Just one minute

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No time like the present

I had 50 seconds left on the clock to save myself and the surrounding city block. My heart was pounding with the thrill of these final seconds. And just like every time before, that same old quiet question tempted me again, like a high school crush offering drugs you’ve never tried before. What if I just… didn’t diffuse the bomb?

I looked up through my thick visor, to my bomb squad team standing alert on the other side of the basement car park. I could hardly make them out for the distance, but I knew they were watching nervously through binoculars and cameras. No doubt they were shitting themselves. Fair enough, really, they didn’t know what I knew.

I thrust out a thumb’s up and grinned, relishing in the knowledge that my attempt at humour would only serve to escalate their alarm. I would have chuckled out loud if not for the microphone capturing every sound I made. Best not to get caught up in too much unprofessional bravado. I looked back down at the mess of wires and the small countdown window plastered over the top. 41 seconds to go.

Even after all these years in the job, I felt strangely isolated being so far away from my squad. I was hunched over a device nestled in the boot of a small sedan. It was hard to move with the bulky bomb suit encasing my body and making me sweat like nobody’s business. And I always hated how loud my breathing was inside the helmet. On top of that, the lighting was terrible in the underground carpark. None of the conditions were ideal and I was struggling to figure out how to diffuse this bomb.

Alright, I thought. My assessment is that there are two ways this thing could go, and I can’t know for sure without just guessing. It’s 50/50.

28 seconds.

There are lives beyond your own at stake, I thought to myself. They deserve to live, even if you don’t care about your own life. Just do it.

“Okay. I’m doing it.” I reiterated out loud.

20 seconds.

I cut the red wire.

Now, I have seen bombs explode in my face many times before, but still, these first seconds were fascinating and beautiful. An almost imperceptible click, and then, from the corner of my eye, I saw brightness emanating from the box attached to the device with all the wires. The force of the explosion lifted me off my feet and pushed me away, away from all the bits I had been inspecting for a way out. The blast expanded rapidly and I inhaled sharply, wondering if this time I would just let it run its course…

Instead, I squeezed my eyes shut and stopped time.

Slowly exhaling, I pushed time back by 60 seconds. The brightness shrank back into the car boot and, I imagined, the look of terror on my colleague’s faces went back to the standard anxiety one might feel when they potentially have only 1 minute and 15 seconds to live. It was a subtle difference. I held my breath for just a moment as time stopped reversing and began going forward again like normal.

This time, I cut the blue wire.

This time, the bomb did not go off.

There was a pause filled with utter silence as I stood up straight, smiling at my squad, before most of them leapt into cheers of relief.

“Fuck me, Jacob!” Kieran, my senior, called out. “You really like going down to the final seconds!”

I was very good at what I did. I had the advantage over my colleagues of being able to learn from countless mistakes because I could simply reverse each and every one of them. But even so, there was something about going down to the last second… Wondering each time if that was the day that I would choose oblivion. One day, I thought hopefully, people around me will be at a safe enough distance and I will truly learn whether or not I am capable of actually letting one of these things go off in my face, enveloping me in sweet nothing. One day I might be able to see beyond what happens after those 60 seconds of seductive near-death.

Home is where the heart is

I lit a cigarette as I stepped out of the cab, my steps dragging as I walked toward the entrance of the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre. Not for the first time, I hoped a car would come out of nowhere and take me out as I crossed the road. And, not for the first time, I made it safely to the other side as I slowly sucked on the cigarette, pulling what felt like pure energy into my lungs. I held it there for an imperceptible moment, then watched the white haze as I exhaled it from my lungs. I loved it. Every poisonous second. But… I had made a promise. So, 60 seconds of blissful puffing later, I squeezed my eyes and went back. Instead of putting the tiny stick between my lips, I put it back into my effectively never-ending packet and safely crossed the road once again.

Just as I was about to enter the hospital, I got a call from Rebekah. “Hey babe.” I couldn’t sense any affection in her voice to match the words. “How are you?”

“Pretty good. Saved a city block from annihilation today, so can’t complain.” I laughed, but she didn’t. “How about you?”

“I just knocked off work.” She replied. “So, listen, I think we said we were going to catch up tonight, but do you mind if we raincheck? I’m spent and just want to chill. Is that cool?”

