Warsh:~ Chapter ****1 needs serious editing I know***

Time! Time waits for no one, no more than the tide waits for the ship to sail upon the sea. Time! Time changes, sometimes for the better, but most times for the worse. 1

I am Peter, by birth I am a son of Albion, although I’ve never resided there much. I guess by circumstances Albion is the place I have to call home. Do bear in mind, there were many places I’ve lived, and I’d wished to stay, but circumstances never permitted that.2

My father had the privilege of traveling the globe. What was left of the globe for human kind to transverse along with overload baggage of bureaucracy. He spent most of his time engrossed in his work and had taken effectual measures to distance himself from my mother and me. Like we were carriers of a contagious disease, one he didn’t want to catch.3

Neither he nor my mother spoke of their courtship. This led me to believe, maybe there wasn’t any to talk of. As a child growing up I can remember them always angry at each other for some reason or the other, always pulling on different sides of the house, never uniting.4

My paternal grandfather Sir Donald Ethel was an architect, actually the chief architect of the century. Most of the civic and some of the private buildings were rebuilt using his designs or under his supervision. The Art Museum, Ferryman’s Mall, City hall, Parliament building, Forgarty’s wharf, the Prime Minister’s residence, are a few of his creations to mention. His most beloved was Sir David Rose Botanical Gardens, the place he met my grandmother. He would describe the day they meet as if it was printed in his mind, like an etching made into metal.
“Her face radiated the garden, like gold illuminating a dark valley, her sapphire eyes nestled calmly into milky opal sockets and a perfect bridge ran down her face to form a nose which complemented her ruby red lips.” Was his description of her. Not the best sculptor or even an architect like himself could form anything as beautiful as this. 5

My father wanted to leave home as fast as possible. He wanted a job far away from home, far away from his father and all his creation. He wanted a name for himself; he didn’t want to be known as the builder’s son. The first ship that came ashore looking for young, vibrant, adventurous recruits, he insured himself a place on deck, to the greatest displeasure of his father.6

My grandfather rubbed elbows with members of parliament, noblemen, lords and ladies, poets, musicians, you name them he knew them, thus the idea of his only son being a sailor was not the easiest pill to swallow.7

My mother had spent her childhood under the watchful eyes of her father Mr. Damian Thomas, who was the School Master of Tawe’s Academy. In addition to being school master he taught English Language and literature. In due course she attended and was completed to be the best student.
Her mother Mrs. Elizabeth Thomas, Nee Hill, was a farmer’s daughter. She had the common face of a farm girl, with valor of solider, instincts of a huntress and exceptional poise of a lady. 8

The farm provided my mother with plenty of access to the free country life, when not under the watchful eyes of her father.9

Although she edited the Academy’s magazine, contributing poetry and prose to it, she hated it. She hated the English language like none I’ve ever seem before. Maybe it was because of her father or maybe the restrictions she had to live with in doing so.10

She preferred painting; she spent many hours on her grandfather’s farm painting every single object, she even found the needle in the haystack to paint, nothing went unnoticed to her big, broad, clear eyes. 11

This was the day I mark as the beginning of my change of time. Just an ordinary miserable windy day, I was off to see Gordon Jennings my best friend from childhood, my most intimate friend, my only friend.12

Gordon had gotten himself a job in the New World, and didn’t think twice about leaving boring old rundown Europe, which stood in total ruins.
Europe had never been able to rebuild itself after the third Armageddon. Centuries had passed in wars, unrest, and poverty, rendering its citizens selfish and ignorant.13

I was off to see him with a little parting gift in my hand, feeling more like a fool, more than a friend. Gordon never let life get to him; he always knew the right logs to jump on. I on the other hand, was totally clueless about my own existence.14

Gordon’s father was a statesman who spent his younger days perpetually occupied by the sacraments of his country. In his old age he decided to marry and change his profession. He became a merchant and flourished quickly, buying acres of land and sea vessels, roaming the globe extensively. One unfortunate day rough waters at sea left him drowning in poverty.15

He took his wife and only child to a hut near the sea, and that is where they tried to rebuild their lives. Gordon and I met one summer at a kite exhibition on the Jetty and became best of friends. When both of his parents died, my grandfather took him in and raised him as an extended part of the family.16

