《The Clock Starts Now》 ONE ¡°And, the clock starts now!¡± It was 8:00 PM. The game show was playing on the small TV I could afford in my apartment. I normally enjoyed watching that game, but I had more important things to do. I looked back at my script. I had until tomorrow, 2:30 PM, to memorize everything; words, movements, accents, and acting. I was performing a dramatic interpretation - the ones where you see the performer stomping and screaming, tears rolling down their face. I was normally good at these, but I had held this off for a very long time. My phone buzzed. It was Theo. Theodore Stone, nineteen years old (same as me), smart as a whip, criminal justice and psychology degree, and my friend since ninth grade. And, of course, he was making sure that I had my script memorized. I replied. I will if u stop bothering me about it. The three dots popped up on my screen, undulating as Theo typed a response. U better get it done¡­ U know how strict they are. Theo was right. They are really strict. If I didn¡¯t make it, well, it might end my time at college. I turned off my phone. I was going to get this memorized. And when I get on the train tomorrow, I will be as prepared as I can be...
¡°So, are you ready?¡± I was on the above-ground metro (the AGB), looking at the tall buildings pass by in blurs of white, green and gray. I turned and looked at Theo. ¡°Yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m pretty confident about this.¡± Theo had decided to go with me to the audition, having read something about receiving news better with another person there; I¡¯m not entirely sure about that. ¡°Yeah.¡± Theo said. ¡°I¡¯m sure that you¡¯ll do fine.¡± Theo was one of those people that, if you took one glance at him, you would know automatically that he was a very smart person. But what some people didn¡¯t know was that he had brought himself up by himself. He and his family had started out with no money, and when Theo was twelve, he started working, and he was able to pay for a dual-major at McCarter University, and got his parents a beach house in Malibu. I returned my attention to my window. I thought about how the metro works, using the motor or the engine or whatever to make it move on the rails. I was never good at math or engineering. I feel like it hurt my parents more than it hurt me. I suppose that that was also a reason for why I was so stressed about this audition. I needed to show my parents that I¡¯m not a total failure. I focused my eyes on my reflection in the window. My eyebrows were furrowed together, my lips curved into a small frown. My hazelnut hair framed my face. ¡°Um, excuse me?¡± Me and Theo turned. Somebody was talking to us, with a long white coat and her curly hair was tied into a bun. ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Ashlyn, I was wondering if you¡¯ve seen this cat?¡± She showed us a picture of a charcoal-colored cat on her phone. ¡°I live near 3rd and Main, if you guys live near that area, have you seen her?¡± I shook my head. ¡°No, sorry.¡± Ashlyn nodded. ¡°Okay, thanks anyway.¡± Theo nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll keep looking.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Ashlyn went and sat back down. I took out my phone, plugged in my earbuds, and turned on my music. A loud screech of something that sounded like microphone feedback caused me to pause my music. ¡°What was that?¡± Theo shrugged. I stood up, and saw near the front of our carriage, a guy with a microphone and a guitar in his hands. It was Keoni Kelekolio. He had a small microphone that hung next to his cheek; it looked a lot like the microphone that someone would find on a set of headphones. Chris looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn¡¯t. Chris (Keoni) was kind of odd. He seemed to think that it was okay to perform on the metro. I don¡¯t know. Chris started to play. If I was him, I would have practiced more before playing in public. I resumed my music.
