

     The title of this story was suggested by the title of a Queen
     song.  Its  a  tribute to Freddie Mercury in name only. Its a
     story of a love lost. To those of you who have  already  been
     there, I dedicate this tale to you.

                                - B.H.J

                               * * * * *


                           T H E   F A I R Y

               F E L L O W S   M A S T E R   S T R O K E

                                  By

                            Bryan H. Joyce


             A Tale From The Tavern At The Edge Of Nowhere



     PART ONE - The Fairy Fellow.

     Hi!  I'm Tony Wheelbough.  At the moment, I'm a barman  at  a
     very  unusual  bar called the Tavern. It is part of a complex
     known as The Edge Of Nowhere. This name is misleading.   It's
     actually  situated on a planet near the core of the galaxy we
     Earthlings call the Milky way. The  planet  doesn't  have  an
     official  name,  but most visitors call it The Edge.  This is
     probably because of the  hundred  foot  high  hologram  of  a
     flashing  neon  sign  saying  "The  Edge  Of Nowhere" that is
     usually the second thing that the  startled  traveller  sees.
     What's  the first thing? I'll tell you later. The Earth time,
     at the moment, is about 1955. Due to the  turbulence  in  the
     space/time  continuum  created  by the core stars, space/time
     travellers are washed up here all the time. I've  heard  that
     there is a similar effect at the centre of most galaxies. The
     Milky Way is the only known place where this effect disgorges
     this  flotsam and jetsam onto a specific place on the surface
     of a planet.  It seemed a worthwhile place to build  a  hotel
     and   leisure   complex.   I  had  nothing  to  do  with  the
     construction; I just work here.

     Sounds  all  very  interesting   doesn't it?  Bet I know what
     you're thinking right  now.   How  did  I  come  by  such  an
     ordinary  job  in such extraordinary surroundings?  Admit it.
     That's what you're thinking. Right? You're not the  first  to
     have  asked  such  a  question.  Customers often ask me how I
     ended up here.  This is my story. Like  many  aspects  of  my
     life,  it starts in an unusual manner. In any life, there are
     an infinite amount of points where it can change  drastically
     and  suddenly  by  pure  circumstance.  Millions of seemingly
     unrelated events led to my current state. If they had  worked
     out  differently,  I would not have ended up at the Tavern at
     The Edge Of Nowhere.  The  most  significant  event  was  the
     "seemingly"  coincidental  intervention  of the Fairy Fellow.
     This is also his story.


                                 *


     To start with, the Fairy Fellow was unconscious.  If  he  had
     not  been,  this story would probably never have happened. It
     seems incredible now when I think about it, but even I  don't
     know where I found him. I was lost.

     I'm  digressing  already.  Perhaps  it  would  be better if I
     filled in a bit of my own history first.

     I was living in England when I was made redundant from my job
     at the Berwick-upon-Tweed Matrix shop. I decided  to  take  a
     long  holiday.  Other matters had been praying on my mind for
     some time. I  was  very  depressed,  but  I  would  not  have
     admitted  to being suicidal. What was needed was a sabbatical
     of sorts. I've  always  been  fond  of  backpacking.  Without
     pausing  for minor details, such as planning the route, I was
     off to Scotland.

     The flying bus took me to Glasgow. From there, I got a  mono-
     rail  to  a  small  village  called  Dalwhinnie. After a food
     binge at the Ben Alder tea rooms I  set  off  into  the  grey
     drizzle  that lined the edges of Loch Ericht (not a very good
     route). The path ran out after about 10 miles, from  there  I
     was  walking on wet peat and boulders on what was, in places,
     almost a cliff edge. Indeed, every now and  then,  I  had  to
     negotiate  large  places where the mountainside had slid into
     the loch. At one such place sat a small  frog.  Strange?  The
     loch was a sheer drop of about 80 feet and there was no other
     water  for  miles.  I knelt down and talked to the frog for a
     while.

     "Gribbit. Gribbit!" I said. The frog just turned its back  on
     me  and  huddled  down  as  if  it  wanted  to  go  to sleep.
     "Charming," I said and continued on my way.

     I wonder how all these boulders got here? Answer -  they  had
     fallen  off  of  the tops of the mountains. You don't believe
     me? Then push aside a boulder and see beneath the  bodies  of
     passing idiots like me.

     For the first few days, I used the map to walk between places
     of potential interest. The first night I spent in the haunted
     bothy at the foot of Ben Alder. Luckily, I never saw anything
     ghostly  hanging  from  the back of the door in the middle of
     the night. The story is that a shepherd hung  himself  there.
     Many  people  have  seen  his ghost. I hate the supernatural.
     When I was about 13, I saw something that  made  my  hair  go
     white, but that - as they say - is another story....

     The next night was spent in the tent in the middle of Rannoch
     Moor.   Next  day, I wandered off at random not really caring
     where I went.  Rather stupid really!  I don't  know  where  I
     pitched  the  tent that night. I didn't bother to work it out
     on the map.  My mind was numb  with  depression,  but  lacked
     specific focus. Like the previous nights, I slept like a dead
     man.   The following day I didn't go anywhere at all. I spent
     the day in the tent reading "All Fall Down" by Enid  Jackson.
     A  fictionalization of the real life story of a woman who was
     a plague carrier. I had been meaning to read it for years. It
     turned out to be totally bland plot-wise,  but  really  great
     for it's historical accuracy. I threw it away.

     That  night  in  the  tent  disturbed me greatly. All the bad
     things that had been hiding in my mind during  the  day  came
     bubbling  to  the  surface in 3-D technicolour. My mind was a
     cinema projecting the same movie again and again.  Each  time
     the  interpretation  was  minutely  different,  but  the plot
     remained the same. In the soft silent  blackness,  I  brooded
     about the death of my beloved Sarah Brown so many months ago.

     We were staying in Stockport Maine in the good old US of A. I
     was  drunk  on  the night of the accident. We all were. I was
     driving, my brother Joey and his wife, Mary, were in the back
     seat.  They had come up from New York especially for my  21st
     birthday.  The  party  we  had  just left had been out in the
     countryside. I can't remember the name of the village, but it
     should have been called "Hicksville". Everybody  was  related
     to  everybody.  The  four  of us stuck out like a sore thumb.
     Nevertheless, it had ended up a very pleasant evening.  Sarah
     was  at  my left-hand side in the passenger seat. We had been
     dancing all night. Not only was it my birthday, but  when  we
     were  at  the  party I had asked Sarah to marry me.  She said
     that she would think about it. Swine!

