A/N: Hellooo~ this is me with a crazy idea about the dystopian future in where Time is vital. Being on time depends heavily on your life. If you are ever late, the W.O.T(Wardens of Time) will take away some of your lifespan. 1 minute late = 1 year of your life. The strict law is to keep human populations from overgrowth(basically the majority will have a hard time being punctual, therefore resulting in an early death). Every human is set to 58 years. Each person's clock starts when they turn 12 years old, which means they still have 58 years in their lifespan. To keep track of who's being punctual or tardy, each citizen must "clock in", or "clock out" each time they perform a task(waking up, eating, going to work, etc.). To survive, your mind must work like a machine, not wasting anytime.
[ NOTE: This story is adapted from Ellison's "Repent, Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman.
I also do NOT own Hetalia. ]
Also- This WILL be UsUk. If you don't like it, don't read it. Plus, this is a HUMAN AU.
…..
7:35 A.M.-Must be present at work. Clock in.
5:45 P.M.-Must be done with work. Clock out.
6:00 P.M.-Head home via bus. Clock in.
6:20 P.M.-Enter home. Clock in.
6:30 P.M.-Start microwaving yesterday's lamb stew.
6:35 P.M.-Start eating. Clock in.
6:50 P.M.-Finish eating. Start cleaning up. Clock out.
7:15 P.M.-Head to shower. Wash up.
7:45 P.M.-Freetime(includes: watching TV, working on laptop, doing chores, etc.)
9:00 P.M.-Get ready for bed. Clock in.
6:15 A.M.-Wake up. Clock out.
This was Arthur Kirkland's daily schedule, molded into his mind. It was the year of 2030, and everything was the way it was since forever. He couldn't really remember if it had ever been different. And he thought it was for the better. This man had no time to waste time.
6:20 P.M.-Enter home. Clock in.
Arthur opened the door to his humble abode, flicking on the switch closest to his door. As the lights lit up his house, he took off his trenchcoat and hat, hanging it on his coat rack. He checked his wristwatch, pressing a red button on the side of it. 6:20 P.M. Clocked in. Right on time.
The simple man walked down his hallway, passing the several plaques of honor strewn on the wall. They were his prized possessions. The plaques represented his perfect presence, his impeccable timing. From right to left, they counted down the years.
2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024, 2025, 2026, 2027, 2028, 2029.
There was only one year missing, and it was the current year. Arthur Kirkland had a calendar marked for the special date. One week left until yet another plaque joined the wall. For 358 days, this man had never been a minute late for anything.
Arthur entered his kitchen, walking towards his refrigerator. He opened it, examining the items inside. There were a few pounds of raw lamb, boneless, several medium-sized onions, a bag of red potatoes, and a bunch of carrots. However, there was no need to cook tonight. He took out a dish that was labeled Monday and unwrapped the cellophane. He then opened his microwave door and slid it in, pressing the number five and start. Soon enough, the aroma of leftover lamb stew filled the air, much to Arthur's delight.
6:30 P.M.-Start microwaving yesterday's lamb stew. Check.
With a few minutes left on the microwave's timer, the precise man laid out a napkin, fork and spoon on his dining table. He spread out a beige tablemat. He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a clean washcloth.
DING! Arthur strode towards his microwave, using the washcloth to handle the hot dish. He slid the bowl onto his tablemat. After discarding the washcloth, he sat down in his chair and pressed the red button on his wristwatch again. The man then picked up his utensils, making them dig into the stew.
6:35 P.M.-Start eating. Clocked in. Check.
As he ate, he did his usual mental math. It was approximately 30 spoonfuls a bowl. He had 15 minutes to finish his dinner. 15 divided by 30 equals half a minute for each spoonful. Arthur savored each mouthful, occasionally checking his wristwatch.
6:50 P.M.-Finish eating. Start cleaning up. Clock out.
As soon as his watch stroke 50, Arthur stood up, bringing his plate to the sink, washing it and putting it back into its usual place in the cabinet. He then took the discarded washcloth and sprayed it with soap. He started to clean the stove, countertops, and dining table. Next, Arthur brought out his mop and mopped his kitchen floor, leaving it spotless, just the way he liked it.
A minute before his next task, he stood at the edge of his kitchen, admiring his cleaning skills. "That should do it," he smiled, pleased with himself. The man then left his kitchen, only after he clocked in at 6:50 P.M.
Arthur headed up his stairs, turning a right to reach his bathroom. He turned on his shower, undressed, and stepped inside. After 5 minutes of showering, Arthur turned the shower head off, clambered out and wiped himself dry. He then put on his nightclothes and combed his hair. As he combed, the punctual man glanced himself over in the mirror. He was an average-height man, leaning on the shorter side of the scale. He wasn't particularly heavy, but rather, weighed lighter than his fellow co-workers. He had straight-up blond hair, reaching down the back of his neck and a fringe that touched his insanely thick eyebrows. Arthur had piercing emerald-green eyes, and scowl lines that touched the sides of his mouth. The man wasn't exactly muscular either- but who had time for weight-lifting? Instead, he had a more gangly figure with just subtle touches of muscle lines.
