One Page Short Stories: Time

Keyword: Time

It started as a way to reduce food waste. The marketing gurus of the world pitched it as ‘the one way to stay on top of it all.’ Just catalogue your individual grocery items with the complimentary home scanner, and the expiration dates would appear on your fridge’s control screen. You could set it up to alert you a week in advance, a day, even an hour before your green beans got greasy or that expensive yogurt went rancid. Gone are the days of guilt! Save food, save money, save the world! I got on board immediately. The first few grocery trips were so exciting. With every item I scanned and stored in my fridge, I felt like I was stocking up on an almost palpable relief. Never again would I have to toss out an entire unopened container of moldy sour cream because it got stuck behind the milk. I was a part of a new, more advanced breed of consumerism. The Anti-Waste Experience (AWE) was so monumentally successful that the model quickly spread to other facets of day to day life. The commercials were sensational. C-c-c-combo breaker! Catalogue your clothing choices so you never repeat an outfit! Did you already feed the cat, or is he just a fat, mouthy beggar? What would you say if we told you you’ve let your grandma down for the last time? Stay on top of it with the CallGram Alert System! Simply mark the last time you called her, set the alarm frequency, and let the countdown timer do its job. A year in, I had never been so productive. I had countdowns set for bill payments, plant waterings, toenail clippings, website sales. I even knew when the batteries in my remote would need to be replaced. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had complete control over my to-do list. I went to bed each night on sheets washed every 1.5 weeks and daydreamed about what else I could automate.

Then that stupid mental health bill with its clearly fabricated data about ‘anxiety spikes’ and ‘responsibility burnout.’ People were claiming to have PTSD from the nonstop alarm bells going off. The news called it ‘a technological pandemic.’ “Bunch of whiny underachievers,” I muttered as I served myself a second helping of dinner. Tonight’s entree was a lamb potato chive chutney, a recipe my fridge had extremely helpfully sent to me in response to some impending expirations. “If you can’t take the heat, go live in the woods.” The activists didn’t give up. Protests by the hundreds, then the thousands cropped up across the country. Scientists spoke on talk shows about the degradation of our own self-guiding systems. Even high-powered CEOs and CTOs seemed wary of the long-term effects. “Absolutely ridiculous!” I shouted at my girlfriend- now ex- as she slammed the front door. “I’m sorry I wanted to make sure we have sex more than once a month, Trudy!” The only other people who seemed to get it were the early adopters like me. We gathered on internet forums late into the night. We were so dedicated to our cause we would have forgotten to eat or sleep, if not for the alerts. My former friends called often to check up on me, but I dodged them by scheduling regular posts on social media to let them know I was fine.  Better than fine. At long last, I had all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted.