Dr. John Taylor was stunned when his plans for the Clock were accepted by the Corpus Christi College Cambridge Committee, appending to their enthusiastic fax that they would be delighted to match his own personal funding, of course. He ruffled through the pages on his workdesk again, marveling at the simple, serrated demonism of his opus. How he had managed to pitch it to the stodgy old boys at the CCCCC was baffling. He had fully expected months, maybe years of back and forth, funds and revocations, audits and blank stares. He had been willing to lay down those years on the altar of the thing. Its golden potentiality was all the faith he would need.
People are far too often obsessed with the passage of time, so busy measuring out the increments of their day to realize just how much of it they’re wasting in the process. I myself am guilty of this, and only through constant vigilance am I able to shake off the preoccupation with time.
The Life Clock purportedly seeks to remind us that our life is slowly ebbing, but having been slowed down 61320 times to reflect an average 84 year lifespan in a single revolution, it seems to stand as a better reminder that there is always time. Rather than the constant nagging of commitments and obligations that demand you be here and there now and then The Life Clock soothingly reminds you to calm down, take your time, and remember that your time is just that, yours and no one else’s.
In sheer defiance of the World Wide Web Consortium's will, Ectomo was designed using a non-web-standard font. Luckily, it is included in the excellent font pack released by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, which can be freely downloaded in Mac and PC formats here. Ectomo should still look fine without it, though.
