Time

Time

The time was 5:54 and 31 seconds. Emit poured his orange juice into a 250ml glass cup right to the brim. He opened the second cupboard to the right and took out the cornflakes. He poured them into the orange bowl, right to the brim. He didn't put in any milk. He distrusted milk, it was too... clean. He sat down on the single chair in front of the small table and ate his breakfast. The time was 6:03 and 21 seconds. The first drops of morning rain started to patter on the window. He disliked rain. It was so... dirty. The weather forecast had told him it wouldn't rain until 6:30. This used to upset him, but now he was used to it. These people were not as precise as him. It was, he hypothesised, probably why the economy always seemed to be in recession. Precision was important. Without it there was only chaos. The time was 6:11 and 7 seconds. Time to go to work.
         The walk into work went largely as expected. Pass the old man walking his dog at 6:22 and 12 seconds. Arrive at the Chalk Road traffic lights at 6:27 and 12 seconds, precisely as they went red. Unless a bus was running late. If a bus was late the lights might be green. This upset him at first, but then Klondike had told him that buses were equipped with special transponders. These transponders would cause traffic lights to change if the bus was late. He supposed it made sense. Ever since the bus had run late on 24th January 2006 Emit had allowed an extra 2 minutes and 4 seconds for his journey. If the traffic lights were red he would take the route around the park and walk at a gentle pace, this would compensate for the alteration.
         The time was 6:42 and 1 second. He was almost there. The rain had stopped. The weather report was not usually this wrong. At school Mr Greig had told him the best way to predict the weather was to say it would be the same as yesterday. Most of the time it was. Emit had recorded the weather for 742 days and put it in a chart. He then went to Mr Greig and told him he was wrong. He was put in detention for a week. Teachers were not as precise as Emit, and he suspected this was why the Education system was failing. He walked past the big clock tower. The bell rang out for 6:45 precisely. It was 4 seconds out. It was always 4 seconds out. This comforted Emit, because the clock tower was the only thing that was always wrong by exactly the same amount every day. Everything else was just wrong. It was chaos. And probably why there were so many reports of violence in the papers lately. The average reports of violence were going up by 0.1 per month over the last 3 years. Nobody ever commented on this. Their lack of precision was causing the collapse of the socio-political system. The bells stopped chiming. Emit was at work.
         The Office for Advanced Solutions was a perfectly proportioned building, built by the great architect Halvard Solness. The four walls were perfect squares exactly 20m in all directions. This pleased Emit. It was the main reason he had chosen to work here. He walked through the door and nodded politely to Maddy on reception. She smiled at him. When he had first joined the company she had tried to chat to him in the mornings, asking him about the previous evening. This slowed him down so he had explained it to her and since then she had stopped. But it was still good to be polite. He took the elevator to the first floor. This too was perfectly proportioned, although there was a dent in the left corner where Klondike had kicked it once. The doors were about to shut when Zoe rushed in and pulled them back open. Emit grimaced. The time was 6:48 and 42 seconds. Zoe had made him late.
         “Oh hello Emit,” Zoe said, waving her fiery hair in a distracting manner. She smelled of strong perfume and her dress was as short as company regulations would allow. Klondike strode into the elevator behind her and Emit cheered up a little. Emit liked Klondike, even though he was imprecise and had ruined the elevator, Klondike understood Emit. He did not think that because Emit was precise that meant he was weird. Zoe made space for Klondike, but not quite enough space so he had to squeeze in rather close to her.
         “Oh hello Klondike,” said Zoe. flashing perfect white teeth. Zoe was very precise in how she kept her appearance. That was good, unfortunately she was also very beautiful. Emit disliked beautiful people. Beautiful people invariably put a lot of effort into being beautiful, which, Emit reasoned, meant they weren't putting enough effort into everything else. With so many beautiful people around nothing ever got done. It was no wonder it was always a recession. Also Zoe's left breast was 3mm lower than her right one. Emit didn't normally notice these finer details, but Zoe always revealed as much bosom as company regulations would allow. Klondike didn't seem to mind, but Emit did. Yes, he disliked beautiful people.
         “Well what about people who are, like, naturally beautiful?” queried Klondike.
