The value of Time

Because everything has it's time

1- April 2nd (Friday)

What is it that really differentiates us from one another? Who was the first to impose that the
best measure of overall quality for each human being was to be defined by such arbitrary features as
our genetic history or the amount of useless information we can cram in out Gray cells over the shortest
period of time, or even the amount of energy and overall effort we put in the repetition of mundane
sequences of movements until we are deemed worthy of the title Expert, attributed to us by someone
else who already is recognized as such...? It's always entertaining to ask oneself such deep rhetorical
philosophical questions when doing uninspiring tasks. It helps maintain one's state of awareness. At
least it's the attitude that I so desperately try to impose on myself during our teamwork sessions, when I
obviously am the main topic of distraction for my colleagues, as thinly veiled as they can be.

The roles are reversed in the applied sciences class, which always gives me the impression that
one day, someone full of courage and foolishness will finally approach me to ask for some help. Alas,
waiting is all I can do. Society has decided a long time ago that I wasn't worthy of that courtesy from
another human who wasnt sharing my bloodline, or was in a life-or-death situation. At least I'll never
have money or romantic problems, I find myself thinking seldomly, trying desperately to grasp on a
silver lining in order to maintain some form of self-worth. My psychologist would be so proud of me if
he could read my thoughts. Or maybe not... I can't read his either.

And here we go, agitation starts to appear in my peripheral vision and people start collecting
their things. The fact that the class still has 5 minutes to go seems to not bother many of us. What a lazy
bunch! They all seem to suffer from acute ADHD. It's as if we weren't even the same species... Slowly
reconnecting with reality, as if awakened from an unfulfilling sleep, I started packing my things too,
just so I wouldn't raise any more unwanted attention. With a little luck, my teammates won't realize I
am withholding a heartfelt sigh. Once the classroom completed its emergency evacuation exercise
successfully, I started to make my way towards the door, when the actual bell rang the end of the class,
and the school day. If it was only for me, I would've kept my butt firmly placed in that chair behind me,
was I thinking while seeing Mr. Abbas was abridging his last lesson. I would've gladly stayed for a
little chat on the subject with him, in order to show him that some of us genuinely appreciate his
determination to infuse our young naive minds with his passion and enthusiasm. If only I wasn't such
lost cause when it came to interacting with others... There goes that word again, If.

From the doorway, I caught a glimpse of a young girl that I've never seen before. She was
ogling me with eerie interest and intrigue in her eyes. Feeling disrupted from my previous thoughts by
such a strong wave of sudden attention, I couldn't help but lower my gaze and walk straight ahead at an
accelerated pace. After all, such attitude coming from a stranger could not last. I'd better not entertain
such thoughts, was I thinking while aiming for the crowd. If only I could control my life in such a
fashion, was I thinking when I heard someone behind me say Mariana, is that you?

I couldn't say even now if it was courtesy, social conditioning or even pure reflexes that took
over me by surprise, yet I turned around and presented a star studded smile I never knew I had, coupled
with a gracious yes. I can still feel my ached facial muscles from that extraordinary strain. She was
approaching me slowly, as you would approach a wild rabbit deep into the woods. She was emanating
serenity and didn't seem controlled by her puberty hormones or a constant sugar rush like most girls
around the age I was estimating for her. On the contrary, everything about her presence made me think
of a gentle, calm and loving grandmother, with the body of an overgrown teenage girl. Yet who am I to
dictate such primary stereotypes to someone as odd and curious as me? How could she not be so. Birds
of a feather flock together, or so they say.

Hello! Mr. Abbas told me many great things about you the other day, when I asked him some
details on the molecular structure homework... Her voice was so soft and melodious, it felt like
waking up to the mating song of a Jay in April. As unexpected and pleasant as this person was, I
couldn't help but feel as if I was alone. Her speech patterns and turns of phrases were oddly similar to
mine, which immediately put me more at ease, while heightening my interest even more. If she
would've told me she was my step-sister, I wouldn't have doubted it a single second.

He was saying that we would both greatly gain from getting to know each other. My name is
Moira. Without a thought, and while still maintaining that painful Oscar-deserving smile, I stretched
my hand towards her. My lack of practice in social interactions must have started to show, since she
didn't notice my seemingly late gesture, before she turned around and started walking at a normal pace,
while still talking to me, confident that I would follow. Without looking back even once, she continued
talking about that discussion with our mutual acquaintance, elegantly simplifying the scientific laws
that our teacher was killing himself to present in an entertaining manner to a class of shortened
attention span uninterested kids who couldn't leave their ethereal and meaningless digital screens even
if their life depended on it. They didn't care about the way the world around them works even if it was
grossly oversimplified. Still pleasantly surprised by her attitude and equally intrigued, I followed her
like a little puppy would do with her new master. First towards the school exit, magically cutting off all
other sources of stimuli, then on the streets, right until we arrived at my door.

