than the biggest cathedral or concert hall in the world. Massive columns
supported a roof that could be sensed rather than seen in the gloom far
above. There were no windows anywhere. The golden light that wove its way
across this immense hall came from countless candles whose flames burned so
steadily that they looked like daubs of brilliant paint requiring no wax at
all to keep them alight.
The thousandfold whirring and ticking and humming and chiming that Momo
had heard on entering came from innumerable clocks of every shape and size.
They reposed on long tables, in glass cabinets, on golden wall brackets, on
endless rows of shelves.
There were dainty, bejewelled pocket watches, cheap tin alarm clocks,
hourglasses, musical clocks with pirouetting dolls on top, sundials, clocks
encased in wood and marble, glass clocks and clocks driven by jets of water.
On the walls hung all manner of cuckoo clocks and other clocks with weights
and pendulums, some swinging slowly and majestically and others wagging
busily to and fro. All around the room at first-floor level ran a gallery
reached by a spiral staircase. Higher still was another gallery, and above
it another, and above that yet another.
Clocks were standing or hanging wherever Momo looked - not only
conventional clocks but spherical timepieces showing what time it was
anywhere in the world, and sidereal clocks, large and small, complete with
sun, moon and stars.
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Arrayed in the middle of the hall were countless bigger clocks - a
forest of clocks, as it were - ranging from grandfather clocks to full-size
church clocks.
Not a moment passed but one of these innumerable timepieces struck or
chimed somewhere or other, for each of them showed a different time. Far
from offending the ear, they combined to produce a sound as pleasant and
harmonious as the rustle of leaves in a wood in springtime.
Momo roamed from place to place, gazing wide-eyed at all these
curiosities. She had paused beside a lavishly ornamented clock on which two
tiny dancers, a man and a woman, were standing with hands entwined, and was
just about to prod them to see if they would move, when she heard a friendly
voice behind her. 'Ah, so you're back, Cassiopeia,' it said. 'Did you bring
Momo with you?'
Turning, Momo looked along an avenue between the grandfather clocks and
saw a frail old man with silvery hair stooping over the tortoise. He was
wearing a gold-embroidered frock coat, blue-silk knee breeches, white hose
and shoes with big gold buckles. Lace frothed from the cuffs and collar of
his coat, and his silver hair was braided into a pigtail at the back. Momo
had never seen such a costume before, though anyone less ignorant would at
once have recognized it as the height of fashion two centuries earlier.
'Well,' said the old gentleman, still bending over the tortoise, 'is
she here? Where is she, then?'
He donned a small pair of eyeglasses like old Beppo's, except that
these were gold-rimmed, and peered about him.
'Here I am!' called Momo.
The old gentleman came towards her with a beaming smile, both hands
extended, and the nearer he drew the younger he seemed to become. By the
time he had reached Momo's side, seized her hands and shaken them cordially,
he looked little older than herself.
'Welcome,' he said delightedly, '- welcome to Nowhere
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House. Permit me to introduce myself, Momo. My name is Hora, Professor
Secundus Minutus Hora.'
'Were you really expecting me?' Momo asked in surprise.
'But of course. Why else would I have sent Cassiopeia to fetch you?' He
produced a diamond-studded fob watch from his pocket and nipped the lid
open. 'In fact, you're uncommonly punctual,' he said with a smile, holding
out the watch for her inspection.
There were no hands or numerals on the watch face, Momo saw, just two
very fine superimposed spirals rotating slowly in opposite directions. Every
now and then, minute dots of light appeared where the spirals intersected.
'This watch,' said Professor Hora, 'is known as a crisimo-graph. It
accurately records crises in the history of mankind, and one of these rare
occurrences has just begun.'
'What's a crisis?' asked Momo.
'It's like this,' the professor explained. 'At certain junctures in the
course of existence, unique moments occur when everyone and everything, even
the most distant stars, combine to bring about something that could not have
happened before and will never happen again. Few people know how to take
advantage of these critical moments, unfortunately, and they often pass
unnoticed. When someone does recognize them, however, great things happen in
the world.'
'Perhaps one needs a watch like yours to recognize them by,' said Momo.
Professor Hora smiled and shook his head. 'No, my child, the watch by
itself would be no use to anyone. You have to know how to read it as well.'
