Chronometer Of Whispers Poem by B. Sven Telander

“Shh.”
“Hush”
“Be quiet! ”
“Keep it down.”
“It is time for serenity.”
“Do you understand silence? ”
“Quante volte devo dirtelo? ”
Jeweled sensors and etheric detectors pulsed and glowed through the many wavelengths of the reality spectrum, observing, charting, recording, and accumulating all the myriad requests for silence; as well as siphoning the response factor into a storage matrix, a vast containment area, a crystalline tesseract of no chartable dimensions, though at one time, it was somewhat known by its creators to be an expanding arena.
The makers were long since dust but the descendants of the project kept the vigil of quietude in motion, although the reasons for doing so had long ago been forgotten, replaced with numerous speculations that served as an array of comforting illusion, worthy contemplation, purposeful diversion during the long long years without end.
Maintenance comprised a substantial portion of the familial group’s daily tasks. Manuals with dog-eared pages provided crucial clues to the intricate puzzle of the construct they called home. Though days of being lost were the risk they all faced as procedures were tended to, they loved the long job.
Not that the family had much choice in the matter: The Angelica Time-Merchants exacted a firm hold on seven hundred and seventy-seven to the seventh power number of worlds of the continuum and knew more about how silence and time were intertwined than any who had already lived, currently lived, or those who yet waited to live; all entities remained entrenched in the eternal infinite moment of now. Such complicated details were not concerns of the family. They merely feared the Angelica Time-Merchants and this traditional motivation was enough to instill love and compulsion of duty toward the continuing operation of the Chronometer of Whispers.