I have paper and a pen. I have plenty of time. Whatever time is and however it is ultimately measured. My lower back and buttocks informed me that they would determine how much of the fourth dimension had passed by, measured in pain. But to get something concrete, I wrote down what the café’s clock showed at each moment. In my attempts to wade through the chaotic rhythms of this strange environment, I began to note down the clearest ones; the few stable rhythms I could find.

  The first entry was made at 04:45. I can't say whether it should have been 16:45, because my internal clock can switch between night and day as it pleases. The purpose of this entry was nothing more than to give my hands something to do. When this small moon finally slipped into Saturn's shadow at 06:18 and the so-called sunset occurred, the actual "science" could begin. I could have easily gone to the bathroom between these two values, but since I didn't know how fast the events would unfold, it came down to the very last seconds.

  The café's toilet is definitely the most unusual one I have ever visited. I’d been using my own thus far. Most people are probably familiar with urinals and toilets. And yes, we have them here too. However, I hope I never have to be there at the same time as someone using the corkscrew-shaped porcelain fixture ten feet above the floor. It was perhaps two or three feet thick and five feet long. Below it were two smaller spouts, like stylized versions of gargoyles. Did they all belong to the same set? I don't know. I used one of the lower ones because the only other option was to mess up the floor.

  While serving me food and drinks, Winston said that the bathroom was modular. Everything was automated. The giant bouncer standing at the door ensures that the interior is suitable for each visitor just by pressing buttons. In my need, I had run through the door so quickly that there had been no time to react. That is why I was given a quick glimpse of the anatomy of a creature still unknown to me.

  My payment for goods situation is unchanged. The whole thing seems to be completely meaningless. It's both confusing and distressing. How big is my bill already? There are no prices on the menu, so I can't even make a rough estimate. How does anyone here know what anything costs? Besides, I don't want to pile cold cash on top of all this warm hospitality by asking tacky questions.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  I immersed myself back into my intense research to escape my anxiety and the image of a creature with strange anatomy stuck in my head. The so-called night ended at 12:04. According to my quick calculations, it lasted 5 hours and 46 minutes. From this, it would have been easy to deduce the length of my current day, but I decided to be precise and measure the entire cycle. The next sunset arrived at 17:50. That is, another 5 hours and 46 minutes.

  The entire cycle takes 11 hours and 34 minutes. In total, I sat by the window for 13 hours and 5 minutes, excluding bathroom breaks. Did this make any sense? Definitely not. Winston quickly realized what I was doing, but he didn’t interfere. Looking at my paper, he said there was a two-minute error in it. I believe him, because Winston's experience is presumably longer than my age. I may do another round in the future to correct my mistake.

  During the research session, approximately three customers visited. Two of them were giant tubes that wobbled their way to their tables as if they’d gotten lost in a samba carnival. The third belonged to the same party, but something about the being's nature made it difficult to discern. It was here at times, but sometimes gone. The glass did rise from the table, but the drinker was not always present. The tubular beings used ramp-like structures, supporting them in a position where drinking seemed automatic. Although my experience is still short, I was quite calm when I saw the new customers. When Winston and the other regulars are calm, I feel calm(ish) too.

  Winston said the tubes were a species called Brosbros. They had optimized their drinking to such an extent that it required no effort. Their bodies had evolved to adapt pretty well. Even the level of intoxication didn't bother them because they were already lying down. Leaving the café was just as wiggly, but the rhythm seemed more chaotic. I couldn't make out the species of the third person. Winston's speech seemed to waver between realities as he tried to say it. I would say that was quite descriptive. Wurp behind the counter did a thorough job with the translations. According to him, my ears just weren't used to picking up on all the nuanced communication yet.

  But I had successfully figured out the orbital length. That wouldn't help my insomnia in any way, at least for the next "night." My back is not used to sitting like this, and I certainly can't stretch it out this fast. Against all reason, I have been sitting in front of my laptop for another hour writing this. I'm sure I could find something relaxing to drink at the bar upstairs. With my luck, I might get a shot of some other species’ firewater and start mutating as a bonus. And I really don't want to start using the corkscrew-shaped porcelain hanging ten feet above the ground.

  Till next time.

  

  
• Johnny