The Chronos Project

It was warm out, but it was dark. The clouds weren’t white or fluffy; they grew grey and wide and thin over the sky. Anarisa looked up at them, she expected to feel raindrops, or snow flurries, but the sky responded only with a weak breeze; her ginger hair blew backwards away from her face. She took a deep breath and fastened her shoulder bag tighter around her.

The Tower of Lisburn stood high in the town square. On its large summit it housed a clock. The clock’s enormous hands ticked constantly. She glanced, as if expecting the time to have changed, but it hadn’t, she was still late. She grunted and walked at a slow pace down the cobblestone road. She nodded a kind hello to the owner of the garden shop, Ms. Civet.

Wallace High School, established 1880, the plaque boasted as if it’s mere year of establishment made it somehow more grand than any other meager excellent architecture; the building taunted her with its immense size. She loosened her bag and grabbed her dark sweater out of it. She slid it over her thin arms, covering her where her tank-top hadn’t. The sweater bore the crest of Wallace High with a majestic falcon sat on top. She hopped up the concrete step and hit the buzzer button sat on the door frame.

A moment later Anarisa was let in. Ana walked in and entered the main office. It was a L-shaped room with three desks. The first was the secretary, than the vice principal, than the principal. The principals weren’t at their desks, they were always busy off somewhere else. The woman behind the main office desk frowned.

“Why are you late honey?”

“Ran out of time.” Anarisa replied. Time, she always wanted more time. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the morning. She had woken up. She pulled the previous date off of her three hundred-and-sixty-five day calendar and she fell to the floor. Today marked that day she had exactly one year left.

One year, according to her birthmark. She had become accustomed to calling it her birthmark, although it looked more like a tattoo.

“Alright, what’s your name?” The secretary asked, pulling out the familiar blue pass and pen.
She checked the ‘unexcused tardiness’ box.

Anarisa pulled at the strap of her bag, “Anarisa Valentine.”

“Pretty name, go on to your course.” The secretary gave a phony smile and handed Anarisa her pass.

Anarisa nodded, and took the note from the talons of the secretary. Her uniform shoes clacked against the laminate flooring. She traced the lockers that lined the halls with her eyes. She stopped and brought her feet together before her classroom door.

She took a deep breath and balled her small hand.

“Come in.” Replied the obvious American accent of her History One teacher Mr. Collins.

Anarisa pulled open the door, ignoring all the faces that compulsively stare. The lights were dimmed, wether for dramatic effect or ergonomic value she was unsure. She swallowed abruptly and handed the note to Mr. Collins, turning quickly to ease through the labyrinth of desks.

“Ah, Ana, late again. We were just having a class discussion about the splitting of Ireland, care to chime in?” He spoke condescendingly, stopping her midway through the class room.

“I’d rather just have a seat sir.” She protested.

“No, go on; tell the class what you now.” He prodded sliding his hand over his prematurely bald head.

“Ireland broke into two separate countries due to religious beliefs. Good? Okay.” Ana retreated quickly to the back of the classroom.

She put her head down on the desk and closed her eyes. She felt someone poke her arm. She lifted her head.

“Are you alright, Ris?” The boy next to her asked.

“Yeah Colin, I’m alright.” She smiled and set her head back down.

Mr. Collins went on to mock Anarisa and then back to teaching a very prejudiced explanation of important historical events. During which he sided with the clergy, claiming that Martin Luther just had leftover teenaged angst. He taught that ‘Fighting the Power’ is only a feeble attempt. Ana concurred, however if we don’t try at all we will just get no where anyway.The bell sounded and Ana grabbed her bag tightly. She was just in the doorframe when she felt a sweaty hand around her wrist. It pulled her abruptly from the flow of traffic.

“Anarisa, Anarisa, What will I have to do with little Anarisa?” Mr. Collins asked staring at the ceiling and tapping his tongue against the top of his mouth; producing a clicking sound.

Having been reffered to as ‘little Anarisa’ pushed her mind back a few moments.”

“Mr. Collins, is there some way we could reschedule this? It’s just that I’m really busy. I have to get to work.” Her boss always scheduled her right after class, so that there was no plausible way to make it to work on time.

“And where does little Anarisa work?” His hand was still firm on her wrist.

She tugged at her arm. “I work at the, um, gas station sir.” She couldn’t think of a lie fast enough, so what came out was true.

“Well,” He pulled his hand back “We will need you to make up this time Ana, You can’t fail anymore classes can you? You’re already two years back.” Mr. Collins reached past Ana and turned on the light. His head was shiny like a bowling ball.

He was thin and tall, lanky with long extremities. He wore a corduroy suit and purple velveteen shoes. Ana could easily see Mr.Collins in the seventies with a short-lived afro.

“Yes sir,” Ana grabbed her bag and tightened the strap.

“Go, then, get to work.”

Anarisa nodded and smiled. She kicked up dirt as she jogged uphill, her shoes clacking on the cobblestones. She stopped to catch her breath besides the garden store, when Ms. Civet put her hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright Ris?”

