The Twelve-Minute Day

There are two days in your life that are not twenty-four hours long. The first is the day you are born.

Jesse was unceremoniously dumped into the world at twelve minutes before midnight on December 31st, 1999. They spent twelve minutes in one millennium, and then the rest of their life in another. Their friends liked to joke about how Jesse was almost not a 90s baby.

Five minutes till the deadline now, at 2355 hours. Just a couple more sentences and the conclusion is finished and the paper can be submitted. Jesse blinks with bleary, itchy eyes, face about three inches away from their computer screen, fingers pecking away at random keys. They somehow make a coherent sentence.

At last. At last, at last, at last! Save document, yes. Now upload it on the school site. Loading. Loading. 2358 hours. Loading. The computer screen wobbles with the weight of Jesse's shaking leg under the desk. Loading. Biting nails that don't exist anymore, fingers and lips bleeding from anxious chewing. Loading. 2359 hours. Jesse can't afford the ten percent deduction for a late paper. This professor is too strict for a late paper. Loading. They need to do well in this class.

Upload successful! Jesse leans back in their chair, taking in deep breaths of relief. The submission reads that it is uploaded at one minute before midnight. Safe. Glasses have to come off now, fingers digging into the bridge of their nose. Eyes swimming with exhaustion, Jesse stands to get more coffee. Exams are in two weeks, and all the professors want the major papers due this week. Because that's an intelligent and healthy way to propel students into the work field and give them useful life skills.

Jesse scoffs every time. More like a good way to propel students in front of cars by the end of the term. The coffee machine gurgles as the water comes back to a boil. On to the next paper, 0800 class the next morning be damned. As far as Jesse is concerned, this is what coffee was made for.

0007 hours. Coffee, hot; document, open; title page... what's the title again? Back to the school site to check the rubric. Oh, yeah – social bonds theory. That should be easy enough.

0008 hours. Title page is done. Great. Now what? Sip some coffee? Nope, too hot. Feeling kind of peckish, though. Wonder what snacks there are. Almonds, perhaps? Just something light, just to keep their metabolism going so they don't fall asleep. Jesse has been at their computer for over ten hours because they procrastinated on all their assignments.

0009 hours. Wait, focus. Not getting distracted now. This paper is due tomorrow at midnight, and they're not going to have much time to work on it. It has to get done now. Some words appear on the screen, in perfect sync with Jesse's fingertips flying over the keyboard. “Everyone needs to feel attachment somewhere.” It doesn't make much sense. Whatever. Get it done, make it look pretty, hand it in. Preferably on time.

0010 hours. Phone buzzes. A text? No, a Twitter notification. A picture from NASA. Pretty light in the sky. Back to the paper. Wait, what was that caption? “Everyone find shelter”? Eyebrows crease downwards. Time to check the news – probably just a hacker.

0011 hours. “Nuclear bomb dropped on North America.” It's probably a hoax. It can't be real. Computer screen goes blank. Great – lost those two whole sentences of that paper. The computer is new, though – it shouldn't crash. Look at phone. No WI-FI. No cell signal. Dark room now fills with light.

0012 hours.

The other day that isn't twenty-four hours in your life is the day you die.