The Neural Chronometer
Most people won't get this. Most obviously, this is a fanfiction based on the books about Lovejoy the Antiques Dealer. the second bit many people Will get so I won't mention it right away.
People are daft. I said it before, but here, a bit of an illustration. Rarity means value. In the antiques business, this is obvious, but it's true of everything. People want things they don't yet have. To them, those things are rare. Once they have them, however, they are not rare anymore, and so not valuable. Still with me? Good. I'm not excluding myself from this little observation, mind. I can be just as daft as the rest of them.
It was Tuesday morning and the White Hart was buzzing with activity. I was all set to get sloshed when a man dressed far too nicely for a bar like this walked up behind me. I'm not a paranoid burke, but I have been known to occasionally run into some misunderstandings with the local police force, although, cross my heart, there's no truth to any of the rumors they might spread about.
After a good two minutes staring determinately into my cup the man found the nerve to clear his throat.
"Are you Mr. Lovejoy?" A yank, from the sound of his vowels, although I've never met one quite as soft-spoken.
"Depends who's asking. And it's just Lovejoy, ta."
"Ah, right. My name is, er, Michael Smith. I hear you know about antiques."
His pause made me momentarily suspicious, but, ever the fool, I put it out of my mind at the mention of those purpose-giving wonders, antiques.
"Well, you've heard right, mister, er, Smith."
I quickly sussed him out. Early thirties, perhaps, small built, wouldn't put up much of a fight in a tight spot. No dealer, that's certain. Us antiques dealers can smell another of our kind a mile off.
An awkward silence fell, not about the Hart, mind, the pub is never quiet, but between me and the yank.
"You a collector, then?"
"A collector? Well, yes. Yes, I suppose I am. I fix them, too. How'd you guess?"
"That timepiece you're wearing. An early 1870's self-winding Patek Philippe wristwatch, although the cover's a cheap modern replacement."
Now, many collectors, and dealers for that matter, will go after larger clocks. That is, so called 'grandfather' clocks (Although that's not what they were called at the time) and cuckoo clocks, due to their greater conspicuousness. But an old wrist or pocket watch can fetch you several weeks' wages, with a bit of luck.
Notice I use the word 'old' in a relative sense. Before the 1500's portable timepieces were thought impossible. It wasn't until the invention of the spiral spring that the cumbersome counterweights could be done away with and a reduction in size could occur. Even then it was another two hundred years until the things could be relied upon to tell the right hour, although that doesn't make pre-1700's watches any less valuable, of course, just harder to use.
One of the troubles with collecting wristwatches is identifying where they came from. Beware any inscription or logo on the actual face. Makers would often inscribe distributor's names onto the face of a watch in exchange for an agreement of a large order. Mail order companies did the same thing.
Go for waltham brand watches, in particular. They were the first mass-produced watches with interchangeable parts, but because of the constant evolution of their design in the early years, some models only had a handful made.
"You can tell that from just looking at my watch?"
"Yeah. As I said, I know about antiques. Don't expect any tutelage, mind. I've tried and you yanks especially are rubbish when it comes to anything old. It's something you've got to be born with."
"Sort of like... a talent."
"Yeh, I suppose"
"I'd like to see how that works."
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People are daft. I said it before, but here, a bit of an illustration. Rarity means value. In the antiques business, this is obvious, but it's true of everything. People want things they don't yet have. To them, those things are rare. Once they have them, however, they are not rare anymore, and so not valuable. Still with me? Good. I'm not excluding myself from this little observation, mind. I can be just as daft as the rest of them.
It was Tuesday morning and the White Hart was buzzing with activity. I was all set to get sloshed when a man dressed far too nicely for a bar like this walked up behind me. I'm not a paranoid burke, but I have been known to occasionally run into some misunderstandings with the local police force, although, cross my heart, there's no truth to any of the rumors they might spread about.
After a good two minutes staring determinately into my cup the man found the nerve to clear his throat.
"Are you Mr. Lovejoy?" A yank, from the sound of his vowels, although I've never met one quite as soft-spoken.
"Depends who's asking. And it's just Lovejoy, ta."
"Ah, right. My name is, er, Michael Smith. I hear you know about antiques."
His pause made me momentarily suspicious, but, ever the fool, I put it out of my mind at the mention of those purpose-giving wonders, antiques.
"Well, you've heard right, mister, er, Smith."
I quickly sussed him out. Early thirties, perhaps, small built, wouldn't put up much of a fight in a tight spot. No dealer, that's certain. Us antiques dealers can smell another of our kind a mile off.
An awkward silence fell, not about the Hart, mind, the pub is never quiet, but between me and the yank.
"You a collector, then?"
"A collector? Well, yes. Yes, I suppose I am. I fix them, too. How'd you guess?"
"That timepiece you're wearing. An early 1870's self-winding Patek Philippe wristwatch, although the cover's a cheap modern replacement."
Now, many collectors, and dealers for that matter, will go after larger clocks. That is, so called 'grandfather' clocks (Although that's not what they were called at the time) and cuckoo clocks, due to their greater conspicuousness. But an old wrist or pocket watch can fetch you several weeks' wages, with a bit of luck.
Notice I use the word 'old' in a relative sense. Before the 1500's portable timepieces were thought impossible. It wasn't until the invention of the spiral spring that the cumbersome counterweights could be done away with and a reduction in size could occur. Even then it was another two hundred years until the things could be relied upon to tell the right hour, although that doesn't make pre-1700's watches any less valuable, of course, just harder to use.
One of the troubles with collecting wristwatches is identifying where they came from. Beware any inscription or logo on the actual face. Makers would often inscribe distributor's names onto the face of a watch in exchange for an agreement of a large order. Mail order companies did the same thing.
Go for waltham brand watches, in particular. They were the first mass-produced watches with interchangeable parts, but because of the constant evolution of their design in the early years, some models only had a handful made.
"You can tell that from just looking at my watch?"
"Yeah. As I said, I know about antiques. Don't expect any tutelage, mind. I've tried and you yanks especially are rubbish when it comes to anything old. It's something you've got to be born with."
"Sort of like... a talent."
"Yeh, I suppose"
"I'd like to see how that works."
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