Make Time Stop

Ava read a text from Zack and wondered. It had been a few weeks since their first date, and she did admire him. She thought he was amiable; a favorite Jane Austen reference which caused her to smile. Although her parents were affectionate throughout her life, she was occasionally apprehensive about physical touch. 

She peered at the ceiling for a mathematical solution. Her personal historical record provided one conclusion: Zack was a gentleman, yet she wondered. She wondered about her response as she peered down the hall from her lab – door slightly cracked, as if she were a spy from the one her favorite 20th century films. 

Upon increased examination, she saw her colleagues were motionless. Even her lab assistant, Garrick, stood hunched over the drinking fountain as if the wind had shaped him into the position over centuries. But stranger was the arc of the water – frozen in time. She waved her hand in front of his eyes – no response. But her hand got went when she passed it through the arc of water. 

She quickly retracted her hand and walked backward and away from this eerie phenomenon. It was unnerving enough as a high-functioning autistic woman to experience a world unable to keep up with her mind – only the AIs of the mid-21st century satisfied her neurological appetite. Now, every hall and office contained motionless people and machines. Time had stopped, she surmised.

Her genius allowed her to develop and create a machine which, in theory, should speed up the perception of time. However, when activated for the first time, it seemed as though the opposite effect occurred. Uneasy was an understatement; her heart competed with her imagination in a new race of anxiety. 

She stumbled into the cafeteria and nearly knocked over a colleague who was not affected like the others. Zack moved. He moved in conjunction with the same agitation his face portrayed. She was startled by his inquisition more so than his grip. 

“What have you done?” he shouted. 

“Me?” she answered, perplexed, as she reclaimed her arm.

“Life!” He scanned the room with a wave of his arms.

“What about it?” she asked.

“It moves too quickly,” he nearly stammered, “You! You slowed it down too—” he couldn’t complete his sentence in his current frantic state.

They were colleagues for years and recent friends. She recalled a previous argument within that time. Now it seemed to pick up where they left off, “The pace – the pace is too slow.” He stopped to look around in further detail but found no answers.

“Again, what did you do?” Zack sent darts into her eyes yet retreated. It was his way. His thick hands seemed to search for answers in his disheveled hair.  

“Nothing. At least—”
“At least what?” he interrupted.

She quickly analyzed the situation and recalled the steps she took to engage her machine. She held out her hands as if the answers were displayed in her wriggling fingers. She slapped her hands to her side as a revelation struck her like Death arising from the floor.

“It didn’t work,” she muttered, “My device didn’t work.”
By now Zack was near the exit with Ava in tow. He pulled a small pad from his lab coat pocket then swiftly turned back toward Ava. “I suppose this means you’ll decline my invitation—” 

“How can you think of—?” Ava stopped herself from his attempt to divert her and returned to the problem at hand. After an awkward silence Zack stood motionless. “Stop that!” she exclaimed.

“What?” He didn’t understand what he’d done. So he slowly retreated down the hall with calculations at the ready. 
She collected herself, smoothed out her lab coat and reassembled her brown hair into the previous neat yet wavy pony tail. Dissatisfied, she returned to her lab to join all her equipment. But even her sanctuary was inadequate to provide comfort. Machines were a poor substitute for the pace she preferred. Nevertheless, she returned to work to solve the problem. Hours and three cups of her favorite latte later, she confirmed it was not her machine which caused the perception of time to stop. 

She bolted out of her lab like the wind and suddenly stopped in her tracks. She turned to notice Garrick had moved – subtly, but he moved – and the water fountain was now topped with a half-arc of water. She added this variable to the problem and continued her march into Zack’s lab downstairs. The stairs were her only option since the elevator doors did not open. 

Pad in hand, she entered his lab, only to be greeted by a look of failure painted on Zack’s face. She ignored the machines and his prized ink-boards filled with equations. “What?” she asked, to a silent result. He appeared stunned. 
She walked over to the screen which had trapped his eyes. She saw equations which seemed familiar but soon realized they were an inversion of her own. “This is you!” she blurted and ignored her instinct to discover further mathematical answers in the ceiling. 

He remained stunned and silent. 
“And I thought—” she stopped, “You son of—”

“The world just moves too fast.” He paced a circle around the equipment-laden counter until he backed himself into a corner. “Did you know that we are bombarded with nearly two hundred new pieces of information a day? People of the 19th century only endured two—”

“What?” She interrupted with greater irritation.
Zack quickly understood this level of detail was irrelevant to her at the time, then completed his confession. 

“I – slowed the pace of time.” He pointed to his holo-screen.
“At first I thought time had stopped, but then I realized differently when I saw the water—”

“Yes. It’s moving, yes,” He paused to assess the situation further. “Perhaps you perceive that time stopped, but in reality it only slowed – although, it slowed beyond what I intended.”