         “What?” said Emit
         “Well what about -” Klondike began, presumably to clarify. Emit cut him off,
         “I heard what you said, but how did you know what I was thinking?”
         The elevator opened before Klondike could reply and Emit stepped out and walked into the open office. He walked over to his desk. He sat down. The time was 6:50 and 59 seconds. Emit grimaced. He was exactly 59 seconds late. For the first time in 33 years.

The time was 5:53 and 32 seconds precisely. Emit did not like changing his routine, but it was important that he arrived 59 seconds early to make up for yesterday's slip. Emit poured his orange juice into a 250ml glass cup, right to the brim. He opened the cupboard and took out the cornflakes. The box was running low. There were only 1.15 helpings remaining. He had tried to find a box that contained an integer of helpings, but was so far unsuccessful. He sat down at the table. The time was 6:02 and 20 seconds precisely. He thought about where would be the most efficient place to restock his supplies on the way home from work. Probably Sainsbury's, unless it rained – then Tesco's would be quicker due to the subway.
         The time was 6:20 and 27 seconds. Everything was on schedule. Then the clock tower rang out. Emit turned around. Something was wrong. He looked at his watch. It said 6:20 and 29 seconds he looked at the clock tower it said 6:45 and 2 seconds. The clock tower was always 4 seconds out. His watch was wrong. He grimaced. He would be late for work again.
         Emit wound his clock forward 24 minutes and 37 seconds as he walked through the doors to the Office of Advanced Ideas. Maddy was just sitting down at her desk. “Oh hello Emit? You're late too?” Emit paused. Someone was talking to him about time.
         “Yes, my watch malfunctioned”
         “Oh really? Mine too, how odd.” She smiled, “Want to get a coffee after work?”
         “Was yours 24 minutes and 37 seconds slow?”
         “Probably. So is that a yes?”
         “If I can look at your watch.”
         “Of course,” she smiled again, “See you later then.”
         Emit walked to the lift. The time was totally fucked. As he sat down at his desk the left part of his brain calculated where he needed to increase his speed and what tasks he would need to cut entirely in order to catch up on his day. Meanwhile the right side of his brain ran through his Emergency Unexpected Calamity routine. He'd never run the routine before so he wasn't 100% sure that he would find a solution, but he had to try. If Maddy's watch was wrong and his watch was wrong by the same amount... well then maybe they weren't wrong, the clock tower was wrong. But the clock tower was always exactly 4 seconds wrong. It had been for 33 years. So he ruled that out. 13 minutes and 42 seconds later he had made two cups of tea and given one to Klondike, he had filed all the reports on yesterday's batch of advanced ideas and re-organized the database. He had also ruled out alien abduction, quantum hiccups, the possibility that the Book of Revelation had begun to unfold, and an attempt to cover up the faked moon landings [he knew the moon landings were faked because of a 0.005 second discrepancy he'd observed in the video archives, but that was another story – and in any case if they were onto him why would they change his clock, never mind Maddy's?]. Maybe it was just magnetic interference from a solar flare. He'd seen a program on solar flares once and he thought maybe that could happen, though he wasn't really sure.
         The time was 5pm and 2 seconds. Time to meet Maddy and investigate her incorrect timepiece.
         “Hello Maddy.”
         “Hello Emit,” Maddy smelled different. Emit did not have a particularly acute sense of smell but he was always aware of it and considered that like all things practice must improve it. To that end he put aside 15 minutes every day to train himself in different smells. He used a blindfold and various labels and would guess the scents. Emit reasoned that this would prepare himself for any unforeseen eventualities, for example a biological gas attack. It would also enable him to identify criminals if he were to be present at a crime scene, or warn him that someone had been in his house. If he were to go blind one day he might also be able to tell the time by various smells. For example the smell of farmhouse granary was always strongest at 4am outside the bakery.
         This evening his nostrils informed him that Maddy had sprayed herself with approximately 11.4ml of Chanel No. 5's latest perfume. He thought that odd, but did not dwell on it. Klondike and Zoe walked past them. Klondike paused, “We're going to watch a film at mine. You two want to come?”
         “Oh I doubt they want to come. Come on let's go.”