Arthur checked his watch again. 7:37 P.M. He had just enough time to wipe down his bathtub and sink.
7:45 P.M.-Freetime(includes: watching TV, working on laptop, doing chores, etc.)
The blonde went downstairs, done cleaning his bathroom. He sat on his recliner, relaxing back and opening his laptop, checking his emails.
CREEEEAAK. Arthur froze, unsure if he was just hearing things. Cautiously, he closed his laptop, and leaned forward, slowly pushing himself out of his comfortable chair.
CREEEEAAK. Okay, so maybe he wasn't going crazy. He narrowed his eyes, wondering what was making his floorboards creak.
CREEEEAAK. By the third creak, Arthur could detect the source of the noise. It was coming from his back door. Someone must've came in. With his heart pumping, he crept towards his back door. The back door was where the washing machine and dryer was. Putting his back on the wall that divided his washing machine and dining room, he grabbed the nearest lethal object he could find- an unlit candlestick. Arthur was beyond scared. He was never used to disruptions in his calming schedule. Steadying his breath, he whipped around, wildly waving the long, wax candle.
"Sh-Show yourself!" he declared, his voice wavering. He backed towards his lightswitch, flipping on the lights. The light revealed the intruder- a young man with dirty blond hair and azure-blue eyes.
"Whoa, whoa!" the stranger held his hands up, as if signaling a truce. "Don't hurt me! I'm harmless, really!" The man straightened up, readjusting his rectangular glasses. "My name is Alfred." he informed, speaking slowly, as if Arthur was mentally handicapped.
Arthur scowled, still holding up his candlestick in defense. "I don't care who you are! Get out of my house!"
"Wait, please," Alfred pleaded, wringing his hands, "I need somewhere to hide- just for tonight! The wardens are-"
"I've heard enough!" Arthur cut in, his fear melting into annoyance. "I don't need trouble with the wardens! You need to get out now, before I report you." He glanced at his watch. 8:00 P.M. This stupid git has wasted 15 minutes of his time!
"So that's how it is," The intruder set his jaw, frowning. "Fine. Just so you know, you forced me into this!"
Without warning, Alfred pulled a handgun from the back of his pants and aimed it at the unknowing man. Arthur gulped, frozen in his place. "Wh-What do you think you're doing?!"
"You are going to give me a place to hide for tonight. Then, I'll be out of your hair. Capisce?"
Arthur seeing no choice but to agree, nodded reluctantly. Alfred stole a quick glance behind him, and gestured with his gun to Arthur, telling him to move upstairs. Arthur obeyed, quickly stepping up the stairs, leading Alfred to his room. He shut his door and closed the blinds, eyeing Alfred's gun warily. "Can you please stop pointing that bloody thing at me?"
The gun holder carefully lowered the gun's point and looked around Arthur's room. "Hmph," Alfred grumbled, glaring back at the other man. "This could have gone a little less awkward if you just agreed to help me."
"Well, excuse me for not allowing a total stranger into my home," Arthur snapped back.
Alfred didn't respond; he walked towards the windows and peeked through the blinds. "Finally, they're gone," he breathed, looking relieved. The dirty-blonde collapsed onto Arthur's bed, closing his eyes.
"Hey, get your dirty feet off my bed!" Arthur complained, fully knowing the other man would just ignore his protests. He sighed and scratched the back of his head. God, his head hurt. He was pretty sure his brain wasn't ready to totally comprehend what was happening right now.
The tired-out man made a mental checklist in his head:
1. He had let a random, probably a criminal, stranger into his house.
2. He had let the criminal hide from the wardens.
3. He was now being threatened with a gun by said criminal.
4. The criminal's dirty feet was relaxing in his bed.
5. The time was now- wait, what time was it?
Arthur turned to his watch. 8:15 P.M. Another 15 minutes! Gone! The man groaned internally, casting his eyes back at the intruder.
"Enough is enough," Arthur mumbled to himself, "I've got to get him out of here." In every house, next to the front door, was a speakerphone installed into the wall. The dial pad only contained one button- the wardens' phone number. If he could just get to it without Alfred noticing, one click of the button would send the authorities straight over. He had just over 40 minutes to do so, before he had to clock in at 9:00.
"Look, I bet you had a long day," Arthur said to the man lying on his bed. He faked a smile, and continued, "Why don't you just cozy up in my bed, while I'll go and make you some tea?"
Alfred sat up, grinning. "Now, that's more like it! I take an extra spoon of cream and sugar." He then laid back down, wriggled off his socks, and kicked back, stretching out in Arthur's bed. He yawned, closing his eyes. "Hey, do you have a T.V. in here?" he asked, but Arthur was already gone.
…..