After a while, it was around 1:55 PM, and the speaker turned on in the train. ¡°Hello everyone, just to let everyone know, we will be heading to our last stop in around five minutes.¡± I felt a bump of turbulence. Was there turbulence on the metro? Whatever, it¡¯s fine. I grabbed my backpack from under my feet. I slipped my phone into my sweatshirt pocket. I ran my fingers through my hair nervously. Everything was going to be fine, right? I heard a scream near the front. I was near the top of the train. Theo and I exchanged glances, he got up. I saw his eyes widen, and he sat back down. Curious, I tried to get up. He tried to stop me. ¡°No- ¡° He said. ¡°You should just stay sitting down.¡± ¡°My daughter!¡± Somebody had lost their daughter? ¡°Move.¡± I pushed Theo out of the way. The front of the train was a mix of gray and brown sediments. They were circulating in a hypnotizing way. I stood still, frozen. The dust was coming down near me and Theo, and everything went black. My theater was pretty small, one stage in the shape of a semicircle facing the seats. My dressing room had one mirror, I was already planning on putting some pictures up on the wall. I was currently at the manager''s office, and somebody came in and started talking¡­ ¡°In 30 minutes, we will be bringing in artist and songwriter Betty Price! Stay tuned, and we¡¯ll be back after a short commercial break.¡± I stirred. That wasn¡¯t real. I was imagining what could happen when they approve my audition. If they do. Hold on a second. This situation, sitting at my small desk, these thoughts, thinking about my audition, they all seem familiar. I checked my phone. Friday, 9:01 PM. I set down my phone. What? The train. It- it was a little after noon. On Saturday. Had I gone back in time? I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook. I jotted down what I remembered from Saturday:
  1. Theo
  2. Ashlyn (?) Nash
    1. Missing cat
  3. Keoni
    1. Playing music
  4. Theo got nervous?
    1. Somebody lost their daughter
    2. Sediments; dust, gravel, sand
I thought for a second about the sediments. My first thought went to me having a dream, but that couldn¡¯t be possible, could it? I remembered way too much about what had happened then. Granted, I do have a fairly good memory. But this felt different. It felt real. Thinking about the swirling dust, I started to shiver. Okay, I checked my music history. I was listening to an R&B playlist Saturday morning. It wasn¡¯t in my history. This- this is fine. I checked my text messages. My latest one was from Theo, an hour before. All right, I thought. I just need to rest a little bit. When I wake up tomorrow, everything will be fine. TWO ¡°N¨« de h¨²nt¨²n l¨¢i le.¡± Yang RunYu set the steaming hot bowl of wonton soup on her customer¡¯s table. ¡°Xi¨¨ xie.¡± RunYu smiled politely at the butchered attempt of an American trying to speak Chinese. She turned and walked back into the kitchen. RunYu had gotten used to the loud clutter of the kitchen. She had to. It was her restaurant, after all. ¡°Zh¨¨ge p¨¢nzi zu¨° h¨£ole. N¨« k¨§y¨« b¨£ t¨¡ d¨¤i d¨¤o 19 h¨¤o zhu¨­.¡± The chef pushed a plate of ji¨£ozi RunYu¡¯s way. She grabbed it. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. As RunYu went back out into the restaurant, she checked the time on the clock. 2:00 PM. She set the plate down at table 19. Her mind went back to earlier this morning. Yes, today was the day. She went back into the kitchen, into the storage room, and emerged behind the restaurant. She saw the last AGB stop in the city. There was a train headed towards it, and, just as it entered the stop, it started to disappear. It happened every time somebody with big dreams tried to leave the city. It was pretty fitting. This street, all of Chinatown, even, was starting to disappear. RunYu¡¯s phone buzzed. It was Jaclyn. Hey, can u talk right now? Something crazy just happened. Jaclyn Glaudini-Zimmerman. She always had big dreams, ones of being a star, on TV, Broadway, practically anything to let her gain fame. RunYu responded: Of course! Come down now for some noodle soup? THREE ¡°I just- I just don¡¯t understand.¡± I said after a bite of noodles. Yang RunYu - but everyone just calls her Yu - makes the best noodle soup in town - and even better wontons. I wasn¡¯t feeling well, and I texted her asking if we could chat. What had happened was just crazy! And while I knew it was all a dream, I just couldn¡¯t help but wonder. ¡°I was on the train, going to my ¡®audition¡¯, and then it suddenly vaporized. Like, into thin air!¡± Yu sipped her hot tea thoughtfully, I could tell she wasn¡¯t drinking it though, it was way too hot to not burn her lips in the process. ¡°I think that you might feel a certain way, and that is why your dream had this type of outcome.