         “It's the Manchurian Candidate,” Klondike continued undeterred. Zoe frowned and unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, one more than company regulations allowed. She prodded Klondike as Maddy replied, “Is that the one about the guy who gets brainwashed and he forgets whole hours of stuff? I always wanted to see that, but we're going for coffee,” Maddy smiled. Zoe pulled Klondike round and his eyes widened as they took in her ample bosom. Emit paused. What if he was having time stolen from him by the government?
         Maddy walked at a brusque pace, rhythmic. Emit appreciated this. There was nothing worse than a slow walker. Except maybe imprecise people, beautiful people, and llamas. But slow walkers came a solid fourth. Slow walkers caused Emit all sorts of problems, and was one of the main reasons he didn't like walking with people. Even Klondike could be frustrating at times, if he saw an old archaic building or a pretty girl his speed would drop and Emit would no longer be able to estimate how long it would take to reach their destination. Ambling should be outlawed, it led to a general slowness in the country and was probably bad for the economy. Maddy though kept a solid pace, even if she did pause occasionally to look at him with a slight smile turning the corners of her lips.
         “I know this great coffee shop at the bottom of New Park Way,” she said.
         “Oh?” queried Emit
         “It does these little hot chocolates with cream and flakes, and small spiced orange and lime muffins.”
         “Do the Hot Chocolates take long?”
         “No, they are usually pretty quick, and they're always full to the brim.”
         Emit smiled, he liked consistency and optimum use of space. Maddy smiled back, another of those slight smiles that reached her eyes, but somehow skipped her cheeks. “So -” Emit began to frame a question, but Maddy was already walking ahead
         “Come on Emit!”
         As they reached the coffee shop Emit noted that it was it was in a little alleyway off the main road. Not an optimum position for attracting passers-by. Normally such poor business acumen would bother Emit, but he was still suspicious that maybe the government were stealing time, so secluded was good today. It bothered him slightly that secluded could be bad one day, but good the next. It was inconsistent. He was inconsistent. But, no he thought, it's not me, the world is inconsistent, I am merely providing a consistent set of responses to the world's inconsistency. He was not sure that made sense.
         “Emit... Emit... Are you listening to me?” Maddy asked frowning.          
         “Yes sorry, I was thinking about, the cafe.”
         “Ah okay,” She passed Emit a hot chocolate. It was full to the brim. “So,” she said as they walked to a window seat, “Tell me about yourself.”
         Ah, she would expect social interaction before he could ask about her watch. He had hoped he would just be able to go straight in. He resigned himself to trying to respond. Social interaction was such an imprecise science. There should be rules. And laws. It was probably why the nuclear family was breaking down and the divorce rates rising. “What do you want to know?” Emit asked, trying to find safer ground
         “Well where do you live?”
         “42 Potter's Street.”
There was a pause. Then Maddy, “By yourself? In a house or an apartment?”
         “It's a small Terrace, but it suits its purpose perfectly. The rent comes to £12 per month per square metre. Which is better value than all the other houses I've come across. There's a slight incline, but not as much as the other houses on the street. It takes 7 seconds at sensible walking speed to get from the front door to the bathroom in the back of the upstairs.” Maddy was listening intently so Emit thought about continuing, but then checked himself. He needed to know about the watch. Maybe now was the ti- but Maddy fired another question at him.
         “So what do you do?”
         “I work at the Office of Advanced Solutions. Like you, you see me there every day, that's how we know each other.” Emit was confused. Maybe the government was stealing Maddy's memories and his time. Why would they do that? Why would anyone do that?
         Maddy laughed lightly, “No silly. I know that. What do you do when you're not at work?”
         “Oh, sorry. I wake up at 5:54 and 31 seconds precisely, I pour myself a 250ml glass of orange juice, right to the brim. I pour my cornflakes into my orange bowl, right to the brim. I -”
“Why right to the brim?”
“It's the most efficient use of the resources available to me.”
“Why the orange bowl?”
         “I- I don't know, I've never thought about it before,” Emit realised with shock, before continuing, “I brought it with me when I left home.”
“What else did you br -”
“I haven't finished. Then I eat my cornflakes. I start breakfast at 6:03 and 21 seconds precisely.”
