De Facto Times

Tim’s life was approaching its end, and it was obvious, but he still did not see it.

He and twelve other innocent captives were bound and gagged, face down in the mud. He was acting merely as a bargaining chip, he knew. He had been seized in the middle of the night by a number of big strong men dressed all in black, and now a maniac stood before him, facing away and speaking to someone who was similarly bound. Tim could catch faint samples of what the maniac was saying.

“You have information we need… Comply with our demands or let these innocent people die…” That was really all Tim needed to hear. He understood why he was there and waited patiently for some deal to be made that would allow him to walk out alive. He trusted completely that the universe would not allow him to die here and now, in such an unmemorable and pointless manner. He deserved a more dignified exit, and he would receive one.

“I will never speak to you,” came the shaky voice of the hero who was being tortured.

“Then bear witness,” was the maniac’s reply, and out of the corner of his eye Tim could see a tall dark figure raising a massive axe. There was a swing and a loud thud, and the hero screamed out as one of the captives perished – horribly, no doubt. It was a fate that was unthinkable, dying for absolutely nothing, simply to torture a good man. Tim felt pity in his heart for the victim. But it would not be him. He had lived this long, it stood to reason that he would live a little longer.

“More?” said the maniac.

The hero said nothing, and there were indeed more thuds, and Tim could even hear the terrifying quiet flow of blood as it poured from the stumps that were the headless necks of the prisoners. 

Now the maniac stood before Tim, and was saying something to the hero – it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Tim needed to prepare for the possibility of the maniac swinging his axe at his neck. 

In as subtle a manner as possible, he wriggled his hands so that he was able to begin untying the cords that bound his hands. The maniac was still speaking, and as he did so Tim’s restraints silently fell away. Tim could move his arms at will, and he guessed that he would quickly be able to roll away from his captor and break the cords on his legs if he needed to. Then his life would continue, and he would have escaped an inappropriate death.

All he had ever known was life. He couldn’t picture a reality that he was not alive for.

The hero’s voice rang clear again, and it was racked with pain but also conviction, and that meant that the maniac had failed again to persuade him. Tim saw the giant axe raise again in response, and realized that it was about to be brought down on his head. The time to act was now.

In a single swift motion, he heaved, and sprang his arms from his sides and used them to push himself away from his would-be killer. Now sitting upright, he split the cords binding his legs in a split second, and he leaped to his feet and took in the scene properly for the first time. There were about ten armed men, nine with swords and one with the giant axe – the maniac leader. There were eleven prisoners lying on the ground with limbs tied, five of whom were dead and headless, a puddle of blood widening around their shoulders. There was a big strong man tied firmly to a chair, who was presumably the man being interrogated.

Four of the swordsmen charged at him, but Tim was ready for a fight, and he disarmed one of his attackers and wielded the blade as his own. Here was his element, and he engaged the villains in combat, steadily striking them down one at a time. Tim’s skill with a sword was rarely matched, and he envisioned perfectly in his mind that once he had defeated all of his opponents he could cut the victims free and return home. This would be a traumatic event, which bled horror and suffering into dozens, if not hundreds, of lives, but his life would continue, he was sure of it.

He had defeated all the swordsmen, and had only the axeman, the lead maniac, to contend with. Said axeman looked terrified of this freed and surprisingly adept prisoner, and he gripped his axe tightly and in a manner that was actually very ineffective. Tim instantly surmised that this was an inexperienced and insecure fighter who was only used to dealing with enemies who were completely helpless, and he brandished his sword in preparation to kill this awful man.

He let loose a terrifying roar, which the maniac tried and failed to match, and the two fighters charged at each other with all their strength and speed, inevitably going to crash together in under two seconds.

But when the maniac’s blade was just a couple inches from Tim’s, the entire world froze.

It was as if some viewer had just paused the timeline because they needed to leave for a few moments and didn’t want to miss anything while they were gone. Tim could not move an inch, his feet and arms and face locked in the undignified position of being mid-battle charge, but even those his eyes were frozen he could still look around, and hear through frozen ears, and think with a frozen mind.