¡± Yu had immigrated to the US from China when she was 13, almost 20 years ago. While she still had a slight accent, her English was a lot better than some of my classmates in my old physics class. ¡°Okay,¡± I said, ¡°But what would I feel?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Yu said. ¡°Only you will be able to figure out how you feel about anything, life, even.¡± I nodded, and took a sip of the beef broth. I was getting more inspirational life advice. It normally happens every time me and Yu talk. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Yu continued, ¡°Everything will all blow over after this. And, just checking, do you have an audition?¡± I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯ve thought about it, though.¡± I stirred my soup, all the noodles gone. ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to do it for a very long time.¡± Yu nodded. ¡°Yes, I see.¡± She knit her eyebrows together. ¡°You should do it.¡± She said. ¡°Give it a try, and see if it¡¯s something you want to pursue further.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± I said. ¡°My parents will disown me.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure they won¡¯t.¡± Yu said. ¡°If you end up being really successful¡­¡± I shook my head. ¡°I went too far choosing a liberal arts degree over engineering, or medicine.¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Oh.¡± Yu said. ¡°I see.¡± I nodded. If I did theater, my parents would never talk to me again. No matter how much I like it, I think that I¡¯ll stick to watching the shows, and listening to the albums. I think of all the classics; Les Miserables, Rent, Wicked, West Side Story. I would love to be a part of a community like that, but it¡¯s just not something that I would be able to do, I have no connections, no way into that world. I¡¯m better off insinuating myself into the speech world, and start to find places to post my articles. But the fact that I had that weird dream in the first place, it was creepy! I was starting to wonder if I was all right psychologically. I suddenly remembered all of the murder documentaries that me and my mom used watch together. A lot of those people had psychological issues, where they thought they saw things, and ended up killing people. I shuddered, and for Yu¡¯s sake, acted like it was cold. Which it was. It was the middle of December here, and when the snow fell, it fell hard. ¡°Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we lived somewhere else?¡± I asked. ¡°I mean, if we were in a different city, do you think we¡¯d be more successful?¡± Yu sighed. ¡°That is for you to see for yourself. Once you graduate, where do you want to go?¡± I thought for a second. ¡°Somewhere where I can show the world what I¡¯m made of.¡± Yu raised her eyebrows. ¡°That is very ambitious.¡± She said. I suddenly felt bad about what I had just said. ¡°I- I mean, do you ever think about moving somewhere else?¡± Yu nodded. ¡°Oh, yes, all the time.¡± She looked into her hot tea. ¡°My brother and my nephew live in New York, and I have been meaning to visit them for a very long time. But, well, I was never able to put aside enough money for it.¡± I nodded. I didn¡¯t even bother bringing up asking her brother for help. Yu, like Theo, was a very strong and independent person. She didn¡¯t need anybody else¡¯s help, and that was that. She was going to solve her own problems, as she had most likely started them. I stood up, thanked Yu for the conversation, and paid for my noodles. As I was walking home, I felt something in the back of my mind, like a tick, tick, tick. I thought about leaving Avis, maybe going to New York City, or even out of the country. Tick, tick, tick. I thought about my dreams, and I knew that I couldn¡¯t let them go. The years are counting down, that¡¯s for certain. And as I time myself for success, I know that I cannot stay here for the rest of my life. I have so many years ahead of me, and I better use them. The clock starts now, just like my dream said. What am I waiting for? FOUR ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ms. Zimmerman. I do not understand. Are you saying that you want to have online classes from now on?¡± I nodded, then stopped, remembering that the administrator can¡¯t see me on a phone call. ¡°Um, yes, that¡¯s correct.¡± I said. ¡°You see, I¡¯m going to be moving out of the city soon, and it will be too far to commute.¡± Okay, okay, okay, I know what you¡¯re going to say. I want to move to New York, yes, and I haven¡¯t even started looking at places to live, so why am I already talking to the University about it? Well, my idea was to just get school out of the way, so I could take it off of my back, one thing at a time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that isn¡¯t a question that we get asked very often.¡± The person on the phone said. ¡°Let me check with my managers and I will get back to you via email.¡± ¡°All right, thank you so much.