         “Emit,” Maddy interrupted. It was impolite to interrupt someone when they were answering your question. Even if it was a rude and intrusive question, but Emit didn't know what to say. “I don't mean tell me everything you do, though it is interesting,” she added, “I mean what do you enjoy? What hobbies do you have?”
“Hobbies?”
         “Like sports,” he grimaced as she added, “Reading, philately, music, gardening, oh I don't know...”
         “Well what hobbies do you have,” Emit replied, trying to understand the question.
         “Well I like to read books, especially Austen and Bronte, and the early British female authors. I like to watch french films, and I like to ski. And when I was young I used to sit in my father's workshop and watch him work.”
         “Well I suppose I like... time. And thinking. And thinking about time,” Emit ventured.
         “And?”
         “And? Well that's it really.”
         “All the time?”
         “Yes, all the time. At the moment I need to work out if the government are stealing time from me. That's why I'm talking to you.”
         That made Maddy laugh, “Emit you have a funny sense of hu-”
Maddy caught his look. “Oh,” Maddy said.
         There was a prolonged pause during which Maddy looked up, then sideways, then into Emit's eyes, then at her hands. Emit looked down, then slightly to the left, then into Maddy's eyes, then at the top of Maddy's head [because she was looking down at her hands and he was still looking at the palimpsest of her eyes on his retinas]. Emit estimated the eye contact lasted 1.24 seconds and the entire moment lasted about 8.09 seconds. Give or take.
         “Well, isn't there anything you'd like to know about me?” Maddy asked finally.
         “No not really. Except, well can I see your watch, now?”
         “You know Emit, you can be very rude, but I don't think you realise it, so I can't be angry at you really. And you are quite sweet. Maybe we can do this again some time.”
         Maddy got up to leave and Emit felt a pang of fear that she wasn't going to help him solve the mystery, but then she slipped her watch off her wrist and placed it on the table. She smiled at him, but it seemed sadder than before, although Emit was not an expert on emotions.
         “Keep it,” Maddy said, “My dad's a horologist and I've plenty more. Good luck Emit.” Then Maddy walked away, the door easing gently shut behind her.

Good Luck Emit. Good luck with what? Emit thought as he walked back towards his apartment. Did she know?
         Maybe it was just a coincidence. Incredibly unlikely events were statistically likely to happen all the time after all. If they didn't that would suggest a conspiracy. After all there was a 1 in 1 million chance of being struck by lightning, a 1 in 4000 chance of stepping in dog excrement on the corner of Pickle Street, a 1 in 2000 chance of being mugged on a Friday night and so on. It stood to reason that if 4000 people passed Pickle Street on a Friday night 2 would be mugged and 1 would step in dog excrement. Eventually 1 would also get struck by lightning. It had to be someone, why was it any more preposterous that it should be him than anyone else. So his clock had gone slow, and Maddy's clock had gone slow. His went slow by 24 minutes and 37 seconds. Hers could have gone slow by any number. It had gone slow by 24 minutes and 37 seconds. But that was equally as plausible as if it had gone slow by 35 minutes and 10 seconds, or 1 minute and 2 seconds. All were probabilistically equal. Probably everything was fine. It stood to reason. And Maddy seemed nice.
         The time was... He didn't know, he suddenly realised. He'd lost track of time. This had never happened before.
         The time was 23:21 and 4 seconds. Emit woke up a in dark sweat. He had not woken up during his sleep since 5 years ago when he had finally worked out the optimum diet and routine for maximising sleep-efficiency. Well except for the time the police raided next door for cocaine at 00:44 and 47 seconds. But that was an anomaly and did not reflect on the successfulness of his routine-efficiency-maximisation. Emit went back to sleep, most people counted sheep, he counted seconds.
         Emit woke up at 00:00 and 0 seconds. Twice in one night. Perhaps a warm glass of milk would help. He'd heard two teenage girls talking about it at a bus-stop he passed on his walk to work one morning. He was sceptical, but didn't have a better idea. Emit went back to sleep at 00:09 and 25 seconds.