Ms. Civet had known Anarisa since she was born. She went through a divorce a few years back. Her husband lost all their money gambling and their marriage went ‘down the hatch’ as she put it. She was elderly, her skin pale and wrinkled. She was never seen unhappy. Anarisa looked up at the elder woman, thinking about all the time she had been through. How long and fulfilling Ms. Civet’s live had been.

I’m never going to have that, she thought, smiling and nodding at the woman. She started again, rushing into the small gas station and signing her time on the clipboard.

“Late again Ms. Valentine!” Called the overbearing voice of her manager from the break room.

Anarisa cursed under her breath and smiled walking in there, making the cutest face she could. “I’m really sorry Stephen.”

“Risa,” He kicked his shoes off the coffee table and lifted his rear from the couch. He kissed the top of Ana’s head. “I have faith that one day you’ll make it on time. Now get to work, okay?” He winked.
Anarisa winked back. When her back was turned she barfed a little in her mouth. She hated flirting with Stephen, but it kept her job safe. She went to her post. She sat, one leg tossed over the other on the bench outside the small convenience store. She pumped gas for people. It was an easy job considering the demand for gas in Lisburn was nary any. She usually just sat.

Just sitting was pretty dangerous; at least it was for her. She looked right and left, and when no one was there, she pulled down her sweater. Revealing a tattoo-like printing on her collarbone. It read October twenty-five two-thousand and fourteen. She dropped her head down behind her.

She could remember the day she asked about it. She was ten the first time she bothered to really ask. Her mother and her father shared an almost regretful glance. They explained it as positively as they could. That they weren’t so well off, and they were offered a grandiose amount of money –to which she was still disclosed- to participate in an unknown experiment. That some scientists took Anarisa when she was a newborn and a few weeks later she was returned with the tattoo.

That’s when her parents were informed. It was her date of death. Then the two of them cried a lot. About their awful decision, and the fact that they were such awful parents. But they agreed the saddest part was knowing that Anarisa would die before she was even twenty.

She had asked her parents what she could do to get out of it. Their words always rang through her mind ‘ignore it’.

Tears were struggling in her eyes, when she heard an engine. She wiped at her eyes and sat up. A man removed his helmet –which brandished a faux green Mohawk- and put the kickstand of his bike down. He smiled. “Are you like the gas maiden or something?”

Anarisa nodded trying to smile. “You pay in there first.” She pointed at the small red convenience store behind her. He nodded and gestured as if he was tipping a hat. He was young, and there was something familiar about his eyes.

She stood by the gas pump, which lit up. She took the nozzle and looked at the bike.

“It’s there.” Said the mystery man, pointing to the concealed gas compartment.

Anarisa smiled and leaned down. She hadn’t realized, but her sweater rolled down as she did. So when she turned to ask the guy why he was in town, she was answered with shock. He rushed over to her and pulled her sweater up. She was startled and fell back into the gas pump and then fell to the ground.

“Sorry, I uhm, I just, saw your….tattoo.” The man stepped back and held both hands out, palms facing her. His eyes were wide, like an animal facing the headlights of a car.

Her chest rose and fell fast. Slowly he neared her, he kept his hands out and started slowly kneeling beside her. “It’s okay, Miss.” He placed one of his callused hands on her shoulder.

“It-it-it’s just a ta-tattoo.” She stuttered.

She was shaking so the man shushed her and lifted the sleeve of his motorcycle jacket. He had the same tattoo, but his date a month after hers. She stared at it in awe and then looked at the man.

He was young, couldn’t be much older than herself. He had medium length brown hair and a long face. “I’m Kellin.” He smiled; she guessed he was trying to make her feel more comfortable.

“My name is Anarisa, but you can call me Ana, or Ris, or Risa. you know what you can call me whatever you like, okay?” She stopped shaking.

“Okay, Ana, can we get up now? There is a thin man starring at us.” Ana followed his eyes to the door of the convenience store. Stephen stood tall.

Anarisa stood up and dusted the dirt off of her butt.

“I’ve uh, well, Kellin-,” She stumbled over her thoughts.

“I’ve never met another one either; yes I’d love to talk. Why don’t you meet me somewhere?”

Ana nodded. “Where?”

“Wherever you please.” He leaned on his bike, pulling the nozzle out.

“We could meet at the park?”

“Yeah, sure.” He replied tightening his fuel cap.

“Okay.”

He hopped onto his bike and put his helmet on, he lifted the visor. “Hey,”

“Yeah?” Ana turned around.

“Be careful, alright.”

“Well, it’s not like anything would happen if I wasn’t careful.”

He smirked and pushed his visor back down and revving away. She watched his wheels bounce on the cobblestones, and realized they never set a time to meet. She cursed under her breath.

“Stephen!” She yelled running into the store. “I’m taking supper break now!” She signed the sheet and ran after the motorbike.