I squeezed my eyes.

“Hey babe, how are you?” Rebekah said, just as flatly as before.

“Hey! Great to hear from you! Can’t wait to catch up tonight.” I tried this time.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I just knocked off work and I’m thinking that I just want to chill. Do you mind if we raincheck? Is that cool?”

I wondered what she meant when she said that she was ‘thinking’ that she wanted to chill, like she hadn’t quite made up her mind. Was she not sure? Did that even mean anything? Was there a universe where she would want to hang out with me more than once every couple of weeks? It felt like I was always driving the whole relationship. Based on the last few months of our dating, I knew that she would never offer another day to raincheck to, it would just be left open until I suggested another date and time. I was genuinely surprised that she had even remembered that we had made plans for that night.

I squeezed my eyes again.

“Hey babe, how are you?” Rebekah unknowingly echoed.

“Yeah, I’m cool, but I’ve had a bit of a day? I know we said we would hang, but do you mind if we hold off?”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I hope you’re okay. Totally, let’s catch up another time. See ya!” She hung up. I loved how independent she was, but this just felt aloof and I was a bit over it. As it turns out, no amount of 60 second re-runs can make a person be into you if they just don’t feel it.

I sighed and made my way to the hospital elevator and through various corridors, waving or nodding to the nurses I recognised as I went. Haleema, one of my favourites, was standing in the hall outside my mother’s ward and motioned me over when she saw me.

“I’m so glad you made it in today, Jacob.” she said in a lower-than-normal tone. “I tried to call but I couldn’t get through. Look, I don’t know for sure, but Alice’s results don’t look good right now. I think… I just want you to make the most of your time with your mum this evening, okay? Tonight is probably the night.”

I looked at Haleema for what felt like an eternity, my mind simultaneously blank and whirring chaos. I was normally very good at knowing exactly how long 60 seconds lasts, but in that instant, I couldn’t have guessed how long I stared at her. I knew this day was coming, but it still hit me harder than a bomb exploding in my face. “Tonight?” Was all I could finally manage.

“Yes, love.” she said softly. “It might not happen, but let’s just play it safe and enjoy the moment.” She squeezed my upper arm, smiled and walked away.

I turned back to the ward and saw my mother’s eyes opening weakly. She looked like shit. “Hey, mum.” I said, walking over and sitting down next to her in an empty chair.

“Jacob.” Her smile was weak, but somehow the same as it had always been to me. “My beautiful boy. Tell me how you are.”

Over and over and over, I squeezed my eyes and re-lived minute after minute. I had already talked to my mother so much over the years, particularly after her diagnosis. There were no burning questions left unanswered, this was just about spending precious moments with her.

“Hey…” Alice put her hand on mine at one point, interrupting a conversation we were having about a time when I had been stung by a bee on my arse as a kid sitting in a park. I had lost track of how long I had been there, though the clock on the wall said only about an hour or so had passed. “You look exhausted. You can’t stop the inevitable, you know that.” Her eyes were full of love-worry.

“I know.” I sighed, feeling the weight of the moment. She understood what I was doing – she was one of three people in the world who knew what I could do.

“No doubt I have said more to you than a son ever needs to hear from their mother.” she said with a wry smile. This was a reference to an old joke between us which she had said to me more times than I could count, but this time it triggered something in the back of my throat. Tears welled in my eyes. Would we share this joke again? Mum wiped her cheeks and pulled me close, letting me sob quietly into the thin blanket draped over her while she slowly stroked my hair. I felt safe, loved and full. I felt full of intense emotions. Like sea water from a cyclone pushing up against a sandbag wall, threatening to force its way through so that it could unleash chaos and ruin. I felt sorrow, rage, denial, love, loss and like something immense was being broken. The sandbags held, though, and my tears were like the water seeping through the gaps.

I opened my eyes when I realised that she had stopped moving. I lingered for a time in her embrace, as though my stillness could somehow inspire life to come back to her, for the cancer to miraculously go away at this last hour. It didn’t. I cautiously drew back and saw that her breathing was shallow and light. “I just need to close my eyes.” She breathed out, still holding my hand.

The 60 seconds following her passing could have been filled with agonising attempts to revive her, to make her last longer. But it honestly never occurred to me. To say it broke my heart to let that minute lapse would be a gross understatement, but I knew that we were both as ready as we would ever be.

