Lost and Found for Watches, Clocks, and Hours

Maxim and I are friends from school, though cut from different cloth. He is a leader, a commander of hikes and teams. I am not. I am used to being responsible only for myself. I don’t carry a magic wand, and I can’t guarantee success for others. Responsibility for anyone beyond me has never appealed.

We are different in other ways too. The doors of his apartment are always open, with a dozen or more people gathered inside — soccer games, arguments, or no reason at all. My door stays closed. I prefer visitors one by one, never crowds.

But his garage is another matter. It is no ordinary garage, but a laboratory cluttered with devices and strange experiments. Almost no one is allowed inside. One evening, though, Maxim waved me in. His eyes gleamed.

“I’ve discovered the two-dimensionality of time,” he announced. “Listen.”

He sketched invisible diagrams in the air.
“Imagine a system, its state a single point in space. Add one more axis — time — and you have its phase space. The system’s life is a trajectory, a curved line winding through that space. From any point, many paths branch forward. Each is a possible future.

“But just as trajectories spread, they can also converge. Verbesserung! We may choose not only another future, but also another past.”

I frowned. “An example?”

“Simple. You could come here from the underground station either by bus or on foot. Whichever path, you arrived. Those pasts are now indistinguishable. You may choose either of them. And so with the future.”

I was still unconvinced. “And the two-dimensionality?”

Maxim leaned closer, voice lowering, as though revealing a secret.
“Time isn’t a single line. It is layered. Picture a river: on the surface drift leaves, sticks, boats — the moments and minutes of daily life. Beneath runs a slower, deeper current that reshapes the whole course. To change anything, we must move in that second time, the current beneath the current.”

He pointed at a curious device on his workbench — wires, coils, a small switch.
“I’ve composed a spell for it. When I say Verbesserung! and press this button, the layers shift. Years, life-stages, destinies can be re-threaded.”

He fixed me with his commander’s gaze.
“I can change your life. Do you want that?”

“Of course,” I admitted. “Who wouldn’t?”

“What shall we change?”

“What can be changed?”

“Everything.”

“Then let’s change everything.”

“Good,” Maxim said, satisfied. “Tell me — what does your life look like?”

“Like a swamp,” I sighed.

He smiled faintly. “Then surely there are a few frogs in that swamp.”

“Yes,” I said. “Ample amount.”

‘Now tell me about the first frog.’

Frog One

“In preschool, I was fond of fairy tales — and, of course, girls too. I was especially fascinated by one fairy tale about how Ivan the Fool kisses the frog and she turns into a princess; and also by one girl. She wasn’t the most popular. Other boys didn’t pay any attention to her at all. But for some reason, I thought that if I kissed her, she would definitely turn into a princess. Said and done. I would be Ivan the Fool, and she would be my frog princess.
So one day our group came back from a walk and started changing clothes in the cloakroom. We only had to take off our outerwear and street shoes. Everyone had already changed except for Frog. She was fiddling with her boots for a long time. When everyone left, including the teachers, Frog was still sitting on the bench next to her locker wearing only one boot. I approached from the front, bent down, and brought my head close to her face. Then I gently and carefully kissed her lips. They were unpleasantly dry. It seemed like she didn’t understand what had happened at all. I repeated it, more energetically. No effect. I expected the girl to suddenly become much prettier — if not immediately, then at least by the next day. But the miracle didn’t happen; the girl did not turn into a princess.”
‘Incorrect. Verbesserung! The girl became very pretty the following year. She became the most beautiful girl in the first grade, and all the boys wanted to be friends with her. But she didn’t become happier because of that. Having many suitors is also bad. They just show off in front of each other. The girl rejected them all but maintained a good relationship with you. That’s your story. Now tell me about the second frog.’

Frog Two

“To become a queen, Frog Two didn’t even bother to turn into a princess. In our class, there were far fewer girls than boys. So each boy automatically got drawn into someone’s entourage. My friends and I got pulled into Frog’s circle. We all had to admire her, show her attention, and compete head-to-head for her favor. We wrote her notes, walked her to and from school, entertained her during lessons, breaks, and birthdays.
Everyone was better at some things and worse at others. I (or she) had an amazing ability to meet her on public transport. Wherever she went, she almost always met me on the bus. Then, no matter how much I hurried, we rode together, and I entertained her with conversations.
For all of us, she always remained the only beloved one. No one managed to break out of her circle. Everyone carried a distorted sense of love into adulthood, and no matter whom life brought together, they compared their girlfriends to Frog Two. And the comparison was always in her favor.”
‘Verbesserung! Everyone except you. The frog queen was standing at the board when someone threw a wet rag at her back. That was the kind of special attention a boy gave her. She turned around. Such behavior cannot be forgiven. Someone needed to be punished as an example. And she chose you. She approached and slapped you in the face. Lucky you, at least once in your life! The delusion dissipated, and the frog queen turned into an ordinary girl, your classmate. Of course, you didn’t tell anyone about this and continued to formally observe the unspoken rules of her circle, but she no longer had any influence over you.’