     It was 2 a.m and I was tired, but happy.  Sarah  was  asleep.
     Joey  and  Mary  chatted  quietly. It was raining, very windy
     and I was driving too fast. The moon was bright and full.

     At the side of the road was one of the  strangest  figures  I
     could  have  expected  to see at this time of the morning, or
     indeed, any time of day. A tall stocky man dressed  in  green
     tights, short green jacket and a woolly green hat pulled well
     down.  At  first  he reminded me of a stereotyped Robin Hood.
     When the automobile got closer, I spotted his  short  silvery
     beard.  All  in  all, he was dressed like an actor I had once
     seen playing the part of Oberon, King of the  Fairies,  in  a
     Shakespeare  play. He waved furiously and jumped about a lot.
     I did not know why, but there was  something  familiar  about
     him that made me feel uneasy. He might have been shouting. It
     looked  like it, but I couldn't hear anything above the noise
     of the engine and the wild weather.

     "Bloody loony hitchhiker! No way baby!"

     Almost knocking him down, we  roared  by  spraying  him  with
     water  from an unfortunately placed puddle. Seconds later, at
     the crest of a blind hill darkened by overhanging trees,  the
     automobile  struck  a  large  dark shape in the middle of the
     road.

     Something screamed. Human screams followed as the  windscreen
     shattered when Sarah was thrown through it. The world spun as
     the automobile turned  over  onto  its  top,  righted  itself
     again,  rammed  a  tree and skidded down a grassy embankment.
     Sometime during all this, something hit me on the face.   Why
     hadn't  the  crash  balloons  gone  off?   The  seat belt was
     breaking my ribs....blackness!

     I don't know how long I was out. Don't think  it  could  have
     been  long.  When I came to, someone had pulled me out of the
     automobile. Near  by,  the  Fairy Fellow  was  bending  over
     Sarah.  A  glowing  band was about her head. It was connected
     by a  thin  cable  to  what  looked  like  a  large  portable
     computer.  Distantly,  I  was  aware of the twisted body of a
     steer lying near by. It must have been standing in the middle
     of the road when the automobile had hit it. Jesus  wept!  Had
     the citizens of Hicksville county never heard of fencing?

     Trying  to  protect  her  from the loony, I tried to stand. A
     million  volts  of  pain  surged  through  my left side.  The
     whiteness  of  bone  glistened  in  the  moonlight  and   the
     blackness  of  marrow  protruded  from  the  skin  of my left
     forearm. I blacked out again.

     Much later, I found out that I also had two  broken  ribs  on
     the  left side and whiplash. Joey's head was badly cut and he
     had three broken fingers and whiplash. Mary had a broken  leg
     and a fractured collar bone.

     I  was  lucky.  If  I  had not been wearing my seat belt, the
     steering wheel column would have impaled my chest. It was  an
     old  automobile; made before crushable steering wheel columns
     became standard.

     Sarah was not so lucky. On her way  through  the  windscreen,
     she  hit  the  dashboard hard enough to break her collar bone
     and all but one of her  ribs.  Jagged  bone  tore  her  heart
     apart.  She was dead in seconds - I hope. Never again would I
     be irritated by the way in which she treated all strangers as
     if they were long lost friends. Never again would  I  run  my
     fingers  through  her  long black hair or gaze into those sad
     grey eyes. Never again would I have to stoop to kiss her. The
     loveliness was gone. The greatness that was Sarah  Brown  did
     not  exist  outside of memory. She was wonderful. She was the
     best. She was dead.

     The memory of her broken body lying on the grass  beside  the
     road  with the stranger bending over it will haunt me till my
     dying day. Who the hell was he? What on Earth was  he  doing?
     These  questions  remained unanswered. You would have thought
     someone  so  distinctively  dressed  would  have  been  found
     quickly, wouldn't you? He was never traced.

     Although  the  accident  was  over  a year ago, I never drank
     again. She had died because of alcohol. Not so deep  down,  I
     knew  that  if  I  ever  took a drink again then someone else
     would die. It would be me.

     As I lay in my tent that night unable  to  sleep,  death  the
     purifier  seemed like an increasingly good fellow to meet. No
     job. No kids. No Sarah. No future? Yes, it WAS a bloody  good
     idea! How to do it?

     At  nearly  quarter  to four that morning, I left my tent and
     started to climb a nearby hill. It was cold, wet and dark.  I
     left  my  coat  and waterproofs behind. I would not need them
     again.

     Twenty minutes later, I reached the summit of the steep hill.
     Coincidence had provided me with  just  what  I  was  looking
     for. The other side of the hill was a sheer cliff. Carefully,
     I approached the edge and looked down into the dark beckoning
     woods  below.  It  would be so easy - so inviting - to take a
     last step forwards into oblivion. A few seconds  of  freezing
     flight then silence. Forever.

     Obviously, I didn't take that step - so, I'm  a  coward,  big
     deal!  Instead,  I  sat  down. Drunk with fatigue, I was in a
     dream-like state.  I cried for a while  and  then  sat  in  a
     trance for a long time. Why me?

     Suddenly  I  jerked to awareness. The sun was up and the view
     was quite lovely. I was  cold.  I  shivered  in  the  cutting
     wind.  My  clothes were damp with the rain and nervous sweat,
     but I did not care. For some unknown reason, I felt euphoric.
     I was aware of a warmth - a hope - inside. Everything happens
     for a reason. Sure, life had hit a few too many  curve  balls
     recently,  but all times - even bad ones - change. I think it
     was George Orwell who said something along the lines of, when
     you're lying on the bottom of the world the only way  is  up.
     Think I know what he meant.

     I  had  decided  to  stand  up  when  I  sneezed.  Suicide by
     pneumonia.  I waited a few moments for the next sneeze. It is
     my experience that sneezes are plural,  never  singular.  The
     second  sneeze  never  came. Wrong again Tony. I stood up and
     began the weary climb back down the hillside.

     I was thirsty so I stopped and drank deeply from a spring.

     "Oh, God! I need a drink!" I whispered out loud. All at once,
     with a vice-like grip, the hand of depression re-clutched  my
     brain.

     By the time I got back to the tent, it was far too bright  to
     try  and  sleep.  I  got  out my stove and heated up a tin of
     Irish Stew. After only two spoonfuls, I felt suddenly sick. I
     swallowed two  caffeine  tablets  with  cold  sweet  tea  and
     reluctantly decided to force the rest of the stew down.

