He
 
had earned a break and he was going to make sure he enjoyed it.
Harry decided to have a coffee at his usual cafe before making a start. After all, he thought, there was no hurry! As he relaxed over his coffee he smiled at the tourists who were at the next table putting more film into their camera. The man looked fat and rich — just the type of tourist he had always disliked. The woman smiled back like the silly, simple thing she was. The fools. What did they know? He could rob them of everything and they wouldn't know it. But that would be a waste of time. He had better things to do. And there was, after all, plenty of time!
Harry finished his coffee and stood up. It was time to begin. He put his hand into his pocket and took out the whistle. He felt like a child at Christmas who was just about to open his presents. Harry Chen's time had come, at last!
He put the whistle to his mouth and blew. But, as he blew, there was a brilliant, blinding light that shot through
his eyes. He dropped the whistle in his confusion. The light did not go away.
It took him a few moments before he realised what had happened. He walked away from his table to see the stupid tourist taking a picture of his stupid wife using the flash from his camera — just as he had blown his whistle. The bright flash was frozen in time. That was all: It was just a camera. But he had dropped the whistle.
He had to find it. He began to look around the bright stillness which was all about him. Then he felt something break beneath the weight of his shoe. He looked down. The whistle lay in pieces.
His heart seemed to rise to his mouth as he realised what had happened. And the whistle lay in tiny pieces on the ground. Harry knew, as soon as he saw it, that it was too difficult even for him to repair. He was stuck there.
Harry tried shouting at the still-smiling tourist, at the waitress, at everybody he saw. But it was useless. They could not hear him. They could not see him. He might just as well not be there. He did not know whether time had stopped for the world or just for Harry Chen. And for how long? Would he live there always, with no future and no past? Would he die there?
These thoughts were passing through his mind as he considered the broken remains of the whistle. Only one part could be recognised. It was the part which had on it the words: BE STILL.
He felt afraid. He felt robbed. He felt a cold shadow pass over him. It just wasn't
fair