He snapped the watch shut and replaced it in his pocket. Then, noticing
Momo's ill-concealed surprise at his personal appearance, he looked down at
himself and frowned. 'Ah,' he said, ''you may be punctual, but I seem to be
rather behind the times - in fashion, I mean. How unobservant of me. I must
put that right at once.'
And he clicked his fingers. In a flash, his costume changed
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to a black frock coat, stovepipe trousers and a stand-up collar.
'Is that any better?' he inquired doubtfully, but Momo's look of
astonishment was answer enough in itself. 'No, of course not,' he went on
quickly. 'What am I thinking of!'
Another click of the fingers, and he instantly appeared in an outfit
the like of which Momo had never seen. Nor had anyone else, since it dated
from a hundred years in the future.
'Still no good?' he asked. 'Never mind, I'll get it right in the end.'
And he clicked his fingers a third time. At long last, he stood there
attired in an ordinary suit of the kind men wear today.
'That's more like it, eh?' he said, eyes twinkling. 'I hope I didn't
alarm you, Momo - it was just a little joke of mine. But now, my girl, come
with me. You've a long journey behind you, and I'm sure you'd enjoy a hearty
breakfast.'
He took her by the hand and led her off into the clock forest with the
tortoise following at their heels. After twisting and turning like a maze,
the path eventually came out in a small room whose walls consisted of
gigantic grandfather clocks. In one corner stood a bow-legged table, and
beside it a dainty little sofa and some matching armchairs. Here as
elsewhere, everything was bathed in the golden glow of a myriad motionless
candle flames.
Set out on the table were a pot-bellied jug and two small cups,
together with plates, spoons and knives - all of solid, gleaming gold. There
were also two little dishes, one containing golden-yellow butter, the other
honey like liquid gold, and a basket piled high with crusty, golden-brown
rolls. Professor Hora filled both cups with hot chocolate from the
pot-bellied jug and made a gesture of invitation. 'There, little Momo,
please tuck in.' Momo needed no second bidding. Chocolate you could drink
she'd never heard of before. As for rolls spread with butter and honey, they
were a rare delicacy, and these rolls
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tasted more delicious than any she'd eaten in her life. Completely
wrapped up in her wonderful breakfast, she feasted on it with her cheeks
bulging and her mind devoid of every other thought. Although she hadn't
slept a wink all night long, the food banished her weariness and made her
feel fresh and lively. The more she ate, the better it tasted. She felt as
if she could have gone on eating like this for days on end.
Professor Hora, who watched her benevolently, was tactful enough not to
cut short her enjoyment too soon by engaging in conversation. He realized
that his guest had years of hunger to make up for. Perhaps this was why,
while watching her, he gradually looked older and older until he became a
white-haired old gentleman again. When he noticed that Momo wasn't too handy
with a knife, he spread the rolls for her and put them on her plate. He
himself ate little - just enough to keep her company.
At last, even Momo could eat no more. She drank up her chocolate,
studying her host over the rim of the golden cup and wondering who or what
he could possibly be. He was no ordinary person, that much was obvious, but
all she really knew about him so far was his name. She put her cup down and
cleared her throat.
'Why did you send the tortoise to fetch me?'
'To protect you from the men in grey,' Professor Hora replied gravely.
'They're searching for you everywhere, and you're only safe from them here
with me.'
Momo looked startled. 'You mean they want to hurt me?'
'Yes, my child,' the professor sighed, 'in a manner of speaking.'
•But why?'
'Because they're afraid of you -- because no one could have done them
greater harm.'
'I haven't done anything to them,' Momo protested.
'Oh, yes you have. You not only persuaded one of them to betray
himself, you told your friends about him. What's more,
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you and your friends tried to broadcast the truth about the men in
grey. Isn't that enough to make you their mortal enemy?'
'But we walked right through the city, the tortoise and I,' Momo said.
'If they were searching for me everywhere, they could easily have caught us.
We weren't going fast.'
The tortoise had stationed herself at the professor's feet. He took her
on his lap and tickled her under the chin. 'Well, Cassiopeia,' he said with
a smile, 'what's your opinion? Could they have caught you?'
The word 'NEVER!' appeared like lightning on Cas-siopeia's shell, and
the letters flickered so merrily that Momo almost thought she detected a dry
little chuckle.
'The thing is,' said the professor, 'Cassiopeia can see into the
future. Not far -- just half an hour, or thereabouts - but still.'
