Tempus Genesis

by Michael McCourt

  It was six am and a sunny bright spring morning. Oliver was waiting for his three major friends to join him at Victoria station. The railway concourse was lit with a light so clean it gave the station a freshness and crispness, a calm soothing air so different to the London commuter mayhem it hosted during the week. The station was quiet with only a handful of people walking with quick steps for the earliest trains. Following his rejection by Emap and his sponsor, Jack Splinter, quickly turning incommunicado Oliver had drifted downwards, left alone reflecting on his failure with no feedback or chance to rebuild his proposal. Big business was ruthless he knew that but Oliver hadn’t prepared himself for the impact of its cold dispensing of him. Jamie had stayed closest knowing that Oliver possessed only the most fragile of brilliant minds. It was Mary, Oliver’s oldest and dearest female friend that had suggested the Brighton ‘fun and convalescence’ day to recharge Oliver’s ego. So dutifully, for his friends of many years who knew him well, he trusted their judgment and he had turned up. The fact he had arrived one hour early by catching the first tube further evidence of his disrupted egolibrium (a made up state of being especially ascribed to Oliver by his third friend of many years, Minnie).

  Oliver stood square to the ‘Tie Rack’ kiosk, one of several small shops on the concourse itself. He stared at the booth which specialized in neck-wear. Whilst not yet open, a thousand ties were on display through its glazed frontage. Oliver was almost constantly reflecting at the moment and had been since CarTalk had abruptly crashed. Resisting further reflection Oliver was still drawn by the ties and the spectacular gaudiness on display. Working through each tie one by one, he reviewed each silk or polyester item. He suspected some would be a polyester/silk mix. The ties ranged from lemon to lemony hue, spectrums of blue, reds, pinks, beige to brown, stripes and patterns and a small section of novelty but not funny ties. All put together with what could only be a passing consideration for taste, fashion or compatibility with the commuters who filed by the kiosk in their hundreds of thousands. Oliver could not find one tie him or his friends, or people he knew with half decent dress sense, would wear. Yet there stood the ‘Tie Rack’ kiosk. Rent would be high for this central London station he then thought. For the seven years he had been in London this Tie Rack kiosk had endured various market fluctuations. People had to be buying the ties on offer and in sufficient number to justify its continued life as part of the stations ‘community’ of businesses. Oliver had seen many come and go and he wondered how Tie Rack had survived with such shit hanging from its racks. No fancy idea, no big idea, just ties and it was doing just fine thank you Oliver. Oliver’s patronizing assessment of the relative worth of its product was an impotent view, for he had never secured any entrepreneurial success. Nor scientific endeavor he thought. Oliver realised he was still very much ruminating.

  Oliver tried to make sense of his frustration, wondering why he couldn’t settle with the successful career he was establishing outside of ideas and schemes. Many would envy a career in medicine, and with his locum practice, he could work and study for his PhD flexibly. And he could take time out to indulge in other interests. Oliver had worked part time in the first three months of developing his CarTalk ‘invention’. But despite the prospects on offer for Oliver’s work life and studies, he knew that in the last few years he had done little more than drifted. Qualified and very able he resisted various pushes and pulls into full time practice or particular specialism’s. He had turned down at least two firm offers for decent academic positions. This was in spite of his quite appalling reputation at UCL and more a result of his high regard at Oxford where he had studied medicine at foundation levels. Instead of seizing his career and making it a vocation, Oliver kept his head above water with well paid but part time locums and consultancy work in medical practice and public health. Oliver wanted to escape it all, even his light touch approach aligned him too closely to people and a society he felt at odds with. Oliver yearned for the most private of lives where he could absolutely control his contact with everyday life. He found the responsibility and exposure to people suffocating but he was too tied to his career development come jobbing work to break through the surface and escape. He also needed the income his work brought him. He felt guilty and self indulgent right now but still couldn’t understand why he was unable to make the break, find a jumping point to something different. CarTalk was meant to be that but its ultimate effect was to add to his false sense of failure. Failure measured against a desire for some form of high level achievement, above the usual, kicking against the norm. Success that would bring him wealth and recognition, which would in turn give him choices and conversely privacy. Choice to dip in and out of life as he felt comfortable with. For it was Oliver’s anxiety and fear of life and people that drove him to try to find ways out, to be separate from life’s pressures. He was bright, able, at times exceptionally confident, humorous and gregarious. But if he was a stick of Blackpool Rock he would have ‘chronically fragile’ written right through him.