     After some more cold tea - God really knew what he was  doing
     when  he  invented tea and sugar - I folded the tent away and
     went down to the stream to wash the remains of the stew  from
     the  pot.  I changed my mind and violently threw the pot into
     the white water. The world stinks!

     "And  then,  one  day,  all  the  shit  died!  So  ad  bloody
     infinitum!"  I  shouted  - no, I don't understand it either -
     and went back to the campsite.

     When everything was packed I set off. I  didn't  plan  to  go
     anywhere  in  particular.  I  didn't even look at the map. It
     didn't matter. It was the walking  that  mattered.  When  you
     walk  for  a long time, even the best scenery eventually gets
     dull. Your  mind  seems  to  switch  off.  Your  body  is  on
     autopilot.  The  rhythmic  swing of your legs hypnotises you.
     The hours can go by very quickly - if you let them.

     Many hours later, I came to a largish village. Where it  was,
     I don't know. There was a licensed grocers and it was open. I
     bought a bottle of whisky and a half bottle of cheap wine.

     I  walked for quarter of an hour until I was sure I would not
     be seen. My water flask  hung  on  the  crystalline  graphite
     frame  of  my  rucksack - so it's old fashioned, but it still
     does the job. I opened it, drank half a  pint  of  water  and
     poured  the  rest  onto  the road. We wouldn't like to end up
     dehydrated - would we?

     I opened the bottle of whisky and poured most of it into  the
     water  flask.  About a quarter was left in the bottle. I held
     it up to my face and stared at the beautiful  golden  liquid.
     Oh,  such  delights  it would bring! It sparkled magically as
     it caught the sunlight. I sniffed at the mouth of the bottle.
     The smell made my stomach heave whilst my mouth watered  with
     desire....

          Nostalgia had been triggered. A  memory  popped  up
          out  of  the twilight zone.  Me, aged four, tasting
          whisky for the first  time.   It  was  the  morning
          after  some  sort  of party.  I had discovered what
          looked like a half full bottle of  soft  drink.   I
          couldn't  read,  but recognised the bottle as being
          cream soda.  Why was the liquid  a  sort  of  brown
          colour?   Who  cares!   I  tilted  back  the bottle
          allowing the unknown into my young mouth  and  went
          into  an  extreme  panic  at  what I tasted. It was
          fire!  I spat it out and got  a  towel  to  dry  my
          tongue  with.   The stuff made the towel go a funny
          colour.  Who would put such  horrible  stuff  in  a
          cream  soda  bottle?   Was  that  what  they called
          alcohol?   If  that's  what  the  grown  ups   call
          "drinking",  they  must  be mad! Why on earth would
          anyone want to drink stuff like that? It hurts! I'm
          never ever going to drink that sort of stuff when I
          grow up!

     ....I took a sip. It made me cough. I drained  the  remainder
     in  one  prolonged gulp. It burned like hell; yet contained a
     welcomed comfort reminiscent of a long lost  friend.  "Hello.
     I'm  back!  Long  time  no  see," it said happily.  I held my
     breath for a while so that I wouldn't  cough  and  threw  the
     empty bottle away.

     After  my  abstinence,  the  fatigue  and  my depression, one
     mouthful of that hellish brew would have been enough to  make
     me  high.  The  amount  I had just gulped down was just plain
     stupid! Ten minutes later it hit me. My last  clear  thoughts
     were pathetic.

     "If  I wait till I'm starting to sober up, I can sip the rest
     and stay drunk all day."

     It must have worked; for the rest of that day I walked  in  a
     trance.  The  night  passed  like a long shadow. The next day
     was a hazy dream. The effects of the  drink  could  not  have
     lasted  that  long.  I  must  have  bought  more, but I don't
     remember.

     When I sort of came to my senses - I don't know how much time
     had passed - it was four in the afternoon.  Which  afternoon,
     I  did not know. I was overcome with exhaustion. I had to get
     some sleep. It was raining again and I didn't have a clue  as
     to  my whereabouts. I was walking along a country road. To my
     left was a lake or loch. To my right was  a  pine  forest.  I
     set off into the forest looking for a campsite.

     Soon,  I  came to a large clearing and stopped suddenly. Very
     suddenly. In fact, I fell over.

     Not wanting to get up again, I wriggled out  of  my  rucksack
     straps and managed to open it. I had enough awareness left to
     find  my  survival kit. I took out the survival bag and, with
     much difficulty, pulled the toggle which allowed  the  memory
     metal  struts  to  unfold  it.  I put my sleeping bag inside,
     crawled in and blacked out.

     Odd people have odd dreams.

     There was a  room  with  no  windows.  Perhaps  a  cellar?  A
     stairway seemed to be the only way out. I went up the stairs.
     Dead  end.  A  deep  growling  laugh  that  sounded strangely
     familiar. I turned to look.

     At the bottom of the stairs was a terrible apparition. It was
     a naked sexless person. Instead of a head,  it  had  a  slimy
     white  skull.  Bleeding eyes in sharp edged sockets swivelled
     my way. The thing waited for me. "Come here. I want  to  talk
     to  you,"  the  skull said with a flapping tongue that looked
     suspiciously like a slice of raw liver. Again, laughter.  The
     stairs  folded  and became a smooth slope. I started to slide
     towards the monster. No! More laughter.

     Terrified, I clawed at the slope until my fingers bled. First
     time  I've  ever  felt pain in a dream! It was so real that I
     felt my fingernails peel back and break.  Splinters  of  wood
     from  the  stairs  embedded  themselves into the open weeping
     flesh. It's only a dream! It's only a dream! Then why does it
     hurt so much? The thing reached out with a massive  hand  and
     engulfed   my   face.  Wet.  Cold.  Dark.  I  can't  breathe!
     Laughing! It hurts! When you die in a dream, do you  die  for
     real?

     And  then  I woke up. I still couldn't breathe. Something was
     on my face.  I pulled it away and gulped  in  air.  What  had
     been  on my face? It was the plastic of the survival bag. The
     damp morning dew had made it stick to my face.

     Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. My head throbbed  and  I  felt
     sick.  I moved slightly and became aware of an urgent need to
     empty my bladder. It  was  either  getting  dark  or  getting
     light. I pressed the button of my watch.

     "Five p.m." It informed me.

     For  Scotland, it was surprising that it was not already dark
     at this time of year. I must have been  asleep  for  over  12
     hours.  I  crawled out of the survival bag and gently vomited
     bile onto the grass. The  steam  from  the  mess  was  vivid,
     white,  thick  and  unreal.  I  stood up, unzipped my fly and
     washed the ugliness away with a snaking flow of  the  darkest
     urine I had ever seen.