'CORRECTION!' flashed the shell. 'Pardon me,' said the professor, 'I should
have said half an hour precisely. She knows for certain what will happen in
the next thirty minutes, like whether or not she's going to bump into the
men in grey, for instance.'
'My goodness,' exclaimed Momo, 'how useful! So if she knew in advance
she'd meet the men in grey at such and such a spot, would she simply take a
different route?'
'No,' Professor Hora replied, 'I'm afraid it's not as easy as that. She
can't undo anything she knows in advance because she knows what is actually
going to happen. If she knew she was going to meet the men in grey at a
certain spot, she'd meet them there. She'd be powerless to prevent it.'
Memo's face fell. 'I don't understand,' she said. 'In that case,
there's no advantage in knowing anything in advance after all.'
'There is sometimes,' said the professor. 'In your case, for example,
she knew you were going to take a certain route and not meet any men in
grey. That was an advantage, wasn't it?' Momo didn't reply. Her thoughts
were as tangled as a skein of wool.
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'But to return to you and your friends,' the professor went on. CH must
congratulate you. Your posters and placards were most impressive.'
'You mean you read them?' Momo asked delightedly.
'Every last word,' the professor assured her.
'Nobody else did, from the look of it,' said Momo.
The professor nodded sympathetically. 'I'm afraid not. The men in grey
saw to that.'
'Do you know them well?' Momo asked.
He nodded again and sighed. 'As well as they know me,' he said.
Momo didn't know what to make of this reply. 'Do you often go to see
them?'
'No, never. I never set foot outside this house.'
'What about the men in grey - do they ever come here?'
The professor smiled. 'Never fear, Momo, they can't get in. They
couldn't even if they knew the way to Never Lane, which they don't.'
Momo thought a while. Though reassured by Professor Hora's remarks, she
was eager to learn more about him. 'How do you come to know all this,' she
asked, '- I mean, about our posters and the men in grey?'
'I keep a constant watch on them and everything connected with them,'
the professor told her, 'so I've naturally been watching you and your
friends as well.'
'I thought you said you never left the house.'
'I've no need to,' said the professor, rapidly growing younger again as
he spoke, 'thanks to my omnivision glasses.' He took off his little
gold-rimmed spectacles and held them out. 'Would you care to try them?'
Momo put them on. 'I can't make out anything at all,' she said,
screwing up her eyes and blinking. All she could see was a whirl of colours,
lights and shadows. It made her feel positively dizzy.
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'Yes,' she heard the professor say, 'it's always the same to begin
with. Seeing through omnivision glasses isn't as easy as all that. You'll
soon get used to them, though.'
He stood behind Momo's chair and gently adjusted the position of the
frame. At once, everything sprang into focus.
The first thing Momo saw was the men in grey and their three limousines
on the edge of the district where the strange white buildings began. They
were in the process of pushing their cars backwards.
Then, looking further afield, she saw more grey figures in the city
streets. They were talking and gesticulating excitedly as though passing on
information of some kind.
'It's you they're talking about,' Professor Hora explained. 'They can't
understand how you managed to escape.'
'Why are they all so grey in the face?' Momo asked, still watching
them.
'Because they feed on dead matter,' the professor told her. 'They live
in people's time, as you know, but time dies -literally dies -- once it has
been wrested away from its rightful owners. All human beings have their own
share of time, but it survives only for as long as it really belongs to
them.' 'So the men in grey aren't human?' 'No. Their human appearance is
only a disguise.' 'What are they, then?' 'Strictly speaking, they're
nothing.' 'So where do they come from?'
'They exist only because people give them the opportunity to do so.
Naturally, they seize that opportunity. Now that people are giving them a
chance to rule their lives, they're naturally taking advantage of that too.'
'What would happen if they couldn't steal any more time?'
'They'd disappear into thin air, which is where they come from.'
Professor Hora took his glasses back and pocketed them. 'Unfortunately,' he
continued after a pause, 'they
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already have plenty of human accomplices. That's the worst part.'
'Well, nobody's going to steal any of my time,' Momo said stoutly.
'I should hope not,' said the professor. From one moment to the next,
he looked like an old man again. 'Come along, Momo, I want to show you my
collection.'
Taking her by the hand, he led her back into the great hall, where he
showed her all sorts of timepieces and made them chime for her, explained
the workings of his sidereal clocks, and gradually, under the influence of
his little visitor's obvious delight in all these marvels, grew younger
again.