Arthur slinked down the stairs, occasionally looking back to see if Alfred could see him. As soon as the coast was clear, he took a left, and headed down the opposite direction of the kitchen. When he reached his front entrance, the cautious man looked back the way he came. There was still no sign of Alfred. Turning back to face his front door, he looked to the side and found the speakerphone. On the speakerphone was the single dial, labeled: W.O.T.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?!"
Arthur whipped around and found himself face to face with Alfred's handgun. Arthur showed no reaction and kept a hand close to the dial.
"You see that?" Arthur growled, jutting a finger out towards the speakerphone. "One wrong move, and I'll make sure those wardens are all over your ass!"
"One wrong move from you and it'll be my bullet in your face!"
The two men glared each other, silently daring the other to make a move. All of a sudden, Alfred turned the gun towards Arthur's speakerphone and shot it.
Arthur flinched, covering his ears. Although, there was no ricochet from the gun. Arthur frowned, and slowly turned to face his speakerphone. The speakerphone had no hole through it; however, it had water dripping from its speakers that fizzled and sparked. The confused man turned back towards Alfred, only to find him in a laughing fit.
"Oh, you should've seen your face!" Alfred cried, slapping his knee.
"Wh-What?" Arthur sputtered. "What are you-"
The irate man was cut short due to a blast of water in his face. Arthur coughed, wiping his face dry with the sleeves of his shirt. Alfred only laughed harder.
"It's a watergun, you dummy!" Alfred grinned, squirting a few more times on Arthur's clothes.
"B-But-"
"Really dude, an actual gun? Puh-lease, I'm pretty sure they don't sell those anymore!" Alfred rolled his eyes. "Someone's been watching too much T.V.!"
Arthur scowled deeply, his face turning red. "Shut up! That's crossing the line!"
"Of course, these babies are also hard to come by nowadays," Alfred continued, ignoring the upset man, "everyone's just like, no fun! Work, work!"
"Is that why the warden's are chasing you?" Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms.
"Uh, maaaybe," Alfred chuckled, "but seriously, all I did was squirt a couple of guys, made them wet, so they arrived to work late."
"That's terrible! How could you do that to them?"
"Oh God, lighten up!" Alfred then put his arm around Arthur, making him jump. "Look, Artie- can I call you Artie? The world's a mess, frankly, and I don't want to end up like the whack-jobs of today's society." He then poked Arthur's chest. "Yeah, you're one of them."
'Artie' wrestled out of the taller man's grasp and backed away from him, as if Alfred contained a disease. "You're the crazy one! Breaking the rules, hiding from the Wardens, yeah, what a smart one, you! And how do you know my name?"
Alfred gestured to the wall of plaques. "It's kind of creepy, having your name mentioned like, a hundred times."
"Whatever! But that's beside the point-those people could've died because you thought it was funny to spray them!
"It was only a few minutes late-"
"Which means a few years lost on their lifespan!" Arthur tapped his wristwatch twice, and showed it to Alfred. "Look, I still have 47 years. I'm 23. I have never wasted any of my time!"
"Well, you know what? Dying would be better than this!" Alfred yelled, spreading his arms out to indicate this.
Arthur closed his mouth, staring ridiculously at Alfred.
Alfred sighed and readjusted his glasses again. "Never mind, it's not like you'll ever understand. No one does." He turned around and opened the front door to Arthur's home. "Thanks," Alfred mumbled, walking out and slamming the door shut.
Arthur stood, rooted to his spot, trying to figure out what just happened. He shook his head, and went to examine his now water-damaged speakerphone. He would have to inform the authorities about the damage. He'd say that he accidentally spilled some water over it, or something like that. He wasn't sure why he was protecting Alfred, though. It was possible that he sympathized the guy's thoughts. Alfred wasn't right in the head; but, he had better figure it out before he lost his time.
Arthur then looked at the time. It was 8:56. The man grimaced, and hurried upstairs. He had only four minutes to change, brush his teeth, and get in bed. Wait- but that's impossible! The anxious man fled towards his bathroom, his nightclothes in one hand and a toothbrush in the other.
Two minutes left.
He scrubbed his teeth furiously while jumped around, trying to get his feet through his pants. He rinsed, spit out, and gargled.
One minute.
Silently counting down from 60, he pulled his nightshirt over his head and washed his toothbrush.
10… 9… 8… 7…
He dropped his toothbrush on the counter and turned off the bathroom lights.
6… 5… 4…
Arthur couldn't make it. He still had to hang up his old clothes and put out new ones. His mind scrambled, unsure of what to do. He always had a schedule. He always had one.
3… 2… 1…
Finally, in surrender, he clicked the side button to his watch, clocking in for sleep. There was only one problem. He wasn't asleep. Swiftly, he picked up his old clothes and hanged them up. He set up his work clothes for tomorrow. Lastly, he fluffed up his pillows, set his alarm, and turned off his lights. At 9:05 P.M., it was only then that he fell asleep.
On December 26, 2029, Arthur Kirkland was late.
…..
AN: So, what do you guys think? I think I'll post new chapters every Monday.