This is peculiar, he thought. Everything seems to be locked in place, yet I can still think and perceive my surroundings, even though I should have no means of doing so. What on Earth is going on?

“I suppose you’re wondering what on Earth is going on?” came a voice.

She appeared out of nowhere, just fading into existence before Tim’s eyes. It was a purple ghost, vaguely in the shape of a female humanoid, and she looked somewhat amused, somewhat empathetic. As if she had an unfortunate but sort of funny truth to bestow.

“I am,” said Tim, and he realized he could talk, even though he was frozen. “How did I–”

“You are now removed from your physical restraints, and you exist only in your purest, spiritual form,” the ghost said kindly. “If you would, please allow me to introduce myself and my mission so you do not unintentionally do something that will bring you harm.”

Tim’s frozen heart felt like it was racing at the rate of a pounding waterfall – this was completely outside of the realms of his wildest dreams. He had been told stories since he was a baby about ghosts and spirits and evil entities that emerged out of nothingness to wreak havoc on the lives of innocent trusting humans. Everything he had learned that could possibly be relevant to this situation – which was admittedly very little – warned him that standing before him was someone he should not trust, and should work against.

The trouble was, of course, that he was completely immobilised, and his abilities were limited to perceiving his environment and communicating with this ghost. He correctly deduced that the ghost was responsible for the freezing of time, and that no one else was aware that the world was at a standstill – he looked around and didn’t see any ghosts standing near the axeman, for instance, who was locked in the crazy mid-battle charging stance less than a foot away. 

He really had no choice except to comply.

“By all means, proceed.”

“Thank you,” said the ghost. “My name is Tabitha, and I am a spiritual ambassador speaking on the Master’s behalf. The reason for my visit, Tim, is that you are one microsecond away from certain death, and I am here to prepare you for your transition to the next stage of existence. That is why I have come. Now is the time to ask questions before we begin.”

Tim heard the words microsecond away from certain death, but he did not believe it. That couldn’t be true.

“You say I am about to die?” he asked. “Do you mean to kill me?” He believed that was likely to be the case, and having drawn that conclusion he decided the best tactic was to stall for time. As confident as he was in his own abilities to keep himself alive, he didn’t currently have any defence against an attack from Tabitha, whatever that would look like. There was no way he could move, let alone dodge or block a potentially fatal blow. And if Tabitha had the ability to manipulate time itself, which she appeared to be doing at the moment, she could simply accelerate time on some vital organ of his until it was reduced to dust. All the physical might in the world had no defence against a temporal assault, and so he wanted to keep her talking until he got a better read on what her powers and weaknesses were.

Her answer, however, completely disassembled his plan.

“I am not going to kill you,” Tabitha said. “In stalling time, I am actually prolonging your life.”

“You believe I am going to die in combat,” sighed Tim with an implied eyeroll (he couldn’t actually roll his eyes as they were paused in time). “You think this axeman is going to overpower me? I am one of the most seasoned and well-trained fighters alive, and I am more than capable of defending myself from an inexperienced–”

“Not from the axeman, no,” Tabitha interrupted calmly. “If you look up and to the right, you will notice that there is a spear that has just pierced the outermost layer of the skin of your head.”

What now? thought Tim in annoyance, but as he looked up his stomach dropped. Indeed, frozen in midair was a spear, which had been hurled from someone that was hidden up in the trees. Tim hadn’t even thought to account for hidden enemies when he had assessed the scene in the first place, he had assumed that all of the kidnappers were the ones he could see. It didn’t make much sense for the maniac to have hidden fighters, but there must have been some reason for it. In any case, a spear had been hurled at his head, and it was pricking it very gently, not enough to draw blood, but of course:

“The instant time resumes, the spear will continue on its path and shatter your skull. You will die before you can form a thought,” Tabitha informed him. “I have calculated that there is no physical way for your life to continue from this point on, which is why we are speaking now. I approach all life forms the moment before their death, delaying time in the same way that you are seeing now, for the sake of preparing them properly.”

