- that figure represents the time you've wasted up to now. What do you say to that, Mr Figaro?”
Mr Figaro said nothing. He slumped into a chair in the corner of the shop and mopped his brow with a handkerchief,
sweating hard despite the icy atmosphere. The man in gray nodded gravely.
“Yes, you're quite right, my dear sir, you've used up more than half of your original capital.”
“Now let's see how much that leaves of your forty-two years.”
“One year is thirty-one million five hundred and thirty-six thousand seconds,”
“and that, multiplied by forty-two, comes to one billion three hundred and twenty-four million five hundred and twelve thousand seconds.”
Beneath the previous total he wrote: Total time available 1,324,512,000 seconds,
Time lost to date 1,324,512,000 seconds, Balance 0 seconds,
Then he pocketed his chalk and waited for the sight of all the zeros to take effect, which they did.
“So that's all my life amounts to,” thought Mr Figaro, absolutely shattered.
He was so impressed by the elaborate sum, which had come out perfectly,
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