By Muhtasim Sagiv
Day 1
I woke up at 7:03 this morning, 3 minutes after my 7:00 AM alarm.
I did the usual: a brisk 15-minute walk outside, a breakfast of two scraggly sunny-side-up eggs and slightly burnt toast, a short subway commute to the bleak, gray office building-10 stories tall with narrow windows, it never fails to set my mood, depressed and hopeless. I worked and scrolled for 3 hours through YouTube awaiting my lunch break, at my cubicle.
At 11:00 I took my lunch break, chatting idly with my desk neighbor, Prit. He droned on about something to do with his weekend, something about golf, or football, I’m not sure. Each day at 11:14 AM I check out of reality, watching the digital clock on the kitchen counter of the breakroom tick away. It’s a fine clock, it counts hours, minutes, seconds, the year, the day of the week. Each day I count in my head for a full minute, matching the count of the clock as 11:14 turns to 11:15. For those 60 seconds I find myself tunnel-visioned on that black screen and its neon green numbers; the world around me dims until it has faded into nothing, blinders on either side of me connect me solely to this clock, it bears no importance to me otherwise, but during those 60 seconds all that exists in the observable universe is me and that clock, for all I know, in those 60 seconds, reality itself is nothing more but my conscience and the time.
That’s why today was so unusual. I counted the seconds as I did every day, and I knew that I was accurate. I don’t mean to claim that my brain doesn’t slip or that I don’t make mistakes, sometimes as I count the clock I slip, lose track of a second, and then catch myself again. But today I was dialed in, I had gotten a full 8 hours of sleep and a large cup of coffee only hours before, I was awake and present, and I counted perfectly. You see, I have practice; do the same thing for your 3 years, something simple as counting to 60, and you get pretty good. I know that I didn’t make a mistake in my count today, but the minute took 59 seconds, as I reached 60 the clock reached 11:15:01, not 11:15:00. The clock could have had an error, although it never had before. I checked the warranty and it was 10 years old, the clock was only 3 years old, it had been new when I arrived, so it would have been early for it to break. It could have been the batteries, but after changing them the trend was the same; I counted to 60 from 11:24 to 11:25 after the battery change, and again, my count ended at 11:25:01.
Maybe I’m just off today, maybe the clock is just malfunctioning, it really shouldn’t matter, it’s no big deal, but I can’t get my mind off of it. I asked Prit if he noticed it but he said he counted it alright.
It was nine hours ago when my possible miscount happened, I got over it eventually and carried through the rest of the day. I acted as if I was working for the rest of the day while lazily browsing on my computer. Then I went to McDonald’s for a quick dinner, made my way home, and spent a few hours watching season 2 of Invincible to pass some time. Everything was normal, as usual, until I decided to test myself and see if my count was as accurate as I thought. I pulled up a clock on my laptop, one with hours, minutes, and seconds, I waited for the minute to reach exactly 0 seconds, 6:37:00, and then I began my count: 1,2, 13, 27, 41, 59, 6:37:01, 60, 6:38:01. It happened again, online, where the clock couldn’t have been wrong, and I refuse to believe that I could have been wrong, I was paying close attention. So I tried it again, and again, and again, and again, and again. It’s 8:37 p.m. now, I’ve been at this for 2 hours, and my count is off every single time, I can’t see how. As I continue my nightly routine it’s all that’s on my mind. I wonder as I brush my teeth for 2 minutes, was I 2 seconds off, as I leave on my face mask for 20 minutes, was I 20 seconds off, and as I read for an hour prior, was I a whole minute off?
Day 2
I woke up at 7:02 this morning, two minutes after my 7:00 a.m. alarm.
I did the usual, my walk, my breakfast, and my train ride, all unchanged. Things were only slightly different at work; I wasted time as usual, my typical, aimless YouTube scrolling, but I had one project to work All I really had to do was organize a costs spreadsheet on a recent job for a client, we work in advertising, I’m in our tech department, me and Prit essentially get paid for acting important-and then I got to the time for my lunch break. I spoke to Prit just as the day before, and today he had new things to drone about, some movie or TV show, or maybe it was troubles with his car, I’m not so sure. Regardless of the topic, at 11:15 AM I began to drone away again, but I resisted the urge, fighting away at my tiredness and disinterest, fighting away as my eyes began to close and as the darkness around my eyes began to consume my vision, isolating me from reality and from existence itself. I slid past Prit to the sink, turning the faucet to the right, cupping ice-cold water in my hands, and splashing it directly into my eyes. I cupped the water and splashed it into each eye 3 more times.