We're not far from my home now. By the way, do you live around here? she asked, fixating
me with eyes wide open filled with glee and happiness.

Oh... Eh... Right up those few stairs actually Still slightly disoriented. If she miraculously
didn't realize until now how cruelly I was lacking basic knowledge when it comes to social interaction
with people around her age, that probably nailed it.

Wonderful! I'm just across the corner, over there! I'm so happy to have met you Mariana. See
you soon! She yelled at me while still walking backwards towards her final destination. Then she
turned and started giggling like a girl who just got a text from that boy she really likes. She couldn't be
more of an adorable walking contradiction if she tried. I turned my head towards my door, and finally
got back to my oh-so precious routines. Everything's going to get back on track now, or so I hope.

2- April 5th (Monday)

Yes, Yes, I know. It doesn't follow... All I have to say in my defence, is that I'm so abnormal I
can't follow myself. Yet If you would actually know me, you'd embarrassingly laugh at such an
euphemism. How would you describe an unmarried woman in her 30's who becomes friends with a girl
most likely half her age, and who would most likely live her entire days in a library if only it was legal?
For the unbelievers who believe I over-dramatize and the hyper-tolerant all-loving and all-accepting
among you, I dare you to keep reading.
 Moira and I were, as you could probably imagine, soul-sisters. We met again in my favourite
section of my favourite place, the philosophy isle of the library. She was devouring a digest of Aristotle
speaking of Plato. Without her seeing me coming, I slowly sat next to her, as not to interrupt her
concentration. She moved closer to me, turning her gaze towards me, and softly whispered time is the
still image of the un-moving eternity. Her peaceful eyes fixating me, she continued: What does that
mean to you? delicately closing the book and turning completely to face me.

That time isn't a unit of measure, unless you have a time-related objective, that can made unreachable
by time itself? For once, I was proud of my reply. That was the type of question I was yearning to
hear.

A time-related objective as a form of measure... like what? she replied, impressed and intrigued by
my interpretation, putting up that oh-so-familiar pensive expression we shared.

... Like learning all I want to know before I can't physically do so anymore? And don't lecture me
about Socrates's Absolute truth theory, have mercy... I replied, feeling like I was having the time of my
life.

Ha-ha! No worries, I find him overtly pompous and self-righteous myself... But, what would you do
with all that knowledge when time will not only stop you from acquiring more, but also from taking
advantage of it? Or simply... Live? she whispered back after an endearing laugh.

It's hard to admit, but she left me with nothing to say. In a single phrase, she forced me to re-
evaluate my life goals. If you find that pitiful, you're on the right track. The only reason I wasn't afraid
of Death was because I never gave it the attention it rightfully deserved. It is inevitable, and much
closer for me than for others, yet I unconsciously left it to rot in a dark corner until now. All I could
think now were my choices and convictions in life, the decisions I took since I became aware of the
imminent finality of my journey among all of you. And as it has such a frustrating habit of doing, time
flew by without a notice, like he did for so many years before, and since I had no other goals that to
satisfy my insatiable hunger for knowledge, science, logic and the human condition, everything now
seems unattainable and futile.

The librarian passed in my field of view, and blurred my profound existential questioning-
riddled lucid dream. Looking to my right, I realized Moira had left. In fact, everyone felt besides and
Mr. Marquez, the dependable librarian. Knowing me all too well, he left me to my derivative
daydreams, knowing what it meant for me to be surrounded by the endless rows of valuable thoughts
and discoveries.

With a mind still heavy with troubling and rhetorical questions, I left the school mechanically
putting one foot in front of the other, while comparing my fate to Ouroboros's, the self-eating snake. It
was when I got to my house door that it finally hit me. Everyone around me seemed to be as freed from
the fear of their inevitable demise as I was until recently, but for a completely opposite reason. They
were too idiotic, too busy with their Carpe Diem and their insatiable obsession with social proof to
even rarely wander what next week will bring, let alone the next few years.

