Ahmet Tanpinar - The Time Regulation Institute

“Sir, as you know, I’m an ignorant man. And all that I do know — or rather whatever I manage to actually hear, whatever my ears manage to pick up — comes from Nuri Efendi, Dr. Ramiz, and you. So how could I know about such things?”

Halit Bey laughed.

“Don’t make yourself out to be so naive. I’m quite convinced there are a many good things you do know. You’re intelligent enough. You just don’t believe it. You lack faith. You are in pursuit of an absolute. How strange to see a watchmaker — a man who concerns himself with relative notions such as time — in pursuit of absolute values. I just don’t understand.”

He seized my shoulder and shook me.

“You’re going to change, Hayri Bey, change. But above all else, the Time Regulation Institute needs you to believe.”

With that he sprang to his feet, dropped to his knees, seized one leg of his chair, and raised it high into the air; and without bending his arm, he stood straight up and marched around the room holding the pose. Then, tilting his head back, he placed the chair leg square on his nose and, opening his arms wide open for balance, he resumed his slow tour of the room.

With a deep breath, he returned the chair to the floor. Until this moment I hadn’t noticed quite what a splendid body he had. He was a good-looking man, and nimble too, with muscles rippling across his chest.

“But why didn’t you cheer? You were too surprised, weren’t you? I have nearly eighty different tricks like this up my sleeve. I could easily find work for myself in a circus, if I wanted to do such a thing of course. But I have chosen to regulate clocks.”

And he slammed his fist down on the desk.

“And regulate them I shall! We shall regulate them together.”

Returning to his own desk and chair, he gestured for me sit down opposite him.

“We’ve forgotten about Dr. Ramiz. We need to find a position for him. I will elect the doctor to be a new member of the staff. Whom will you recommend?”

“I’ve no idea,” I said.

I truly didn’t know what to say, as I hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about. It was all beyond my comprehension. I was, in addition, suffering from the sort of headache that comes with seasickness. With great patience, Halit Bey continued:

“Allow me to explain. Half of our staff will be made up of people we know. Isn’t that what we discussed the other day? One from their side, and one from ours, and as there are two of us, whenever I offer someone a post, you earn the right to suggest someone too. Now, I’ve just suggested Dr. Ramiz.”

I felt a little more at ease. We were playing some kind of family game. Halit Bey had put forward Ramiz.

“Lazybones Asaf Bey…”

“Very good. For which position? I must say I do like the name. Dr. Ramiz’s profession requires that he be appointed to the Labor Statistics and Social Coordination division. What would be suitable for Asaf Bey?”

“One of the branches. For example, the Gear Branch…”

“Can he handle that?”

“He was a dentist once.”

“But he’s not anymore?”

“No, not since a patient bit his hand. Besides, he has an aversion to work. He enjoys sleeping most of all. If a patient ever came to his office while he was dozing in the coffeehouse, or carrying on with people there, his assistant would send word and he would take his time preparing himself for the job. Most times he’d come right back, as the patient couldn’t be bothered to wait. I suppose he’ll refuse the offer.”

I thought Halit Bey might find the story amusing, but he didn’t seem ruffled at all. With perfect composure, he said:

“An interesting fellow indeed. There’s certainly something about him… And I am certain we’ll find him a job that he’ll perform with great success. But he may not be the best one to start off with. We’ll consider him later. Can you think of someone else to recommend?”

“The poet Ekrem Bey. We’re fond of one another. He’s in his thirties.”

“Now this sounds promising. What’s his occupation?”

“Really nothing at all up until now.”

“I see, a young man, a fresh talent. Agreed. We’ll get back to Asaf Bey later on. Any other recommendations?”

“I haven’t mentioned Zehra Hanım, because she counts for Nermin Hanım.”

“Our current staff is by no means our complete staff. And I shall not submit a proposal for a final staff until our institute has been approved, because I am obliged to keep the staff as large as I possibly can. Institutions that are up and running offer a sense of security. This is why I want the institute to be a living organism in the full sense of the term, so that our time can itself be made visible through our staff’s expertise. Everyone will gain a clear understanding of what we’re doing! So we must recruit personnel who will agree to the task given to them, whatever the situation.”

“Would it not be wiser to begin with a slightly smaller team?”

“Out of the question.”

“The organization could expand when the need for more personnel arises.”

“Oh no, you’re proposing we set sail on a ship with nothing but a rudder and a funnel. No, a ship is a unified entity: It has an engine, a prow, a stern, a bridge, and cabins and whatever else. All this forms a whole, from the captain all the way down to the rats! Find me a crew for my ship and the passengers and the rats! Do you understand? Working with a small staff means not working at all. An institute is a living organism, with arms, legs, and a stomach — we need them all. And I shall go one step further and say that we are compelled even to employ extraneous limbs.”

I mustered all my courage.

“And just why is that?” I asked.

“To discharge them when the need arises. Surely you are aware that all the world is jealous of an institution that has the official or semiofficial blessing of the state? You can see it everywhere. There’s always talk of reducing costs, and decisions are made accordingly. And what will we do when external pressure is brought to bear on us and we have no choice but to take action? Are we to sacrifice our closest friends and relatives? Of course not. I plan to have several scapegoats on hand. You know whereof I speak, do you not? Every year the ancient Jews would transfer all their sins to a goat and then chase the creature out into the desert. When the need arises, we’ll do the very same. We must have all this mapped out in advance. Once the institute has been in place for two years, talk of extravagant spending will begin. So we shall need at least two or three people we can comfortably sacrifice, if we are to show the public that we have nothing but the best intentions. And what shall we do after that? Draw straws? Well, perhaps we could, but… In any event, we shall take the necessary precautions now so as to have a few people ready, the kind of people any institute can do without, in fact the kind we could take legal action against, the kind of person who has aroused suspicions from the start. And of course we shall keep some personnel in reserve, to run our time regulation stations.”

He was pacing frantically about the room.

Regulation stations were small roadside posts where ladies and gentlemen could stop in to adjust their timepieces. There fashionable young ladies, handsome men, strapping young lads, and citizens both young and old could have their watches regulated for a modest fee, after which they would be issued with a receipt. They were placed along the busy boulevards of the city’s most fashionable and affluent neighborhoods, and over time they penetrated deeper into the backstreets and other, more modest, parts of the city. Our first stations were in Nisantası and Galatasaray.

An undertaking this ambitious would require a large staff. We would need young, sharp-witted, and personable employees who could explain the Time Regulation Institute’s mission to customers and applicants while they tended to the regulation of their timepieces.