By Alan S. Kolok
Alex tried to walk home via a different route nearly every night. He liked to amble along the little side streets of the city, window shopping. This evening was no different. At the corner of Merchant and Vine, a small sign caught his attention. The door to the small office was open and Alex could see someone milling about inside. The man waved and began to approach.
Alex blurted out, “Uh, I saw the note and was curious.”
The note, written on a piece of lineless paper, had been hastily taped to the inside of the glass door. Written with a Sharpie, it read:
IT’S ABOUT TIME, INC.
STOP IN FOR A FREE SAMPLE!
“Of course, of course, do come in,” the man in the office said. “My name is Horatio Jones, and I am delighted to meet you.”
Horatio had been unpacking boxes in the foyer of a small office suite. Row upon row of unpacked cardboard shipping boxes littered the floor. Behind him a short hall led to an emergency exit door. Offices lined either side of the hall.
“Come to my office,” he said.
His office contained a few pieces of gray metal office furniture and two gray metal chairs. Horatio sat in one, Alex the other. A computer screen on the desk was displaying a strange looking spreadsheet.
“We’ve just moved in, sorry for the mess. Today is our first day and you are our first customer. Can you tell me your name?”
“Uh, Pendergraf, Alex Pendergraf.”
“Let me explain the note on the door, Alex, do you mind if I call you Alex?”
Alex shook his head. “No, that’s fine.”
“We are a start-up, Alex, trying to drum up business, and we have a fascination with time. More specifically, we are fascinated with your time, your entire time, from birth to present day.”
“I am not following,” Alex said.
“Did you ever do something that you regret, Alex?”
Alex squirmed in his chair.
“Oh, I’m not trying to get personal,” Horatio added, “it’s just a hypothetical question.”
“Well sure, everyone has,” Alex said.
“Exactly! Now let me explain our promo. For the next month any first-timer, such as yourself, gets 30 seconds free. Interested?”
“30 seconds free?”
Horatio’s smile broadened. “That’s correct.”
Alex said, “Look, um, Mr. Jones, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Please call me Horatio. Time, Alex, I am talking about the erasure of time.”
“The erasure of time? Is that even possible?”
“Well, functionally, it is quite simple,” Horatio said. “I just need to ask you a few questions then tonight, between the hours of midnight and 4 a.m., our staff will remove the thirty seconds of time that you have chosen from your life history. Forever. For free.”
“From my memory,” Alex asked?
“No, no, from, history. Those 30 seconds of time will be removed from the fabric of the universe.” Horatio smiled and tried to be reassuring.
Alex got up to leave, Horatio grabbed his forearm.
“Please, Alex. Let me explain.”
Alex sat back down in the chair.
“Have you ever played the game, Jenga? You know where you build a tower made of wooden blocks, then you and a partner take turns removing the blocks one by one?”
Alex eyed him suspiciously.
“Well, think of time as a fourth dimension, and think of space-time as a four-dimensional tower. Our staff can travel to any point in the past and remove a small block of space-time, without disrupting the overall four-dimensional structure. Can’t you see how beneficial that might be?”
Alex wasn’t buying it. “So, if that were true, why don’t you go back and prevent JFK from being assassinated?”
“Oh, no, not possible. That block of space-time is far too critical to the overall, uh, tower of history, if you will. We can remove minor bits of history and the tower will stand, but we cannot remove major bits, or the entire tower might, well, it might collapse.”
“How do you know the difference?”
“Alex, we are trained professionals. It is our job to know the difference, and we take that responsibility very seriously.”
Alex laughed out loud. “All right Horatio, I’m game. I’m not giving you any financial information though, no credit card numbers, no bank accounts, nothing like that.”
“Alex, there is no need. I assure you that the first sample of time erasure is totally free. All we ask is that you return tomorrow and let us know how we did. Fair enough?”
Alex’s mind was racing to figure out the scam. Failing to do so, he acquiesced. “Fair enough.”
“For the free sample, please pick something from your recent history. Something within the last week, perhaps, that you would like removed.”
Alex had just the thing.
“My wife was working in the kitchen two days ago,” Alex said. “She took her wedding ring off and placed it on the windowsill above the sink. I knocked it into the garbage disposal, which I then accidentally turned on. Her ring was mangled beyond repair. Can you take back those seconds?”
“Of course,” Horatio said, his eyes gleaming. “We’ll find the moments when the ring falls into the garbage disposal, then tap-tap-tap,” he jabbed his index finger into thin air, “we simply remove that tiny space-time brick from the tower of history. If you can give us your best estimate of when the event occurred, don’t worry, our technical staff will find it regardless, it will make our job much easier. This is why our free sample is done on something recent, those bricks are the easiest to find.”
“It was Tuesday evening, about 7 p.m.”
“Perfect,” Horatio said. “There is just one other thing. We will need a drop of your blood.”
“What?”
“Alex every living organism creates its own unique space-time signature based upon its DNA. Once we have your DNA in our system, we can follow you through time, from conception to present day. Unfortunately, we cannot track you into the future,” Horatio chuckled, “so don’t ask.”
“Once we have identified the correct time-space brick, your wife’s ring slipping into the garbage disposal, for example, we just remove it from the space-time tower. Whatever happened in that brick, ceases to exist, but the other four-dimensional bricks remain unaffected. Don’t you see, Alex? Your wife’s ring never falls into the garbage disposal at all. Those thirty seconds of your life never happened.”
