Energy well spent
A strange thought experiment popped into my head the other day. Imagine a world, nearly identical to ours, the only difference being a peculiar set of clocks. These clocks, only visible to you, float above everyone’s head, revealing how much time you have left with each person. Some display hundreds of hours, others mere minutes. The solipsistic intrigue these clocks offer about your future interactions becomes a source of constant fascination. For instance, you notice a cute girl in the dairy section at the grocery store and as you finally work up the nerve to approach her your attention shifts to the clock above her head which reads < 1 minute. All you need to know about that one.
To us, it would seem a superpower of sorts, allowing you to set your expectations and navigate the future more smoothly, given that the future is nothing more than expectations living in your head.
So you live on, continuing to calibrate your future based on these clocks, enjoying the predictability they afford you. With the people on short clocks you spend very little time and energy. With the people on long clocks, the ones you will spend significant time with, you begin to accumulate shared experiences. Long walks in the park, trips to the coffee shop, commiserations over work, vacations to new countries — all this deepens your relationships.
Without any conscious effort, you soon find these clocks taking on deeper meaning. No longer just relationship timekeepers, they capture emotional significance. Higher numbers proxy for your level of emotional investment. When the friend with 100 hours over his head misses your housewarming, you feel the impact much deeper than that of your neighbor whose clock reads 10 hours. This negative emotional valence toward your close friend suffocates you with anger and disappointment. But as the emotions begin to give way, you feel a compulsive urge to rectify. 100 hours left with this friend is too much time for a grudge. Instead of letting the emotions stir beneath, you get in your car immediately and drive over to your friend’s house, divulging the full range of your hurt. The friend, previously unaware of how much this housewarming meant to you, comes to two conclusions during this conversation:
1) Him not coming to your housewarming really hurt you because you care a lot about him.
2) Hurting you made him feel terrible because he cares a lot about you.
You leave your friend after the conversation, feeling even closer than you were before. As you’re driving home smiling from the inside, an idiot driver recklessly cuts you off. You slam on the brakes and bash your horn, an autonomic reaction. Switching lanes and driving past him to get a look, you see a clock above his head reading < 1 min. You return to smiling, knowing that’s one less dangerous driver you will encounter down the road.
Your life continues with guidance from father time. Then one day, out of nowhere the clocks above everyone’s heads disappear. Panic sets in. The future is uncertain again. Life is back to normal. With no more clocks to tell you who to spend time with, you decide who you want to continue to keep in your life, and only with those people do you decide to spend your energy.