May 8th, 2187
We met again, years later. I hadn’t seen her after that first WIRE meeting; she stopped going. I never saw her around campus, either. At that time, WIRE had become a full-fledged organization, providing women with resources for coping, like counseling services. Unfortunately, that’s all we can do right now. Help women cope.
But some senior employees, those of us who have been there since the early days, are selected to temp for the companies that help in the creation and the implementation of the implant—we work undercover to get information about what they’re trying to do next. Why these companies let women work for them in the first place, I’m unsure. It’s like a sick mockery. It’s the opposite of biting the hand that feeds. It’s feeding the thing that bites. But these jobs give us opportunities to work against new developments in the implant, to protest new functionalities before they’re announced.
I was sent to work for the company that manufactures the brain probes, just as a secretary for one of the big bosses. And so, as it happens, was Maple.
I sat at my desk the first day, which happened to be right next to hers. I didn’t recognize her at all, but she must have known who I was. “We meet again,” she said. I must have looked confused, because she continued, quietly, “WIRE told me you were coming. Same job as me. Keep an eye on the big guys, report anything and everything.”
I realized who she was, then. “I didn’t realize you still worked with them, especially after you only went to one meeting,” I said.
“I stopped going to those meetings, yeah. I thought I shared too much, or something. I kept in contact with the co-heads, though. Hey, there’s—” She stopped talking as someone passed by. After he had passed, she glanced around. We were alone. “There’s one of those No Time Clubs opening tonight. One of my friends owns the joint. You should come along, check it out.”
“I’ve never been to one of those. I don’t actually know what they are.”
“Oh, well, come and you’ll find out.”
I agreed and she suddenly spoke very seriously.
“Meet me downstairs after work. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”
I did as she asked and she walked me through the city to an infrequently visited borough. The city seemed empty, like we were the only people between the skyscrapers. We went down some stairs at an otherwise ordinary building, and opened a door to an underground foyer. There was a tall, stocky woman in a suit standing outside another door.
“Maple, hey, Charlie’ll be glad to see you. Who’s your friend?” She took Maple’s wrist as she spoke, holding some sort of black rod to her implant.
“She’s good. She’s with WIRE,” Mapleh replied, rubbing her implant as if it stung. The other woman gestured for me to hold out my wrist and, only slightly cautiously, I extended it towards her. She held the rod to my wrist and I felt a sharp pain followed by a sort of whirring that came in waves. My clock didn’t read the static 6,382 it had read earlier today. Instead, the number was constantly changing, none staying for longer than a second.
The other woman held the door behind her open for us and Maple led me into the club. “The whole point is to take your mind off your impending expiration for a few hours. We can’t actually stop the probes from working, but we can glitch out the clock and give us the illusion that it doesn’t matter, if only for a little bit.”
The club looked like a nice dinner party. People milled about, mingling and drinking and eating. Some were dressed better than others. Most were women, though a few men walked around here and there. Maple led me to the center of the room, where a man was standing with several women, talking and drinking wine.
“Charlie,” Maple said, touching the man on the shoulder. He turned and greeted her with a hearty laugh and an embrace, then turned his attention to me.
“And what’s your name?”
I introduced myself and, as he shook my hand, I noticed an implant just under his suit jacket.
“This is a great idea,” I continued, looking around the room. “I’ve never seen so many women in one place look so… content.”
“Thank you, though I can’t take credit for the original idea. Clubs across the nation are glitching out our implants, letting us forget for a little bit. But I’ve been to some of those clubs and I noticed something. They all still had clocks. Every single one had an analog clock here, a digital clock there, watches on every fella and some ladies who came through. It seems silly, I realize. But just the mere concept of time can freak us out, give us even more anxiety. So I said, you know what? No clocks! None at all! No time to be had here. Other than a good time, that is,” he laughed at himself. I couldn’t help but join in; he had one of those contagious laughs.
We hung around with Charlie for a while, reveling in time’s momentary exodus. When our implants reset, Maple and I went together to her apartment.