Tell me,' he said as they walked on, 'do you like riddles?'
'Oh yes, very much,' Momo said eagerly. 'Do you know any?'
'Yes,' said Professor Hora, smiling at her, 'I know a real teaser. Very
few people can solve it.'
'All the better,' Momo said. 'I'll make a special note of it, so I can
try it out on my friends.'
The professor's smile broadened. 'I can't wait to see if you can solve
it. Listen carefully:
All dwelling in one house are strange brothers three,
as unlike as any three brothers could be,
yet try as you may to tell brother from brother,
you'll find that the trio resemble each other.
The first isn't there, though he'll come beyond doubt.
The second's departed, so he's not about.
The third and the smallest is right on the spot,
and manage without him the others could not.
Yet the third is a factor with which to be reckoned
because the first brother turns into the second.
Yot" cannot stand back. and observe number three,
for one of the others is all you will see.
So tell me, my child, are the three of them one?
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Or are there but two? Or could there be none? Just name them, and you
will at once realize that each rules a kingdom of infinite size. They rule
it together and are it as well. In that, they're alike, so where do they
dwell?'
Professor Hora gave Momo an encouraging nod. Thanks to her excellent
memory, she was able to repeat the whole rhyme word for word. She did so,
slowly and carefully, then sighed.
'Phew!' she said. 'That's a really hard one. I've no idea what the
answer could be. I don't even know where to start.'
'Just try,' said the professor.
Momo recited the riddle again under her breath. Finally, she shook her
head. 'It's no use,' she said.
The tortoise, which had now rejoined them and was seated at the
professor's feet, had been watching Momo intently.
'Well, Cassiopeia,' said the professor, 'you know everything half an
hour in advance. Will Momo solve the riddle or won't she?'
Cassiopeia's shell lit up. 'SHE WILL!' it spelled out.
'You see?' the professor said, turning to Momo. 'You are going to solve
it. Cassiopeia has never been wrong yet.'
Momo knit her brow and racked her brains once more. Who were these
three brothers that all lived in the same house? They obviously weren't
brothers in the usual sense. In riddles, 'brothers' always meant grains of
sand or teeth or the like - similar things, at all events. But these three
things somehow turned into each other. What sort of things could do that?
Looking around in search of inspiration, Momo caught sight of the
candles with their motionless flames. Fire turned wax into light - yes, they
were three 'brothers', but that couldn't be the answer because they were all
there at the
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same time, and two of them weren't supposed to be. What about blossom,
fruit and seed - could the answer be something of that kind? The more Momo
debated this possibility, the more promising it seemed. The seed was the
smallest of the three, it was there when the other two weren't, and the
other two couldn't exist without it. But no, that wouldn't do either. A seed
was perfectly visible, and the riddle said that anyone looking at the
smallest of the three brothers always saw one of the other two.
Momo's thoughts flitted hither and thither. She simply couldn't find a
clue that led anywhere. Still, Cassiopeia had predicted that she would solve
the riddle, so she slowly recited it to herself for a third time. When she
came to the line: 'The first isn't there, though he'll come beyond doubt
...' she saw Cassiopeia give her a wink. The words 'WHAT I KNOW lit up on
her shell, but only for a split second.
Professor Noga smiled. 'No helping, Cassiopeia,' he said, though he
hadn't been looking in her direction. 'Momo can work it out all by herself.'
Momo, who had seen the words, began to ponder their meaning. What was
it that Cassiopeia knew? She knew the riddle would be solved, but that was
no help.
So what else did Cassiopeia know? She always knew what was going to
happen. She knew .. .
'The future!' cried Momo. '"The first isn't there, though he'll come
beyond doubt" -- that's the future!'
Professor Noga nodded.
' "The second's departed,"' Momo went on,' "so he's not about" - that
must be the past!'
The professor beamed at her and nodded again.
'Now comes the hard part,' Momo said thoughtfully. 'What can the third
brother be? He's the smallest of the three, but the other two can't manage
without him, and he's the only one at home.'
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After another pause for thought, she gave a sudden exclamation. 'Of
course! It's now -- this very moment! The past consists of moments gone by
and the future of moments to come, so neither of them could exist without
the present. That's it!' Her cheeks were glowing with excitement now. 'But
what does the next bit mean? "Yet the third is a factor with which to be
reckoned, because the first brother turns into the second ..." I suppose it
means that the present exists only because the future turns into the past.'
