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“Your clock is broken, never seen one like that before.”

 Ted’s host slithered across the carpet and behind its desk.

“Is it really? Are you certain?”

“Pretty sure. The second hand hasn’t budged in hours.”

The serpent bared its teeth in a wide grin, “Then allow me to make the repair.”

The Host stretched its head backwards towards the wall. The whole office was strange, aged and filled with curios. But the only item that caught Ted’s eye was the clock at the back of the room, and the silhouette of a man near the six-o’clock position.

He had been warned about the Host, about its eccentricities, but Ted didn’t mind. He could handle eccentrics. The Host bared its teeth and bit down on the tiny dial at the bottom of the clock. Most eccentrics anyway. The host’s neck muscles tensed as it twisted the dial clockwise. The man on the clock’s face was replaced by the silhouette of some animal Ted had never seen. What little he could make out showed a creature with a beak, fangs, and claws. The Host released its grip and the clock’s second hand began to tick.

“My apologies. So, Ted. Why have you come to see me?”

“Because you’re the best. I’ve been through a lot to get here, you know.”

The Host nodded its scaled head, “They all have.”

Ted cleared his throat, “Well I’ve spent a decade working. Spinning my wheels and getting a lay of the business landscape. And I’ve come to one conclusion, I am a head above the rest, a genius languishing among the commons. But you and I both well know that genius does not equate to opportunity, or even success. It’s all about connections.”

Ted pulled a pen from his jacket and placed it on the table, his eyes jumped briefly to the clock, the minute hand ticked forward. “I’m looking for names. Your office has a lot of pull, and I’d like you to point me towards the people who can best utilize and reward my talents.”

The Host kept its lipless mouth closed. Its eyes blinked only occasionally. The seconds ticked away on the clock. With the way the serpent was staring, Ted wondered if he was about to be eaten. The creature certainly had the size for it. After a minute, The Host broke the silence.

“Could you provide me with a few examples?”

Ted gave The Host a double-take, then started scrawling names on a small sheet of paper. Examples? Ted’s colleagues had told him The Host always had the answer, even before the question was asked. Eight names down, Ted slid the sheet back across the desk. The Host glanced at it briefly, and its eyes widened, “Ahhhhh— Now I understand.” Its tongue flicked out and tasted the air, “Ted, I’m terribly sorry.”

Ted’s gripped his slightly mudded pants, it was sounding like this entire journey had been a bust. “Hey if you can’t help you can’t help. No need to be sorry.”

“No, I can certainly help, but you won’t like the answer I give you. Do you know how long we’ve been here talking?”

Ted looked past The Host at the clock, “Four minutes maybe?”

“By the time we’re done, it’ll be more like seven.”

“So?” Ted asked.

The Host sighed. “Unfortunately, every name on this list is long dead.”

Ted tilted the list back towards himself, sure a couple of the names were getting up there in the years, but dead? He let out a chuckle, “Oh yeah? What happened, did a big flood wash all their mansions away?”

“No. The mansions were sold off, a few were divvied up among the owners progenitors, but most of them are dead now too.”

Ted’s smile fell. There was no mirth or joviality in The Host’s lidless eyes. Instead, its expression had an ounce of pity. Ted leapt up from his chair, “This isn’t funny. I’ve been gone three days.”

“Three days and seven decades.”

Seven decades. Ted’s eyes moved to the clock behind the serpent’s head.

“There are moments I prefer to see the long-arc of time, rather than the second to second. I should have warned you.” Ted paced back and forth across the office. Seventy years? It had to be a trick, he had heard The Host always took payment. Maybe this prank was the payment?

The Host bent its head behind the desk and brought out a sheet. Holding a pen in its mouth, it wrote a long list of names, then slid the paper towards Ted. He lifted the sheet to his face. His eyes couldn’t seem to focus. None of the names were people Ted knew. But he could recognize a few of the surnames.

“What is this?”

“They aren’t who you were expecting, but these are the names that should be able to give you the fulfilling work you’ve been looking for. Free of charge, of course. I promise you, all of them will be alive by the time you get out.”

Ted stared at the note, unmoving. Everything he had built was gone. Everything he had owned, wiped away by the ticking of the clock. Even with these names in his hand, he’d have to start over, rebuild from nothing.

“Ted?” Ted gave no reaction.

“Ted, you need to go.” To move would be to admit that everything he had was gone.

“Ted, if you don’t leave now I’ll have to make another list.”

The Host’s tail slid around the desk and pressed on Ted’s shoulder. He let himself be turned around, but kept his eyes on the note. With a final prod from The Host, Ted’s feet began to walk, carrying him out to an unknown world.