     "Thank God, no one can see the state I'm in!"

     I  turned  around and got the biggest shock of my life. A few
     feet away, lying on the ground, was a bearded man dressed  in
     green  tights and jacket. The Fairy Fellow! He was lying face
     down with one arm outstretched,  presumably,  unconscious.  A
     woolly  hat  was lying on the ground beside him. His hair was
     white - just like mine.

     My hangover forgotten, I checked him  for  broken  bones  and
     bruises.  Nothing! I ran my fingers quickly through his hair.
     If there was a lump there I missed it. He was breathing  okay
     and his pulse was strong, so I didn't bother putting him into
     the Recovery Position. Where could he have come from? Who was
     he?  Why  was  he still so familiar? Could this really be the
     same person that I had seen by the roadside so  long  ago  on
     that terrible night?

     I  stood up and began to look for an automobile or something.
     Why I assumed there would be a vehicle, I don't know - I just
     did. I didn't find an automobile. I found a something. It was
     roughly the same shape as  a  two  man  hovercraft,  but  the
     controls  on  the  open dashboard were of an unfamiliar sort.
     There were three large digital clock displays.  There was  no
     steering  wheel,  foot pedals or wheels. A five foot flywheel
     was mounted behind the sofa type seat. A sort of safety  rail
     ran  right around its perimeter. There were no doors, but the
     rail would have to be climbed over to get in.

     Obviously, it was not a hovercraft. It  must  be  capable  of
     moving  in  some other manner. After all, this was the middle
     of a forest in the Scottish  highlands.  How  else  could  it
     have got here? Was it some weird ground effect machine?

     I climbed in. There was a button labelled EMERGENCY RETURN. I
     was  about  to  press  it  when  a thought struck me. If this
     ridiculous machine was indeed capable of motion; pressing the
     button might set it off on a journey.   Maybe  I  would  have
     trouble switching it off again?

     I  climbed  out  again  and carried the Fairy Fellow into the
     vehicle. I settled down into the seat beside him and  pressed
     the  button marked EMERGENCY RETURN. With a hum the fly wheel
     started spinning. The world began to shake slightly. The  hum
     increased  in  pitch and everything outside of the craft went
     grey. Look again! There was no outside of the craft any more.
     Just the greyness. I felt like a character in  one  of  those
     cartoons where the hero is running so fast that he leaves the
     cartoon altogether and stands on an empty canvas.

     I   felt  panic  surge over me and I insanely decided to jump
     overboard into the nothingness, when the  Fairy  Fellow  woke
     up.

     "Don't," he called.

     I had one leg over the side already. I would have jumped out,
     but  I  couldn't  feel  the ground. When the Fairy fellow had
     spoke I felt a giddy sense of disorientation. So  strong  was
     this  feeling  that for a moment I thought that it was myself
     who had spoken.

     "Don't do it. I don't know what will happen, but it might  be
     rather nasty," he said.

     For  a  second or so I thought about diving off over the side
     and then changed my mind. Instead,  I  withdrew  my  leg  and
     dropped back onto the seat beside him.

     "What's  going  on?  Who are you?" I was too frightened to be
     able to say anything else.

     "Er, I can't remember, but my head hurts. Who  are  you?"  he
     ran  a  heavy  scarred hand through his white hair and gave a
     groan. I don't know why, but I got  the  impression  that  he
     was lying and that he knew perfectly well who I was.

     "Tony Wheelbough," I said.

     "I know!" he said laughing.

     "Know what?" I said.

     "I   remember  what's  happening  now.  Well,  sort  of!  You
     shouldn't be here with me. As to what the hell is  happening,
     things are still a bit hazy. Are you flying this thing?"

     "No. I hit the Emergency Return button."

     "I  don't  think that I remembered to set it, so we'll end up
     in the right place probably at the wrong time."

     "What?" I said again.

     "Oh wise up Tony! Haven't you worked it out yet?  This  is  a
     time machine."

     "Like the TARDIS?" Given my current position, you would think
     that  it  would have been difficult to mock the Fairy Fellow.
     Still I tried.

     "Not quite. More like the one in that antique film."

     "Back To The Future?"

     "No!"  he  said in annoyance. "That's not old enough to be an
     antique.  I'm talking about that film about  a  time  machine
     that  was  called, er, The Time Machine.  It's your favourite
     film."

     "How would you know?"

     The greyness changed. In its place  was  a  reddish  sky  and
     grass  so dark that it was almost black. In front of the time
     machine were two extraordinary things.   The  first  was  the
     skeleton  of  a  whale.   It  was instantly recognisable as a
     whale simply because it could not have been anything else. It
     looked as if the  bones  had  been  polished  and  was  quite
     beautiful  in  an  odd  sort of way. The second extraordinary
     thing  was  a  gigantic  flashing  neon  sign  which  floated
     unsupported  in  the  air  above  what  looked  like  an  old
     Edwardian manor house. It said;

                 T H E   E D G E   O F   N O W H E R E

     "We've arrived," said the Fairy Fellow.

     "Please tell me what is going on?" I whimpered.

     "Sorry no time. Must be off.  Go  to  the  help  booths  over
     there." My eyes followed as he gestured towards a row of what
     looked  like  cash  dispensers  set  into  the side of a wall
     standing in front of the manor house.

     "But...but?"

     "Hurry up. I shouldn't be here at all.  Causality  violations
     and  all that stuff. Savvy?" He vaulted over the safety rail,
     ran round to my side of the machine and roughly pulled me out
     onto the dark grass. Next, he lifted up the seat of the craft
     to expose a  storage  area  which  was  filled  with  several
     bits'n'pieces.   He  removed  what  might  have  been a large
     portable computer. A familiar glowing band was attached to it
     by a single thick cable. He carried them over  to  a  second,
     identical,  looking  time  machine parked near by. Opened the
     seat locker, dumped his cargo in, slammed the seat shut again
     and climbed inside.

     "Be seeing you," he grinned.

     "Wait!" I shouted.

     "The help booths. Go to the help booths!" he pointed again.

     Then he and the time machine were gone. It was as  simple  as
     that.  One second he was there sitting in the machine smiling
     and the next he was gone. There was no  fading  involved.  No
     bang  of  air rushing in to fill a vacuum. Just a sharp crack
     like a large piece of elastic snapping and  I  was  alone  on
     the dark grass beside the skeleton of an extinct sea mammal.

     Not for long though!

