Genki Kawamura - If Cats Disappeared from the World

Then I realized—without clocks, how would I have any sense of time? It looked and felt like morning. And since I had overslept a bit I figured it was probably around 11am. But even when I turned on the TV the time didn’t show up on the screen as it usually did, and of course phones had already disappeared, so I couldn’t rely on that. If I was being honest, I had no idea what time it was.

And yet I didn’t really feel any difference. Why was that? This was different from when I’d made the other things disappear. Other than a few pangs of guilt when I thought of my father, I felt no pain, no sense of loss. But this should have had a pretty huge impact on the world. Clocks make the world go round.

Schools and businesses, public transport, the stock market, and all other public services must be in chaos.

But for someone like me, on my own here (well, plus one cat), there wasn’t really much of a difference. It seemed like we were getting along just fine going about our normal lives without clocks, or much of an exact sense of time at all. It didn’t really make any difference.

“So why are there clocks in the first place?”

I thought Aloha might know.

“That’s a good question. But even before clocks were invented, it was only humans that had a sense of time.”

“Huh? I don’t get it.”

Seeing I was puzzled, Aloha went on.

“OK, stay with me. You see, time, or that thing we call time, is simply produced by arbitrarily determined rules. Rules that human beings made up. I’m not saying that the cycle of the sun rising and setting doesn’t exist as a natural phenomenon—because obviously it does—but it’s humans who have imposed an organizing system on that process and called it time, giving names and numbers to different parts of the day like, say, six o’clock, twelve o’clock, midnight and so on.”

“Oooh, riiight…”

“So, human beings may think that they’re looking at the world as it is, but they’ve got it all wrong. In actual fact, they’ve just imposed a meaning on things, come up with a definition of what the world is all about which happens to suit them. And I just thought it might be interesting for people to see what the world would be like without that system of telling the time, which humans just made up for their own convenience. You know, just to mix it up a bit…”

“Oh, so just like that, huh? Just because you were in the mood?”

“Yeah, well, that’s what this is all about, right? So listen, have a great day! Oh, right, there’s no such thing as a day anymore!”

And then, Aloha disappeared—his glib parting words still hanging in the air.

The story of the last one hundred years could probably be made to fit onto one page of a history book. Or maybe only a line would do.

When I found out that I didn’t have much time left, I decided I’d try thinking of an hour not just as sixty minutes, but 3,600 seconds, just to make myself feel better. But since clocks had now disappeared, counting seconds didn’t mean anything anymore.

Even the meaning of words like “today” or “Sunday” had become dubious. But after Wednesday comes Thursday, and since I knew it was morning, that meant that today must be Thursday. Which is not to forget that these days are only arbitrary human inventions…

But anyway, I didn’t have anything in particular to do, so I thought I’d just kill some time. Although there was no time to kill. And even if I decided to waste time, there was no time to waste either. This really left me with very little to go on.

How many minutes had passed since I woke up? I’d usually glance at the alarm clock by my bed when I woke up, but now there were no clocks. A world without clocks. I was being pulled along in the endless undercurrent of time. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel myself being dragged out to who knows where. After a while, it felt as if I was being drawn back into the past.

When you think about it, people sleep, wake up, work, and eat according to the established set of rules we call time. In other words, we set our lives by the clock. Human beings went to the trouble of inventing rules that imposed limits on their lives, boxing them up into hours, days, and years. And then they invented clocks to make time’s rule over us even more precise.

And the fact that there are rules means that we’ve given up some of our freedom. And yet humans have put reminders of that loss of freedom everywhere—hanging clocks on walls, dotting them around their houses. But as if that weren’t enough, they make sure there’s a clock wherever they go, whatever they’re doing, by going so far as to wrap them around their wrists. Humans have even felt the need to wrap their bodies up in time.

But now I think I get it.

With freedom comes uncertainty, insecurity, and anxiety.

Human beings exchanged their freedom for the sense of security that comes from living by rules and routines—despite knowing that costs them their freedom.

While I was thinking this over, Cabbage sidled up to me. Usually when Cabbage comes over and shows me any affection it’s because he wants something.

“What’s wrong, Cabbage? Are you hungry?”

That’s usually what he wants in the morning.

“No, that is not at all what I want.”

“Oh?”

I was still struggling to believe that the cat was talking back to me. Cabbage let out a deep sigh.

“Sir, you have once again completely failed to understand correctly.”

“Sir? What’s that all about?”

Apparently he meant me. So how far is he going to take this gentleman thing?

“If you’ll permit me to explain. When I want to take a stroll, you think I want to eat. When I do in fact want to eat, you think it is a moment’s rest—‘a nap’ if you will—that I want, and when it is ‘a nap’ that I require, you believe I wish to play with you. Your judgment is always, if I might say so, just a touch off.”

“Oh really? Is that so?”

The cat nodded and continued.

“Yes. It is so. You behave as if you have an understanding of my kind, when in fact you do not understand cats at all. You ask me if I am sad when I am not sad, and see fit to approach me with that purringly sweet voice. I do wish you’d stop that! Oh well, in truth, you’re not the only one. All humans are this way.”

I was shocked. I had lived with Cabbage for four years and I thought we understood each other. It can be brutal when cats start to speak your language.

“I’m sorry, Cabbage. So what is it you do want to do?”

“I would like to go for a walk.”

Cabbage had loved taking walks since he was a kitten.

“This cat is just like a dog!” Mom would laugh as she talked about Cabbage. I remember how she would often take him out for walks.

I told Cabbage to give me a minute to get ready, and went to the bathroom. I was mid-way through relieving myself when suddenly I heard the door handle being fiddled with. The door opened and Cabbage barged in.

“Come now, hurry hurry! Let’s go.”

All right already! I pushed Cabbage out of the bathroom, finished my business, and then washed my hands and face. As I splashed the water around in the sink I could feel Cabbage’s eyes on me, pressuring me to go faster. When I looked around I saw him watching me from the shadow of the wall.

“Oh, do come on. I am quite ready for a walk.”

“OK, Cabbage, just wait a sec!”

It used to be a meow was enough, but now he was talking to me. This really was making things much more difficult!

I took my clothes off quickly and jumped in the shower. As I was washing my hair I sensed something behind me, like a ghost. It was like being in a horror film—it sent chills down my spine. I kept my eyes closed tightly to keep the suds out until I finished rinsing my hair. When I opened them, I noticed the door was ajar and Cabbage was peering inside.