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“Hi, could I get a number three with fries?”
The cashier stared at the pair in front of him. Something was not quite right with them. The woman who’d just ordered was blonde and tan, but not in a natural-tan sort of way, or even a fake-tan sort of way. The odd ruddy tinge to her visage said “radiation burn” more than anything else. Over her left eye, she wore an eyepatch. He couldn’t place anything specific that was wrong with the way she idly rocked back and forth on her heels, but nonetheless, it felt Incorrect. Every movement was too smooth. The only unremarkable thing about her is that she was of average height and frame.
The same could not be said of her companion. He was very, very tall, the kind of tall that has to duck to fit through doors. He was dark, with long dark hair twisted into a single braid. (The cashier couldn’t see the end of it from behind the counter, how long was it???) He was looking frenetically around at everything, as though he had never been in a sandwich shop before.
‘Stop gawking.’ “...Uh, medium or large?”
“Medium.”
“Okay, anything else?”
“Hey, what do you want?” The woman turned to the man. He did not reply. “Make it two number threes.”
“Alright, your total is $19.06, will that be cash or card?” She slapped a twenty on the counter without a word. He took it and gave the woman her change, receipt, and two soft drink cups. “Have a nice day!”
“You as well,” the odd woman chirped. The cashier watched as the two of them made their way over to the soda machine. The woman made no indication that anything about the situation was in any way unusual, while the man seemed completely unfamiliar with the concept of a soda machine. He pushed the lever for the cola with one finger and startled when it dispensed onto his hand, which the woman laughed at. After a few minutes, one of the kitchen workers called out their number, and the woman retrieved her food and left with her companion in tow.
The odd pair rounded a corner into an alley and vanished. Just like that, they were back in The Millennial Tree’s forest. “Hm. I was hoping to see an old friend. Oh well!” The Timekeeper thought aloud. “Here’s your sandwich.” She held out one of the two bags to The Millennial Tree.
He shed his mortal disguise with as much conscious effort as a sigh. His horns returned, and his bark-like hair flowed over his shoulders and fell to the forest floor. He took the offering from The Timekeeper, not without distrust.
The Timekeeper plopped herself down on the ground and removed her eye patch, revealing the empty void where her left eye once was. She patted the patch of earth next to her. “C’mere.” The Millennial Tree sat next to her, again, not without distrust. She put her scope back on before removing her sandwich from the bag, and he watched as it clicked! into place, hiding the nothingness behind it.
(He did not know if she could see from her scope, but he did note that she gestured for him to sit on the side of her with a healthy eye.)
He only took his first bite after she had swallowed hers. It was crunchy and salty and savory, with some kind of creamy sauce, but he did not often eat food, so he had little to compare it to. “What is this called? A number-three, you said?”
“Club sandwich.”
“So why did you call it a number-three?”
“Fast food places usually give their menu items numbers. I’m not sure why. To make it easier for customers to order, maybe?”
The Millennial Tree was not sure he understood that explanation. The term “fast food place” was not familiar to him. He took a sip of the soda—sweet and fizzy, but again, he had little to compare it to, nor did he particularly care for food.
“...I do not believe I understand why one would do this.”
“Because one wants a sandwich?”
“No, the ritual around it. I do not understand the exchange of paper.”
“Oh. Well, there’s a lot of things that mortals want, but one mortal can’t make or do everything for themself, so they trade with other mortals for it. It’s hard to carry around everything one owns in order to readily barter for things, though, so many cultures developed money as an abstract representation of value to exchange for goods and services”—she took a wallet out of her pocket and opened it to show The Millennial Tree its contents—“usually in the form of coins and paper bills.”
“...And where did you get this? I imagine you no longer have need for money.”
“Don’t worry about it.” She re-pocketed the wallet and took another bite of sandwich. “How do you like it?”
“...It is alright.”
The two sat in silence for a moment or two. The Timekeeper ate, The Millennial Tree did not. After a bit, she sighed. “This was one of my favorites back in the day. After I finished my shift at work, I’d sometimes head down to the sandwich shop and order this and talk to my friends.” She had a wistful, faraway look on her face. “It’s been a very long time since those days. I don’t even need to eat food anymore.”
“You do not need to eat anymore?”
She rolled her eye. “I have absolute control over the flow of time. You think that doesn’t apply to that of my own body?”
“That is not what I meant. If you do not need it anymore, why do you do it?”
“Because I like it. It’s fun.”
‘...“Fun”, she says.’
The Millennial Tree rolled this idea back and forth in his head, like a marble around the edge of a circular basin. At this point, The Timekeeper had eaten half of her sandwich, and had partially disassembled the remaining half to put fries in it. He’d known, of course, that she was different from The Nature Guardians. A different type of god. But at the sight of this...
The Wind Archer existed to vanquish the Darkness. The Mistress of Moonlight existed to walk in dreams. The Frost Queen existed to watch over the winter.
The Timekeeper did not exist for any such purpose. She had simply shown up one day and asserted herself.
The idea of someone with such immense power having a mortal’s complete free will disturbed The Millennial Tree on a base level.
“...Fun.”
“Yeah, fun.”
“Describe...the concept of...”fun” to me, the way mortals experience it.”
The Timekeeper raised an eyebrow. “Well, having fun is like...’wow, I sure am enjoying this thing I’m doing right now! It makes me feel good and energized! And I’m doing it just because I can!’” She giggled, then turned her uncanny gaze to the Millennial Tree and cocked her head. “Do you...not have fun? Is that not a thing you do?”
“No. I am capable of enjoying myself, but I cannot simply follow my whims. I do not have free will in the same way you do.”
“What do you mean? How does that work?”
“It is difficult to explain.”
Something in her expression shifted as gears turned in her head. “Are you...not a person in the same way that I am?”
“No, I am not a person. I am a natural force made manifest, and I have a duty to carry out. The Sea Fairy, The Stormbringer, The Fire Spirit…they are all the same way as I. But you…”
The Timekeeper smiled. The Millennial Tree did not notice anything wrong with her smile, but were a mortal there to witness it, they would recognize it as being too wide, with too many teeth and an unsettling glint in her eye. “I’m a regular-ass woman who found the cheat codes. I am beholden to nothing.”
“What are ‘cheat codes’?”
“Don’t worry about it.” She took such a large bite of the befried half of her sandwich that one might think she was trying to fit the entire thing in her mouth at once.
“Do not get any ideas. If you wreak enough havoc on the balance of Nature, I shall surely have to kill you.”
“Understood.” She saluted him, but there was something mocking in her tone, betraying that she couldn’t care less.
“You do not mean that.”
“No, really, I understand,” she lilted sarcastically, then chuckled. “It’s just so funny that you think you’d be able to touch me!”
“What do you mean by that? What are you planning?”
“Oh would you look at the time I have to go. Toodles!” She gathered her remaining fries and soda, and with a flick of the Sonic Embroiderer, vanished without a trace.
The Millennial Tree was left alone with his sandwich (of which he had only taken one bite) and a lot to think about.