If by this point you still want to maintain that I am a perfectly normal person, I urge to get in
touch with my dad. He'll take very good care of you and will even give you a family price if you
mention my name in a positive way. He's that desperate to know me happy.
 April 6th (Tuesday)

Since I couldn't sleep a wink last night, all due to that mischievous little wasp who knew just
how to burst my thick oversized social bubble with a few well-spoken words and the right timing, I
took the road to work with a rare determination. Like a cataract suffering patient who just had her
bandages taken off by a most talented eye surgeon. I felt like I was seeing the world with new eyes.
Things were familiar, yet different. Not necessarily better, yet significantly clearer. But above all, one
thing had to happen now. I had to discover everything I could about Moira.

I've spent most of last night browsing the World Wide Web for the digital trail of this eclectic
sub-specimen that seemed too similar to me for it to be mere coincidence, without much success. I have
to admit and a simple first name is a thin lead to follow. My first goal was to question Mr. Abbas. If it
was my scientific inquisitive instinct or my newfound obsession with this lovable pesky little rascal
that no one seemed to know, I couldn't say, but obsession there definitely is. After all, one does not
simply intentionally provoke an existential crisis to an introverted intellectual socially awkward person
such as myself without expecting to be stalked and spied on like a true criminal right? Here I go trying
to justify myself to my unknown reader again, who will most likely be me. Oh dementia, why art thou
looming over me so...?

Continuing my uncanny luck of the last few days, I catch Mr. Abbas alone, in his classroom,
preparing for his next session.

Good morning Mr. Abbas, I won't bother you long...

On that subject, actually, I'm here about a certain... Moira? Hard to miss really. Very tall,
brown wavy hair, soft-spoken, most likely one your few other A students...

All of a sudden, Mr. Abbas stiffed up. His natural relaxed and joyful attitudes shifted into an air
of great anxiety. It looked as if he knew exactly who I was referring to, but felt very uncomfortable
about it. No other explanation could justify such a change of attitude, yet I trusted him to be open about
it. The answer that followed did not seem as honest as I had hoped.

Eh... I don't know any current student of mine who would match that description... Who told she
would be one of mine's?

But, I've met her last week, and she told me about your class on molecular structure, and that
experiment that you showed us with...

No, no, that's impossible... Look, here are my class presence sheets... No Moira here!

Maybe she has two first-names... I said, while glancing over the lists, and that's when I realized that
all the school registries were online, on the website.

That's Okay, thanks. I said to Mr. Abbas. Relieving him of what started to feel like a detective
interrogatory. Maintaining a more aggressive line of questions in a classroom about to start wasn't
going to end well anyway. Walking the corridor leading to the library, I was trying to make a mental
inventory of other leads. All I had left was that book and that her address was close to mine.
Time started passing way too fast for me to devote it to such a fruitless manhunt. So as much as I
wanted to clear my conscience about this whole affair, I went along with my day, leaving it in the back
of my mind and impatiently awaiting our next fortuitous meeting, since in my social clumsiness, I
never asked ask for her number.

4- April 10th (Saturday)

After a rough week filled with headaches and sleepless nights, I still hadn't made much progress
on that mysterious Moira individual. I was beginning to accept the theory that might simply be the
result of my own fertile imagination. Or perhaps a side-effect of my overall health state, or even a
remnant side-effect of one of those drugs that I keep getting prescribed so I don't go mad after the last
operation. Then again, that train of thought is only bringing me easy answers and more proofs then I
cared to accept that I'm becoming a schizoid, which obviously doesn't help me keep the morale up.
With great regret and sorrow, I had to give up school. I needed more free time to wander around the
endless book isles, and my classmates became too much for me to handle. I spend much more time
doing what I really love now, and every day too. I'm still hoping she'll pop up on a chair I haven't
noticed or on the floor, next to a pile of books, in vain.

Continuing my routines who kept me grounded in reality, I drove to the hospital this afternoon.
Once again, I was summoned to most likely hear that another operation had to be scheduled, even if the
last one was a flawless success, which will certainly be followed by another... And another. I'm so tired
of hearing how much my tenacity and my will to fight is a great example for all other patients, yet at
the same time, nothing else can express my gratitude for their flexibility to let me live outside their
walls, for how long I have left.

While parking in front of the main entrance of the hospital, an uncontrollable shiver crossed my
spine, thinking about what it felt like the last time I came here, and was most likely expecting me once
again. Yet nothing in the world would have made me guess who would greet me in front of the
entrance. She was staring at me from afar, showing a radiant and inviting smile, beaming with warmth
and kindness like only a nurturing nurse could...

