Contemporary story
On

Time, Again

Before we met, you showed me your diary.

I must confess that I am still confused by this sequence of events, as, I imagine, you must be confused by my decision to leave your life so suddenly. I've gone over everything in my head time and time again and I can't shake the feeling that, somehow, everything got mixed up. Though this may seem a flimsy reason to you, it is reason enough for me. I don't understand, so I'm going to leave.

Before we met, you showed me your diary and then we were having sex on the wooden floor of your living room. I still remember the way the plants filtered the sunlight and the sound of the tea kettle building up steam. Then our son was at the foot of the bed, asking me where you'd gone.

"I don't know," I told him, "I expect she'll be back soon."

Today I went into your study and found that you'd converted it into a gallery. The first photo of every roll of film we'd ever had developed was there, somewhere. I found that I could date every one, even the ones that hadn't happened yet. They seemed to go on forever, a jumbled mess of happy memories, each one partially obscured by blinding white light. I knocked over a jar full of tacks but when I went to pick them up I was overcome with vertigo and I had to leave.

We were making desperate love in your basement when you told me about spacetime. You said that the future is just as real as the past. You told me that just because you aren't there yet doesn't mean it isn't real. You said it was like Baghdad still being real when you're in London. You talked about personal time and light cones and folding space and I didn't understand anything except the way that your breasts moved and the way your breath misted in the cold. Then we were on a roller coaster and you were screaming and you said, "This is what it's going to be like all the time." A balloon seller lost hold of his wares and they floated majestically into the sky. It was beautiful.

After you introduced yourself, we resumed our date and I asked you again why you'd chosen a drive-in. You told me that you had a special soft spot in your heart for B-movies. You said that there was something endearing about the earnestness of it all. You said that they called out to our imaginations in a way that big budget films can no longer achieve. You said that all science fiction - no matter how dismal - was optimistic in that it assumed that there would be a future at all. We were in a board room and you were explaining to the assembled group of investors about the Machine. They were smiling and nodding. They didn't really understand but experts had told them that your idea showed promise and, after all, a war was on. The coffee tasted terrible and I kept fidgeting in my seat. You were radiant. No one thought to ask what would happen if the Machine broke.

Today, I watched an egg assemble itself on the kitchen floor. It made a strange popping noise as the last bit of eggshell attached itself. It flew into the air up and up and then came to rest on the counter. A helicopter roared overhead and our son came in and told me he was scared. I didn't know what to tell him. The war has begun and no one can say how or when it will end.

←2

I remember your reaction when you read this letter. I remember how the last line, where I say "we weren't meant to live like this," brought a tear to your eye and you turned to our son and tried to explain to him that I was gone. But how could you explain? What does 'gone' mean to a child his age? Then we were lying together under the stars and when the first fireworks went off, you leaned over and kissed me for the first time. You tasted like popcorn. I can't blame you for choosing a new husband.

When you finally came back, you were younger. That was the hardest for both of us, I think. We didn't share the same memories anymore. You held me and told me that it would be alright, that you had hardly changed but I think that we both know now that that wasn't true at all. Time changed people. That's how it worked.

Today, I went down to the basement and stared at the Machine. I can still remember the day you turn it on. You'll stand in front of a crowd of reporters with our son and your new husband at your side and you'll give your speech about the tyranny of time and death and the triumph of science and about setting us free. But inside, you'll be thinking, "I wish he had been here to see this." I know this because, before we met, you showed me your diary and you wrote about this day. How could you not? It was the most important day of your life. You saved us from the enemy and ended the war. You asked me to stop it. There's nothing I can do. The future is just as real as the past. There is no before or after anymore. Because of you, there never was.

We weren't meant to live like this.

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Average: 5 (1 vote)

Comments

Submitted by admin on Tue, 10/10/2006 - 02:58

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Brilliantly written. The story flows perfectly despite the purposefully disjointed narrative. This is a perfect example of showing rather than telling. Maly has a brilliant form, and the melancholy tones strike deep chords in the reader.

Submitted by admin on Tue, 10/10/2006 - 06:59

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What?

Submitted by admin on Thu, 10/12/2006 - 02:26

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If you enjoyed this you should read the book "The Time Travelers Wife"; more romantic than this but similar themes about coming and going into different stages of the others life while time traveling.

