Story #327 - Timebought

Timebought

As the clock counted down to midnight, Jase Barrister took a moment to lament the fact that he hadn’t purchased time when he had the chance. He cursed himself for the thought – another moment spent foolishly.

It wasn’t as though offers hadn’t been made – when he was younger, time seemed easy to find and always at a great deal. His money had seemed better spent elsewhere – on women and cars and other foolish enjoyments. A trip to the Temporal Credit Union two months ago revealed that sad truth; affording time was suddenly impossible and he had far less going forward than he had left behind.

A frantic week of searching turned up three ways to combat the ticking clock, but they ranged from the foolish to the horrible. Experiments with “resetting” time were still ongoing but no real progress had been made, though he had found a promising link on what alleged to be a “reuse” of time. The more he read about it, however, the worse it sounded, like using the same roll of toilet paper over and over again. Eventually, the foul stains left behind in former lives would cause the paper to tear, and often when least expected.

Still, Jase had been tempted and even considered moving credits from his secure account into one he could use to access instant purchases. Thoughts of his first ten years of life had quickly snuffed out that idea – reliving a decade of foster adoptions and “guardians” out to abuse the system would make reusing time almost pointless.

“Hey!” A voice called from outside his apartment, breaking his thought. “Jase!” He’d forgotten all about Curly – the big man had been dead-set on going out for the weekend and spending their recent holiday credits as frivolously as possible. Jase had agreed before he stumbled across the time-counter in his closet and hadn’t bothered to call Curly off. Up until that moment, he’d always been happy they system hadn’t afforded him the luxury of a time-tattoo.

Stumbling to the door he threw it open. With a wide smile, Curly stepped forward and then recoiled when he saw Jase’s disheveled form.

“What the hell, man?” Curly boomed. “You starting the party without me?”

“Curly, look -” Jase began, but the square-jawed man pushed past and into the apartment, not bothering to wait for an invitation.

“Where’s the booze, buddy? Where’s the good stuff? If you’re going to fire it up early, you’d better let me catch up.”

“There’s no booze, Curly,” he said, shutting the door softly. “Not tonight.”

Curly’s eyes lit up. “Mashers, then? Thought you didn’t do those – where’d you get ‘em? Bet they’re not as good as the ones my guy makes. Bring ‘em out and lets compare!” Fat hands went into deep pockets, seeking an illegal stash Jase was hardly surprised existed. He was fairly certainly Curly was always under the influence of at least one narcotic even at work.

“No mashers!” Jase screamed, rushing forward to grab his friend’s arms.

“Whoa, whoa – bro, these things can be bad if you’ve never done ‘em before. Here,” Curly led him to the couch and sat him down firmly. “You need to take a break.”

Another glance at the clock told him time was still slipping by – only twenty-four minutes and it would all be over.

“Curly,” he said softly, “tell my mother I love her. Please. Her name is Adele –“ he paused. “I think it’s Hawkins, now. She lives up North.”

“You love her? What are you talking about, bud? What have you been doing in here?” There was a pout on Curly’s face – Jase was fairly certain it was because the big man thought he hadn’t been invited to whatever “party” was being held.

“I have no time, buddy!” Tears came to his eyes, despite efforts to stop them. “I put that damn clock away and never looked at it – until this week! Twenty-four – twenty-three minutes now and I’m toast. They’re coming to get me!”

“Whoa.” Curly sat down on the couch, causing it to slide several feet. “This is heavy. Heavy stuff. Bro, we gotta deal with this!”

“We?” Jase was incredulous. “Deal with it?” He stood. “What the hell do you think we’re gonna do about it? I’m out of time, and that’s that – you need to get out of here before the goon squad shows up.”

His friend smiled. “I am the goon squad.”

Jase had to laugh at that. There were few in the office that would stand in Curly’s way, even if he was just on his way to the lunch room or moving through the parking garage. The wide man was friendly enough, so long as he wasn’t approached on a day when his supplies had run out or he decided to go “cold turkey” – trouble was, no one could ever tell until it was too late.

“So you didn’t think to buy anymore, huh?” Curly went on, and Jase shook his head.

“I never thought about it until this week – but there’s no way I can afford what they’re asking even for another year.”

“I hear that, bro,” his friend said, rolling up one loose sleeve. “Check this out.”

It took Jase a few moments to process exactly what he was seeing – there was no question that Curly’s time-tat was functioning; the blinking red light was signaling in a steady rhythm, and six numbers were blinking in a unified set. Zero-zero. Zero-zero. Zero-zero.

“You’re –“ he started, but Curly cut him off.

“Out! You know it. I ain’t into buying time. If the government wants my hide they can come and take it, but nothing they’ve sent my way yet has convinced me they’re serious.”

For a moment Jase wished he’d taken the time to bulk up, to learn any sort of skills that might keep him out of the hands of federal goons, but he was no fighter.

“You’d better go, then,” he said, pointing for the door. “Ten minutes and they’ll be busting through the windows to get my body.”

Curly stood, stretching his hands above his head and producing a cascade of cracked knuckles. “I hope so,” he said with a smile. “I haven’t had a challenge in months. Sit down and watch the show, Jase – I’m gonna buy you some time.”


- D