…somewhere:
“Hey Robert, do you remember when time had points?”
“Hello, Jack. What do you mean points? Like a reason for being?
“A reason, no. Points. Moments.”
“I remember when time started to spin.”
“Yeah, but not that. That was after.”
“After what?”
“The points in time. The separations.”
“I remember the going and not stopping.”
“Then you don’t remember when there were moments and periods.”
“I remember the going and growing. There’s no stopping unless there’s a death.”
“But there used to be a texture to time. You seem to have forgotten that.”
“Maybe…Can you remind me with an example?”
“An example. Hoo! Tall order. I was asking you because I barely remember it myself. Let me think…Okay. Do you remember hours?”
“Ah, the hours. I see…”
“Well, do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Remember points in time—it’s what we’re talking about.”
“No, I don’t, mate. Can you explain a little clearer?”
“Mmm, like anchors.”
“In space, you mean? You have to pull them up to go anywhere.”
“Okay, yeah, like that, only in time. To let you know where you are in your life.”
“Wait. You’re not drunk, are you?”
“What? No! I’m talking about the clock! Hours, days, minutes!”
“But we decided they were unnecessary. They just go round and round anyway.”
“I know! But I think it was a mistake to get rid of them!”
“Oh boy. You are not yourself today.”
“Why? Because I’m questioning what you seem to not even care about?”
“Okay, look. Don’t get excited. Why are these points so important to you now? Why not before?”
“Don’t say before. Say yesterday.”
“And that’s a point?”
“Well, a fat one, but yes. They are important because otherwise everything is the same. There is nothing more special than anything else.”
“That’s not true. It’s all special.”
“Uff, I’m not getting through to you.”
“Maybe not, but I promise I’m not trying to upset you. I just don’t remember points. I’m sorry.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
“Maybe they never existed. Only you wanted them to. Like to go with space.”
“Probably.”
“Let’s get something to eat.”
“We just ate.”
“No, that was before.”
“No, that was very recently. Today, not long ago.”
“Well, my stomach disagrees.”
“Fair enough. But you see? That’s what I’m talking about! There was a moment when you ate and a moment when you were full.”
“So you’re saying my stomach is the keeper of these moments you’re so keen on?”
“Maybe the only one left.”
“Well, it’s silly. What if I’m not hungry or I decide to fast? No more moments.
“Maybe they aren’t stationary. Did you ever think of that? Maybe they float around like pollen. And what you feel as moments are just when the wind blows them around.”
“You leave the wind out of this.”
“Huh, now who’s getting excited...”
“Anyway, I like time the way it is, a nice, soft, round thing. So comforting and dependable. Never stressy. A tool and a couch. Always on our side, always healing us. Something we never have to run away from or work against.”
“Just a big, warm bath we can live in and with which we touch what’s forever.”
“And it can’t be wasted. All endeavors will lead to a life well lived.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“But I think I understand what is troubling you. You want your memories back.”
“My memories?”
“Yes. The times you’ve had. Isn’t that it? Isn’t this what’s fueling all this ‘moments’ nonsense, the forgetting?”
“I want to remember things, yes, separate, distinct events that happened.”
“But every end is a beginning. These things are still happening.”
“Then why can’t I see them in my mind?”
“Because the mind protects itself. It makes you forget what you saw.”
“What if I don’t need protection?”
“Everyone needs protection.”
“So why does it hurt that I can’t have my memories back?”
“Because you think you are less without them. This is not true. You are everything you are, whether you remember or not.”
“Moments are vestiges of the old. We are the new.”
“In the now, you mean?”
“In the now. It’s the only place to be.”
“Still.”
“Don’t get me wrong, the amusement park in 2017 was a lot of fun. There might be something to be said for holding on to these little scraps of existence.”
“Scraps.”
“What would you call them?”
“I call them pieces of my life, the coordinates in time that configure a being in the universe.”
“Points.”
“Finally.”