“You good?”
I didn’t answer his question, I didn’t perceive exactly what he said.
“You good?” repeated with a slight hint of impatience and annoyance.
“Yeah, I’m fine, my bad I didn’t sleep well last night.” Which was a lie, I had slept fine, it was just 11:15 a.m..
“Oh…alright.” He began droning on again, his tone unwavering, his emotions uninteresting, it’s hard to follow merely because my brain resists, I don’t care; I don’t mean to be mean, I’m just indifferent. That’s no matter, I didn’t stay awake to listen to him, I decided not to engage in my daily count at the same time, maybe my habit had thrown me off. I thought it could be a case of overthinking. So, I waited, ate my lunch-a cold turkey sandwich and some sour cream and onion ruffles, slightly stale, with a strawberry soda-and scrolled through my phone a bit once Prit left the room, no longer willing to converse with someone within an excitement for his stories.
At 11:58 I decided to count as precisely as I could, 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3, 10, 30, 45, 60, 12:00 PM. I stood there for a solid 30 seconds without moving. I had expected, at worst, a repeat of yesterday’s failure, something I would willfully ignore so as not to drive myself insane, something I would have attributed to my brain growing old and slow at the ripe age of 25; at best, I hoped things would be normal, my count would be on the mark, and yesterday would be a complete fluke. I didn’t factor in a third outcome, today was a repeat of yesterday, but with a new problem. I’ll be honest I hate problems, conflict, and challenges. Anything that forces me to think more than necessary, stresses my brain too far past basic metabolic functions and veers off course of normalcy, I try to avoid. It’s why I majored in what my parents told me was stable, computer science, and why I moved to a city with work, New York, and why I got a job at a decent company, and why I’ve lived the way I do. It’s not exactly what I dream of, it doesn’t encapsulate all of my desires, but it’s basic and easy; it works and is easy to maintain and sustain. I figure my aversion to the abnormal and the difficult is why this whole time thing has bothered me so much, but a whole minute is crazy. I know it’s not me. I asked my colleagues at the office, I asked Prit, I asked the janitor, Guardino, and I asked the boss, Jay, but nobody noticed anything off.
I skipped the after-work routine, no McDonald’s dinner, no TV shows, no leisure. I read for some time, but that was merely to pass an hour as I got to 5:58. I did my count, and it happened again, it jumped to 6:00 a.m. It’s not me, I know it’s not me, I tried again until I went to bed at midnight. I tried again and again, and I messed up again and again. I might be going completely insane, it might be sanity slipping away from me a minute at a time, but I don’t think it’s me. Yesterday I said I knew it wasn’t me, and I’ve begun to doubt myself, but I still don’t think it’s me.
Day 3
I WOKE UP AT 8:02 THIS MORNING, 1 HOUR AND 3 MINUTES AFTER MY 7:00 AM ALARM.
I had a frantic morning, I skipped the morning routine entirely and rushed to work. Nobody seemed to notice I was late as I stumbled into the hard and creaky seat at my cubicle. It rolled slightly to the right as it took my weight. Prit didn’t even look up from his “work” as I settled in. I tried my best to get into a flow. Today we actually had work, some security problems were popping up across the office. It was nothing too serious, one of the programs we use had a security breach, nothing had been leaked but we needed to reset several different passwords. The trouble was just finding old login info, the tech department isn’t exactly organized, and we aren’t exactly organized. I worked through the issues mostly by lunchtime but I was still off. Still, I made it to lunch. Today’s conversation with Prit was mostly as usual, although I remember what he was droning about, at least partially, today, it was a conversation about kitchen renovations he was getting. I was still disinterested but I listened somewhat better. At 11:15:00 AM I didn’t feel the same urge I usually did. I didn’t eat, I just waited. I waited uneasily for 11:58 AM to come. Eventually, Prit left and things grew quiet, my mind began to focus, and my eyes began to tear up slightly as I focused on the clock without blinking. 11:58:00 and I began to count, I got to 11:58:59 expecting nothing, yesterday I had expected the worst, and I got worse than what I thought was the worst. At what should have been 11:59:00 AM the clock struck 1:00 PM.
