'O Tempora, O Mores!' by J F King

-There are two points of view. At least. Always.

-No. There is only one. The right one.

-You mean your opinion?

-No, I mean the right one. Objectively.

- I thought this was a fun day out.

-It is. I think so.

-So that makes it fun?

-Man, what is your problem?

We were standing at the foot of the statue. Above us the famous Sea Captain was looking out to sea, middle horizon, in that 18th century kind of way. It was of its time, as, so it appeared were we.

Jaq read the inscription: ‘To strive, to discover, and not to yield.’

-Enough said, she said. Was something concealed in her parka? A hammer, paint, words. Was she going destroy everything right here right now?

-Discover! She exclaimed, a tone of voice I hadn’t heard before. – Wasn’t land there before he went, like all these other continents people like him went to and messed up. 

I thought she was going to regurgitate her chips. Neither of us ate fish anymore.

-Leave it, I said. -It’s there now. It was the way it was. Tempora mores.

-Meaning?

There was a silence, the waves below paused, then resumed. The sun was setting over the crazy golf pitch. It was supposed to be a day to remember, nothing was meant to be serious. It was the seaside, sand not stone.

-I can’t stand it. I’ll see to it. And all the other imperialistic stuff all over the hemisphere.

-You haven’t the time, I said.

Jaq looked at me as if everything was my fault. – Don’t you care about anything? she said.

I walked alone to the bus station below. A police car blared past me on the way up. What do I have to feel guilty about?