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A Pretty Standard Question
How will you spend your final minute? It’s a pretty standard question, yet the answer always changes. The first to ask me was my dad. I was five at the time, my head full of journeys and adventure. I said I’d use it to go exploring. A minute in the in the Amazon jungle and another in Atlantis was all I believed I needed. Back then I didn’t have the concept of fractions, so I told my father the two things I wanted the most. He laughed and gave me five million to spend on education.
The second person to ask me was my first girlfriend. We met in high-school just as I was spending the last quarter of the time my father had lent me. I was so foolish back then, I said I’d spent my last minute with her and she took me on it. Every day while studying, I’d secretly spend a few hundred minutes of my stash on her. She spent some of hers on me as well, but shortly after graduation she took my minutes and moved on.
The next to ask was myself. I had so many big plans back then, ideas that would change the world, bringing joy and fascination to everyone. I had told myself not to spend a minute more on love or friendship, but instead build a career, an empire of my own. I thought I had it all figured out, that if I took a loan and spent it on ten things one was bound to succeed, making me rich, granting me more minutes that I could possibly use. I tried and lost most of, twice having to return and beg my parents. My father would often grumble, sparing me a few minutes every now and again, before heading off somewhere. My mother, however, always had enough for me, no mater what I’d done.
Now I ask the question once more, seated upon the throne I’ve built. It’s not a big throne, it’s quite small actually, but it’s mine. I’d invested millions of minutes into a career, And somehow it paid off. It wasn’t what I wanted, but good enough that I didn’t care. At one point I’d decided to spent some minutes on people—a million here, a few hundred thousand there. I’d manage to get myself a fairly large group of acquaintances, plus a few highly valued friends. I found myself a wife, and gladly shared half my minutes with her...just as she shared hers with me. We had fun, had children, went on adventures in Africa, the Amazon forest, the Aztec ruins. We spent minutes on stupid things that made us laugh, with zero regrets.
Today my daughter stands before me, old enough to understand the question, but not its meaning. I expected her answer to be ponies, toys, or dancing lessons; adventures in far away places and on the verge of imagination. Instead, she just looked at me and smiled.
“You and mommy,” she said in her innocent childlike voice. “I want to spend my last minute on the two of you.”
The second person to ask me was my first girlfriend. We met in high-school just as I was spending the last quarter of the time my father had lent me. I was so foolish back then, I said I’d spent my last minute with her and she took me on it. Every day while studying, I’d secretly spend a few hundred minutes of my stash on her. She spent some of hers on me as well, but shortly after graduation she took my minutes and moved on.
The next to ask was myself. I had so many big plans back then, ideas that would change the world, bringing joy and fascination to everyone. I had told myself not to spend a minute more on love or friendship, but instead build a career, an empire of my own. I thought I had it all figured out, that if I took a loan and spent it on ten things one was bound to succeed, making me rich, granting me more minutes that I could possibly use. I tried and lost most of, twice having to return and beg my parents. My father would often grumble, sparing me a few minutes every now and again, before heading off somewhere. My mother, however, always had enough for me, no mater what I’d done.
Now I ask the question once more, seated upon the throne I’ve built. It’s not a big throne, it’s quite small actually, but it’s mine. I’d invested millions of minutes into a career, And somehow it paid off. It wasn’t what I wanted, but good enough that I didn’t care. At one point I’d decided to spent some minutes on people—a million here, a few hundred thousand there. I’d manage to get myself a fairly large group of acquaintances, plus a few highly valued friends. I found myself a wife, and gladly shared half my minutes with her...just as she shared hers with me. We had fun, had children, went on adventures in Africa, the Amazon forest, the Aztec ruins. We spent minutes on stupid things that made us laugh, with zero regrets.
Today my daughter stands before me, old enough to understand the question, but not its meaning. I expected her answer to be ponies, toys, or dancing lessons; adventures in far away places and on the verge of imagination. Instead, she just looked at me and smiled.
“You and mommy,” she said in her innocent childlike voice. “I want to spend my last minute on the two of you.”
I feel like this doesn't hit as hard as it wants to, because the meaning of 'spending minutes' was never really as clear as it needed to be to make what was going on understandable on an emotional level. The way it's used, I imagine it's some nonstandard scifi thing, not your average 'spending time'?
The ending seems to grasp at heartfelt, but I think for me, it landed closer to twee.
The mechanics here are fine, but the story isn't doing much for me.
The ending seems to grasp at heartfelt, but I think for me, it landed closer to twee.
The mechanics here are fine, but the story isn't doing much for me.
>>Not_A_Hat
Echoed my thoughts pretty well. "Spending minutes," I think, is your average "spending time," but the story never really dives into the nuances and ramifications of the titular question. The ending comes off as sentimental, but it's not a bad story by any means.
Echoed my thoughts pretty well. "Spending minutes," I think, is your average "spending time," but the story never really dives into the nuances and ramifications of the titular question. The ending comes off as sentimental, but it's not a bad story by any means.
Reminds me of the movie In Time, with the heavy use of time as an actual currency in this story.
It's fun, has solid writing, even if it has a bit of a generic plot structure.
Ending is cute too.
It's fun, has solid writing, even if it has a bit of a generic plot structure.
Ending is cute too.
>>Whitbane
Exactly what I was thinking myself.
Story is solid, but not remarkable. It's pretty much taking the memoirs route, but hyper-abridged. I feel like it would have been stronger if the concept was used in a gambling scene or something to that effect.
Exactly what I was thinking myself.
Story is solid, but not remarkable. It's pretty much taking the memoirs route, but hyper-abridged. I feel like it would have been stronger if the concept was used in a gambling scene or something to that effect.
This is... fine. Not great, not bad, but ultimately I don't feel it lands with the emotional strength it wants to, though damned if I can point to exactly why. The idea is certainly effective, but I suppose what it is that it ends up being a little rote, going down the path of fame and fortune being nothing compared to your family and loved ones. Nothing here is executed particularly poorly, it is just that nothing is particularly well executed either.
Feels like this is basicaly fanfic for the movie Justin Timberlake movie, "In Time." (That they didn't name it "JustIn Time" is a tragedy.)
The analogy here, of time-as-money, is a decently strong one, and while the ending is a bit touching, it isn't as impactful as it should be. I slightly smirked, but didn't feel any real tug at the heartstrings, which is what I feel the story was going for.
So, interesting angle on the trope, but doesn't quite land hard enough.
The analogy here, of time-as-money, is a decently strong one, and while the ending is a bit touching, it isn't as impactful as it should be. I slightly smirked, but didn't feel any real tug at the heartstrings, which is what I feel the story was going for.
So, interesting angle on the trope, but doesn't quite land hard enough.
Like >>Xepher said, this feels like it’s in the same universe as In Time, and it executes the idea of time as money about as well…that is to say, not very well at all. The main character has a decent amount of depth, but the story is so compressed that it makes it hard to really get a connection with him. I also didn’t think the theme of using your “last minute” really amounted to much, given how despite the warnings that people often run out of time, we never actually see anybody running out (unlike the aforementioned In Time). This is problematic, since we don’t really see a reason why people should think about their last minute, which sort of renders the story’s whole point moot. If there’s no consequences for dilly-dallying with your time, why think so intensely about it? The one thing I enjoyed is that the story’s told in a whimsical, fable-like way, almost as if it’s a man reflecting on a dream instead of his life. It’s an interesting tone to take, but it’s not enough to really make this story work for me.