GENEVA, FRIDAY: In what physicists are calling “a temporal subsidy” and theologians are calling “a clerical error upstairs,” local scientist Dr. Basil Tockworthy has been granted a personalized time rate of 100 seconds per minute and 100 minutes per hour in order to complete his long-delayed invention of time travel.
The announcement came late Thursday from the Bureau of Chronometric Equity, an obscure Geneva-based body that regulates who gets how much time, and how fast. “It’s an experimental policy,” said bureau spokesperson Hildegard LeClock. “We noticed Dr. Tockworthy was consistently short on time—both figuratively and literally—and decided to stretch his minutes a bit. Think of it as a government-issued extension cord for reality.”
According to official documents, Dr. Tockworthy’s time now runs at roughly 1.67 times slower than everyone else’s. While the rest of the world experiences a standard minute, he enjoys 100 seconds of it. When asked whether this made him faster or slower, he blinked 14 times before answering, “Both. It’s complicated.”
Colleagues at the University of Chronodynamics have expressed mixed feelings. “He’s technically working longer but aging slower,” said lab assistant June Pendulum. “He’s now producing equations at a pace the rest of us can’t keep up with, yet also perpetually running late to meetings that, from his perspective, haven’t started yet.”
Inside his laboratory—where clocks now require therapy—the effects are obvious. Experiments proceed at an eerie languor. Beakers bubble politely, computers hum meditatively, and the coffee never quite goes cold. “It’s like watching a man sprint underwater,” said one visiting journalist.
Dr. Tockworthy insists the change has revolutionized his productivity. “Previously, I had only twenty-four hours in a day,” he explained. “Now I effectively have forty. I’m making tremendous progress. I’ve nearly invented time travel twice already—though each time I did, it was technically last week.”
When asked who authorized the temporal modification, the Bureau pointed skyward and shrugged. Sources close to celestial administration confirmed the adjustment might have originated from “upper management.” One archangel, speaking anonymously due to heavenly non-disclosure agreements, said, “The Almighty occasionally approves pilot programs. Last year it was universal empathy; that didn’t take. This time it’s time itself.”
The broader scientific community is concerned about the precedent. “If individuals can petition for extra seconds, what happens to the economy of time?” asked economist Dr. Simon Hourglass. “Soon billionaires will demand 200 seconds per minute, and the rest of us will be left in the temporal dust.”
Meanwhile, friends report Dr. Tockworthy has become increasingly difficult to socialize with. “He texts me at 3:00, and I receive it at 2:47,” said one exasperated acquaintance. “I tried calling him, but his ringtone answers before I dial.”
Still, hope remains high that the chronologically advantaged scientist will achieve his dream. “If anyone can invent time travel,” said spokesperson LeClock, “it’s the man who already lives slightly in the past, marginally in the future, and perpetually behind schedule.”
At press time, Dr. Tockworthy had announced that his time machine was “nearly ready,” though he was uncertain whether that meant it would be finished tomorrow, yesterday, or during a particularly long minute sometime next week.
