Borrowed Time

Possibly one of many short stories set in this world.

9:48A.M.

Katya sat on the marketplace floor, wondering how she could buy a little time. The vendors hadn’t opened their shops yet, and she didn’t see any of the other raggedy children who normally competed with her for a job. This was good news, she thought, if she was the only option, she might be able to make enough to last a while. She only needed a few hours, just enough to last her and her sister another day. She stared at the gritty dust accumulating on her shoes, turning them an even dingier grey, and saw a merchant in the corner of her eye sling an ‘Open for Business’ sign across the front of his cart. She stood up, brushed the dust from her ragged coat, and went to his stall.

            The time merchant, an old, fat man who’d obviously been sampling his wares glanced at her. She’d worked for him before, and she didn’t like him. His face had that sad, downward cast to it that those who used degraded time developed. Almost hound-like, it scared her a little. Her mother had sported the same drooping, constantly tearing eyes as the merchant, and she looked slightly above him to avoid meeting his gaze.

            “Sir, do you need your floors cleaned? Tables wiped? Bottles shined? I’ll do it for cheap!”

He snorted, and said, “None of you little s***s were here yesterday, I would have liked some help then. Always avoiding the busier days. It’s like you don’t need time or money.” Katya forced an ingratiating smile, and simpered, “I’m so sorry, sir, I had to take care of my little sister. She’s too little to be left alone. I need some time for her, and I’m here to work today!” The merchant blinked slowly, and pointed at the mound of filthy vials in the back of his cart. “Clean those. I’ll pay two hours for every one you work, but it’ll be used time.” His fingertips were darkening, and Katya winced involuntarily. She wondered just how much degraded time he’d taken to look so… rotted. Even her mother hadn’t been this bad. She hated the thought of giving her sister time that had been used by countless others, but there was no other option. She’d make it up to her later, she decided.

10:22A.M.

Katya picked up an especially filthy vial, covered in fine dust that turned her fingers a powdery grey. She took a cloth and began wiping the grime from it, revealing the silvery liquid within. “Separate new from used,” the merchant called from the front of the cart. She scowled back, placed the now bright, shimmery vial to one side of her, and picked up the next one. This one was obviously used. The time within was sludgy, almost black, and just touching it made her shudder. She’d used degraded time before, everyone had, but no one liked it. It was a staple of the poor, the homeless, the people who sold their time, wasted the krona they received, and regretted it the next day. Or, like Katya, the children whose parents sold their time for their own benefit, and left them to extend their lives on their own.

10:39A.M.

Katya didn’t like thinking about her mother, but she couldn’t stop herself. She thought of her mother’s flabby neck, the pockmarks on her arm where she’d injected time so often that it’d gotten infected, and her clammy, toad-like skin. She grimaced as she thought of how the woman had held her down while the extractor did his dirty work, and she remembered the horror she’d felt when she’d seen the marks on Natalia’s arm. The tiny scars that were left after any extraction of time, and that Katya had thought would never mar her sister’s arm.

 

11:53A.M.

Katya looked down at the vial she was handling, and placed it with the others. Three vials of unused time, eight degraded. She knew it was getting harder for the market vendors to find untainted time, and as a result, the prices were skyrocketing. The ones who could sell their time had done it already, sold their few hours for enough krona to buy bread from the vendors who still took the outdated currency. The town had become more and more impoverished, the citizens bartering time for krona, krona for food that would allow them to work for more time. Over and over, until they died, withered and insane from the overly degraded or inhuman time they’d resorted to using.

It had become common to see obituaries detailing the extravagant final day of some sad individual, who had decided that selling their time for a few hours of indulgence was better than the long life they had been saddled with. She had known a few, watched them deteriorate from her childhood friends to shrunken mockeries of their old selves, and understood the reasoning. Sometimes life just seemed too difficult. Better to blow it all in one day of luxury than live forever in the squalor that they’d gotten used to.

Katya knew she’d never do that. For one, she didn’t have enough time left to bring home even a modest amount of krona. Diet and exercise could only extend your life a certain amount. She knew there were professionals who made a living off of selling days of their life, and using diet, medicine, and technology to restore those days. Spending the whole day exercising and forcing pills she couldn’t afford down her throat just didn’t appeal to her, when injecting time got the same results.

 

2:42P.M.

She polished the last vial, and placed it with its mates. Overall, thirty-two vials of degraded time, and nine of shimmering, fresh time. Not counting the one she’d stuffed into her coat lining. She made her way to the front of the cart, and waved to get the merchants attention.

“I’m done, sir. Can I have my payment now?”

The merchant snorted. “You barely did anything. You brats shine a couple of bottles and expect a whole day in return.” Katya smiled sweetly at him, and waited. He did the same thing every time she worked for him, and the best response was to just wait. Time addicts were impatient. The overuse of degraded time rotted the brain as well as the body, and the mind of a time addict who’d been using as long as the merchant was full of holes. He didn’t even remember how often she’d worked for him. Katya was reminded again of her mother, and how she’d even forgotten the names of her own children, eventually.  Every time, anyone as far gone as the merchant would just give her what she was owed rather than wait for however long it took her to leave. True to form, he glared at her, and turned around to pick through the vials she’d cleaned for the most degraded time.

“Brat, is this all you cleaned? I had at least two more bottles of fresh time, where are they?”

“That’s all there was, sir. Maybe you’ve sold more than you thought?”

The merchant grumbled and muttered, then picked up a nearly black vial and handed it to Katya. “Four hours work, eight hours pay. I’m too generous.” She took the vial, curtseyed to the merchant, and began walking away. “Be back tomorrow,” the merchant said to her retreating back. She waved at him, and kept walking.