¡± I said without much confidence. I started to see the many flaws in my plan. First, what if the school said no? What would I do then? It wasn¡¯t like I could magically leave the school and join a random one in New York. Maybe I could just finish my degree here, in Avis, and then go and explore the world. Yu had said, once you graduate, anyway. If I went to New York with no job, no degree, I would be the same as I am here, maybe worse, even. Shoot, my job! I hung up and grabbed my bag. I hurried out of my apartment and locked the door. I work at Starbucks. I take the orders, make the drinks, etc, etc, etc. And I¡¯ve been late way too many times. ¡°Jaclyn, you¡¯re late.¡± Said my boss; everyone calls him Bubble, because he is always chewing bubble gum. ¡°Yes sir.¡± I said. ¡°It won¡¯t happen again.¡± ¡°You said that the last time you were late.¡± Bubble said. ¡°And the time before that.¡± ¡°Ye- yes, sir.¡± I said. ¡°I really mean it this time.¡± One of my co-workers, Mike Zhang, raised his eyebrows, trying to hide his smile. My friend Lace Tanaka elbowed Mike. He let out a little grunt, more frustrated than hurt. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Bubble turned. ¡°Michael Zhang,¡± He said, ¡°You are in big trouble too. Don¡¯t you think I will ever forget what you did to the bathroom.¡± Mike¡¯s face turned red. ¡°Yes sir,¡± He said. ¡°I will never forget it either.¡± Bubble popped a bubble. ¡°Good.¡± He said. ¡°Now, everyone back to work. I went into the back room and grabbed my green apron. Michael and Lace followed behind me. ¡°You¡¯re so in trouble,¡± Mike said. ¡°Like, Bubble¡¯s never gotten this mad at someone before. And you know why? Because no one¡¯s ever been late this many times!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± I said. ¡°But I don¡¯t care about what Bubble thinks of me anyway.¡± ¡°Are you sure?¡± Mike said. ¡°Because one more day with you being tardy could end up with you losing your job.¡± ¡°Michael!¡± Lace said. She always called people by their first name, no matter what. Rumor had it that someone had called her Lacey as a joke, and she got really mad. That guy was never seen afterwards, either. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± Mike said. ¡°But it¡¯s true!¡± Bea, my fellow cashier register, looked our way and put her finger to her lips frantically. I mouthed, sorry, and went up to the register. I looked at the walls around the store. I had helped decorate it when we last had our remodeling. It was all about traveling, going to different places for beans. I saw the Ethiopian beans, there was a dotted line going from there to Peru. I took care of our customers, and since it was a slow day today (it always was), we all got hour-long breaks. When mine and Mike¡¯s started at the same time, we decided to go to the bookstore. Mike loved books. He reads them before work in the morning, before he goes to bed, even when he is making the drinks at Starbucks. He was also working on a book of his own, titled, SOS: Stranded on Scene, I¡¯m not entirely sure what it¡¯s about though, he refuses to tell anybody about it. Me and Michael enjoy going to the bookstore because Michael can plot where his book would be there, and so I can look at the vinyl. Yes, I said vinyl. And don¡¯t say that I¡¯m old-school, this whole town is. The only thing that is slightly modern is the AGB train (yikes). But, anyway, I like to look at the vinyl. And, that day, I had saved just enough money to buy a record. Michael and I walked into the bookstore, and decided that we would meet back up again at the coffee shop inside. I went straight to the Arts & Entertainment section of the store. I picked up one by one of my favorite artists. After I bought it, I slid the disk carefully into my backpack. Michael was already at the coffee shop, with two books in his hand. ¡°Hey,¡± Mike said. He handed me the top book. ¡°Apparently, this book is good for people our age; y¡¯know, to help us invest, and stuff.¡± I looked at the cover. The Road to Greatness. I nodded. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll check it out tonight.¡± FIVE ¡°Why do people always have big dreams? Why do we want to be like that celebrity we see on the news, or the person we hear singing on the radio? Why has fame been set up to be such a good thing that everyone wants to have?¡± I stir, realizing that my professor wants us to answer. I raise my hand. ¡°I think that it¡¯s because we see these famous people on social media everyday, and we can see how much money they have made, and it gives us the idea that the famous way of living could be good.¡± Professor Evans nods. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s a solid point, but not what I¡¯m looking for.¡± Tyler Hsu raises his hand. ¡°I think that it¡¯s because people want to feel known, like they belong. If they have a big following, there are people out there, who, essentially, want to know how you are doing.