Time is Money

The downpour began just like any other. Light. Quiet. Invisibly falling from the heavens so faintly that it would hardly be noticed. The precipitation would fall at an ever increasing rate until it would become an overwhelming torrent, both in volume and sound. This downpour, however, was not like every other. No, it stood out in two ways:

-It was dollar bills.

-It was localized entirely in the living room of a brightly lit downtown apartment

It is likely that this combination of factors is what contributed to Adam’s bewilderment.

“What the hell...?”

Afterall, a sudden raining of dollar bills is only to be expected in certain adult establishments, and as Adam was sat on his couch, eating cheetos and watching mindless television, he was quite sure that he was not, in fact, at an adult establishment. Once he fully understood what was happening, there was a brief moment of fear, a concern that he might suffocate if the rain didn’t stop. He quickly pushed that thought out of mind and was overcome with a sense of relief.

“I’m rich!”

A phrase he would repeat to himself, louder each time.

“I’m rich! I’m RIIIIIICH! ImrichImrichImrichImrich!"

He felt himself become lighter. Excitement washed over him. His exclamations of the obvious would soon become expletive filled barbs pointed at his job,

“Screw you Globodex!

A former lover,

“Eat shit Cindy! Ooooh who’s just ‘wasting time’ and ‘hiding from his emotions’ now huh?!?"

and quite specifically his twelfth grade math teacher, Ms. Buchanan, who had told him in no uncertain terms, that he was lazy, unmotivated, and if given all the time in the world he’d still never accomplish anything of value in his lifetime. A sentiment his former lovers also shared.

“And you Miss Buchanan. Why don’t you just come suck on --”

Were an onlooker to gaze up into his window at this exact moment, they would see a man vulgarly gesticulating in mock masturbation of an entirely too large member, while covered in a mixture of dollar bills and cheeto dust.

The downpour stopped as abruptly as it began and Adam quickly set about the task of gathering and counting every last bill. Using rubber bands, twist-ties, and even some old adapter cables he was saving ‘just in case,’ he bundled the bills into stacks of $100.

“67, 68, 69, hehehe, I’m so freaking rich. Wait, what number was I on?”

It took several tries and just over two hours to count it all, but he now possessed $20,000 in one dollar bills. He took one bundle of $100 for himself and split the remainder in half. One half was placed in a small, locking briefcase that already contained some other loose bills and was labelled ‘Papa Peter’s Paperwork’ and tucked it away into the closet. The other half wouldn’t fit, so it was placed in a backpack and thrown under the bed. There was probably a smarter hiding spot but Adam couldn’t be bothered to find one.

“Perfect. Now to spend some of this moolah.”

He got dressed in his finest denim pants and cotton t-shirt before heading onto the street to find a good way to spend his easy-earned cash.

“Gotta be smart about it though.”

Then there it was, like a neon sign from the almighty, glowing and guiding him to how he must spend his new-found wealth. He nearly tripped over a street beggar as he rushed in the door and called to the clerk.

“5 of your finest 2 dollar scratch tickets good sir.”

Adam was not smart about it. He was also not observant to the world around him, or at least was too distracted to care. If he did, he would have noticed that the moment he handed the $10 to the pimply faced clerk, that there was a brief pause. Barely noticeable, like a glitch in the matrix, everything stuttered for about one second. Adam was too engrossed in scratching his tickets to notice.

“Ehhh stupid game.”

He bought himself a soda. As he handed the clerk another $3, everything paused again. This time, it lasted long enough that even Adam saw it. Everything and everyone stood still. Except Adam, whose bewilderment had returned. For the second time today, he pushed away all thoughts of concern and focused on the opportunity in front of him. He waved his hands in front of the clerk as a test. No reaction. Moving quickly, he grabbed a few slim jims and a bag of chips off the shelves and ran out of the store. As he did so, time unfroze. He wasn’t counting, but if he had been he would know that the freeze lasted about 8 seconds.

“Oooh baby, magic money.”

Adam quickly returned to his apartment, wanting to ponder on today’s events. He was so focused on his plans for the money that he barely noticed two men exiting his building as he bumped shoulders with one of them. Calling out over his shoulder, he mustered the best apology he could.

“Watch it.”

He climbed the stairs to his apartment and what he saw snapped him from his inner thoughts. His door was ajar.

“Oh shit.”

Running to his bedroom, Adam reached under his bed and discovered the bag missing.

“Nonononono”

He checked the closet. The case was gone too.

“God dammit!”

He reasoned that it may have been the strange men he bumped into. He’d never seen them before. Admittedly, he also barely saw them moments ago, but that’s not the point. The point is he was sure they were responsible. They must have seen him from the street when the money first appeared. In a bout of uncharacteristically quick thinking, Adam rushed outside, frantically looking around. He noticed the street beggar. Hastily pulling bills from his pocket, he gave the poor soul $5, hoping that would buy him 30 seconds to catch up.