Tim couldn’t take this in. “You mean that everyone who has ever died–”

“Every single deceased human, animal, plant, fungus, you name it. They all have been visited by me before they have passed on. It is a myth you humans have invented that anyone dies peacefully in their sleep, or killed so quickly they are blissfully unaware of what is happening. We ensure that everyone knows what is happening to them before they die. It would be a disgrace to the concept of cosmic justice otherwise.”

“That’s what you are? Cosmic justice?”

“I am indeed, and I work hard to remain that way.”

“Every single person?” Tim stammered, unable to take this in. “Like, every bug, every little worm that perishes on Earth–” 

“Not just on Earth either,” said Tabitha. “Life exists all throughout the universe, and every second there are several trillion impending deaths, and several trillion times where I freeze time and appear to someone who has never seen me before. Is there anything else?”

Tim was struggling to find the words. “Wait, you said you are an ambassador for the Master – Are you talking about the Master of the Universe? How and why are you doing this, and what even is this? If you can alter time, can you make it so that I am not impaled by this harpoon?”

“I think if we begin, all will naturally reveal itself,” said Tabitha gently, “but I most certainly will not alter the path of the harpoon. Beings like myself are forbidden from affecting the physical world. We will immediately be stripped of our powers if we try, and rightfully so. There’s a reason we only communicate with you right before you die: upon death, the soul of any organism will pass on to our homeworld and leave this physical realm behind, and it is fitting that we appear to those who are about to join us forever. But just as no living thing can affect the realm that houses its afterlife, none of my kind can affect the mortal world. That is how it goes. I truly am terribly sorry.”

“Do you think I deserve to die?”

“I am yet to meet a single person whom I believed to be deserving of death,” Tabitha said. “It is the nature of every organism to try to remain living as long as possible. It is in this dimension that they truly belong. Where you are going, you are doomed to be less than you were in life.”

That was an unpleasant thought. Tim was still full to the brim with questions, and he was frightening himself with his inability to focus on a single one to ask next.

“It is natural to be curious,” Tabitha said, “but I think the next part of my job will go more smoothly if you know no more than what you do right now. I am here to ask you some questions that will put you in the best possible state to begin your afterlife, is that alright?”

Tim wanted to see what would happen if he said, “No.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, for it will be happening whether you want it or not,” was Tabitha’s response. Tim supposed that was reasonable.

“Now, before I begin with the questions, I must touch your forehead. There will be no physical contact, but through this action I will be able to open your mind and allow you to accurately access every memory you’ve ever made. This is imperative for our proceedings.”

Tabitha glided closer, and from her vague human shape came the shadow of a limb, from which extended something that mildly resembled a claw-like finger, and though it was made up of no worldly matter, Tim could still feel it as it pressed against his forehead. It burned sharply, like a thousand concentrated hornet stings all in one location, and his mind was opened. Suddenly over a billion one-second memories flashed before his eyes, fighting with each other and all racing to the forefront of his brain. His head pounded, and his ears rang with the sudden flood of memory, but eventually the pain died down until what remained was a brilliantly dense honeycomb of past moments, all clear as day, easily accessible in his mind.

He was in awe. “I can see all of my life.”

“That tends to surprise people,” Tabitha said. “You may have time to get used to it.”

“I can’t believe– I had forgotten all of this,” Tim breathed, looking eagerly back and forth through his perfectly preserved past. That time he had gotten in an argument with his mother at five years old, and he had been so sure she had made that horrible nasty comment that had stuck with him for years – he was watching that argument now, and after a lifetime of replaying it, the comment wasn’t there. It had been a false memory. In fact, so much of what he had believed to be true was a false memory, but as soon as he saw the truth he remembered it perfectly. His mind had never felt fuller or clearer.

“I had forgotten I had that dream. I always thought that I had said something else after that. I wouldn’t have done that had I known–”

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” said Tabitha gently. “But your afterlife depends entirely on the events of your life, and my visit is meaningless if you do not understand the context of those events. If you misremember anything, you may unfairly doom yourself, and we cannot let that happen.”

“Has that been the case in the past? Was someone given an unfair afterlife because they forgot something that happened in their lives?”