She looked at Professor Hora with dawning amazement. 'Yes, it's true!
I'd never looked at it like that before. If it is true, though, there's
really no such thing as the present, only past and future. Take this moment,
for instance: by the time I talk about it, it's already in the past. "You
cannot stand back and observe number three, for one of the others is all you
will see ..." I understand what that means now. I understand the rest, too,
because you could be forgiven for thinking there was only one brother - the
present, I mean - or only the past or the future. Or none of them at all,
because each of them exists only when the others do. Golly, it's enough to
make your head spin!'
'But the riddle isn't finished yet,' said the professor. 'What's this
kingdom the brothers all rule together -- the one they themselves ageU
Momo looked baffled. What could it be? What did past, present and
future amount to, all lumped together? She gazed around the great hall, with
its thousands upon thousands of clocks. Suddenly her face lit up.
'Time!' she cried, clapping her hands and skipping for joy. 'That's
what it is: time!'
'And the house the brothers live in - what would that be?'
'The world, I suppose,' Momo replied.
'Bravo!' said the professor, clapping in his turn. 'I congratulate you,
my girl. You're really good at solving riddles. I'm delighted.'
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'Me too,' said Momo, secretly wondering why he should be quite so
pleased that she'd solved his riddle.
He showed her many other rare and interesting things as they resumed
their tour of the clock-filled hall, but the riddle continued to occupy her
thoughts.
'Tell me,' she said eventually, 'what exactly is time?'
'You've just found that out for yourself,' the professor replied.
'No,' she said, 'I mean time itself. It exists, so it must be
something. What is it really?'
The professor smiled. 'It would be nice if you worked our your own
answer to that question too.'
Momo pondered for a long time. 'It exists,' she mused. 'That much I do
know, but you can't touch or hold it. Could it be something like a perfume?
Then again, it's always passing by, so it must come from somewhere. Perhaps
it's like the wind - no, wait! Perhaps it's a kind of music you just don't
hear because it's always there.' She paused, then added, 'Though I have
heard it sometimes, I think - very faintly.'
The professor nodded. 'I know, that's why I was able to summon you
here.'
'But there must be more to it than that,' said Momo, still pursuing her
train of thought. 'The music comes from far off, but I seem to hear it deep
inside me. Perhaps time works that way too.' She broke off, bewildered. 'I
mean,' she said, 'like the wind making waves in the sea.' She shrugged and
shook her head. 'I expect I'm talking nonsense.'
'Not at all,' said the professor. 'I think you put it very prettily
indeed. That's why I'm going to let you into a secret. If you want to know,
all the time in the world comes from here - from Nowhere House, Never Lane.'
Momo gazed at him in awe. 'I see,' she said softly. 'You mean you make
it yourself?'
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The professor smiled again. 'No, my child, I'm merely its custodian.
All human beings have their allotted span of time. My task is to see that it
reaches them.'
'In that case,' said Momo, 'why not simply arrange things so they don't
have any more of it stolen by the time-thieves?'
'I can't,' the professor told her. 'What people do with their time is
their own business. They must guard it themselves. I can only distribute
it.'
Momo looked around the great hall. 'Is that why you keep all these
clocks - one for every person in the world?'
'No, Momo, these clocks are just a hobby of mine. They're very
imperfect copies of something that everyone carries inside him. Just as
people have eyes to see light with and ears to hear sounds with, so they
have hearts for the appreciation of time. And all the time they fail to
appreciate is as wasted on them as the colours of the rainbow are wasted on
a blind person or the nightingale's song on a deaf one. Some hearts are
unappreciative of time, I fear, though they beat like all the rest.'
'What will happen when my heart stops beating?' Momo asked.
'When that moment comes,' said the professor, 'time will stop for you
as well. Or rather, you will retrace your steps through time, through all
the days and nights, months and years of your life, until you go out through
the great, round, silver gate you entered by.'
'What will I find on the other side?'
'The home of the music you've sometimes faintly heard in the distance,
but by then you'll be part of it. You yourself will be a note in its mighty
harmonies.' Professor Noga looked at Momo searchingly. 'But I don't suppose
that makes much sense to you, does it?'
'Yes,' said Momo, 'I think so.' Then, recalling her strange progress
along Never Lane and the way she'd lived
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through everything in reverse, she asked, 'Are you Death -
The professor smiled. 'If people knew the nature of death,' he said
after a moment's silence, 'they'd cease to be afraid of it. And if they
ceased to be afraid of it, no one could rob them of their time any more.'