No amount of 60 second re-runs could halt death. No more than could be used to inspire romantic feelings in another person.

When time no longer matters

“Mate…” Hamish marvelled suspiciously as I sunk the black eight ball, winning me our game of pool. “You had better not have re-wound on me so that you could win this game!”

“I promise, I wouldn’t do that to you!” I protested, laughing. I had, in fact, re-wound many games with Hamish in the past, but I stopped years ago when I realised that winning wasn’t as much fun as just spending authentic time with my best mate. We handed the pool cues to two women waiting to play, then sat down at a nearby high table to keep working on our drinks.

“So, one week until it would have been Alice’s birthday… How you doing?” Hamish asked.

“Rough, I’m not going to lie.” I took a quick drink, not quite sure if my next statement was truly what I meant. “But I know she would hate for me to dwell.”

“She would. She was worried about you.” Hamish and I had been friends since we were teenagers, and he and mum had bonded over a shared concern for my state of mind over the years. I guess I had never been particularly happy growing up. The bomb disposal job had helped me find meaning, but mum’s diagnosis had tipped me over into a new kind of dark for a while there. I was honestly surprised to have made it this long without her after her death.

“I know, I just wish this re-wind thing helped with shit like this, you know?”

“Like love, death, taxes and all that?” We both laughed a little too loudly, maybe from too much beer or maybe from too much emotional talk. “Whatever happened to that Rebekah chick?”

“Yeah, she was super cool, but it wasn’t going to work. She just wasn’t into it.”

“Sucks.” Hamish paused. “I wish I knew what Alice would say right now. I know you couldn’t help your mum much… But you save lives all the time. Like, lots of lives. From horrible, fiery deaths.” Hamish chinked my glass with his. “That shit is not small, my friend.”

I couldn’t help but smile. His words didn’t help a lot, but how much Hamish cared, how close we were, and, admittedly, how warm and fuzzy the beer was making me feel – all of that together made a difference. “You’re right.” I chinked Hamish’s glass back and took another drink to affirm my agreement.

“You know what you need? Pussy.” He winked at me with this last word, then looked around the bar. “We need to find you a nice distraction.”

“Hah! Don’t be a dick.”

“I know, I know, I don’t mean it. But I’m serious, you deserve love and shit.”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that.” I tried to think of something else to talk about, a way to change the topic. “Another round?”

But I was too slow, Hamish had set his eyes on the women playing pool. He looked at me, then pointedly back at the women, then raised an eyebrow at me again in a suggestive way. We must have looked like a terrible skit show to anyone sober and bored enough to have looked on. “What about them?” He suggested.

“Hamish, leave it, let’s just have a good time.”

“Listen, you need to do this differently.” Hamish said, suddenly earnest. “You need to be genuine. No re-wind shit with them.”

“I’ve tried that.”

“Not for years, you haven’t, and you know it.”

I didn’t have anything to say in response. He was right, but I didn’t see the point in trying again.

“Just give it a go. Tonight. For me…” Hamish paused, ostensibly giving me a small window to back out, but I had barely taken a breath before he grinned and stood up. “Let’s do it.”

“Alright, let’s go and talk to them after I get this next round, but I’m not promising anything.”

Over the next few hours, we learnt that Nicola and Oriana were friends from Italy who met while studying at university in the US before Oriana had moved here to Melbourne. Nicola was visiting and, as she proclaimed after several glasses of red: “I must save my dear friend from her workaholic life! Those American capitalists made her a monster. Now she has no time to be beautiful and enjoy the world. Look how skinny she is!”

After this comment, I felt like I could imagine why Nicola had been all too ready to welcome Hamish when he and his handsome grin had sidled up to the women. And as the evening progressed and the drinks flowed, Hamish and Nicola’s scheming became more and more overt. They would go to the bar together to get drinks, then linger and watch us, giggling like high schoolers in on a scandalous secret. Nicola would gesture at some part of my physical appearance, commenting how attractive it was, then follow up loudly “Wouldn’t you agree, Ori?” Hamish was only slightly less blunt, with his drunken winks at me and nods towards Oriana when he thought the two women couldn’t see him.