Frog Three

“I really wanted to find a frog that would turn into a princess. I found one — but not a frog, some kind of toad. She did turn into a princess, but the princess turned out to be very mean.
‘Since you kissed me, now, as an honest person, you must marry me,’ she declared. ‘Now you can touch me, but you must: feed me breakfast, give me blue roses, read me fairy tales, paint my portraits, sculpt figurines of me, make a movie about me, and most importantly, write a novel.’
I fulfilled all the conditions, but it only got worse. On top of everything, additional toads appeared who constantly provoked her, anticipating the moment when our relationship would collapse. And it did collapse: I lost interest in her. But I decided: I made one mistake — I got married. I shouldn’t make a second — get divorced. And I just left. ‘You’ll come back once you’ve calmed down,’ I heard behind me.”
‘Verbesserung! Oh, this is the nastiest frog, the one that caused you the most trouble. All the images, actions, and situations that could have been bright are now firmly tied to negativity, evoking only strong dislike and rejection. Frog Three will have to be completely removed. But it’s not that easy to do. The better everything is built, the harder it is to dismantle.
You’ll have to start with the novel. It must be burned. Without that, everything else remains unshakable. You took all the pages, matches, and went to the yard by the playground. There you made a fire and put the papers in it. You expected everything to ignite and burn instantly. But no. You had to stir the half-burned pages with a stick for a long time. Finally, only ashes remained. And what about Bulgakov’s saying that manuscripts don’t burn? Ultimately they do!
Now you can easily get divorced. You agreed and went to the registry office. You’re in a black suit, the Frog in a white dress. Everyone envied you again — you looked so pleased and happy. The girl at the registry office was even surprised: ‘Young people, you must be mistaken — you need the other door.’ No, we came to the right place: to get divorced.
Well, now you can remove the frog. You never kissed it. Jerusalem is gone — the great city, as if it never existed in the world.”

Frog Four

“Frog Four was already a princess, or rather a witch. She had been kissed by someone else, more than once.”
“She was late for my friend’s birthday. Everyone was already seated at the table when she appeared, and I saw her for the first time. The feeling I experienced at that moment was closest to fear: sharp and overwhelming. Along with it came a firm, inexplicable certainty that she was my true match. Such knowledge usually comes only in dreams. I wanted to pinch myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream. But at the last moment, it seemed to me that I was her, so I pinched her instead. That was the very first thing I did, without even knowing her name.”
“Then I called her to invite her to the circus. Again, the feeling was fear — almost unbearable. I tried to dial her number several times, always stopping before the last digit. A strange game to play alone. Six digits, and my heart pounded: is she home, will she answer, will she agree to see me? Finally, I dialed the seventh digit. I couldn’t not call.”
“After that, I accompanied her home. We were riding in a taxi. She, in a short skirt, sat next to me in the back seat. And again, wild emotions: could I kiss her? Well, if I could pinch her, I could kiss her. But if I kissed her now, I could kiss her anytime, and the emotions would vanish. Yet I couldn’t not kiss her either. When we arrived, I leaned down and kissed her knee.”
“The next day we went swimming at the reservoir. Someone had placed children’s swing-carousels in the water, and we swung on them. The current made us spin, and her swimsuit top slipped aside, revealing her breast. I admired the sight, while she seemed not to notice. Probably I should have told her to fix it, but I couldn’t deny myself the beauty. It felt as if the entire beach was staring at us, and I was incredibly proud. Look at what a beautiful girl I have.”
“The next day, on the same beach, rain caught us, and we hid in the bushes. She sat on a towel, and I lay next to her on mine. The ties of her bikini were near my mouth. I could have tugged the string with my teeth, and the bikini would have come undone. Again, I hesitated. The rain stopped, but the knot remained tied. ‘Let’s go. You don’t know what to do anyway,’ she said.”
“In the morning she went to work, and I stayed alone in her apartment. I decided to air out the room and slightly opened the window. Immediately a dark shadow darted in — a black cat, her familiar. I had been warned, ‘Don’t let the cat escape.’ Without thinking, I jumped out the window after it. Luckily, it was the first floor. The chances of catching the cat in the yard were almost none, and even less if it ran into the basement. But the cat sat down, looked at the sun, smiled, and relaxed. That was when I caught it and climbed back through the window with it.”
‘That’s right. Fairy tales end with weddings, and this one does too. You won: you found the most beautiful girl. She turned out to be a witch. And a witch must tell you your serial number and your rank. Your number is 28, your rank is 1. Congratulations — the goal of life is achieved. She and you found each other. But she did more for you than you did for her. You still owe something: the Callimachus ritual. After the wedding, which was on New Year’s night, you came to visit her. And you went to sleep naked, under one blanket, in one bed. The ritual was that you must not touch her, no matter how much you wanted to. And then Time would turn backward. In the morning you were terribly surprised, because next to you slept the frog princess. Now everything is complete: the gestalt is closed. Now she has her second life, and you have yours.’