¡± Professor Evans nods. ¡°Elaborate.¡± He says. ¡°Uh, I guess it¡¯s also a structure for some people. If they don¡¯t have somebody supporting them, and cheering them on, they might want to be well-known, so their fans can, I don¡¯t know, be their surrogate for a parent?¡± Tyler pushes his glasses up his nose.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Professor Evans nods again. ¡°Very good.¡± He says. He walks up to the big board at the front of the room. ¡°People want to be famous. Why? Because they need support. Examples?¡± I raise my hand. ¡°When a kid looks at their parents when they do something. Like, for encouragement.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Evans says. He writes, Kids & Parents. ¡°Anything else?¡± Audrey, one of my friends from high school, calls out, ¡°A student teacher relationship.¡± Evans writes that on the board as well. ¡°So,¡± He says. ¡°What can we take away from this?¡± Tyler raises his hand. ¡°People want to be well known, but they are hesitant, because they also want to make sure that they¡¯re doing everything correctly. They don¡¯t want to be fully out there without knowing what the outcome is, and other people supporting them sort of fills the uncertainty.¡± Professor Evans nods. ¡°Correct.¡± SEVEN ¡°That''s why I hustle hella hard, never celebrate a holiday That''ll be the day I coulda finally hit the lottery I refuse to ever lose or throw my shot away Or chalk it up as just another one that got away¡­¡± I like that song. I feel that it sets the right message; don¡¯t throw away your shot, essentially. I¡¯m 35 years old now. And, I still live in Avis. No matter how much I longed to get out into the world, I couldn¡¯t act on a stage like that to save my life. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I suppose that the main message to take away from me is to dream big, but understand that, sometimes, those dreams do not come true. And, like the great Mick Jagger said, ¡°You get what you need.¡±. I truly believe that. I did get what I needed. I have a good life. I finished my degree in liberal arts, and got married, had kids, and got a job as a speech and theater teacher at a local private school. Me and Tyler kept in touch. I didn¡¯t get to figure out his big secret though, which was kind of sad. But I will ask him about it. Eventually. The clock started for me. What about you? What are you going to do to follow your dreams? And what are you going to do when they don¡¯t exactly come out the way they want to? Think about it. SIX Tyler Hsu. Soccer pro, veteran in speech and debate; he was practically my idol. He had a mop of dark hair, a lean, muscular build, and boxy rectangular glasses that always fell off of his face. At school, he would wear a white-button down shirt and khaki slacks. The only things that weren¡¯t formal were his black, beaten up tennis shoes, and his black puffer jacket. And, I kinda sorta maybe liked him. But that¡¯s not the point. The point was, his dream was similar to mine, except he had a bit of a head start. He has been hired twice to be a keynote speaker about this term called, failing up. Apparently, he can get his audience really excited. Tyler wanted to be well known, like those people we know about from Ted-Talks. And people say that I¡¯m ambitious! But, the point was, that he is another person living here that wanted to move away to the big cities. He never said so, but everyone could tell, with the way he looked at the walls in the classroom, and the way he walked around like he couldn¡¯t wait to get out of here, it was clear that he didn¡¯t want to be here longer than he needed to be. Just like me. But, like everyone, Tyler has a dark side. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. I remember there was one time when Tyler gave his speech about global warming and climate change to the class; I had already gone, public speaking and presentations were a breeze for me. But, if you remembered, it should have been easy for Tyler as well. So why was he so nervous? It was easy to tell. He was touching his hair, pushing up his glasses, shifting back and forth. He was really nervous. But why? I thought about it, and came to the conclusion that he was looking out of the window most often. Was he looking for someone? Or was he making sure somebody wasn¡¯t there? This would all lead to more questions. Was Tyler in trouble? Was somebody looking for him? Who? I had set this aside for a very long time, but I decided to come back to it after watching some creepy murder documentaries. I concluded that, since most of the extreme stuff just doesn¡¯t happen in Avis, Tyler was probably just looking out for a bully. Or was he? So, the truth was, I really knew nothing about Tyler. And while I wanted to learn more about him, I just couldn¡¯t bring myself to try and get to know him.