There was no rest of the work day, nor was there any after-work routine, I fainted on the spot. I promise I’m not so mentally, or physically, fragile. I remain mostly unphased by things. When something does affect me significantly I rebound rather quickly. The first second, the first minute, they had been disturbing, but nothing I couldn’t get past, nothing too important, nothing I wouldn’t have eventually ignored. But after a whole hour had been skipped I wasn’t sure what to think, I fainted, and now I lay in a hospital bed. Nothing serious has happened to me, I’ve been told I just wasn’t waking up but was otherwise stable. They reckon it was a one-off, maybe I was dehydrated, or maybe a nerve got pinched the wrong way, regardless, I’ll be released tomorrow morning, they just want to observe for the night. I accept it all with a mild unease, I’m not sure what to think or what to do. I’ve decided I won’t test anymore this night, perhaps this is a dream, perhaps ignoring it will return things to normalcy, I don’t know. I asked the 3 nurses that have come in and out of the room if they’d noticed anything off if their days had been shorter, their hours, their minutes, none of them stated any change, they all seemed to look at me with a sense of pitiful concern, they think something is off in my head. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I’m crazy, maybe it is me.
Day 5
I woke up at 8:02 this morning, 1 day, 1 hour, and 2 minutes after my Thursday 7:00 a.m. alarm.
I sat up straight in my hospital bed for an hour staring straight ahead. I’m scared, I am genuinely scared. I called a nurse to my room immediately, I asked them what had happened, and how long I had been there. I mean, as far as I knew, I had fainted on Wednesday, and I should have woken up on Thursday morning. I should have then been released after they realized I was okay, and then I would go to work late. That’s not what happened. I don’t remember a Thursday existing, I don’t remember doing a thing on Thursday, not waking up, eating or drinking, and not even sleeping, although maybe I wouldn’t have remembered sleeping regardless. “You slept for most of Thursday, you seemed okay but we saw some heart irregularities so we decided to observe for another day. We talked about this yesterday, remember?” That was impossible, there was no Thursday, and yesterday was Wednesday, but the clock to my side, my phone, and the nurse all told me it was Friday now. Either I am in an extended dream, I am going insane, everyone else is going insane, or something is very wrong. It was a second, it was a minute, it was an hour, and what seems like an entire day has now been taken off the week. I waited for the nurse to leave the room, I cautiously disconnected my heart monitor from the outlet and then from my arm, sneaking glances over at the door to ensure nobody came in. Then I collected my things and darted out, hugging walls until I got to the stairs, dashing down flights until I could get to a back exit. I found myself tripping over a stray dog as I fell directly into a murky puddle of muddy water in a back alley. Two sleeping bags across the street shift restlessly. The sun was up, the birds were chirping, cars rolling, the world hadn’t fallen apart, and Armageddon hadn’t quite happened yet. I stumbled around for a second, pulling on my clothes in place of my hospital gown as I walked. I collected my thoughts and patted down my clothes as I entered a cafe at the end of the alley. I asked for a cup of ice water and dumped it directly on my head as it was handed to me. I was promptly asked to leave.
I decided not to go to work today. I had an excuse so I figured it would be alright to head home. Maybe things had been a big fluke, maybe things were alright, maybe I had just slept through a whole day because I had felt sick. Whatever, I’ll be ok, I headed home. I decided to spend the day distracting myself. I ordered some Dominos and wolfed down the entire pizza alone, a thin-crust buffalo chicken with American cheese. I finished three shows in one sitting, including Invincible. I downed a liter of soda. I passed the time without looking at the clock at all, without thinking of my troubles. I did things I kind of wanted to do, distractions that were somewhat fun and somewhat enjoyable. That was until late that night, at 11:00 p.m.. I had a slight doubt about how I was spending my time, not just that night but in general. What for me had been a night of leisure and rest had been a night spent wasting away at home, laying in bed doing things that didn’t benefit me, things I kind of regretted. Sure it’s not a problem that I rested and spent leisure time, but I didn’t do anything I cared to do, nothing that I dreamed about. Today had not been a day I would fondly look back upon, this week wouldn’t be either. I began to think perhaps my life thus far had not been a life well lived, I doubted that I would look back on things thinking it had all gone well. I fell asleep to these thoughts, maybe they were irrational. I was a normal guy living a normal life doing normal things, I figured I would be alright.
Day 12
I woke up at 8:02 a.m., 1 week, 1 day, 1 hour, and 2 minutes after my Saturday morning alarm on a Sunday morning.
It is not me. At worst you would suggest that I had slept through the days, passed out. 7? 7 days? I would have died sleeping through 7 days. Maybe I had been fading in and out of consciousness, but I didn’t remember a thing at all, meaning I had just been out of it this whole time. I called my parents, I asked them about the past week and they described what they had done, telling me they weren’t sure about what I had done and that I should call them more often.