“Quick, take this. Come on man!”

“I’m a woman.”

“Just take this.”

As soon as paper touched dirty hand, time froze. Adam knew this was his chance. He sprinted off in the direction he thought the thieves had gone. Frantically looking at every person, in every car, through store windows. Soon he found the men sitting in their car, parked two blocks from his apartment. He tried the doors. Locked. These men took their security at least a little more seriously than he did. Adam looked to find anything that might help his situation. Then he saw it. A club. Well actually, it was a cane. A cane currently in use by an elderly woman with an obvious hunch, but at this moment, it would work as a club. Adam wrenched it from the cold, living hands of the frozen elderly woman

“I need this more than you,”

and proceeded to bash the window of the car. The glass eventually fractured, along with the makeshift club. Tossing aside the tattered remains of the cane, Adam reached into the car, heaved the bag and case out the window, and made off down the street. Rushing into his apartment, he locked the door and barricaded it with his couch. He couldn’t help but wonder why time was still frozen. As if on cue, the world outside resumed. It had been approximately 4 minutes and 20 seconds, but Adam wasn’t counting.

“That was like, 5 minutes. 5 minutes for 5 dollars.”

$1/minute. Not a bad price to literally buy time. Cheaper than his long distance plan. He also pondered that if he could break glass and otherwise affect a frozen reality, could he hurt people? He decided that he wouldn’t risk such a thing, not because of his conscience, but because he was worried that violence like that might violate some terms of service or guidelines with the money and it wasn’t worth the risk. It was magical afterall. His moral contemplation was interrupted by the wail of sirens as an ambulance passed by his apartment, stopping 2 blocks away. He leaned out his window and could just make out paramedics hastily putting a person on a stretcher.

“Oh shit, the hunchback.”

His stomach sank. He HAD hurt someone. He checked the duffel bag.

“Oh thank God, it’s still here.”

Adam needed a distraction. The consequences of his actions were finally hitting him. He felt heavy and empty. A not unfamiliar sensation. So he did what everyone does when they feel empty. He called his ex. It went as well as could be expected. She questioned his audacity to think money would be enough to bring her back. Cindy had a healthy self-respect.

Adam realized he’d need to prove that he was different. He needed to do something to convince her to love him again. He knew what he had to do. He grabbed his backpack and separated out $1,000 into a paper bag.

“1,000 minutes. I can do that.”

Adam found himself outside of room 341. Trauma recovery ward. Over a dozen people, three different generations, all gathered to visit the family matriarch. She’d suffered head trauma from an abrupt fall. Adam stood near the doorway, observing his handiwork. In that moment, he finally saw it. As the children hid behind their parents, and the parents fought tears, he saw the consequences. Not just of this action, but of the man he’d become. Selfish. Scared. Adam resolved to do something more. He couldn’t change the past but he was going to make a better future. One of the family members saw him and approached him, snapping Adam from his contemplation. Wordlessly, Adam handed over the paper bag, turned and walked away. There would be no one chasing after him, no thank yous. He didn’t deserve them. It was strange, a place normally so busy was so quiet. Doctors mid-surgery, nurses mid-bedpan change, patients neither alive nor dead, just, existing. The weight of sadness still permeated the rooms. Unforgiving.

In complete silence he began walking, it would take time, but time he had. He saw the highways, snarled in an infinite jam. Observed the faces of people in a rush but going nowhere. All of them had their own full lives, something Adam had never really considered being so caught up in his. Hours later, he stumbled through the front door of his destination. Home. The one he’d run from only a few years ago, after his 12th year of school. After his father’s diagnosis. He climbed the stairs and took a breath. Deep. Then he crossed the threshold into the master bedroom. The room was full of medical equipment. Heart rate monitor, blood pressure monitor, IVs. The bedside table had a phone, a glass of water, and a small black notebook. A journal. The bed was of the kind you’d see in a hospital, reclining with various points of articulation. The man on the bed was gaunt. Pale. So far removed from the one Adam remembered. He took a seat by the bedside, placed his backpack down and just absorbed it all for a moment.

Finally he spoke.

“I uhh, I know you can’t hear me and I’m probably gonna have to repeat myself when it all starts going again, but I got something here that…It's too late. I fucked up. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t...You were...you were my hero - the longer I was gone the harder it was to pick up that phone you know? So I started saving what I could when I could. Been putting it in your old briefcase that I took on my way out. Kept telling myself when I had enough to help you, then I could come back, make things right...see you...things never work out that way though, do they? I’m gonna sit here for a bit, ok?”

“If my math was right, things should get started again pretty soon. Actually, they should have already”

He was sure of it.

“I’m sure of it.”

Math and observation were never his strong suit.