Moira, you're working here? I asked nonchalantly, trying to hide my surprise and frustrations
Marianna! Yes, I was on break, but I have to get back in shortly... I'm happy to see you again
she said, while slowly walking towards the middle of the entrance doors, accompanying me to the
doctor's office.
Oh, I see, I was wondering how come I didn't see you at school anymore
It really isn't easy dealing with both at once. I follow the classes... as much as I can. But my
work here has much more value in my eyes, so those shifts always take priority. Well, I have to go, lets
meet again soon okay?

And just as she appeared, she made her way into the Triage crowd like a baby deer galloping
away frightened by the crack of a broken branch. Trying my hardest to fixate on the last spot I saw her,
I was going back through all my memories of her, which became fuzzier every time I tried to invoke
them. And as is now the usual, seconds became minutes, and yet I was standing there lost in thought.
The doctor was the one who brought me back to reality this time, and he invited me to his office.
 5- April 10th (Marianna & Mr. Valero's Session)

Marianna came to me for a therapy session, following her last doctor follow-up meeting. She
handed me a makeshift diary of recent events she wanted to discuss with me, which I shall include
before this session's notes. Once I had completed a diagonal read of her notes, I addressed the patient.

And now we come more or less to the present, correct? I asked the patient, putting the diary
on the table next to her and channelling all my attention towards the young woman, clearly troubled,
shaken, disoriented and under the influence of antibiotics and painkillers.

Yes, I've described all that I could remember after the events, in the best detail I could muster.
You'll have to forgive my ramblings and botched attempts at self-diagnosis... It's my coping mechanism
I guess. she replied hesitantly, eyeballing her diary with shame.

Thank you very much Marianna. I appreciate the effort you took to verbalize your experience,
and I'm very honoured that you trust me with something so personal. It goes without say that all of this
will remain among us, unless you wish me to reach out to some of my colleagues in order to find her,
while keeping everything anonymous. In any case I assure you that we'll untangle all of this together in
no time.

I couldn't help but think about certain parts of her story. As textbook-y as it might look to an
outsider, this kind of schizoid episodes were totally out of character for the patient. Albeit the radical
change in her psyche, my knowledge of the patient would not lead me to believe in the beginning of a
mental instability that had a serious chance of becoming permanent. On the contrary, my theory is that
once she realized the perenity of her life, it forced a sudden projection of her loneliness which took the
shape on an ideal self-image. Seeing her starting the squirm on her chair, frightened by my
interpretation of her current state of mind, I felt the urge to reassure her.

Don't worry, I don't think you're delirious... I am very proud of the exceptional progress you've
made into returning to your normal life, considering the circumstances. Although you've decided to
leave school, I can see your determination to pursue your real passions, which is very encouraging.
Never doubt my faith in your resilience to get through any hurdle life puts you though. I see patients
losing the will to live a normal life every day, and then I think you. You're much too stubborn to give
up aren't you? I said with an encouraging smile.

Very well then. Let's start with her job. Is she really working here? Can you get your hands on
the nurse registry? Will you...?

Yes! It'll be my first act tomorrow morning. We can get in touch next Saturday. I invite you to keep
track of any new encounter with her or anything else you consider noteworthy and share-worthy. And if
things become unbearable... give me a call.

Thanks... Dad

That title took me surprise, and I did hesitate to include it. On the other hand, if you are reading this, it
means I trust you will look beyond the family ties.

Please, use my name. I wouldn't want others to know I treat my own daughter. It looks bad, you
know...
 She lowered her head in shame and mumbled an apology. Frightened that I was too harsh on an
overtly fragile person... But mostly because I love my daughter... I took her in my arms and consoled
her. I could feel her brittle body slightly shiver. Human contact must have been just what she needed.
She left my office with a tired pace, trying her best not to look like a walking corpse. We can talk all
day about how amazing modern medicine is, but those painkillers and also very efficient feeling killers.

6- April 11th (Sunday)

Today was a much easier day than my new usual. And it's mostly because I've once again met
the new ethereal joy of my life, Moira. Sitting in my favourite spot, in deep concentration over some
writing of Plato. Like last time, I sat next to her and she started putting away the book before I could
say Hi. The essential in not to live, but to live well. What does that mean to you, Marianna?

Quality over quantity? I replied without thought as if she gave me a mental math problem.

Of course... But for you, for Marianna, what does it mean? She said with a chuckle followed
by a faint smile. She was gazing right into my eyes, trying to read my thoughts.