I called up Prit, and I asked him about the past week.
“What are you talking about?”
I repeated my questions.
“Get some rest, buddy.” He hung up.
I don’t know what’s going on. Time is skipping. The world seems okay, the sky is blue, the birds are chirping, and the cars are, well, they’re cars. Things seem alright. Things don’t seem out of the ordinary. Not a single person seems concerned. I jumped out of bed and walked out the door, strolling down the street seeing if anyone else seemed concerned about things. Things continued as normal, kids chased ice cream trucks, taxis honked away, and every passerby kept their head down and ignored eye contact. Nothing was normal, nothing was ok. Time was skipping, entire days and weeks ceasing to exist. Not a single person expressed any concern at all. It seemed like between these ignored time skips I was aging too, I had grown some sizable stubble, stubble that would have taken 7 days to grow. My stroll down the street eventually brought me to Macy’s. I decided to walk around the store for some time, to distract my mind. It wasn’t particularly fun but it was better than my mundane existence, going to work, coming home to eat junk food, and watching shows I didn’t particularly care about as my only sense of entertainment. (Invincible is good and all, but as my only hobby?) I strolled through the store with an interest I had never had before. I had been in department stores but they seemed rather unexciting at other times. Now, as I swayed from side to side, observing different items as I passed. Things seemed a lot more interesting. I thought of the clothes I would buy for future kids, and the toys I would buy for them too. I window-shopped clothes far too expensive for me and colognes too. I looked at kitchen appliances I might have used for a new hobby to explore but never did and it seemed never would. I strolled for several hours like this and day turned to night. It was oddly exciting. Nothing I wanted to do in particular, nothing I would look back on thinking it had been worth it, but exciting.
I went to the bathroom on the top floor, Leaning against the sink, tired, I passed out. I dropped to the floor and fell asleep.
Day 42
I woke up this morning at some time.
I’m not sure when my phone is dead. I woke up undisturbed in the Macy’s, I guess the top floor is visited seldom, hence the bathroom is cleaned seldom as well. I walked out and saw people walking about, so the store was open at least. I walked out and asked to check the time on someone’s phone. It was 2:00 PM, Tuesday, and it was August. I could have sworn the last month had been July. There was no chance it wasn’t July. I knew it was July. I had celebrated the 4th of July with my parents back home. I had done July things. I had gone to the beach. I had talked to people, I had only talked to Prit. I had eaten, yes McDonald's but I had eaten. I had done a ton of things, I had experienced July, and my July had only been halfway done. I stumbled into a cafe once more and rushed to the Bathroom. I began washing my face, trying to calm myself down, and then I looked up. A thick beard had grown on my face, about a month ago. It was clear a month had passed.
I may or may not be wrong. I don’t know. I may be insane. Time may be passing in a way that I can no longer perceive, perhaps I have lost all sanity. The people around me may be wrong. Perhaps they are all failing to perceive the fact that the world has lost its consistency, perhaps they have been failing to perceive that time has gone wrong. I’m not quite sure. I walked out of the café and into a nearby alley. Aimless in my walking. Nobody cared for what I had to say, and whether it was me or the world that was wrong, my life was slipping away before me. The same mundane things had filled my days, I was dissatisfied. Even as I had spent time in Macy’s, changing things up with a new experience, I had done nothing truly satisfying, enjoyable, or beneficial. Not all things have to be productive, but shouldn’t I spend my free time doing things worth doing?
I tripped on a bottle that rolled over to me and fell flat on my back. As I looked to the side I noticed that a dog had rolled the bottle over to me, it seemed to be smiling. It knew something I didn’t. I looked up at the sky. It was late now, somehow my wandering out of the café had lasted hours. There were few stars though, the pollution blocking out the sky. The dog smiled at me and barked. What was I doing? I wished to see the stars at that moment. My life was slipping away, I was doing nothing of use, I was doing nothing worth doing. At that moment I wished very much to see the stars. I wished to go home. I got up, brushing the dust off my pants, I checked my pocket for my wallet, still there. I have not spent my time well. I called over a taxi.
“Drive me far, far away from here. I’ve been wasting my time.”
Muhtasim Sagiv is in 12th grade. Originally a writer only due to school work, he eventually grew to enjoy the process as it became a personal hobby and passion. He plans to pursue a career in law and become a published author in the future.
Out of our finite days we spend so much time doing effectively nothing. "Well Spent" is meant to make the reader reflect on this in hopes of inspiring them to make change before time slips away from them.