     There  was  another sharp crack to my left. I looked and saw,
     perhaps 50 feet away, a large object where nothing  had  been
     seconds  ago.  It looked like a miniature version of the part
     of an oil rig that shows above the waves. I guess its  height
     must  have been around the 30 foot mark. As I watched, a door
     opened, a ramp extruded and  three  people  got  out.  I  say
     people only because the creatures were humanoid and walked on
     hind legs. Instead of clothes they were covered in tidy green
     feathers  and had several belts hung about themselves. One of
     them looked in my direction and gave a wave and a whistle.

     "Hi!" it said when I didn't answer its whistle.

     It's face was much like I imagined a human beings would  look
     if  it  was  covered in feathers. To my surprise there was no
     beak on the face nor was there  any  sign  of  wings  on  the
     body.  It  turned  back to its companions and they walked off
     towards the building. "Some people!"  one  of  them  muttered
     quietly.

     What I needed at that moment was a book entitled, How To Stay
     Calm.  As  no  such  publication  was available, I decided to
     follow the bird-men at a discreet distance.

     Nearer the building, I could see the words, "Edge Of Nowhere"
     carved in the stone above the main doors. To  the  right  and
     left  were  smaller  sets  of  double  doors. Over one set of
     doors  a  small  black  and  gold  sign   said,   "The   Last
     Restaurant".  Under  the  sign  was  a painting of a cobblers
     anvil with a ballet slipper in the background. Very  funny  I
     don't  think!  LAST,  huh! Over the other set of doors a sign
     said "The Tavern". There was no painting beside this sign. It
     was through the latter that the bird-men  went.  I  tried  to
     follow, but could not. It felt as if something was pushing me
     back.  At first it was as if I was walking into a strong wind
     that slowly increased the nearer I got to the building.  When
     I  was  about  15  feet  from the front door the force was so
     strong that my progress was halted. What now?

     I turned, intending going over to the so called  help  booths
     and  was pushed over by the invisible force and dragged a few
     feet back the way that I had  came.  Oh,  why  can't  I  have
     piece and quiet to enjoy my hangover?

     The  nearby  help  booths  looked a bit like cash  dispensers
     except  for  a dark hole where the money would come out and a
     much larger landscape screen containing many lines  of  text.
     The  first  line  of text was English. The second looked like
     Russian.  The next might have been Mandarin. The next  30  or
     more  lines were a mystery to me. I later found out that some
     were other Earth languages and others Alien dialects. Here is
     what the English text said,

     IF YOU CAN READ THIS, TOUCH IT.

     I did as I was told.

     ARE YOU FROM EARTH?

     A full sized drawing of a keyboard appeared  in  the  screen.
     Slowly, I typed in my answer.

     "Yes."

     WHAT TIME?

     "2040."

     IS THAT A.D?

     "Yes."

     WHAT UNIVERSE?

     "Don't understand."

     WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

     "Tony Wheelbough."

     PLEASE WAIT THERE IS CONFUSION!

     More than a minute goes by.

     DO YOU UNDERSTAND ANYTHING THAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOU TONY?

     "Not much."

     DO YOU WANT TO?

     What  a  dumb  question!  It  was tempting to give a negative
     answer, but it was a machine and wouldn't catch the irony. It
     would probably would just say goodbye.  Instead,  I  answered
     in the positive.

     The  help  booth  went on to tell me lots of things about the
     Edge Of Nowhere. Like the nature  of  the  invisible  barrier
     that  prevented my progress earlier. It was nothing more than
     a fancy type of force field  nicknamed  a  friction  field  -
     true  friction  fields  don't exist. The nearer you got to it
     the harder it became. Fine, I had already  guessed  as  much.
     What's it for? This was pretty obvious when you thought about
     it. To keep out undesirables.

     Time  travellers  don't always arrive by time machine and are
     not necessarily friendly or even sentient. It's  not  unusual
     for  a tiger or something equally vicious to get caught up in
     a naturally occurring time warp and be thrown  out  near  the
     Edge  Of  Nowhere.  When the planet was discovered there were
     all sorts of skeletons - even a few human -  and  other  junk
     lying  about  in  and  around  the  arrival zone. There is no
     surface water on this planet and nearly all the vegetation is
     poisonous (to Earth creatures anyway),  thus  the  skeletons.
     This zone is roughly triangular with sides slightly less than
     10  miles  long.  Right  in  the  middle is a safe zone where
     nothing is ever washed up by the current's of time.  This  is
     where  the  complex  was built. For extra security, the force
     field was added. All the junk was cleared away to  make  room
     for  arriving  space/time craft - actually, nearly all of the
     visitors are space,  not  time,  travellers.  Travelling  any
     distance  through  space involves a certain amount of mucking
     about with time. The only piece of junk that was  allowed  to
     remain  was the skeleton of a blue whale. It was moved nearer
     to the force field, covered with preservative and polished.

     This was all very interesting stuff, but how do I get in?

     YOUR KIRLIAN FIELD MAY BE ADJUSTED.

     May be adjusted? I knew what a Kirlian field is. It's a  sort
     of  electrical  force  that surrounds everything. Some people
     call it an Aura. Even as early as the  twentieth  century  it
     had  been photographed by a special process. According to the
     help booth,  by  the  twenty  third  century  it  was  almost
     universally  accepted  that the Kirlian field is actually the
     soul. Inanimate objects have 'pretend' souls.   Animals  have
     partial  souls  that  will  grow  into the full thing if self
     awareness occurs. The friction field that protects  the  Edge
     Of  Nowhere  is  triggered  by the lack of a key patch in the
     person's  Kirlian  field.   The  patch  is  attached  to  the
     individual's  Aura  by the help booth if it is satisfied that
     the  person  is  not   dangerous.    Unfortunately,   Kirlian
     technology  is  an inexact science. One in every ten thousand
     people has a naturally occurring patch similar  enough  to  a
     key  so  that  the force field ignores them. According to the
     help booth, the chances that one of these people  would  turn
     out  to be a threat to the Edge Of Nowhere is so low as to be
     negligible. I'm not so sure. Life is full of impossibilities.
     Well, mine is!

     My Kirlian field was, indeed adjusted. After it had  answered
     my questions, the help booth asked me all sorts of questions.
     Some of them were quite odd. For example,

     ARE YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER ALIVE?

     "No."

     WILL ANYONE MISS YOU?

     "Doubt it."

     DO YOU LIKE COMMUNICATING WITH STRANGERS?

     "If you mean gossiping, then yes."

     And so on, and on and on....