But I didn’t care what Nicola and Hamish were doing. Despite myself, I was captivated by Oriana. I wanted to learn more about her and just be near her at every opportunity. She was stunning, to be sure, but it was what she had to say that I found compelling. She was smart and insightful, and while she was nowhere near as boisterous as Nicola, she was not shy about voicing her opinions. She lamented Italian politics, drawing parallels and comparisons with Australia that I hadn’t considered. I wasn’t so much into current affairs, usually preferring to stick to my history books, but she made it interesting. I wished I could be half as fascinating and passionate as her.

At one point in the evening, I heard Hamish talking to Nicola, clearly assuming that I was out of ear shot. “I haven’t seen him laugh this much in a long time.” He said as they stood at one end of the pool table.

“No? What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing!” Hamish back-tracked and Nicola looked at him doubtfully.

“Right…” She said after a pointed pause, laughing. “I’m only kidding, he seems nice. And Oriana, she isn’t perfect, either. I love that sexy woman, but she is the clumsiest person I have ever known. It is a miracle she hasn’t injured herself already tonight!”

“Hey!” Oriana shouted, overhearing Nicola. “I’m not so bad!”

“Woman…” Nicola laughed. “You are a walking disaster!”

Oriana looked at me, a mixture of confusion, concern and amusement written all over her face. Did I see her blush? “Okay, it’s a little bit true, I will say this…”

“How bad are we talking?” Hamish asked.

Oriana looked at Nicola and paused before answering, almost defiantly. “They knew me by my name at St Vincent’s hospital three months after I moved here.”

“Shiiiiiit!” Hamish laughed.

Love is where the heart is

It wasn’t until I was with Oriana in the emergency department for the third time four months later that I realised how true Nicola’s words had been that night. In those months, I estimated that I had legitimately saved Oriana’s life from some stupid accident by turning back time at least three times. The thing was, I couldn’t be with her every minute of every day, so she still managed to end up in some catastrophe or other. This time, she had crashed her bike. Doctors said she would be fine, that she would be discharged later that day, but she had a nasty broken arm.

Sitting next to Oriana in the ED that third time was also the moment I realised that I loved her more than I had ever loved anyone. Hamish had implored that I not re-wind time with Oriana, but I had ignored him. Not because I was trying to fix regrets. I didn’t re-wind time just to prevent injuries or to be better at getting her to like me. No, with Oriana it was different. With Oriana, I found myself re-winding precious moments just so that I could enjoy them again. The delight she expressed when we stumbled on a street market. The time she snorted lemonade out her nose while laughing. How engaged she had been when I excitedly told her about a book I was reading. And maybe one or two turns between the sheets… We had been together for four months, but for me it was longer. I felt like I could be myself with her, even in my dark days.

I loved her. And I knew she loved me. She said that she loved that we could talk endlessly about anything, that she could maintain her independence and that I shared her passion for food. I envied her energy and lust for life – at times I found myself relying on it in place of my own lack of interest for living. How was she able to see so much pain and disappointment in the world, yet still fight for things to be better? Still want to keep living each day? She said that I calmed her and made her feel grounded. When she told me this for the first time, I worried that I might be dragging her down, but I also felt like I had been given the biggest compliment I had ever received.

I might add that she frequently highlighted, in satisfyingly graphic ways, how good she thought the sex was. I enthusiastically agreed.

In the ED, I listened as Oriana told me what the doctors had said about her prognosis. I cared about what she was saying, but I found myself completely distracted and overwhelmed by my feelings towards her.

“Cuore mio,” Oriana said, stopping her awkward efforts to pack up her things one-handed so that she could look at me. “Are you alright? Your face, it has a funny look.”

“Ori…” I didn’t quite know what to say. “I just really love you. Like, I’m in love with you.” I felt like a teenager.

Oriana smiled and held my hand. I loved it when she held my hand. “I love you, too. I’m in love with you, too. I’m sorry, I must have scared you with this. I tell you, three times in four months is good for me!” We both laughed.

“I know, I know. I just wish I could help you more.” And in that moment, I meant the words in a way I had never meant anything before. My heart unexpectedly leapt with earnestness. I wished that I could give her my re-wind ability. I didn’t need it. The only thing it helped me with was my job, and, frankly, I rarely used it for that lately anyway. I squeezed Oriana’s hand and leant in to kiss her, this fervent wish still weighing in my mind.