         The time was 04:04 and 44 seconds. Three times. In one night. Emit walked to the window and looked out into the night sky. A creep of red snuck up over the horizon. The sun bleeding in the day. It seemed too early to be morning yet. Emit walked back towards his bed. The floorboard creaked and he looked down. Something glinted in the not-night, tucked between the old oaken planks. He peered down further, counting the seconds off in the back of his head. It was a watch. He pulled it up and examined it in the low light. The time was 03:19 He looked at the clock he had bought yesterday and mounted on his mantle-piece. It read 04:07. He looked at the watch in his hand. It read 03:19. The difference was exactly equal to the amount of time he thought he'd lost. Emit walked back towards his bed and slid the watch under his pillow. In the morning he would buy all the clocks he could find. Emit slept for the rest of the supposed night-time.

         “The sepia one. It's one of Vostegstein's satellite clocks? Automatically updated to within 3/100ths of a second, twice a day?”
         “Yes sir.”
         “How much is it?”
         “£40,000”
         2 years wages, Emit thought. “I'll take it,” he said.
         “Very good sir, anything else, perhaps a case?”
         “No thanks, but I'll take some more clocks, one of everything else you have”
         “Sir?”
         “One of everything”
         “Every clock we have?”
         “Yes, e-v-e-r-y s-i-n-g-l-e o-n-e,” Emit reiterated, becoming somewhat annoyed. The English language was not the most precise of all known tongues, but it usually sufficed. “If that's a problem I can go to the other clock shop down the road.”
         “No, that won't be a problem sir. I'll pack them all in a box for you. Will you be paying by err, wire transfer, erm cash?” He seemed uncertain how one went about such things.
         Emit pulled out a suitcase and put it on the table. “Cash please.” The salesperson seemed worried, so Emit produced the note his bank had given him earlier. “My bank said this behaviour might seem strange, so they gave me a note to prove I haven't stolen it.”
         “Ah very good sir, of course I didn't think you would have... you know I'll just pack these for you and count the money in a minute.”
         Emit put the last clock on the mantelpiece, feeling somewhat calmer than he had in weeks. He was surrounded by time, could hear the gentle tick-tock-tick-tock like a hive of bees all working in unison to produce something sweet and delicate. A steady thrum like the tap of Maddy's feet when she'd walked with him to the cafe that evening. The slow but precise rhythm of life, the heartbeat of the universe itself. Emit wondered if God chose to experience time sometimes, just for the pleasure of it - if God existed of course. Emit suspected He did, for the level of genius required to invent something such as time had to be such as could belong only to a perfect creator. And surely even though such a creator would by definition exist beyond and outside of the constraints of time, surely He would choose to perceive its beauty from time to time.
         Emit sat down, he'd made sure all the clocks read the same time. He had considered mixing them all up and memorising them so if the government changed them he'd still know. But that seemed overly complicated, and also like something the government might have thought of already. Still he could do that tomorrow. It might not be the government, it might be someone else. For now he would content himself with his armoury of timepieces, each striking a blow for precision and against whatever malignant force might be aligned against him.

“You bought one hundred clocks?” Klondike asked. For the first time Klondike was looking at him the way everyone else except Maddy looked at him, he was looking at him like he was weird.
         “Yes I did,” Emit replied more forcefully than he intended.
         “Well whatever for?”
         “To see if the government is stealing time from me.”
         “The government... stealing time?”
         “That's what I said.”
         “Well why would they – well what makes you think they are doing that?”
         “Well it might not be the government,” Emit conceded, “but over the last 7 days I have lost exactly 24 minutes and 37 seconds every day at some point between 12pm and 5:45 am. I think possibly everyone else has too.”
         “Emit perhaps you should see someone.”
         “I am seeing someone,” Emit said dryly, “I'm seeing you.”
         “I bought the clocks so I could prove it because I knew no-one would believe me. Because I wasn't sure if I believed me, but it's true. Only, well, I think the government are changing all my new clocks too.”
         “How do you know?”
         “Well that's why I bought a lock box. I put a watch in the lock box and I put it inside another lock box which I put inside another lock box which I put inside a small safe which I put inside a bigger safe. Here's the key; come and open the safe with me; if the watch says the same as all the others then don't believe me.”
         “Right.”
         “So you'll come?”
         “Where?”