“It has not, and it never will.” Tabitha was being completely honest, Tim could tell. He couldn’t tell how, but he could.

“We will begin now. Recall this,” said Tabitha, and all the memories dropped away but one. It was a three-year-old Tim stepping on a flower.

“I remember it.”

“You remember how you felt in the moment, do you not? Why don’t you tell me.”

“I was three years old, and I thought the flower was delicate and fragile, and it kind of bothered me how soft it was. It was kind of curvy, and I didn’t really see how it was holding itself up – I kind of thought that its stem should have been bent and it should be all drooped over, and it had just occurred to me how easy it would be to break it. And so I did, and I felt proud that I had put an end to such a silly form of life.”

“Do you agree with your past self’s opinions about this act?”

“I do not. I think the motivation behind it stems from cruelty and a rather pathetic urge to validate my own strength by something else’s weakness.”

Tabitha nodded. “Next,” she said, “recall this” and before Tim’s eyes flashed a most recent memory, the one in which he dealt death to his captors by use of a sword he’d stolen off of them. Their wounded bodies were all around him, now almost completely drained of blood. Tim watched his past self cut them down ruthlessly, their skill but an iota of his. 

“This was less than twenty seconds ago in your Earth’s timeline,” Tabitha informed him. “What are your opinions on this action?”

Now Tim was quite unsettled, because in the moment he had not hesitated to kill those men, and he desperately poured through his life of memories looking for some reason why he should not have committed this action. Obviously murder was unkind, but what he had done could not be defined as murder, surely – these were men that were executing defenceless prisoners solely to torment a hero who was refusing to provide them with information that they would almost certainly abuse. Had he not killed them at that time and place, surely he would be endangering the innocent captives for no justifiable reason.

But he also wondered why Tabitha would have selected this memory for him to comment on, because he couldn’t help but think that this was supposed to be a time of repentance. It made sense to him that Tabitha was a spirit sent by the Master to give him one last chance to confess his misdoings before he proceeded to the afterlife, and whether he got a good afterlife or a bad one depended on his apologising for the mistakes of his path. He couldn’t risk messing that up.

“I am of the opinion that I made a mistake in killing those men,” he replied.

“Can you explain why?”

“There’s a number of reasons–”

“I can sense honesty and dishonesty, Tim.” She stated it like it was a random fact that had appeared in her mind, but Tim understood its significance, and he realised she knew he had no reasons that he believed in as to why his killing of the men was wrong.

“I am sorry. The truth is that I have no regrets about killing those men. They were violent, dangerous men who were a danger to myself and several defenceless people. My only real mistake was not figuring out a way to kill them faster. That is my honest answer, and I sincerely apologise if it is not to your satisfaction. I would welcome a counterargument.”

“You won’t get a counterargument from me,” Tabitha replied. “Don’t take that to mean it’s the right answer, of course. Now recall this.” Before his eyes flashed the memory of himself telling Tabitha, “I am of the opinion that I made a mistake in killing those men.”

“Thoughts on this?”

Answer honestly, Tim’s brain told him, but now he was in a panic, because he had made the decision to lie to Tabitha very hastily, without time to truly think about all the repercussions and deeper meanings. How did he feel about his decision? He had apologised for it, but was he really remorseful or did he just not want Tabitha to doom him for eternity? He looked inside himself and couldn’t see a clear answer. As of right now, he didn’t really have an opinion on how much he regretted having lied to Tabitha, and he believed that honesty was probably the best policy given that she could apparently tell if he was dishonest:

“I must confess, I haven’t thought deeply about having lied to you earlier, and I would need to think about it longer before reaching a conclusion. I am sincerely sorry to have fed you false information, I wish that there was a way for that not to be necessary, but I really don’t know if I made the right or wrong decision by lying to you, given that I didn’t know the consequences.”

Tabitha nodded curtly. “Now recall this,” she said, and they went through billions of memories one at a time, Tim giving his current opinion one each one or opting to say that he had no opinion. The memories were not chronological or even categorised in any way; they seemed to be organised randomly. There was no pattern to the order in which Tim saw them; he would recall entering a food line in elementary school, then hundreds of thousands of memories later he would recall exiting the same food line that same day, and he gave his opinion on each one.