Frog Five

‘Now tell me about Frog Five.’
“I am standing among the academic buildings in an unfamiliar city and have no idea which way to go or how to get back home. I’ll have to ask someone. The problem is that all the students are taking exams, and the streets are empty. I head in the direction I think I came from. It is getting dark. The institute gives way to the city. Academic buildings turn into residential houses, vacant lots into courtyards and fences. I come across people. I need to ask for directions. But something is off. They look suspicious, unfriendly. I wonder what I did to offend them?”
“It’s clear: they are all in jeans and jackets, and I am in a suit. Well, I’m in trouble.”
“I notice a group with a pretty girl. She is the only one who looks at me without hostility. I look back at her. She leaves her group and stays alone.”
“‘Help me,’ I ask. ‘How can I help you?’ the girl replies. ‘I need to get to the metro. Is there a way?’ She nods: ‘Yes, you can take the bus.’ She sees that I don’t even know how to find the bus. ‘Come with me, I’ll show you,’ she offers, saving me from asking another awkward question.”
“We walk through courtyards. She moves with confidence. There are fences, but she knows where the gates are and how to open them. I try to keep up on my own. ‘Do you live in this city?’ I ask. ‘Yes, we live here,’ she answers.”
“‘And do you study at the Institute?’ I continue. ‘Yes, I’m a sophomore,’ she says. ‘Are you keeping up with all the subjects, no fails?’ ‘You can see for yourself. Otherwise I’d be retaking exams now,’ she explains. I go through the wrong gate and have to turn back. Some people overtake us, probably heading for the bus as well. When they pass, she continues: ‘Do you work?’ ‘Yes, I graduated a long time ago,’ I reply. ‘And you probably live in the City?’ she asks.”
“Well, what’s the point? A sweet girl. I am very grateful to her. But she lives here, I live there. She is still studying, I already have a job in my specialty. ‘How did you get into such a situation?’ she wonders.”
“And then I realize my problem is worse than I thought. Not only am I in a suit, I also have nothing in my pockets. No phone, no money, no documents, no keys. But it’s fine, I just need to reach my apartment. I live alone, no one is waiting. I have a digital lock — I’ll get inside, take money, and pay for a taxi near the subway.”
“‘I can explain,’ I tell her. ‘It’s all the fault of the lunar eclipse, and the eclipses of other planets. Not only am I lost in your city, I also have nothing on me. But I’m very grateful for your help. What’s your name?’ The girl looks at me, and I look at her. For a long time. We say goodbye. The bus arrives. She wants to say something more: ‘Will you kiss me?’”
“What a long day! I didn’t expect such a turn. I could just kiss this kind, pretty girl — like kissing a dream. But I hardly believe in such miracles. Events should unfold gradually: first getting to know each other, then attachment, then maybe more. She doesn’t know anything about me. Why does she trust me? Yes, the stars and planets aligned this way. But is that enough? I shake her hand as a sign of gratitude and interest. Immediately everything disappears.”
“Now I can’t sleep. It was a vivid, full-length dream. I didn’t wake up — I was simply and rudely thrown into reality. All the details remain in memory. The dream doesn’t want to be forgotten. Why did it all happen this way?”
Maxim explains:
‘You were thrown out so roughly because you made a mistake. Somewhere, you did something wrong.’
‘You need to find the mistake and fix it. Write down the dream exactly, word for word, without embellishing or omitting anything. The story can then be changed and supplemented. And later, it can be loaded back into the dream. It’s not clear how yet. But if a dream can be translated into words, then words can be translated back into a dream.’
“Can you help?”
‘Of course. What were the last actions?’
“The girl asked, ‘Are you going to kiss?’”
‘It was an artistic declaration of love. In fact, there is nothing in this world except declarations of love! And this was one of them. She left her company for you. She showed you the way. She talked to you, looked at you, didn’t want to part with you. She allowed herself to be kissed. And you didn’t understand anything.’
‘Now let’s fix it: Verbesserung! You take a step toward her, embrace her, and kiss. She is sweet, she has a taste. And then a miracle happens: the girl turns into a princess. “How beautiful you are!” you say. You try to guess her name: “Alice. Alleessa. Long E. Stress on the second syllable,” you feel.’
‘Now you will never part. “Shall we take the motor?” you ask. “Where shall we go?” she wonders. “Home. I’ll show you,” you invite.’

Epilogue

Goethe gave us a motto: “Stop, Moment, you are wonderful.” And in a way, we all follow it. When we see or do something beautiful, we try to capture it — in a statue, a painting, a story, a video. Even in mathematics: when a problem is solved, one writes an article, so that the solution can remain forever.
But there is also the other side: the pursuit of what is fleeting, what cannot be repeated. A dream that vanishes without a trace. A snowman that melts. A flower that blooms and fades. A kiss that happens only once. And life itself — always passing, always slipping away.