     At  the end of it all, I was thanked for being so helpful and
     was told to put one of my arms into  the  dark  hole  to  the
     left of the screen.

     BE CAREFUL NOT TO TOUCH THE SIDES OF THE HOLE OR YOU WILL GET
     A PAINFUL ELECTRICAL SHOCK.

     I was careful and did not receive a shock. My soul was marked
     and  I  was  free to enter the Edge of Nowhere. There was one
     last question for me.

     THE ANSWERS YOU HAVE GIVEN AND  THE  SIGNS  IN  YOUR  KIRLIAN
     FIELD SHOW THAT YOU WOULD MAKE A GOOD BARMAN. SUCH A POSITION
     EXIST'S HERE. ARE YOU INTERESTED?

     "No."

     YOU ARE LYING.

     "No, I'm not."

     THEN YOU HAVE NOT PROPERLY CONSIDERED THE MATTER.

     "I do not want a job as a barman."

     YES YOU DO.

     "I do not!"

     THIS  UNIT IS INCAPABLE OF LYING. IT HAS BEEN IN CONTACT WITH
     A PARTY OR PARTIES FROM IT'S OWN FUTURE.  APART  FROM  SHEILA
     STEVENS,  TONY  WHEELBOUGH IS THE NAME OF THE MOST WELL KNOWN
     BARMAN THAT WILL EVER WORK IN THE 'TAVERN'.

     "I don't care."

     I AM PERMITTED TO TELL YOU THAT AS A DIRECT  RESULT  OF  TONY
     WHEELBOUGH  BECOMING  A  BARMAN IN THE TAVERN, THE INDIVIDUAL
     KNOWN AS SARAH BROWN WILL BE BROUGHT BACK FROM THE DEAD IN  A
     FEW MONTHS TIME. THIS INFORMATION IS ACCURATE, BUT CAN NOT BE
     PROVED AT THIS TIME.

     Oh,  my  God!  How could this machine know about Sarah Brown?
     Fumbling, I hurriedly typed in a question.

     "Explain?"

     THIS INFORMATION HAS BEEN SECURITY PROTECTED. IT WILL NOT  BE
     REPEATED.  FURTHER  INFORMATION  IS  NOT AVAILABLE. THIS UNIT
     WILL DENY ALL KNOWLEDGE OF EVENTS ALREADY GIVEN.

     The information was indeed security protected.  I  questioned
     it  for a while, but it acted dumb and denied saying anything
     about Sarah Brown. There was nothing else I  could  do.  This
     was  blackmail!  Reluctantly,  although  intrigued,  I turned
     away, walked a few tens of feet -  unmolested  by  the  force
     field  -  and  entered the Tavern for the first time. My life
     was changed for ever.


                                   *


     PART TWO - The Master Stroke.

     Approximately 100 days later.

     It would be fair to say that I  settled  in  quickly.  As  is
     often  the  way with a new job, at first, I was slow and made
     a lot of mistakes. No one seemed to  mind  too  much.  I  was
     rather  scared of aliens for a while. The bird-men turned out
     to be okay - although rather vain. They were the only  aliens
     who actually came from somewhere I'd heard of. They came from
     a  planet that circled Arctaurus. Luckily, the customers were
     mostly human.

     I don't think that there is much point in going into  lengthy
     detail  about  my  duties  or the bar itself. Bar work is the
     same the Universe over; serving drinks, dealing with  drunks,
     working  odd hours and cleaning up vomit. And that's just the
     good things!

     This bar room is not particularly different  from  any  other
     bar  room.  It  is  about  eighty feet wide and perhaps three
     hundred long - rather larger than  most.  The  three  hundred
     foot  of  mirror  which  lines  the back of the actual bar is
     broken every twenty or so feet by doors that  lead  into  the
     back  stores  and kitchens etc,. The back eighty or so feet -
     looking from the main door - is partitioned into booths  that
     can  hold  eight  people at a squeeze; more if the tables are
     folded. Lighting is very subdued here.  Just  the  place  for
     lovers  to  hide  and  stare  into  each others eyes. Pity we
     rarely got them in here. Finally, at the very  back  are  the
     sleeping  booths. These are affectionately known as "Coffins"
     by the regulars. They are over  seven  feet  long  and  about
     three  wide  and  high.  Although  the  bar  room  has a high
     ceiling, the sleeping booths are stacked three high.  From  a
     distance, the wall behind the partitioned tables looks like a
     mausoleum  wall.  Instead  of  brass  plaques,  the doors had
     windows with blinds.

     Tonight  is  fancy dress night in the Tavern. The bar is more
     crowded than usual.  I'm dressed as Robin Hood. I've  got  on
     green  tights, a green jacket and I'm excited.  Very excited.
     I've just realized how I can save  the  life  of  my  beloved
     Sarah.  I  can  do it without breaking the laws of time - not
     that there are very many.

     Earlier this evening I was  in  conversation  with  a  rather
     drunk  woman from the twenty-fifth century. I cannot remember
     her name. She was plain  looking  with  the  most  astounding
     legs  I've  ever  seen.  The  subject of the conversation was
     Kirlian fields and the way in which the soul stays  with  the
     body throughout all eventualities.

     "To  start  with,"  the  woman with the incredible legs said.
     (She was dressed as a black  and  white  cat.)  "The  Kirlian
     field  isn't  the  soul.  It's  just  an effect caused by the
     presence of a soul. No one can detect a  soul  yet.  Give  me
     another Traffic Lights."

     I mixed her drink badly and the colours blended together into
     a  yucky  mess.  She didn't mind. Just shrugged, sipped at it
     and continued her tale.

     "We all have a longer life than we think. The soul  can  jump
     between realities. Let's say that your anti-grav failed...."

     "Your anti-grav failed," I irritated - I'm good at that.

     "....but  you  survived  the  drop  only  to  be  rushed into
     intensive care. Somewhere about then, reality  branches  into
     two or more paths. In one path you die from your injuries. In
     another   you  manage  to  survive.  Your  soul  will  follow
     whichever reality is the more probable. In  this  case,  your
     death  is  the  most  probable so your soul follows that path
     until you die. If conditions are right, the soul goes  on  to
     some other place."

     "You mean Heaven or Hell?" I said.

     "Who  knows?  If  the  conditions aren't right the soul jumps
     into the next probable reality line and  attaches  itself  to
     your  body  in  the reality where you didn't die," she smiled
     and lit up a synthi-joint. "Good huh?"