“One last recollection,” Tabitha said finally, after having gone through every other moment in Tim’s life. The two of them had been talking for longer than Tim had ever talked to anybody, but he still felt that no time had passed. All the while, his body was still frozen in its awkward battle charging position, and everything was locked in standstill time around them. 

Tabitha waved her hand for the last time, and Tim was whisked back to the first second of his life, as he looked longingly at the darkness of the womb that was suddenly torn open by a bright beam of light, and he was delivered in that very moment, wet and cold and angry and helpless. 

“What do you think?”

“Of how I acted? I couldn’t have known any better as I was less than a second old. Were I to undergo the same experience with the wisdom and maturity I possess now, I would certainly do things differently – my poor mother doesn’t deserve to be screamed at like that. But as an infant, with the miniscule intellect that I had, I think my response was perfectly reasonable.”

“Interesting. Okay, that’s your entire life! How does it feel to be done?”

“It feels good.’

“Glad to hear it. So I’m going to release the flow of time now, at which point you will be killed instantly and sent into the afterlife that your answers warrant. I have a great number of other stops to make in this exact second, so this will likely be the last time we see one another. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“In fact, there is,” said Tim nervously. “I just have to ask, do I have anything to worry about? What are the standards for eternal damnation?”

“Eternal damnation? There’s no eternal anything awaiting you, but instead a new home that will be specially made for you, just as Earth was. From there eventually you will die and enter the next place, and the next, and the next.”

“For how long?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea, I’m afraid. I know what will happen to you immediately after I submit my report, but although I can’t share with you exactly what that is, I know it will be finite. After that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Do you remember where you came from?”

Tabitha thought about this. “That is a hard question. As all souls do, I have a finite collection of memories. I have lived longer than all the lifetimes of every organism on Earth combined, though where I come from, time is much more loosely defined, of course. My job requires me to have an exceptionally developed consciousness, and as such I can vividly remember every detail of my existence. I do have an earliest memory, though – do you mind if I share it with you?”

“Please.”

“I remember sitting up straight, and there was more light around me than I have ever seen since. More voices than I could describe were welcoming me into this new place, and from my perspective I had only just been born, so you have to keep that in mind. This was way before the creation of your Universe, and much of what there is today didn’t exist or contained nothing at all. But even back then, at an age when, everywhere, there was so much less, I was still blown away by what there was. At the time, I assumed I had just been created, but the Master of the Universe told me that this was simply another step in my journey. I had no idea that I was on any kind of journey, and so I asked him how far along I was. He simply told me that that was for me to discover, and while he could tell me exactly what was going to happen to me after this phase of my life had concluded, he said that a great deal of the fun of living at all was not knowing what was to come, and he didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“And you were okay with that?”

“Well, at first I was extremely scared,” Tabitha said, “because the mere fact that at some point things will change forever and I will be somewhere completely new is terrifying. As a human, I’m sure you don’t need to hear that from me – you only have a hundred years, or usually a lot less, to dread whatever’s waiting for you once your time is up on Earth. But I have not felt that fear in a very long time. I have no doubts that whatever is awaiting me after this will be something that I will be better off for having gone through, even if it’s not particularly fun.”

“You don’t think there’s a chance your next life will be one of torment, one that’s even longer than what you’ve already gone through?”

“I suppose that chance exists, but something will come after that, and after that again. Change is essential to being, Tim, that is one of the first things I learned. If your fear is being stuck somewhere you don’t like, you can take it from me that there will always be something more pleasant coming up in your future. It may take a day, a year, several hundred aeons, maybe even more, to get here, but it will come.”

“Thanks.” Tim thought about this. “I’m still afraid, I must confess. I have never died before.”

“You don’t remember having died before,” Tabitha corrected him. “No one ever remembers what they were doing before. I definitely don’t. And I have no way of distilling that fear.”

They were silent.

“I am still afraid,” Tim said. “But I’m ready.”

Tabitha nodded. “Indeed you are.”

Time resumed.