When we were finished University Gordon got a job, in an Alpine village near St. Moritz in the upper Engadin valley, Graubünden canton, Switzerland. I followed soon, wanting to be as far away from my father more than he wanted to be away from me.17

“Are you sure do don’t want me to hook you up with a job? I’m sure they’ll love to have the grandson of an Albion Nobleman!” Gordon kept insisting.
“I’m sure, besides If I leave what will happen to Lusine? We need each other, we love each other and we are going to fight the Republic until they give into our demands!” I finally replied.
“God Pete, you know we are like extinct creatures in this country, the Republic will never give into you. Come with me to Mi’ Aad we’ll find a way to bring Lusine and then the two of you can be together,”Gordon insisted.
“I'm not alone," there are many more foreigners who feel the same about the situation,” I replied to the great frownon Gordon's face.18

I downed my third glass of sprits to hide my emptiness and headed for the door hurriedly.
“What is the rush? I’m not leaving until the next four hours.” Gordon said, while contending my sojourn.
“Sorry, Gordon I have an urgent meeting with Professor Helvetica,” I replied, exiting before he had the time to say anything more. “Safe journey and I hope all works out well for you.”19

Professor Helvetica was in his office playing a lonesome game of solitaire. He donned an unusual grey pin stripe suit, with a checkered dress shirt.
The Professor was a tall man with beautiful facial bones, his eyes fitted neatly into their sockets while complementing his forehead and face in general. Despite his beautiful torso, he had stocky legs which made him look like a circus side show act. The professor was a man of three and a half scores, but yet it seemed he had stopped aging the last dozen and a half years or so. 20

I was never a man to suck up or sugar coat, thus I entered and greeted the professor by simply saying “Good morning Professor.”
“Good morning, Mr. Ethel,” said the professor while motioning for me to sit. He was still grossly indebted in his game, that he didn’t bother to look up and simply started off quite calmly.21

“Let us get right down to business. The reason I‘ve called you here is to hand you your severance pay. There is four months advancement in this envelope”
“I don‘t understand is there something that I have done to upset the council,” I blurted out angrily.
“No, No! It’s not you. It is just that the University doesn‘t have the funding anymore to support the English department. No one speaks English anymore. No one has the appetite for the language and to tell the truth it has become some what obsolete. We are replacing the College of English with Warsh.”
“Warsh!”
“Yes the language of the Mi’adian‘s. That is what is in demand now!”
“Warsh!”
“Yes! Warsh. Good day Mr. Ethel. You have a lot of packing to do.”
When it rains it pours. I loose my best friend to Warsh, then my job.22

When I first came to The Alpines I rented a house belonging to a chocolate maker. He was a frail old man sickly with no one in the world to love or take care of him, excepting to his beautiful daughter, Lusine. She attended to him with great tenderness, but she saw with the despair that his health was rapidly decreasing and there was no other prospect for him.23

We fell deeply in love with each other, several months passed in this manner before we approached the courts to make our love legal. It was harshly denied, the new rules of Europe. In the millenniums before the first Armageddon, Europe worked hard to keep foreigners out; the Africans, the Asian, Arabs etc. In this era the foreigners where their own fellow European; every nation wanted to be pure, free of any other nations blood.24

I had gotten an unexpected note from Lusine, she wanted to meet me at the botanical gardens to discuss our future.
I unwillingly pulled my self out of bed and pushed myself out of the house and then lazily approached the gardens.25

“Peter. You don’t look too good!” were her words of greeting surprisingly, on an expressionless face.
“I’m fine,” I replied, “I just feel lazy and tired of the world today.”
“I heard Gordon left,” she said looking at me in an awkward fashion.
“I’m leaving too! Today!” she concluded.
“Where are you going?” regretfully I asked.
“I’m going to Mi’Aad also. I met a wonderful guy and we have been doing business for a while. He proposed and I accepted.”
“How can you two marry if we couldn’t?” I asked painfully out of curiosity and anger.
“He is taking me to his homeland and we’ll marry there.” Lusine replied with a large happy smile on his face.
“I would have taken you to Albion if I could; you know how much I tried.”
“I wouldn’t have gone even if you had gotten the visa. The English are quite a boring and predictable specie.” Those were her parting words.26

We turned our backs and went our separate ways I felling like a fool once again. Three strikes and you’re out. This strike was the most unexpected strike of all I’d had for the day.