“Well, this is unnerving.” She placed her hands on her hips. 
“Can you reverse it?” she implored. Ava rarely made eye contact; it was a social skill still in progress. But this time her anger fueled a glare which nearly blinded Zack.

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” 

He responded with a mixture of fear and anxiety as he threw his arms aside in a single swoop which caused his holo-screen to clear. Frustrated at the result of his own anger, he stopped quickly and said with a burst of courage, “I think I understand what you experience every day.” Then he flung his arm into the air to reactivate the holo-emitters. 

She relaxed her stare but maintained eye contact – reception versus exclusion. The latter was her past, the former she disciplined herself to achieve. But she resigned to a sigh in disagreement, “Think so?” 

Silence.
Ava took charge, “Move aside,” she commanded, then relayed the same tone to his computer. She relayed calculations from memory and altered or refined Zack’s scribbles from his ink-board.

“Yes, I tried that—”
“You don’t get to speak,” she blurted, then after a few seconds of awkward silence she apologized. In light of her self-admitted insolence she witnessed an unexpected reaction: a light in his eyes as if a star had newly formed. 
“—Please continue,” she prompted politely.

Zack added further commands into the computer formulated by his revelation. For nearly an hour they worked in unison as if both minds were joined. Both pushed their negative emotions aside. All four hands were in control of the holo-screens in a digital ballet. Finally, they achieved a solution. And the dance came to a dramatic ending. 

“What do you think?” Zack asked.
After a second examination she replied, “I believe – this will work.” She turned to smile as she forgot the seed of her grudge. They worked to engage operational aspects of their calculations and within an hour they were ready. It only took a few seconds. Now the courage to cross the threshold of his lab to observe their repair’s effects on the world. They both peered out of Zack’s lab. Their colleagues moved about as if nothing had happened. They walked about the hallways, visiting Ava’s floor – Garrick was also back to normal, as was the rest of the world. Or was it?

The day was nearly at an end. After work they happened to approach the same commuter vehicle. Before boarding Zack reminded Ava of his invitation for a second date with a nonverbal cue, pointing at his phone to remind her of his text. Ava took him aside out of eavesdropping distance. “Did you delete your calculations and dismantle—?" 

“Yes,” he replied emphatically, “But, I wouldn’t want to destroy what we—” 
First he couldn’t finish, but then regained his courage.
 “— what I thought was a beginning.”

Ava took a step back, “After today, I’m not sure.”
The AI piloting the commuter announced its departure. Ava was about to board when Zack invited her for a walk. They remained on campus. After a silent stroll they sat at a planter-bench overlooking a series of archways and a fountain which spilled into a surrounding pond. Zack broke the silence and after he cleared his throat he said, “I am sorry.” 

She knew why. They each had a need. He failed to meet his. She still felt the same about the pace of reality. After a nod of forgiveness, she asked, “What now?”

“Perhaps we can help each other – without technology,” he suggested in all sincerity. He reached out his hand toward her but resigned to rest it against the bench between them. They were still on campus and conscious of eyes and cameras. “Ignore the tech,” he added, as he looked into her distracted eyes. 

She thought for a moment and repeated his last statement. Slowly she found the courage to return his gaze. It seemed like one second and eternity simultaneously. She felt as if they were caught in the vacuum of space. Outside her field of vision she saw the fountain move slowly – the sparkle of sunset-light beamed into their space. She felt at peace for the first time. She could not fathom the mystery as it occurred and wondered how it was possible. She looked deeper into Zack’s eyes and realized he just enjoyed the moment – nothing else seemed to matter. Soon, the moment faded when the earth’s revolution caused the sun to dip below the horizon and the fountain no longer glistened. They smiled in curious unison. 

One word from Zack, “Fascinating.”
Ava said, “I recall a story my uncle told me.” She paused to reminisce. 

“What’s that?” 
“It seems silly.”
“I want to hear.”

Ava looked down at the pond and the fountain, “One time when he was with my aunt, when he proposed to her, they both felt as if time had slowed, almost stood still – as if no one and nothing were around them.”

“The perfect moment,” he quickly replied, as if understanding.
“Yes! He said it was like a scene in a Star Trek movie.”
“With Picard and Anij,” Zack added and thought a moment. They both thought a moment. Their silence was confirmation they had just experienced the same – the perfect moment. Zack allowed some time to pass before his next suggestion, “I have it recorded. Door-dash and a double-feature?” he suggested.

“And the other movie?”
“To a time when people receive less information per day, Sense and Sensibility, of course.” 
She appreciated his memory and humor with a mischievous yet playful smile, then suggested an alternative. “I was thinking of something with a faster pace,” she said, as they both stood to walk back toward the commuter depot.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked.
“The Matrix,” she laughed. He laughed with her. As they walked their fingers touched. Ava smiled. Without eye-contact, he smiled with her.