         “To my house, after work. 42 Potter's Street. You've been there before. You walk down from-”
         “I know where you live, Emit. But why?”
         “Look at the watch. And we'll see if I'm right. If I'm not I'll never speak of this again.”
         “Okay Emit, but I'll hold you to that. And I'm meeting Zoe for dinner so it will have to be straight after work, no delays.”
         Emit grimaced, “You know how much I hate -”
         “Look there's no need to be so awful to Zo-”
         “Delays,” Emit finished.
         “Oh,” Klondike said, “I'll see you straight after work then. I need to finish up this invoicing now. See you later.”
         The time was 13:46 and 55 seconds. Emit squinted at his computer screen. It was much darker outside than it should have been. Perhaps there were storm clouds or a solar eclipse brewing. The weather report was getting worse every day, soon it would cost lives. Emit turned on his desk lamp to increase the illumination whilst he entered some more figures into the database.
         “Hello Emit,” a female voice called from behind him. That was unusual - women never spoke to him whilst he was at work. He turned around, catching a whiff of familiar perfume. Maddy.
         “Oh hi Maddy,” Emit began uncertainly, “erm, what are you doing up here? Do you want your watch back?
         “No, silly,” Maddy smiled, “I told you you could keep it remember? I'm going away for a couple of weeks, well 10 days and 4 hours to be precise. And I just wanted to say goodbye.”
         “Oh, well, goodbye then.” Emit said, starting to turn his attention back around to the database, but his swivel chair didn't seem to want to respond.
         Maddy started to walk away then paused. “Emit-” but he was already focussed on trying to make out the next set of numbers in the fading light.
         The clocktower bell struck a 4th time. Emit opened the final safe to the watch. The clocktower struck once more. Emit paused and turned towards the window. That wasn't right. It was 4:00pm exactly. Klondike reached over into the safe. Emit still looked at the clock tower. He turned back to Klondike.
         “Well what does it say?”
         “Emit, I don't know how to tell you this...”
         “The time is the same? Let me see?”
         “No, Emit, it's not that, “Klondike was sweating, “Emit there is no watch. The safe is empty.”
         The bell rang out a 6th time. What was going on? It was only 4pm. Emit squinted to try and see the tower, but the sky was so black, dark. There were stars dotting the sky. At 4pm.That's impossible. Even the government couldn't have cracked all the safes. There'd be evidence. Emit checked the mark he'd put on the first one, in case the government just replaced all of them with identical models. No, it was still there. “Has the safe been tampered with?”
         “No, Emit,” Klondike swallowed and mopped his brow. Emit caught a strange scent from Klondike. He'd smelled it once before. When Zoe had told him it was nice to see him and then gone off with Klondike. The clock tower struck 7. This was impossible. There was a glint of something sharp and metallic under Klondike's sleeve, and a slight bulge. Klondike was lying Emit realised, starting. But he was Klondike. His only friend, except maybe Maddy. Klondike looked nervous, smelled nervous. Emit was nervous.
         “Oh,” Emit said, “Maybe I was wrong then.”
         Klondike's eyes narrowed, like he knew Emit was lying. So Emit tried a different lie to buy some time, “Actually Klondike, I had another safe, let me check it.”
         The clock struck a 9th time. Emit leaned over to try and make out the clock-face more clearly, perhaps some light would help. He would get Klondike to leave, try and work out the clock tower problem, and then maybe ask Maddy for help when she came back from holiday. She seemed to understand the importance of time, maybe she would believe him if he told her about Klondike.          The clock struck 10. There was a noise behind Emit. He turned to get the lamp to see the clock-face with. And Klondike pushed him out the window. The 11th chime coincided with the shattering glass, overwhelming the sound. Emit hit the ground with a thump. The clock struck midnight. Time seemed to freeze. Emit realised he wasn't scared of death, just of running out of time. The clock had stopped. The moon was lingering over him, but fading slowly, so slowly, slower than anything he'd seen or done before. Time was trickling away from him, as it had been doing for years without him realising. Maybe he should have gone to Maddy in the first place, not Klondike, he thought. But you couldn't reverse time or change it, once it passed it was done. And lying there in a pool of his own blood, with only a silent clock-tower for company, Emit knew his time was up.