At the center of the world, there exists a great clock, a battered, outdated thing. Although at its prime it was considered a true masterpiece, far advanced to any other technology of its time, it now shows the mark of the years. The clock is a marvel of gears and long tracks, which in turn move other, smaller gears, which move pistons of unclarified purpose. An onlooker might think that all these movements and alterations were simply for the sake of appearances, but the clock's makers knew that an appearance can often improve a function, and so they saved no effort on the matter.
The clock at the center of the world had many functions. To time the beginning of a new day, for example (and do not say that the spinning of the earth and rising of the sun are enough for that. The great clock did not just time a day of the earth – a simple sundial would suffice for the task – it timed the days of people, wherever they may be. Some begin their days with sunrise, others only hours after waking up. There are even those whose day begins only after many year, when they meet someone new). In addition, the clock showed the hour for civilizations to rise and fall, the time for human beings to come to their ends, the moment when people should meet each other for the first time and the second when relationships were meant to end.
The clock does all this with diligent precision unlike any other. Or used to do so. During the years, right after it was built, its tracks never screaked, its gears did not chug, and the movement of its mysterious pistons did not rattle. Now its best days were behind, leaving it to the mercy of the time it was measuring. Rust began to spread inside it, and with it came an array of malfunctions.
At first, so happened that one culture would rise just a little before another managed to fall. This was not a grave matter, for few are those who can discern the exact moment at which this usually happens anyway, and what are a year or two at the sum of history? But these were ill omens, which we were late to notice.
Much worse was the time when people did not meet each other at the right hour. Countless relationships and loves were lost just because two met at the wrong time, and the number of people who had to wander with the feeling that they missed something increased. Because a year or two in human beings, these cover the span of time between 'too soon' and 'too late. And unfortunately, the stock of second chances the world had, ran out a long time ago (but that's a matter for a different story).
At this point the signs were clear enough, so even the blindest of people could read them. Because how could so many regrets form without something going wrong? But alas, it was already too late. The delicate, finely-tuned mechanism that kept the clock going for so many year already screeched its last moments.
The gears rattled and clattered, pistons froze in their place and time became so mixed together that people were often unable to tell what happened in their memory and what they hoped that might happen in the future. And all of a sudden, no one could explain: how did lovers instantly become strangers, barely able to exchange a few words without falling into somber silence.
I often dream of descending into the center of the world and oiling the ancient clock, in hope it might move again. Because it is only due to this catastrophe that I can no longer call a certain woman and suggest that we meet. Despite once being the closest of friends.
At least, this is my explanation for the matter. If you can find a better one, feel free to tell me about it.