Submitted by admin on Sat, 10/21/2006 - 19:35

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Wow, this story was definatly a hard one to grasp. Ill be thinking about this one for a few days I think. The author does a superb job of descriptions, use of abstract language and all that good stuff to really convay a story. The use of past/present/future tense added a lot to the overall effectivness of the story. The ambiguity was not overdone which is a good thing. Excellent story all around. 4 stars

Submitted by admin on Wed, 10/25/2006 - 16:43

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Excellent exploration of the nature of time and the way we perceive it. Is the reality of time different from our perception of it? Could we cope with the truth about time?

Thought provoking, and very cleverly written.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 10/25/2006 - 23:25

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Another story that deals with disjointed narrative and the theme of time is Slaughter House Five by Kurt Vonnegut.

I like this. Based on the way our minds actually relay memories and information, this does make sense. A bit confusing but so are our thoughts.

Submitted by admin on Sun, 11/12/2006 - 16:49

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Its fantastic! I love the concept of time being real. Of the past an the future being as real as the present. As if it all exists somewhere in space. And what is going to happen to u tomorrow is actually happening right now.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 11/15/2006 - 11:04

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I am guessing the author has been inspired by the Time Travellers Wife. A good attempt at a short-story version but just didnt work for me. Would agree it came across as a bit pretentious.

Submitted by admin on Thu, 11/16/2006 - 14:20

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Einstein believed that the Past, Present, and Future happened simultaneously. This story made me think about that. I thought it was good. Havent read "The Time-Travelers Wife". Its an interesting concept.

Submitted by admin on Tue, 11/21/2006 - 12:24

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Beautifully written and although different times are explored, still remained very present and powerful. It was a little difficult to understand, but thats surely part of its charm. A short story is written purposefully in order to be strong and thought provoking. I will read it again to try and figure it all out.

Submitted by admin on Sun, 12/03/2006 - 15:35

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Interesting concept, but definitely not an original one. The story was obviously very enigmatic; and that is a good tool to provoke thought in the reader, but I think this was engimatic to the point of being under-developed

Submitted by admin on Mon, 12/04/2006 - 00:26

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I wonder if anyone else noticed the obvious reference to Brian Greenes non-fiction book of physics "The Fabric of the Cosmos: Space, Time, and the Texture of Reality". The book focuses on the direction of time and repeatedly uses the idea of an egg rolling off a counter top and splattering while discussing why a splattered egg never re-assembles itself on the kitchen floor and floats back up to the counter top. Good story, if a bit pretentious.

Submitted by admin on Wed, 12/06/2006 - 10:47

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Who says you need to "understand"? Without the refference of time, the people in the story dont "understand" whats going on.
I think the writer wants your brain to itch a little with the thought of time not existing in a line.

Submitted by admin on Mon, 12/18/2006 - 08:35

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Its ok!

Submitted by admin on Fri, 12/22/2006 - 14:03

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The guy is remembering what was written in her diary.. and he remembers time when he didnt give her attension ("You talked about personal time and light cones and folding space and I didnt understand anything except the way that your..."). Which break there relationship. He didnt really support her when she invented a machine.. or ever. so she moved on, got married.. but he didnt...

Submitted by admin on Sun, 12/24/2006 - 21:39

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Beautiful, evocative and strangely compelling. He/she was right, we arent mean to live in a world where every dimension of time is cogniscant; where every action and reaction is/was/will be defined. Destroy the Machine. We are never supposed to live like THAT. J

Submitted by admin on Tue, 12/26/2006 - 23:44

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It is a smoothly written short story about two romantic creatures ; they had spent a very wonderful time together and when they came to a terrible point in their relationship they escaped to enjoy the fruit love of the past days .

Submitted by admin on Wed, 01/03/2007 - 16:22

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Great story!

Submitted by admin on Thu, 01/04/2007 - 09:35

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I love it!

Submitted by admin on Wed, 01/10/2007 - 17:06

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It certainly is abstract and could stand to be a little longer. that being said, It is very well written, that is, you either have a great imagination or youve placed a lot of time into this or both. congratulations on a piece that I will certainly remember.

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