Last Machine – இறுதி யந்திரம்
by Jeyamohan and Translated from Tamil by Jegadeesh Kumar
The Chancellor had reserved for him an hour, from eight twenty.
In the guest room, the skinny, bald-headed man waited with his equipment, a square-shaped machine with an eyepiece made of glass and a few buttons on the front. The guest room was extremely cold. It seemed the freezing cold would pierce your bones no matter the kind of clothes you wore. There were still five minutes left for the meeting. The clock’s hand moved painfully slowly. He checked his equipment once again and appeared satisfied. Taking off his monocle, he nervously wiped it several times with a silk handkerchief. The call came when he wore it back again. A guard, wearing a red uniform and several gold medals, walked in slowly and majestically and said, “Your time, comrade.” His heart began to pound hard when he got up hurriedly to enter the meeting hall.
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