That night, after hearing such a dreadful account, everyone struggled to fall asleep.
By dawn, the sun that had set in the west yesterday rose slowly in the eastern sky. As usual, Robert was busy in the makeshift kitchen he had put together, brewing black tea. Daniel, who had woken up early, was exercising to shake off the stiffness in his limbs. He strolled up and down the shore, stretching his body with each step.
Spotting Robert preparing breakfast for the others, Daniel walked over to him.
"Good morning, Robert."
"Good morning. I'm glad you came here. I was just about to bring you some tea to the tent," Robert said with a smile, handing him a cup. Daniel accepted it, took a sip, and asked:
"Why do you go through all this trouble, cooking for everyone else?"
Robert chuckled softly at the question.
"Well, even if I were on the ship right now, this would still be my job. In fact, it's harder work there than here. Of course, I'd have assistants with me, but the responsibility remains the same. So, there's no need for you to feel bad about it. This is my duty. I don't resent it, nor do I feel burdened. You're working hard to protect everyone here that's your responsibility. And mine… is to make sure you all have food. Nothing more, nothing less."
Robert's calm words carried a quiet dignity, reflecting the clarity with which he saw his role.
"Thank you for everything you're doing. I don't mean to trouble you," Daniel said before heading back to his tent with the cup of tea in hand.
As he walked away, his mind was consumed by the image of the bald, monstrous creature that had tormented Rose.
Breakfast that morning was the same as usual bread. They sat together and ate in silence.
"Our stock of bread and clean water is running low," Robert remarked, hinting at the danger that awaited them.
"I have no idea when we'll finally be rescued," he added grimly.
Everyone understood the weight of his words. That was when Daniel made a firm decision.
"Clean water is essential if we're going to survive here. So today, when we go into the forest to hunt, we must also search for a source of fresh water."
The others agreed without hesitation. After finishing their meal, each person turned to their daily tasks.
Daniel and Francis began planning a trap big enough to catch a large boar something sturdier than the ones they had built before. Glenferd, as always, returned to his tent and immersed himself in writing. Alice, the teacher, tried to spend more time with Max, gently drawing the child closer to her. Barry busied himself with cleaning his piano, polishing it carefully.
And so, each of them found a way to fill the long, uneasy hours of the day.
11:15 a.m.
A small group had already set out into the forest to hunt and search for clean water. Meanwhile, Glenferd made his way toward Professor Charles Dickens's tent. After asking for permission, he stepped inside.
The professor was busy with his research. In one hand he held a small notebook in which he was sketching something. Beside him lay a box filled with glass tubes and various experimental tools. On top of another crate, a large book lay open.
Glenferd's eyes wandered to its pages. The book was covered in numbers, equations, and intricate patterns many of which he couldn't understand. Just as his gaze lingered there, Charles quickly slipped the small notebook he'd been writing in into his pocket.
"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," Glenferd said politely.
"Oh, not at all. Tell me what brings you here?" Professor Charles asked, looking up from his work. He was thirty-four years old, but with his well-built, vigorous frame, he could easily have passed for someone in his late twenties.
"There's no special reason," Glenferd replied with a faint smile. "I've started writing a new novel. I haven't told you about it yet. It's the story of each one of us here you too are one of the characters. That's why I'd like to know a few more things about you. I already know that you're a professor…"
"You left for New York looking for a good opportunity. Apart from that, there are a few more things I'd like to know. If you don't mind, may I ask you some personal questions?" Glenferd explained his intention.
After a brief silence, Professor Charles agreed. He closed up the box and set aside everything he had been working on. Then he arranged a place for them both to sit, each taking a spot opposite the other.
"Now, go ahead. Ask whatever you wish to know about me. If it's within my reach, I'll answer," the professor said, leaning slightly forward, clasping his hands together. He was ready for Glenferd's questions.
"Do you have a family? Children, perhaps?" Glenferd asked his first question.
"How could a man as obsessed as I am ever have a family?" Charles replied with a faint smile.
"Why do you say that?"
