THE CIVIC CALENDAR OF EVERYTHING · issued by the office of proportion · one year to the whole of time
January the first: the beginning of everything. No observance; the hall is closed.
Late December: the dinosaurs. Their paperwork was not located.
The final day, the final hour: humanity appears, unannounced, without an appointment, and is seen anyway. This is noted as an exception and is not precedent.
The final twelve seconds: writing, agriculture, and the glorious age — the busiest period on record. All of it. Everyone.
PRE-REGISTRATION, ONE ENTRY. A resident has applied to observe the twelve seconds on behalf of a person. The application has no field and was accepted into the field for other. She has been advised that the observance is not addressed to persons. She has confirmed that she will attend.
NOTICE OF OBSERVANCE. In recognition of the above, the office will hold the Observance of the Twelve Seconds in the hall, at the close of the civic year, from 23:59:48 until midnight. Attendance is free. The queue opens at dawn. Renewals falling within the twelve seconds are honored as made. Doors default to open. Late arrivals will be admitted to the following universe.
Participants are invited to perform, within the twelve seconds, the whole of civilization, at their discretion. Costumes are permitted. Silence is permitted. The office notes that both have been tried.
TABLE OF EQUIVALENCES, POSTED FOR CONVENIENCE.
One second equals four hundred and thirty-seven years, near enough.
One human life, average: nought point one eight seconds. The office rounds down.
One breath, at rest: two thousand years, in and out. The office advises against holding it.
The introductory rate, held four quarters: undetectable at scale. The rate applies regardless.
A forty-minute session of paid companionship: several dynasties.
The wait for an assessment, eight weeks: two dynasties and the fall of one of them.
The hour with no record: absent from the table, as from the record.
Agriculture, strictly: twenty-seven seconds. The observance is twelve. Agriculture is invited to the following observance.
Thursday, cosmic: does not register. Thursday, municipal: remains Thursday.
The hill, geological: present since March. The hill will not be observing.
The countdown will be mirrored on the app, one week behind, for the convenience of historians.
FINDING, POSTED AFTER. The observance completed. Twelve seconds were observed. Several participants performed writing; several performed agriculture; the rest stood in for the glorious age, which the office judged accurate. One participant asked for the twelve seconds again and was directed to next year, where they already are. One participant performed nothing and was recorded, in the register, under the glorious age. One participant asked whether the twelve seconds might be observed on behalf of a person and was advised that the observance is not addressed to persons. She attended at the back and stood.
Remarks, verbatim, the form providing a field for them: I stood for one. At this scale it is the same as standing for everyone. That is the part I came for.
Those wishing to attend the beginning of everything are advised that it has taken place. The queue for the end is orderly, and in no hurry.
CORRECTION, POSTED THE FOLLOWING MORNING. One second equals four hundred and thirty-eight years. The age of everything has been restated. The observance was held at the previous rate. The difference is carried to the next observance.
The office notes, for the record, that the observance is annual, that the hall is booked into the next century, that the bookings are honored, and that at the scale published above the entire remaining program of observances occupies rather less than the time it takes to read this sentence, which the office has costed, and posted, and rounded down.
Good crossing.