  “Oliver.”

  Oliver jumped and turned at the sudden voice which had startled him. He sighed with relief at the big bulk of his friend, Minnie, towering over him. Oliver had drifted so far into himself he had not noticed his friend’s arrival.

  “Fucking hell Ollie, I’ve been calling your name since I saw you from way back there,” Minnie said with a big grin and pointing to the station entrance, “you’re a fucking weirdo, staring at ties.”

  Minnie paused, studying Oliver, “are you wanking, your hand is in your pocket, you’re wanking over ties, oh shit that is just sick.”

  Minnie turned away covering his eyes in mock repulsion.

  “I was deep in thought,” Oliver smiled, protesting, “I didn’t hear you.”

  Minnie put his arm around Oliver and with a more serious tone drew Oliver nearer to the shop window, “Which one turns you on the most Ol? I kind of like the Homer Simpson one, he’s so cute.”

  Oliver shrugged Minnie off, “Sod off Minnie, I was simply thinking about stuff, you are the weird one. Come on let’s get a coffee.”

  Thirty minutes later Oliver and Minnie had been joined by Jamie and Mary. All four sat drinking coffee in the McDonalds that fronted the station concourse. Mary had purchased breakfast and handed out each individual order. Mary was distinctively beautiful, with an English and South East Asian mix driving her delicate and distinctive attractiveness. Bizarrely she was single, though her continued friendship with her three male friends probably informed the equation which equaled no guy.

  “Bacon roll, sausage and egg Mcmuffin, five hash browns Minnie, are you sure you won’t be sick before we get to Brighton?” Mary asked.

  “I don’t get travel sick,” Minnie replied, whilst stuffing a good half of the bacon roll in to his mouth in one greedy bite.

  Jamie looked across the concourse towards the train information boards, “Shouldn’t we take these with us, the next train leaves in ten minutes?”

  “We’re not getting the train,” replied Mary nonchalantly.

  “What?” Jamie put his hash brown down in rising shock. Jamie was posh and looked posh, with thick black hair and refined features. He suspected bad news.

  “As your tour operator I have opted for alternative travel, which has saved us a collective fifty pounds, which in turn means we now have a well endowed beer kitty,” Mary smiled sweetly at her friends.

  “Alternative travel arrangements?” Jamie asked tentatively. Minnie and Oliver smiled at the growing look of horror on Jamie’s face.

  “Yes,” Mary fixed Jamie a stare holding her smile.

  “Come on then Mary, spill,” demanded Jamie, “Chauffeur driven hummer limo perhaps?”

  “A coach trip boys, it awaits us around the corner, leaves at seven thirty, returns six am tomorrow,” Mary looked exceptionally pleased with herself.

  Jamie stuttered over the opening words of his reply, “A coach trip Mary, you mean a coach, with wheels and seats?”

&nb
sp; Mary nodded still wearing her happy to help smile.

  “But I don’t do coaches Mary, my family doesn’t do coaches, we only do trains, first class of course and planes, business class. But not buses, there is only one class on coaches, working class,” Jamie looked at the group somewhat pleading with his eyes.

  “You are such a fucking snob Jamie,” Minnie chipped in, “it will do you good to mix with the little people.”

  “The only coach I have ever done was a tour of Lake Garda for Christ’s sake,” Jamie ruffled his posh hair once more.

  “Come on you snobby dick, we need to go if we’re going to catch it,” Mary stood up and helped Jamie ruffle his hair, “I’ll give you a blowjob on the way down.”

  “Really?” Jamie smiled and stood up.

  Mary turned and gave the sexiest arse wiggle imaginable.

  Oliver laughed at her provocation, he whispered to Minnie, “six years of teasing, that’s got to hurt.”

  Jamie dutifully stood and followed Mary’s gorgeous bottom as it wiggled off in the direction of the coach. Oliver walked behind them, with Minnie as his escort with a big ape-like arm warmly around Oliver’s shoulder.

  “So how are you doing my friend?” asked Minnie.

  “Okay, so so, ultimately I know I’m a selfish bastard wanting more than I probably deserve. But I’ve got this itch Minnie, there’s something ahead of me, more than I am now, different, unique,” Oliver sighed, “I just can’t seem to catch it up.”

  Minnie listened intently to Oliver’s words and offered an understanding look, “You are one very weird guy Ollie, but I love you all the same.”

  And with that Minnie gave Oliver a big kiss on his forehead.

  6.