As soon as our lips touched, time froze.

Not in the romantic sense, it simply stopped. I hadn’t tried to re-wind time, but somehow Oriana and I were locked in our kiss. My chest felt like it was going to explode and I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t experienced this before!

An instant later, time kept going.

We simultaneously pulled back from each other, eyes wide.

“What was this?!” Oriana gasped.

“What happened?” Nobody had ever noticed when I re-wound time before, so I assumed she was talking about something else.

“Everything…” Oriana looked around the hospital room, mouth open and eyes darting about as though she might somehow find an answer among the white sheets and medical devices. She brought her intense gaze back to me and continued in a hushed tone. “Time… It stopped. It stopped and then it went backwards. You said you loved me and that you wished you could help me two times.”

I was speechless.

Oriana started to back-track. “This is crazy, it’s nothing… It must be déjà vu. Shock or something like that.” But she didn’t sound convinced and she looked scared.

I squeezed my eyes.

Nothing.

I opened my eyes and Oriana was still there, holding back tears.

I squeezed my eyes again, and… Nothing happened.

A wave of excited realisation washed over me. Was it possible? Could it be?

“Ori…” I said softly, and I could feel the smile infect my whole face. I don’t think I had ever been as happy before as I was in that moment, knowing that my wish might have come true. “I believe you. I believe that time stopped and then went backwards for just one minute.”

Oriana stared at me, hungry for answers.

“It’s yours now.”

At last

I was hunched over another IED. Global affairs of late meant we were in high demand. This time, it was a radicalised loner who had been arrested on a remote farm before he could execute his plans for destruction. He had, however, left behind a sizeable booby-trap. Forensics were keen to ensure it didn’t blow up in their faces, or destroy critical evidence – these pre-crime trials were still murky legal waters to navigate.

As always, my squad and Kieran were standing at some distance, anxiously watching as I worked. I looked at the device and, for the first time since the underground carpark, for the first time in years, I wasn’t sure what to do. The electrics mixed with farm chemicals had been hastily put together, so it was chaotic just to look at. Okay, I thought to myself. Let’s think this through, nice and calm.

“You got this.” Kieran said over the radio and into my headset.

“Mate, it’s a bit messy.” I had a sudden craving for a cigarette. “Claire found any new intel on her lead?”

“You’ll be the first to know if she gets anything.”

“Yup.”

I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, then tugged the black lead from its socket. A tiny green light turned on and my gut pulled itself into a small ball, as though it could recoil and hide from my error.

“Jacob?” Kieran’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky. “What was that? Sensors read that a signal or something got out?”

“Yeah… pretty sure I just triggered an alert. I guess that confirms that the guy was working as part of a cell. They know we’re here.”

“Fuck.” Came the quiet response. “Okay, clock is ticking, but you’ve got this.” As though saying so would make it true.

It wasn’t uncommon for cells like this one to have a back-up option, a signal to someone else in the cell who would remotely trigger the device to explode. Gregor would be working to trace the signal. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my squad suddenly in a flurry. “Jacob.” Kieran’s voice was in the headset again. “Claire’s intel is… You don’t have time.”

“Thanks, mate.” I said quietly. Kieran didn’t exaggerate. What he meant when he said this was that I didn’t have time to make a run for it, that I needed to diffuse this thing or cut off its connection within seconds.

Instead of longing for my ability to re-wind, I felt strangely liberated. It dawned on me that I was in the open, that no civilians were at risk and that my squad was safe. Ori knew that I loved her. I think she had come to terms with my ambivalence towards life. She and Hamish would be sad, sure, but that’s life, right? I had no regrets. Rather than lament my lost ability, I felt a growing excitement in me. It was a feeling that reminded me of the day my re-wind ability had somehow transferred to Ori, resulting in her being able to reverse numerous potentially crippling injuries over the years since then (and two almost-certain fatalities). Ori was safe.

I looked down at the device. I had a hunch about what might diffuse it, but I wasn’t sure.

And I just couldn’t get past the feeling of how liberated from all of this I could finally be…

“Jacob?” Kieran prompted.

I cut the red wire.