     Her smile did something to me. It was every bit as  appealing
     as  her  legs.  Suddenly,  I  felt  very sad and in need of a
     cuddle. Even although the Tavern  was  pretty  busy,  I  felt
     very alone and insignificant.

     "What  if there is no other reality for the soul to go to and
     the conditions aren't right for it to go on?" I said.

     "It becomes a ghost, of course," she sneered as if I was very
     stupid.

     "If we only have one soul, what  about  all  the  other  time
     lines.  There is bound to be other alternate time lines about
     with copies of both of us in them. Do they have souls  or  do
     we have them?"

     "You're  being  daft  now.  You told me that you already know
     about pretend  souls  and  partial's.  When  the  time  lines
     split, the soul travels on the most probable time line whilst
     a pretend soul goes on any others. If the alternate time line
     is  a  strong  one, the pretend soul will eventually become a
     partial which probably will develop into the full blown thing
     at a later date. See?"

     "Right," I said.

     "When  you  arrived here at the Edge, you probably only had a
     pretend soul  'cause  something  pretty  dramatic  must  have
     happened  otherwise you'd never ever have ended up here.  You
     with me?"

     "Still," I said.

     "By  now it's grown into a full one again or been replaced by
     the original from your dead copy in the alternate time  line.
     Maybe  I'm  wrong!  Maybe it was inevitable that you'd end up
     here no matter what happened! Am I making any sense or  am  I
     just  drunk again? Does anyone care anyway? More importantly,
     are there any pretzels?"

     I  fumbled about under the bar and got a bag of unicorn horn-
     shaped pretzels, poured them into a dish  and  gave  them  to
     Miss Lovely Legs.

     "Thanks,"  she  said and licked at the tip of a pretzel in an
     uncomfortably  suggestive manner. Actually, it was not really
     all that suggestive.  It was  just  wishful  thinking  on  my
     part.  At  the back of my mind all I could see were her legs.
     Legs which I had only glimpsed  for  a  few  seconds  as  she
     entered  the room and crossed to the bar. Oh, hurry up and go
     to the powder room so that I can look at them again!

     "It all sounds very convenient. Don't get me wrong,  I'm  not
     calling  you a liar, but it all sounds a bit fishy to me. How
     did you come by this information?"

     "It's a matter  of  history.  You  can  check  it  out.  This
     scientist guy built an artificial soul...."

     "If  no  one  has  detected  a soul yet," I interrupted, "let
     alone seen one, how could he build one?"

     "I'm not the bloody scientist! You want to hear this or not?"
     she said indignantly, blowing smoke into my face.

     "Okay!  Okay!  Sorry.  Please  continue.  I  didn't  mean  to
     offend."

     "You  better  not  have. Right then, er...what was I saying?"
     She was beginning to slur her words.

     "A matter of history," I said.

     "Oh, right! This artificial soul was made for  an  artificial
     intelligence  that existed inside a computer matrix. It was a
     copy of the scientist's own  brain  pattern  with  artificial
     thoughts  added.  It  was set up so that the thought patterns
     were not conscious. Like  it  was  living,  but  in  a  coma.
     Follow?"

     "Why?" I said.

     "Patience  my dear. We're getting there. It was a question of
     morals. If the copy of his own brain stored in  the  computer
     was  given  an  artificial  soul  that later developed into a
     real one, then it would be alive. It was not moral to kill  a
     perfectly  good  mind  just  for  the  experiment. See what I
     mean?"

     "Yup," I agreed.

     "When the artificial soul developed to a real one  -  and  it
     did  -  The  intelligence  was  copied  to  a second computer
     matrix. The soul stayed in the  first  matrix  until  it  was
     shut down. Effectively, the artificial intelligence was dead.
     The  soul  left  the first matrix and locked on to the second
     matrix which was a copy of the mind that had been killed."

     "Hold on there! Have I got this right? You're saying that  in
     your  century,  a  human  mind  can be copied into a computer
     matrix and it continues to live? That the soul moves  to  the
     matrix on the person's death?"

     "Well,  er  yeah?  That sounds about right. Provided that the
     copy in  the  computer  matrix  hadn't  had  enough  time  to
     develop its own soul."

     "How'd  cloning  technology  work  out?  Could a body with an
     empty mind be grown and the computer copy of the  mind  moved
     into   it?"  I  was  suddenly  very  excited.  Something  was
     beginning to form at the back of  my  mind.  The  traditional
     light bulb was waiting to pop.

     "I  see  what you're getting at. Yes. Its been done plenty of
     times. You'd have  to  record  the  person's  brain  patterns
     before or at the moment of death."

     Pop!

     The master stroke!

     "Thank you!" I leant across the bar and planted a big wet one
     right on her kisser and hurriedly left the bar.

     "Wait!  Any  chance of a large Bloody Mary?" she called after
     me, but I was gone. Solid gone.

     Working  fast,  I called in a few favours. Within the hour, I
     was climbing out of the Tavern's time hopper carrying a large
     portable computer. I still wore my Robin Hood outfit, but had
     also put on a white artificial beard so that a certain person
     would not recognise me. I left  the  computer  in  the  field
     beside  the  hopper.  Both were water-proofed so there was no
     danger of the rain causing short circuits.

     I hurried to the roadside to check the lie of  the  land.  Oh
     no!  I had arrived later than I thought! Not too far away was
     a speeding  automobile.  Without  thinking,  I  panicked  and
     jumped up and down shouting "Stop!"

     The  car  sped  through  a large puddle drenching me. Without
     pausing to watch for the inevitable, I ran back to  the  time
     hopper,  collected  the portable computer and ran for the top
     of the hill. I did not see the crash, but I heard it. It  was
     not very nice. I shuddered at the deja vu.

     I  ignored  the dead steer lying half on the road half on the
     grassy field and went straight for the still  figure  nearby.
     It  took  me a great deal of courage not to look at the dying
     body of Sarah Brown. I put the sensor band on  her  head  and
     started the memory dumping process.

     There  was a strong smell of gasoline in the air. I knew that
     the automobile would not explode, but the fumes from the  gas
     could  be  harmful. Just to be on the safe side, I pulled the
     other three from the wreck.

     I did not feel at all strange when I  pulled  Tony  from  the
     wreck.  I  was  too worried about Sarah to be unnerved by the
     oddness of the situation. I dragged them all  away  from  the
     wreck and went back to check on Sarah.

     The   computer  had  finished recording her memories. I cut a
     lock of her hair off with a pair of  small  folding  scissors
     that I'd brought with me specifically for that purpose. There
     were  no romantic reasons for this action.  I needed a sample
     of her DNA. A sound made me look away. It was  Tony.  He  was
     trying  to  sit  up.  For a few seconds he looked at the bone
     sticking out of his flesh and fainted again.

