Holding Back the Time

How much would you pay for a second?

I often wonder how much life you can fit into a single fragment of time. How much really is there in that tiny piece of the puzzle? That minuscule fraction of your memories and accomplishments. That piece of you.

How many do you need to make any really impact? True, a lot of people spend whole lifetimes achieving absolutely nothing; their seconds are misspent. Projects worth thousands, simply lining memories instead of pockets. But how many of those precious, precious seconds that we oh so often take for granted is the minimum needed to do something incredible, to make a change?

So, how much would you pay for one?

The going rate for a second these days is about 4 giga-joules, depending on the energy prices of course. That's about the same energy as a ton of TNT.

We can do a lot with a second. That's why they're so expensive.

The small stream by my feet has stopped running. It's frozen, completely motionless in my rift. Like treacle, it just sits there, this part of its journey to the sea only a tiny piece of its being, long forgotten by destination.

It always amazes me to see water stopped like this, each molecule of liquid knitting together like the seconds in a lifetime. Each ripple; a memory. Each wave; a half forgotten story. Each and every drop reminds me of our terrible privilege.

Reflections on the ceiling of the cave stopped dancing long ago. They're still there, but completely motionless. Fragments of light bouncing off of the water have nowhere left to go. If I move my head I can give the illusion life, make it dance again. But the sensation only lasts a moment. And I'm not ready to give it life just yet.

The display on the my over-sized watch starts to flash red, again. Against myself I try to move it into the light so I can see it more clearly. It doesn't work, of course.

I'll spare you the physics lesson, but sight is merely photons of light bouncing of things and carrying information of whatever they happen to hit to your eyes. Cheap rifts don't take this into account and lead to very dark pauses, indeed. Literal darkness, that is. There is, physically, nothing for the eyes to see.

And mine is starting to break down. The cave has been getting darker for some time. The rift is flooding, and it can't hold the light for my eyes. My hand was in my pocket when it happened, and the shadow over my lower arm has returned. So had the blinking red on the rift.

Even for people like me, rifts are still hard to get used to.

I put another capsule in the watch, just like you showed me, all those seconds ago. The process is relieved, for now. But there are only so many capsules left. Our time, though paused, is running out. We only have so much energy with us, only so many seconds. They're failing me.

The scene around me is as it was. Or, as it is. Harris is stood next to the stream, mid breath. Beads of sweat hang in the air around his head. His hair flies with the motion of his head. The anger in his eyes still resists the time, there's no regret there for what he's done. There's only pure, malicious hatred. Time could be running normally and I think that would still last forever.

I've taken apart his gun and messed around with he firing mechanism a bit, so when he shoots next, and he will – I was very careful putting his finger back on the trigger, the whole thing should blow up in his hand. Add that to the way his left foot is now a fraction of an inch of the ground he should be sent tumbling towards the river.

That was the easy bit. Slightly harder was changing the trajectory of Rachel's already misfired bullet so that it hits his new position on the ground. I took my time with that, it had to be perfect.

The motion of the bullet won't ever change if you change the direction it faces, but alter its spin through the air even very slightly and the whole trajectory flies out the window. Give me enough time and I could make that bullet collide with anything in the cave.

All that was the first month or so I think. It's hard to keep track, outside of regular time.

Usually I would have company, share my rift with the person who taught me about them, set the rules for our playground.

We had the conversation a few times. I remember the one under the Adriatic the most clearly.

No Remorse.

The job comes first.

And most importantly:

A rift is like your parent's house. Great to visit every now and again, but a godawful place to live forever.

And you're right, of course. I can't stay here. Even aside from the semantic arguments between fitting-forever-into-a-second, and the head spinning concepts of how this thing actually works, this can't go on.

And I know you could make it all better, you'd tell me to pipe down and get on with it, that you were expendable anyway.

But I can't lose you just yet. And as long as I stay here I won't have to. You can't leave me without the time. The river can't take you if it's not moving.

And you're only those few steps away.

I could see the bullet even as the rift started.

The wound was, and is, already spread like shattering glass from your abdomen.

I can start your time back up, but I don't know how long we'd have.

Seconds...

Swept away as the river restarts.

I've taken the bullet out so it can't do any more damage, and I've tried to seal up the wound, but it won't be enough. It was already too deep to really help. The worst thing is your face hasn't even registered anything wrong.

But for now you're still alive, and that's good enough for me.

The blinking red returns. How long did that one last? They're supposed to run for around a week of rift time, but that can't have been more than a few minutes. Then again, there really is no way to find out. It's my word against the time. How long have I actually been here?

The shadows are starting to reappear. Better find some more energy.

On instinct I reach for the capsule, but something stops me.

There's nothing more to change here. There's no amount of time I can stay down here that can fix her.

And all this energy I'm pouring into the rift; just to see her smile, or more likely growl, at me one last time.

And yet there's only one thing I need to do to make it happen, and second by second the watch draws me in...

Harris dropped to the floor, the bullet puncturing his face just below his left eye. The blood spread from his head and found its way to the river. The last embers of his life swept away.

His last cries went unnoticed a Rachel's body fell into my waiting arms. Surprise flushed across her for a moment, glancing down at the hole in her side. Waiting pain cradled her as she convulsed, before calming to the point when she could register me.

'I'm sorry,' I told her.

Her eyes probed me through her torment. Then she noticed the nearly empty packet of capsules on the floor, and slowly just nodded.

Her blood was starting to follow Harris' into the stream. It greedily sucked both away, draining Rachel's strength and taking her from me.

And even against what must have been blinding pain, she looked back to me and started to smile before she was taken completely.

I've never seen such a compelling argument to pay so much for them than in that joyous, perfect smile.

A professional to the end:

She fit a whole world in that second.