“I suppose so?” Alex remained unconvinced, but since it was free, only costing him a drop of blood, he agreed.
“Wonderful,” Horatio said, “let me get my supplies. It will take me a few moments to find the correct shipping box.”
***
The next morning, Alex woke and went to the kitchen. Sure enough, his wife’s wedding ring was sitting, fully intact, on the windowsill. It was as if the entire garbage disposal incident had never happened.
“Hun,” he called to his wife, “you’ve got to see this.”
Later that day, Alex went back to the office of It’s About Time. The boxes remained unpacked.
“Alex, so glad to see you again,” Horatio said. “And how did our little demonstration go?”
“It was incredible. My wife’s ring was just sitting there on the windowsill. She was overjoyed.”
“Good, good! So glad to hear it.” Horatio stood and reached out his hand. “I hope that you have enjoyed your free sample. Do let us know if we can be of further assistance.”
“You mean that’s it?”
“Yes, unless, of course, you have any other space-time bricks that you would like us to remove. We would have to charge you, of course.”
“How much?”
“Well, Alex, we have a sliding scale. To erase a recent event, such as what we did with you and your wife’s ring, that would cost about $1,000. To erase larger events or events that occurred further back in time, would take us more time to locate and verify, and so, would cost more money to remove.”
“Why?”
“Because, Alex, the larger, or the older, the space-time brick, the more careful we must be in removing it. There are some events, like the assassination of JFK, wasn’t that the example that you used yesterday, that are so intimately tied into space-time that they cannot be altered. We must be extremely careful.”
“I see.” Alex didn’t see any of it. None of it made any sense, but he was glad that his wife got her ring back, and at no cost.
“Alex, take my card,” Horatio handed him a business card. The back of the card was a large photo of Horatio himself, above him were the words,
It’s About Time!
“It’s a play on words”, Horatio said, “Like it? I came up with it myself.”
***
A few weeks later, Alex got an email from Horatio Jones. The email stated that there were some irregularities in his file, and that it was necessary for Alex to come to the office and get things straightened out.
Alex went the next day. The office had been painted and the lighting modernized. The words, It’s About Time! had been etched into the glass door, and a receptionist’s desk had been moved into the, now clean and empty, foyer.
“Hello, may I help you,” she asked.
“Yes, I have come to see Horatio.”
“And you are?”
“Pendergraf, Alex Pendergraf.”
“Wait a moment, please. The receptionist got up and walked to the first office down the short hallway. On her way back, she remarked, “Mr. Jones will see you now.”
Alex started down the hall only to be met halfway by Horatio.
“Alex, so good of you to come. Let’s sit in my office.”
The metal furniture in Horatio’s office had been replaced with similar furnishings made of expensive tropical hardwood. The walls were covered with artwork, and soft music and lighting created a relaxing mood.
“Please, sit,” Horatio said. “Would you like something to drink?” Coffee? Or would you prefer something more along the lines of a soft drink? A Coke, perhaps?”
“Coffee, is just fine,” Alex said.
“Excellent,” Horatio hit a button on a small box on his desk. “Doris, can you bring us two coffees, please?”
“Horatio,” Alex asked, “what is this all about?”
Horatio pulled a yellow folder from his desk. “Alex, it is customary, once we have your DNA signature, to provide you with another free service. Effectively, we go through your past and look for space-time bricks that might be, um, awkward for you, should they go public.”
Alex didn’t say anything. Horatio continued.
“We have found seven small space-time bricks, none of them over 30 seconds long, that you might really want to have removed from your past. Like the, um, liberties that you took with your secretary at last year’s Christmas party. We could remove those. Or that unsavory event that happened back in college with that young girl, what was her name, Cathy Rodgers? I believe that today they would classify that as date rape. We could remove that.”
Alex jumped from his chair. “This is extortion.”
“Alex, please, don’t consider it extortion, consider it protection. We can protect you from yourself.”
Alex was speechless.
“Ah, the coffee is here.” Horatio’s secretary came into the room with a tray carrying two coffee cups, a small silver bowl of sugar cubes, and an equally small silver pitcher of cream. “Thank you, Doris.”
“Alex, I can list the other irregularities we found, if you wish.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Alex muttered.
“We have also printed them out and annotated the precise dates, time, and events.” Horatio pushed the folder toward Alex. “These are yours to keep, for your records.”
Alex pushed the folder back toward Horatio. “No, thank you, but no.” Alex paused for a moment then asked, “How much.”
“We can remove them all for one fifty.”
“150 thousand dollars?”
“Yes, but remember Alex, we don’t just mask the memory, we completely remove it from history. It’s not just that no one will ever find out about your little, um, transgressions, but rather that they never happened. Just like when you accidentally ground up your wife’s ring in the garbage disposal. These events can simply be removed from time.”
Alex sat back down, lowered his head toward his knees, and latticed his hands on the top of his head.
Horatio dropped a sugar cube into his coffee, then stirred in some cream. “Now, Alex will that be check or credit card?”
Alan Kolok is a professional scientist and writer. His stories and flash fiction focus on the quirks and peculiarities associated with the human condition and have been published in The Wave and in The First Line. Alan lives with his wife and dog in the great north woods of Idaho.