"I spend three-quarters of my day buried in books or experiments. The remaining fifteen percent, I live as ordinary people do. And then I repeat the same cycle, day after day. How could someone like that ever build a family? In fact, before you came in, I was in the middle of a new experiment."
"Oh, I see. And what about your childhood? Tell me about your father and mother."
When Glenferd asked this, the professor lowered his head and fell into thought.
"In the novel you are writing, let at least one character be a man shrouded in secrets. Glenford realized that the reason he gave such a twisted answer was because he had no interest in answering the question directly.
'Then let it be so. I'll ask one more question and then take my leave. Could you tell me a little about the new experiment you're going to conduct what kind of experiment is it?'
'Are you truly interested in knowing? Then I'll tell you what it's about. ‹The TIME› that is the name of my current experiment.'
'What do you mean by THE TIME?'
'You'll understand it in due time. Your questions are finished, aren't they? You may leave now.'
He slowly straightened and rose to his feet. Before stepping outside, Glenford asked the professor one more thing. This time, it wasn't for the sake of his novel.
'When did you all first realize that Edward and I weren't at the shore that day? Who was it that noticed it first?'"
"Oh, that was me. There was a small tear in my tent. When I came to ask for your help fixing it, I realized you weren't there. And while searching for you, I found out Edward wasn't at the shore either." The professor rose from his seat.
"Do you think I'm a little insane? That's what people who get close to me usually believe. But don't speak of what I told you about my experiment to anyone."
"I won't tell a soul. Was the tear in your tent closed up? Should I help you?"
"I already patched it, Glenford. John (the doctor) helped me."
After saying this, the professor stepped closer to Glenford and whispered in his ear:
"Time is everything. Every thread of the universe is woven by time. It is like an endless cycle. Even gods bow their heads to time. That is why I call it the Cycle of Emptiness. That is what I'm trying to defeat. Now, use your writer's mind to help me develop it."
Glenford had no reply. He simply went back to his tent to continue writing his novel. After he left, Professor Charles returned to his experiments.
Mary's Tent.
Max was scribbling in a notebook to kill time, while her mother sat close by, keeping an eye on her. After closing the notebook and slipping it back into her bag, Max pulled out a headset a Sony MDR-3L2 (the slim, lightweight headphones that came with the Sony Walkman in the 1980s). It was a birthday gift from her mother, something Mary had cherished since her youth. Later, she had passed it down to Max.
"Mom, I'm bored. Can I go outside?"
"Don't leave the seashore. I need to see you from here."
"Okay, mom." Saying this, Max put on her headset, played a song, and stepped outside. She started dancing to the beat. Her favorite song, Running Up That Hill, was playing. Skipping along, she headed toward Joseph's tent.
"Uncle, can I come in?" she called from outside. He was reading a novel, but he put it away and told her to enter.
"Uncle, why don't you come out and talk to the others?" she asked. He pretended not to hear the question.
"What are you listening to?" he asked instead, trying to change the subject.
"Do you want to hear it, Uncle?" she said, placing her headset on Joseph's ears and queuing up another song. Joseph began enjoying it, even moving his body in rhythm. Max joined him, and soon a broad smile lit up his face. When the song ended, he finally decided to answer her earlier question.
"You asked me why I don't talk to people. The truth is, I'm not the kind who makes friends easily. And I don't trust people much either. I'm only speaking to you because you're just a little girl."
"Then we're friends now, right?" Max smiled at him.
"Alright. We can be friends." They bumped their fists together. But when Joseph went to return her headset, a strange sound suddenly crackled from it.
Tick… Tick… Tick…
The sound continued steadily, then stopped after a minute. Joseph frowned, puzzled. Where had that sound come from? This wasn't a radio headset it was just for playing recorded songs. How could a ticking noise come from it? He wondered if it was just a glitch, maybe the headset was broken. Shrugging, he dismissed it.
Max took back her headset, said goodbye to Joseph, and walked away. Joseph returned to the book he had been reading.
To be continued....