I don't know... the last time, you made me rethink my whole life, at least what's left of it. I
replied after a few moments of hesitation. I still wasn't used to exposing myself as such.

I know how Ill you are my dear. Do you honestly believe that throwing yourself headfirst into
the deepest sources of thought-provoking knowledge and philosophy will make a difference? She
continued with a smoother imploring tone.

How did you?!?

Once again, her words left me more perplexed than resolved, and just as much at a loss for
words. Her true identity still remained an unsolvable enigma, but I started to think it was in my best
interest this way. Okay, its no secret to anyone that I'm not exactly as ecstatic as a bee in a tulip field,
but to know how bad my real state is, was disturbing. Oh, do i really have to mention it? Yes, I
remained motionless there until Mr. Marquez stopped right in my field of view, with a knowing smile.
What followed was an extensive research through way too many philosophical theories about the true
meaning of life and none I could comfortably adopt as my own. And of course, once I finally found my
answer, Moira wasn't around anymore, and I was too shy to ask Mr. Marquez about her. It was still the
middle of the day after all, what were the odds. My rational side made up the excuse that she had a shift
incoming and wanted to leave me in my research. And to think I finally found the killer reply. It's a bad
pun I concur. But... Oh well, so much for that! Never mind!

...

YES! That's right! You read well. If I can't control it, then NEVER-MIND!!!
 7- April 13th (I don't care...)

I'm taking a few minutes to follow up on what became a cruel joke of a therapy tool, just so you
don't feel guilty, dad. As you know, I'm in the observation room at the hospital and I'm doing fine. More
precisely, I'm still breathing, I haven't lost control of my body or my mind, from what I can tell, but I
feel like a caged bird. You'd be ecstatic to know that I won't go back home, to class or the library. In
fact It would be just to say that I don't want to. I just don't see the use anymore. I don't know if I'm one
day going to see the world past the parking lot outside the window next to my bed, but I keep
desperately holding on one thought. I don't want you to feel accountable for any of this mess that has
been my life lately.

Moira came to visit me last night. I'm still wandering how she did actually since... Oh well. She
told me it was very important for her to see me, and that she missed me. We talked about everything...
and nothing. She also told me that you botched-up my name and I you should've named me Mina. And
I agree, it's excruciatingly adorable! For once, she stayed more than a few seconds. She spoke to me
like a sister, and listened with the patience of an angel to my ramblings about society, distribution of
wealth, social recognition and all that nonsense I held so dear to me a few days ago. She promised me
no more psycho-babble preaching sessions, no more 1 million dollars questions. Now is the time for
jokes on psychologists and tender words. I miss her already... Ah that little scoundrel! She's
infuriatingly lovable.

Moira, whether she's real or a pure creation of my latent subconscious who short-circuited my
conscious mind as a result of the trauma that my illness might have caused me, or however you'll
choose to diagnose me, allowed me make peace with the ultimate challenge I will have to face. As a
father, you've done more than I could have ever asked of any parent. Never doubt my unconditional
love and eternal gratitude for you. Anyways, enough doom and gloom for now. Simply remember that I
finally understand, and I wish you would understand too... Better late than never!

***

8- Marianna file Note from Mr. Valero

For the comprehension of the reader, I feel obliged to add a conclusion to this file. Marianna
Valero was born of Gina Pagano, Nurse at the General Hospital of Heroica, Veracruz and Rocco Valero.
Following pregnancy complications, Gina had left us prematurely.... But my precious little Mina was
miraculously born two months premature. Gina insisted on that name, but I didn't want to drag the
memory of her gone mother with us, so I decided to name her Marianna. She never heard anything
about her mother, and I did my best to raise her on my own. Marianna was diagnosed with phase 2
leukemia January 6th of this year, and has left us on April 14th, by cause of a post-op cerebral
haemorrhage.

I'm including within this file all the professional consulting notes that I have... Because I came
to the realisation that I will need outside help to accept this situation.

No parent should bury his child... There can't be any greater injustice!
 My darling Mina, your story has ended. You lived a fulfilled life, one that I always felt I've stole
from fate. I'm resting on the thought that you'll have a blast getting to know our dear Gina. You can call
her Moira if you prefer... Or mom. I'm sure she can hardly contain the joy of finally having you besides
her and not needing to hide her true nature. After all this time, it's her turn to cherish your presence,
your wisdom, your determination. Your time with me has ended, and I shall strive to apply the lessons
you instilled me with, my child. Until we meet again,

~ The End ~