No but what if they didn't stop when the other person died. What if they kept counting down, kept giving you hope that one day you'd meet them.
And then it's the day. You go about your business as usual for the day, just today you've been walking around staring at your clock the entire time.
At this point you're just wandering around blindly, waiting. You just figure you'll crash into them, which couldn't be too bad a meeting, right? After all, it works in the movies. Plus, the two of you are destined to be with each other.
You're outside. You're not really sure where you are, just that there's a lot of green around you.
"Five... Four... Three..." you whisper, counting down with the clock until it reaches zero. "Two... One-- OH!" you shout out as you trip over something when your clock reaches zero.
No one catches you. You lie on the ground for a moment, thinking that maybe there's a delay. Maybe someone will come help you up, and they will be your soulmate.
Nothing.
(cont.)
Perhaps there was a glitch. Your clock was off by a split second, it counted down too fast. Perhaps there were still minutes left. Hours. Days. Years.
But no. No one's ever heard of a clock having a glitch. Your parent's clocks were timed perfectly, and so were your sisters' and brothers'. Now that it was your turn, surely there wouldn't be a glitch in the system. Not now. Not on you.
The shrill beeping of your timer rids your mind of worry, focusing it on turning off that wretched noise. Sure, it proves useful for blind people, or people who just aren't paying their timer much attention. But for you, someone who stares at their clock nonstop, it was just a nuisance. You tap your wrist, and the timer stays still at zero. Why would it change now, anyway? But the beeping doesn't stop. It's only quieter now. You tap your wrist again. Why did it have to be yours that malfunctioned? The beeping isn't gone. You're practically hitting your timer now, not wanting to be walking around alone
with that noise following you for the rest of your life. But it won't shut off.
You look up. Maybe the person is around you, and it's theirs. Or someone else off in the distance met their soulmate the second you were to meet yours, or just a moment after or before. But there's no one. You slowly take in your surroundings, realizing where you are. A graveyard. There's a grave sticking up from the earth directly in front of you.
"Blaise Edison," you read. "Died... 2014." You gasp. You suddenly remember seeing their obituary in the news last week. It had been the first time in your city that anyone had died before their clock reached zero. Their clock had still been ticking as they were laid in the ground.
The sad thing was, that beeping would never stop. It would always sound, but would only be able to be heard from directly above their casket. There was no way to turn it off other than to have the skin of the person whose timer it was cover the clock completely. It would never stop.
Never end.
And then there was the fact that this was how it was meant to happen. Blaise may have died in a freak accident, but fate would always prevail. The whole timer system was built on fate. No matter what would happen, that moment for you would always be set in stone. This moment was supposed to turn out like this. You were never meant to truly meet them. Never meant to see their face. Never meant to talk to them. Never meant to date them. Never meant to marry them. Never meant to grow old with them. Never meant to die with them. You were meant to be together, but Fate had kept you apart.
I thought about this clock winding down to zero in the middle of a crowd and not being able to see your soul mate and then throughout life the clock starts counting up so you are forced to see the missed opportunity.
I might actually kill myself if that was true. I don't think I could live with myself after knowing I missed the most positive experience a human could have.
Perhaps the clock is a lie set up by governments for the use of population control, everyone wants to save having a kid or something until they meet their soulmate, and make them wait a long time for a big lie. When in the meantime, you have been so blind believing that the people you like now are not going to be your "soulmate" and you just ignore everybody else and shut them out until it is finally time, when that clock strikes zero, and no one is there, because you pushed everyone away until you were all alone.
Or a man is in his house watching TV, and he suddenly hears someone knocking at his door. He opens it, and it's a Mormon missionary guy going door to door. The missionary says his speech, and the man is about to decline when they both hear beeping. Both of their timers had reached 0.
And then it's the day. You go about your business as usual for the day, just today you've been walking around staring at your clock the entire time.
At this point you're just wandering around blindly, waiting. You just figure you'll crash into them, which couldn't be too bad a meeting, right? After all, it works in the movies. Plus, the two of you are destined to be with each other.
You're outside. You're not really sure where you are, just that there's a lot of green around you.
"Five... Four... Three..." you whisper, counting down with the clock until it reaches zero. "Two... One-- OH!" you shout out as you trip over something when your clock reaches zero.
No one catches you. You lie on the ground for a moment, thinking that maybe there's a delay. Maybe someone will come help you up, and they will be your soulmate.
Nothing.
(cont.)
But no. No one's ever heard of a clock having a glitch. Your parent's clocks were timed perfectly, and so were your sisters' and brothers'. Now that it was your turn, surely there wouldn't be a glitch in the system. Not now. Not on you.
The shrill beeping of your timer rids your mind of worry, focusing it on turning off that wretched noise. Sure, it proves useful for blind people, or people who just aren't paying their timer much attention. But for you, someone who stares at their clock nonstop, it was just a nuisance. You tap your wrist, and the timer stays still at zero. Why would it change now, anyway? But the beeping doesn't stop. It's only quieter now. You tap your wrist again. Why did it have to be yours that malfunctioned? The beeping isn't gone. You're practically hitting your timer now, not wanting to be walking around alone
You look up. Maybe the person is around you, and it's theirs. Or someone else off in the distance met their soulmate the second you were to meet yours, or just a moment after or before. But there's no one. You slowly take in your surroundings, realizing where you are. A graveyard. There's a grave sticking up from the earth directly in front of you.
"Blaise Edison," you read. "Died... 2014." You gasp. You suddenly remember seeing their obituary in the news last week. It had been the first time in your city that anyone had died before their clock reached zero. Their clock had still been ticking as they were laid in the ground.
The sad thing was, that beeping would never stop. It would always sound, but would only be able to be heard from directly above their casket. There was no way to turn it off other than to have the skin of the person whose timer it was cover the clock completely. It would never stop.
And then there was the fact that this was how it was meant to happen. Blaise may have died in a freak accident, but fate would always prevail. The whole timer system was built on fate. No matter what would happen, that moment for you would always be set in stone. This moment was supposed to turn out like this. You were never meant to truly meet them. Never meant to see their face. Never meant to talk to them. Never meant to date them. Never meant to marry them. Never meant to grow old with them. Never meant to die with them. You were meant to be together, but Fate had kept you apart.