     Sarah  Brown's body was definitely dead by now. I carried her
     mind back to the time hopper. If the conversation I had heard
     earlier had been correct, the real Sarah Brown was now in the
     computer.  It was not just a copy. When  she  had  died,  her
     soul  had either gone on to the eternal place - unlikely - or
     was now in the computer with her memories. I lifted the  time
     hopper's seat and placed the computer into the space beneath.
     Elated,  I  lowered  the  seat,  got  back  in and turned the
     machine on and....but wait!!!!! What had I  forgotten?   This
     had  all  happened  months  ago by my way of thinking. I felt
     confused. I think that I was supposed to jump forwards,  just
     over a year, to Scotland, but why?

     I  couldn't  remember why. Nevertheless, I guessed at the co-
     ordinates and pulled out into the time lanes. Oh, yuk! I hate
     this grey cocoon that surrounds the time hopper. It makes  me
     travel   sick.   Wasn't   there  a  way  to  make  the  field
     transparent so that I could see where I was going? Yes  there
     was. I had read the handbook a few weeks ago. Ah, yes! I know
     what to press.

     Obviously,  I pressed the wrong buttons. The time engines cut
     out and  the  craft  hung  powerless  several  feet  above  a
     clearing  in  a  forest.  Perhaps it was a side effect of the
     decaying time field, the time hopper bucked like a wild thing
     and threw me right over the safety rail. I was lucky  because
     the  ground broke my fall. That's not as stupid as it sounds.
     If I hadn't been interphased with reality properly,  I  would
     have  fallen  through  the ground and kept on going. Not that
     I'd be alive for long - the air out  there  would  have  been
     intangible  too.  I  think  my  hat  came  off when I hit the
     ground. Then I blacked out.

     When I came to, I was back in the time hopper. I  could  tell
     that  we  were  moving  because  of  the greyness. A familiar
     figure beside me looked as if he was going to jump overboard.

     "Don't," I called, "Don't do  it.  I  don't  know  what  will
     happen, but it might be rather nasty,"

     After  a  few  uncertain  seconds,  he  withdrew  his leg and
     dropped onto the seat beside me.

     "What's going on? Who are you?" he  mumbled,  obviously  very
     frightened.   I was a bit worried myself, but at least I knew
     what was going on. Well, sort of! Perhaps  I  should  lie  to
     him?   I  didn't  remember much about this bit the first time
     round?

     "Er, I can't remember, but my head hurts.  Who  are  you?"  I
     groaned.

     "Tony Wheelbough," he said.

     "I  know!"  For  some reason the whole situation struck me as
     suddenly very funny.

     The rest of what happened you already know. It was exactly as
     the first time only  the  vantage  point  was  different.  We
     arrived  at  the  Edge Of Nowhere. I transferred to the other
     time hopper taking the computer with  me.  Tony  was  looking
     rather confused so I told him to go to the help booths.

     Moments   later   and I was back at the Edge of Nowhere. This
     time in my own time line. I gave the memories of Sarah  Brown
     and  her lock of hair to the appropriate person - Doctor Mary
     Cope - who returned to her own time to where the new body had
     been cloned three years ago. She sent the lock of  hair  back
     in  time  to herself so that the cloning could take place and
     began the transfer of the memories into the  three  year  old
     result of that cloning. The computer memories were erased and
     the soul jumped to the new body.

     Sarah  settled  into  her  new  body okay, came back from the
     future to the Edge Of Nowhere, fell in love with me all  over
     again,  married me and lived happily ever after - except that
     that was not quite the way in which  it  happened.  It  might
     have  worked  out  that  way in the movies, but this was real
     life.

     To start with, her new body looked only about 15 years old  -
     pretty  good  since it only took three years to grow it. Call
     me old fashioned, but I felt extremely uncomfortable touching
     it.  The Sarah that I'd know was a woman. This was  the  body
     of a child. She too was also uncomfortable with her new body,
     though not in the same way as me. It was the way in which she
     moved that bothered her. Everything, even a human body, needs
     to be run in. Her new body just didn't "feel" right. Her legs
     felt wrong and the balance was off. On top of that, she had a
     bad  case  of  "future shock". Months passed before she could
     accept what had happened  and  learn  to  enjoy  life  again.
     Trouble  was,  there was far too much to enjoy for my liking.
     How could our relationship grow if there were that  many  new
     things  and  people  in  her  life  that I never occupied her
     thoughts any more?

     Eventually, I couldn't handle things any more and had to talk
     about it. The talk lasted quite a long time.   There  was  no
     argument.   It was quite tender really. Quite sad. In the end
     we decided to split - she decided to split. I couldn't decide
     anything. Perhaps it really was for the best? She got  a  job
     in  the  Last  Restaurant and works there still. Sometimes we
     meet and talk.

     "We can still be good friends," she said.

     "Yeah, course we can," I lied.

     She may be able to be friends, but I could never be. Not now.
     She had taken my  heart  and  broken  it  into  tiny  pieces.
     Fragments  of  love  scattered  through  time.   Very  bloody
     appropriate! What was I to do now?

     What indeed?

     When the current of love batters you, sometimes you just  got
     to  lean  into it, other times you've got to go with the flow
     and see what else turns up.


                                   *


     So  that's  my  story.  Another  story  of  love and death. I
     suppose it's pointless in the end to anyone but me,  but  you
     had  to  ask  and  the telling has helped me to understand my
     life a bit more.

     "But, what was the master stroke? " Do I hear you  ask?  Back
     when  I started this memoir, I would have been tempted to say
     something dull like, "It all was!" but now  I  know  what  it
     was.

     I  never  leant  into  it. I went with the flow. That was the
     real master stroke.



                     (C) Bryan H.Joyce - 27/Feb/92

                      Final version - 26/April/92



     I hope that you enjoyed the above story. Even if you did not,
     why not drop me a line anyway care of Dave Burns and STUNN!

     If you have enjoyed the "Tavern" tales, you may be pleased to
     know that there will be at least  two  more.  The  next  (the
     fifth)  will  be  the  story  of  how Tony came to have white
     hair. When the series is complete,  I  intend  gathering  all
     the  stories  together with some new material and bringing it
     out as a novel. What do you think? Does the idea suck  or  do
     you like it? Write and tell me what you think.

     Till next time, keep on living. See ya all soon.

                                - B.H.J


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