Analog SFF, March 2006 by Dell Magazine Authors

Author:Dell Magazine Authors
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Publisher: Dell Magazines
Published: 2010-12-15T07:07:22.569000+00:00

* * *

Wasting Time

by Grey Rollins

* * * *

There are things we'd all like to be able to do, even if it required finding a loophole in the laws of nature. But you can't do just one thing....

* * * *

hristopher Arken quietly closed his office door behind Tammy. Although he would never say it out loud, it was clear that Ms. Odom wasn't going to do well in his introductory physics class. The semester was only six weeks old and she was already hopelessly lost. He had to give her credit, though, she was still trying. Most students in her position adopted a defeatist attitude and began skipping class rather than face the seemingly impossible task of catching up.

As he slid back into the chair behind his desk, he caught sight of the spider plant on the windowsill. It looked pretty bad. Sighing, he leaned towards the plant and probed the soil with his fingertip. Dry. He pushed himself to his feet, reaching for the plastic pitcher he kept on top of a filing cabinet. Not much water in it, but he went ahead and poured what remained onto the parched soil, watching it pool on the surface before soaking in.

Arken didn't really like the plant, but it was a gift from the departmental secretary, intended to cheer him up after the sudden death of his wife five months previously. Why women always wanted to give plants was a mystery to him. From his point of view, the damned thing was a burden to care for and a continual reminder of what he had lost. Still, he couldn't bring himself to let it die through neglect. He went to refill the pitcher in the bathroom down the hall.

It was the chartreuse sheet of paper taped to the door of the bathroom that reminded him that he had refilled the pitcher just that morning. He distinctly remembered seeing the flyer advertising a band he'd never heard of playing at a local bar. The band's name, Five O'clock Shadow, had struck him as incongruous at seven thirty in the morning and ... oh, never mind, the pitcher was empty and that was that.

Stuck in traffic on the way home an hour later, it came to him that the pitcher held a quart and he knew for a fact that he'd used less than a fourth of it after filling it that morning, leaving ... what, twenty-four, twenty-five ounces or so? Round that down to twenty, just to be on the safe side. Yet that same afternoon there had been only two or three ounces remaining.

He frowned. Call it eighteen ounces of water evaporating in one day—less than a day—six hours, tops. Must be some pretty dry air in his office to empty the pitcher that rapidly. No wonder the poor spider plant looked so bad.

* * * *

The next morning, he was hailed as he was unlocking the door to his office. “Hey, Chris!”

Arken pushed the door open and reached inside to toss his briefcase on the visitor's chair before turning.

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