But, as only one way exists for
a project to go right, and many ways for it to go wrong, this
project went wrong.
Cronus was distracted by his wife. He quickly followed her to
adjust a timepiece that kept erratic time. "My dear, it really
isn't the sundial that's at fault. It's the sun. It refuses to
travel at a constant rate. I've talked to Zeus. Unfortunately,
It's low on his priority list."
Then Cronus went off to his study, and his hobby of clock
collecting. Demo was, for the moment, forgotten. In his study
Cronus maintained clocks of every size, every design, every
motif. Electronic clocks, grandfather clocks, wall clocks, floor
clocks, round clocks, square clocks - even clocks that kept
time. But no two displayed exactly the same time. For, you see,
time isn't at all the same. Here it has one value, there
another, and elsewhere still a third. But, most assuredly, one
of the numerous clocks ticked the right time. Only Cronus knew
which one.
"Which studio you with? They shooting here today?"
Demo looked quizzically at his interrogator. Since becoming
Zeus' prot‚g‚ he found that languages were no problem. All the
same, always there were references, words, and phrases of which
he had no ken.
"I know not of studios, and the next shooting is at the great
fair, a full moon away. There I shall surely prove champion of
all of Greece, perhaps of all the civilized world."
"Ah-ha! Your advertising a coming film, right.
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