'Why not tell them, then?' Momo suggested. 'I already do,' said the
professor. 'I tell them the meaning of death with every hour I send them,
but they refuse to listen. They'd sooner heed those who frighten them.
That's another riddle in itself.'
'I'm not frightened,' said Momo.
Professor Noga nodded slowly. He gave her another searching scare. Then
he said, 'Would you like to see where time comes from?' 'Yes,' she
whispered.
'I'll take you there,' said the professor, 'but only if you promise not
to talk or ask questions. Is that understood?'
Momo nodded.
Professor Hora stooped and picked her up. All at once, he seemed
immensely tall and inexpressibly old, but not as a man grows old - more in
the manner of an ancient tree or primeval crag. Clasping Momo with one arm,
he covered her eyes with his other hand, so gently that it felt as if
snowflakes were landing on her cheeks like icy thistledown.
Momo sensed that he was striding down a long, dark tunnel, but she felt
quite safe and utterly unafraid. At first she thought she could hear her own
heartbeats, but then she became more and more convinced that they were
really the echoes of the professor's footsteps.
After what seemed a very long way, he put Momo down. His face was close
to hers when he removed his hand from her eyes. He gave her a meaningful
look and put a finger to his lips. Then he straightened up and stepped back.
Everything was bathed in a sort of golden twilight.
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When her eyes became accustomed to it, Momo saw that she was standing
beneath a mighty dome as big as the vault of heaven itself, or so it seemed
to her, and that the whole of this dome was made of the purest gold.
High overhead, in the very centre of the dome, was a circular opening
through which a shaft of light fell straight on to an equally circular lake
whose dark, smooth waters resembled a jet-black mirror.
Just above the surface, glittering in the shaft of light with the
brilliance of a star, something was slowly and majestically moving back and
forth. Momo saw that it was a gigantic pendulum, but one with no visible
means of support. Apparently weightless, it soared and swooped above the
mirror-smooth water with birdlike ease.
As the glittering pendulum slowly neared the edge of the lake, an
enormous waterlily bud emerged from its dark depths. The closer the pendulum
came, the wider it opened, until at last it lay full-blown on the surface.
Momo had never seen so exquisite a flower. It was composed of all the
colours in the spectrum - brilliant colours such as Momo had never dreamed
of. While the pendulum hovered above it, she became so absorbed in the
spectacle that she forgot everything else. The scent alone seemed something
she had always craved without knowing what it was.
But then, very slowly, the pendulum swung back, and as it did so Momo
saw to her dismay that the glorious flower was beginning to wilt. Petal
after petal dropped off and sank into the blackness below. To Momo, it was
as if something unutterably dear to her were vanishing beyond recall.
By the time the pendulum reached the centre of the lake, the flower had
completely disintegrated. At that moment, however, a new bud arose near the
opposite shore, and as the pendulum drew nearer Momo saw that an even
lovelier
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blossom was beginning to unfold. She walked around the lake to inspect
it more closely.
This new flower was altogether different from its predecessor. Momo had
never seen such colours before, but these colours seemed richer and more
exquisite by far. The petals, too, gave off a different and far more
delicious scent, and the longer Momo studied them the more marvellous in
every detail she found them.
But again the glittering pendulum swung back, and as it did so the
glorious blossom withered and sank, petal by petal, into the dark and
unfathomable depths of the lake.
Slowly, very slowly, the pendulum proceeded on its way, but not to
exactly the same place as before. This time it checked its swing a little
way further along the shore, and there, one pace from where it had
previously paused, another bud arose and unfolded.
To Momo this seemed the loveliest lily of all, the flower of flowers -
a positive miracle. She could have wept aloud when this perfect blossom,
too, began to fade and subside into the depths, but she remembered her
promise to Professor Hora and uttered no sound.
Meanwhile, the pendulum had returned to the opposite shore, another
pace further along, and a fresh bud broke the glassy surface.
As time went by, it dawned on Momo that each new blossom differed
entirely from those that had gone before, and that it always seemed the most
beautiful of all. She wandered around the lake watching flower after flower
unfold and die.
Although she felt she would never tire of this spectacle, she gradually
became aware of another marvel - one that had escaped her till now: she
could not only see the shaft of light that streamed down from the centre of
the dome; she could hear it as well.