5:19P.M.

She had eight hours of degraded time for herself, and eight hours of fresh time for Natalia. The marketplace was open for another few hours, so Katya decided to explore a little. Maybe there would be another time vendor who didn’t keep a close eye on his wares. She walked through the hot, dirty streets. She glanced at the extractor, a terrifyingly tall man who would bottle your time for you, for a nominal fee. His gadgets were spread out in front of him, looking much less menacing than they were. He smiled a toothy grin at her. He’d worked on her before, being one of the few extractors who made home visits.

Katya put her head down and hurried along, past the insane doctor who waved a bottle of dog’s time at her, shouting, “Little lady, try it, it’s better than human! Seven minutes to every human one!” She shuddered. Animal time was a terrifying substance. It extended your life, the same way human time did, but the body rejected it. Even using a small amount tended to drive the user insane, and sometimes it failed entirely, and killed the user. She assumed that this had happened to the doctor, but she didn’t plan on getting close enough to ask. She remembered how erratic and violent her mother had become when she’d eventually resorted to animal’s time.

7:37P.M.

The day nearly over, she went to the teller, a woman who would tell you how much you had left. She didn’t charge much, either. Only a single kronis, which was good, since Katya didn’t have a whole krona. She held her arm out, and the teller placed the telling device against her wrist. The metal strands snaked into her forearm, silvery and visible through the skin. “Ten hours, twenty-odd minutes” the woman said cheerily. Katya smiled. Enough for the rest of the day, and the night. With what she’d earned, she had just enough time for the next workday. She wished she could steal or earn enough to last longer, just long enough for a break, but that was mostly a dream.

8:07P.M.

She began walking home, whistling. As she passed out of the marketplace, she saw a food cart, unattended, and grabbed a small loaf of bread. No one saw, and she kept walking, passing a billboard promoting some celebrity who’d lived long past their prime. She mixed in with the tide of people heading home, and squeezed through the bodies. Someone slammed into her, knocking her to the ground, and her hand immediately went to the vials in her pocket. Still there, still two. She sighed in relief, and continued to her house. A slumping, decayed heap of a home, it fit right in with the other houses and their inhabitants.

She cracked open the unlocked door, and wrinkled her nose at the scent of decay coming from the couch. Katya walked past what was left of her mother, bones and a few scraps of rotten meat clinging to them, all melding with the couch she’d laid on for the majority of her adult life. She didn’t pay much attention to the remains. Her mother had died weeks ago. Having stolen all the time she could from her daughters and in debt to every vendor in the area, she had just rotted away when her time was up. Katya had watched as first her fingertips, then the rest of her, had blackened and collapsed inwards like over-ripe fruit. It had only taken two minutes. She hadn’t mourned her.

 

 

9:38P.M.

As she walked into her little sister’s room, she grinned. Natalia was standing, holding on to the bars of her crib. This was wonderful. The moment Natalia could walk without support, Katya would take her and go away. They’d live together, somewhere that time was easier to come by, and they’d both work. It would be paradise, and they would live forever. “Natti, I’ve got something for you!” The little girl clapped her hands and babbled an unintelligible phrase, as Katya reached into her coats lining for the vials. She pulled them out, and stared at them uncomprehendingly. One was empty. Only the degraded one remained.

As she shook in barely contained panic, she realized what must have happened. There was a small hole in the back of the coat, not big enough to be a problem, but visible enough to attract a pickpocket. They must have taken Natalia’s time and left this empty vial. She remembered the man slamming into her on the walk home, but she couldn’t remember when he’d had a chance to grab the vial. It didn’t matter anyways.

10:12P.M.

Katya didn’t know what to do. There were no vendors open at night, no jobs available for a twelve year old, all the time was hidden away in safes that she couldn’t open. The only night-workers paid in time were the prostitutes and their handlers, but even the scummiest handler wouldn’t w***e out a child. She couldn’t split the vial, no one had figured out how to make increments smaller than 8 hours work. The time just vanished. There was nothing she could do, but she couldn’t let Natalia die. If she had no one to earn time for her, she’d be gone the next night, suffering the same way her mother had. She looked at Natalia, who smiled back at her, and stood up.

“Come on, Natti, we’ll figure something out.”

She picked up the tiny child, and they set out into the darkened city.

4:49A.M.

Nothing. There was nothing. Katya had gone into every house she’d seen, ransacked every cabinet. Time was always locked away, she would never find any just lying around. She gripped the vial tightly, and began walking, Natalia in her arms. She knew what she could do.

5:36A.M.

Katya sat on the church steps, and took out a needle. She extracted the time from the vial, and injected it into Natalia’s arm. She took out a marker, and wrote on the steps, “She has until 2:00P.M. Please help her.” She held Natalia, who had fallen asleep, and waited.

5:58A.M.

Katya’s fingertips turned black.

Author's Note

Is this an interesting world? I'd like to write about other characters in it, for example the extractor and the doctor, if people would enjoy it.

Reviews

[Marie]

Yes, this is very interesting. I don't have time to review books, and generally don't follow stories as long as this, but I found it too fascinating to stop reading.

[Fai]

Thank you! I appreciate you taking the time to review this, especially after seeing just how long you've been writing! If you see places where I could improve, please let me know. Impossible to get any better without criticism! :)

[Marie]

I don't really have any suggestions. This makes a good story just as it is, without having to expand on it, though I see how you might make a book out of it.