A Waste of Time

For Gideon, worrying about time was something of a ritual. Bus schedules, time clocks, meal breaks, and setting his alarm – that was his cycle day in and day out. Ever since he got a job, it had become a systematic routine of work/life balance that was the struggle of every person’s adulthood.

But even as he followed such a routine, he would often find himself staring aimlessly at the screen, wondering how to put thoughts into words. He needed to finish a report, but his eyes would wander off, poking his nose into any and every distraction that crossed his view.

People called him a slacker for that, but to him, it was just a chance to let his thoughts marinate. Could he use his time more wisely if he simply thought about it a little? Was it so bad that he took a few minutes to pause and consider his life choices?

Endless possibilities, but only one choice to be made. That was the reality of things.

“Did you hear? That famous bakery has a limited sale of macarons going on right now. I hear it’s maple bacon this time.”

Gideon’s ears perked up, but he rubbed his temples at the half-finished summary before him. The blinking cursor where his typing had stopped was a ticking signal of how much he was missing out. His body jerked from an impulsive for treats and knocked over his coffee over for the fifth time. How he wished to be in two different places at the same time.

What did he even have to aspire for with this job? It was a pencil-pushing entry level gig of hand-me-downs and excel numbers. He had given up on college, on any hope of distinguishing himself from others, when he decided to dial things back and accept that he was anything but average. His lived in a sea of people where choices didn’t seem to matter.

Two hours later, and with zero hope of sampling those macarons, Gideon slid from his chair with a finished report sent off. All he received for his restraint was a simple ‘thanks’ in reply and nothing more. It was a drip feed of half-hearted expectations, supplemented by a barely livable income.

He brushed back his blond locks, took a consolation fruit bar from the free snack stash, and grabbed his stuff to go home.

The one pleasure he could get from his commute was seeing the change of advertisements come and go, signaling a passing of time that he had no stake in. His thoughts filled with the coming of new releases, episode drops and limit-releases of special flavors for his snacks. It made him a bit of a recluse, but that didn’t matter. He lived in a society that marketed to such behaviors.

With a half-hearted hop off the bus, he gazed at the window of a game shop. A new one had come out, promising exploration and adventure grander than anything experienced in reality. He knew it was a low bar to clear, but taglines like that worked all too well for people like him.

He found himself moments later, scratching at the shiny clear wrapping that was holding him back from paradise.

Something like this was valuable enough to sink his time into. That was why he wasted away his other time to acquire the funds for it. Wasted, not earned.

His whole life seemed like a waste, and this was just used to cope. His eyes looked up at a billboard hanging overhead. It displayed the current year’s round of potato chip flavor oddities in a head-to-head run-off. He would be buying all three, of course. Food seemed to be yet another cure for depression.

As Gideon thought about this tragic cycle, he unfortunately didn’t spend the time to notice an open manhole in front of him. Thoughts of adventure and his palate dropped as the surroundings turned to black.

“AHHHHHHH!!!”

v

Gideon woke up and his first thought was verifying if he had been isekaied somewhere. After all, he could clearly recall his desperate cries of fear at gravity having its way with him. Yet, he didn’t feel the pain of a quick death, nor did some mysterious entity question his life choices. He was half disappointed that there wasn’t a more telling and exciting transition.

Still, the feeling of something amiss was undeniable. He was flat on his back, still in his work clothes, but staring at scenery that would be impossible underground. The air smelled fresh, unlike the hint of petrol that wafted around the city from pollution. He noticed white strands in the upper corner of his vision, which he plucked, wincing. His hair had somehow turned white, but he didn’t feel aged.

Standing up, he bounced around, checking for injuries first, and then, magically gained superpowers. When nothing felt different, he couldn’t miss a strange countdown glowing on his right arm, magically counting down by seconds to who knew what.

It was a telling ingredient to a fantasy world, and hopefully not a mere dream. Gideon pinched himself to make sure. He slapped himself across the cheek to make doubly sure. With those two checks passing, he did what every other foolish otherworlder did in his situation – he hit the town he was found himself in without a care in the world.

The streets he walked through held a certain aesthetic that was foreign yet familiar to him. Foreign because he rarely saw so much wood used for construction, being from an urban area. Familiar because it was what he imagined a typical low-tech world of swords and magic would be.

Prior to hitting the streets, Gideon checked if he had any powers in the safety of some hidden alleyway. No amount of posing or calling upon menus gave him any hints. His questions to the deities or some helper fairy went unanswered. That left him no choice but learn things the hard way with his entry-level, working class social skills.

At least, he found out that they spoke the same language. He would’ve had a hell of a time figuring out what to do if that had been a barrier. He waved off that bit of convenience aside as his stomach grumbled, approaching a stand of skewered meat that filled his nostrils with the heavenly aroma of roast.

“Three coppers, boy,” the shopkeeper said without so much as batting an eye at him.

Gideon instinctively fished his pockets for change but then realized how pointless that was. The only coppers he had weren’t even the real thing, having a thin coating over mostly zinc. He wasn’t about to start a dispute trying to trick a merchant. The feel of the coins themselves would tip him off before he saw them.

Yet, he couldn’t very well hang around, letting the aromas coerce him into a life of robbery. That would be no good for the start of his would-be new life in another world. He chewed on his fingers to ease the temptation, but he could feel the pull of his hunger draw out his inner desires.

It was at that moment, he noticed that everything around him went silent. The sizzle of the meat, the merchant calling out to customers, and the marketplace clamor – all but the beating of his own heart had stopped. He reached out to check on the frozen shopkeeper, mid grilling, giving him a nudge but getting no response.

However it happened, time had frozen around him. Gideon put two and two together, grabbing a handful of skewers before racing off to a safe spot.

No matter where he went, he was the only one moving. It was surreal, but somehow amusing. He tapped the nose of a housewife as he munched on a skewer, lifted up some bags to watch them suspended mid-air, and smacked the heads of a few passersby. He knew it was a childish way to let off some steam, but he didn’t care. The last time he could be immature was before he handed off his resume to a dead-end job.

But then, he had a thought.

How the hell do I make things go back to normal?

He looked all around for some clue, until he noticed the countdown on his arm. Or rather, the speed at which the numbers changed. Each second that passed caused the timer to drop by ten seconds instead. The surprise of that caused Gideon to jump and smack at his arm in hopes that it would go back to normal.

“Urgh!!! Ah!!! Oof!!!”

A chorus of surprised cries echoed behind him as objects crashed and people held their heads in pain. Gideon looked over with a wince, trying to act innocent. He slid out of the place before anyone became wise to his actions. It was always the foreigner to blame when trouble happened.

But as he escaped from the area, a smile spread on his face. He was finally free from the things that held him down. With this newfound power, he would make his life his own, even if it was only for a short while.

The numbers continued to tick down on his arm. A little faster when he was making his dreams come true. It would be a sweet dream with no regrets until it hit zero. A time limit was strangely what he needed to become serious about it.