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At first it reminded her of wind whistling in distant tree-tops, but
the sound swelled until it resembled the roar of a waterfall or the thunder
of waves breaking on a rocky shore.
More and more clearly, Momo perceived that this mighty sound consisted
of innumerable notes whose constant changes of pitch were forever weaving
different harmonies. It was music, yet it was also something else. All at
once, she recognized it as the faraway music she had sometimes faintly heard
while listening to the silence of a starry night.
But now, as the sound became ever clearer and more glorious, she sensed
that it was the resonant shaft of light that summoned each bud from the dark
depths of the lake and fashioned it into a flower of unique and inimitable
beauty.
The longer she listened, the more clearly she could make out individual
voices - not human voices, but notes such as might have been given forth by
gold and silver and every other precious metal in existence. And then,
beyond them, as it were, voices of quite another kind made themselves heard,
infinitely remote yet indescribably powerful. As they gained strength, Momo
began to distinguish words uttered in a language she had never heard before
but could nonetheless understand. The sun and moon and planets and stars
were telling her their own, true names, and their names signified what they
did and how they all combined to make each hour-lily flower and fade in
turn.
Suddenly Momo realized that all these words were directed at her. From
where she stood to the most distant star m space, the entire universe was
focused upon her like a single face of unimaginable size, looking at her and
talking to her. What overcame her then was something more than fear.
A moment later she caught sight of Professor Noga silently beckoning to
her. She ran to him and buried her face in his ^hest. Taking her in his
arms, he put one hand over her eyes
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as before, light as thistledown, and carried her back along the endless
tunnel. Again all seemed dark, but again she felt snug and secure.
Once they were back in the little, clock-lined room, he laid her down
on the sofa.
'Professor Noga,' Momo whispered, 'I never knew that everyone's time
was so' - she strove to find the right word, but in vain - "so big,' she
said eventually.
'What you've just seen and heard wasn't everyone's time,' the professor
replied, 'it was only your own. There's a place like the one you visited in
every living soul, but only those who let me take them there can reach it,
nor can it be seen with ordinary eyes.'
'So where was I?'
'In the depths of your own heart,' said the professor, gently stroking
her tousled hair.
'Professor Noga,' she whispered again, 'may I bring my friends to see
you too?'
'No,' he said, 'not yet. That isn't possible.'
'How long can I stay with you, then?'
'Until you feel it's time to rejoin your friends, my child.'
'But may I tell them what the stars were saying?'
'You may, but you won't be able to.'
'Why not?'
'Because, before you can, the words must take root inside you.'
'But I want to tell them - all of them. I want to sing them what the
voices sang. Then everything would come right again, I think.'
'If that's what you really want, Momo, you must learn to wait.'
'I don't mind waiting.'
'1 mean, wait like a seed that must slumber in the earth before it can
sprout. That's how long the words will take to grow up inside you. Is that
what you want?'
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'Yes,' she whispered.
'Then sleep,' said Professor Noga, gently passing his hand across her
eyes. 'Sleep!'
And Momo heaved a deep, contented sigh and fell asleep.
* PART THREE *
The Hour-Lilies
THIRTEEN
A Year and a Day
Momo awoke and opened her eyes.
It was a while before she gathered where she was. To her bewilderment,
she found herself back on the grass-grown steps of the amphitheatre. If
she'd been with Professor Hora in Nowhere House only moments before, how had
she made her way back here so quickly?
It was cold and dark, with the first light of dawn just showing above
the eastern skyline. Momo shivered and burrowed deeper into her baggy
jacket.
She had a vivid recollection of all that had happened: of trudging
through the city behind the tortoise, of the district with the strange glow
and the dazzling white houses, of Never Lane and the great hall filled with
clocks, of hot chocolate and rolls and honey, of her conversation with
Professor Hora. She could even recall the riddle, word for word. Above all,
though, she recalled what she had witnessed beneath the golden dome. She had
only to shut her eyes to see the hour-lilies in all their undreamed-of
splendour. As for the voices of the sun, moon and stars, they still rang in
her ears so clearly that she could hum the melodies they sang.
And while she did so, words took shape within her -words that truly
described the scent of the flowers and the colours she had never seen
before. It was the voices in her memory that spoke them, yet the memory
itself brought something wonderful in its train. Momo found that she could
recall not only what she had seen and heard but much, much more