The brown leather jacket landed atop the mini bar in a smooth, draped toss. The plasticky clatter of a hospital ID on its lanyard followed.

Toeing off his shoes, Dr. Oskar Andersson reached behind the marble countertop to snatch a clean glass along with the bottle of 12-year old Glenffiddich and proceeded to pour himself a double. The ER had been a zoo tonight. Full moons did it every time.

Eyes the silvery blue of moonlit skies drifted closed as the first swallow of the whiskey's smoked butterscotch notes spread its warmth.

With a slow exhale, Oskar rubbed the sore back of his neck, and grimaced at the whiff of his forearm's skin.

You'd think he'd have gotten used to the chemical smells after all this time. But the showers he took after changing out of his scrubs at the end of his shifts only ever succeeded in suffusing the smell of surgery antiseptic with that of the disinfectant they used in the staff showers. It was why the good doctor always took another shower when he got back to his condo. Not that he need fear any contagion or infection. No human disease could touch him. It was just that the astringent bouquet he ended up carrying home was an arrangement he could do without. Cloying as it was on his hair and skin, it unfortunately transferred to his regular clothes.

Which reminded him...

Pulling out his phone from his back jean pocket, Oskar swiped to the bright yellow washing machine icon of the laundry service app. First Rinse™ was a name that had appealed to the temporal guardian of the First Hour when he'd been looking for a service. That, and the fact they operated 24/7. Just like he did.

According to the app, his clean and folded laundry was on its way and should be dropped off at his condo door in a few minutes. His favourite pair of lounging pants was in that load. Fine. He'd wait for it to arrive before taking his second shower.

The time read 00H35 on his phone. Oskar smiled.

At the wave of his hand, a gilt bronze hourglass materialized to hover over the bar. His Clock.

The bulk of its crystal grains of sand had returned to the top bulb with the changing of the day. It was exactly thirty-five minutes, seventeen...eighteen...nineteen...seconds past midnight by his count of the granules falling. He still had time before his watch started in this Here and Now.

Since time zones spanned the entire world, technically it was always his watch somewhere. But as a temporal guardian, as long as he held true to the zone he happened to be in —the Here and Now of his current moments— the passage of his watch and the days across the globe held true as well. It was the same for all the twenty-four Hours.

Oskar settled himself on the living room couch, propping his socked feet on the coffee table.

It was rare for him to be home at this time. More often than not, he was on duty at the hospital and his watch as the First Hour came and went without any conscious thought on his part.

As an emergency room doctor, there was such a range of firsts for him to experience directly instead; first to examine, first to provide care, first to heal. Then there was that most powerful of firsts... first to call time of death, though this latter was sometimes offset by being the first to witness the birth of a new life in some rushed circumstances.

He took another swig of his whiskey.

I wonder how Twent—

A rapping at the door cut off his thought. Odd. The laundry delivery service always left the bag outside. Was there some problem with his order?

Oskar's frown deepened when he sensed no human presence in the corridor beyond.

The rapping grew sharper.

Setting down his drink, he padded over to the door and opened it.

The tinted reflection of his startled eyes gawked back at him as he stood there dumbfounded for a moment.

"M-my Lord? What are you doing here? Is something wron—"

A heavy thud to the floor was punctuated by the rattled clinking of bottles and glasses behind the mini bar.

Midnight stepped over the crumpled form of the First Hour, closing the condo door behind him. With his gloved hand, he gave a quick polish to the smudged raven head of his walking stick.

"No need to worry, First," he said with a casual air as he tucked the cane back under his arm. "I've come to take over your watch."

Midnight peered over the rim of his shaded lenses at the hourglass floating above the bar. Walking over to clasp it, Midnight smiled, sand and glass shards exploding in all directions when he smashed the hourglass hard upon the marble.

The bronze gilded frame twisted into a misshapen steaming blob which clattered to the tiled floor when Midnight let go of it. Pursing his lips, he wiped some clinging grains of sand from the front of his jacket.

"Let's see. How shall I spend this time for myself? Any suggestions, First?"

There was no answer from the Hour who remained motionless on the floor.

"Mm." Midnight tapped the edge of the hospital ID he picked up from the counter, thumbing the leather jacket at the same time. He glanced thoughtfully back at the First Hour whose form now dissolved into mist and vanished.

Midnight strolled into the living room area where he spotted then reached for the unfinished glass of whiskey on the table.

"Cheers," he exclaimed before downing it in one shot.

_____

[PAYMENT CONFIRMED]

"Yessss," she cheered in a terse whisper at the screen. Maya puffed on her fingertips as if they were smoking. The concert tickets had been too sweet of a last minute deal to pass on. And now she had the perfect gift to give to her co-worker Gracie at her bachelorette party next week.

Powering off, she flipped the cover back over her iPad, then plumped up the pillow behind her back. With a happy sigh, she stretched out her legs and toes under the bed blanket.

No matter how many Here and Nows of human society the Twenty-third Hour had lived in, the comfort of a cozy bed had always been her favourite indulgence. Not that she needed to sleep. That was just something fun to do for a night, or a nap, every few decades.

No, it was the warm comfort of blankets and a soft mattress that appealed to Maya. A bed was the perfect place to read a book, write notes, watch TV— when the things became common household items. And now with laptops and electronic devices, there was even more she could do to occupy her time in the night so as to avoid having to pretend to count sheep til infinity. She just had to pay mind to the fact she was supposed to maintain a pretense of sleeping, that she couldn't indulge in activities all night long, every night, without end.

Given her living arrangements, Maya had to be careful lest her neighbours become suspicious —her elderly landlady Mrs. Schultz in the apartment below especially. When Maya had arrived from work yesterday, her landlady had been rather conspicuous tidying up the circulars in the lobby.

"Hello Maya, dear. How was your day at work? How you young people manage on so little sleep amazes me."

Damn.

Did this mark the start of having to plan to move away and set up a life elsewhere? At least, that's what Maya had always done before four years ago when her life had been simpler.

"Oh?" She tried to sound innocent. "Why do you say that, Mrs. Schultz?"

The landlady's blue perm swished in one stiff mass with the shake of her head.

"I heard your coffeemaker at 2 AM. Coffee's bad at night, dear. Worst thing ever if you're an insomniac. Believe me, I know. Just wait til menopause hits you. You'll sleep even less. Your tits'll start sagging and your belly and memory go to pot. By the way, rent's due tomorrow."

Ah, so that was it.

The tension bled from Maya's shoulders as she'd nodded with what she hoped came off as a look of genuine guilt. Not.

Amaya 'Maya' Linden always paid her rent on time. Exactly on time. The payment always going through the final second before midnight the day it was due. Why not? As the temporal guardian of the twenty-third hour of the day, Maya could never resist doing things at the last minute. It was her nature after all, and her specialty: Last minute deals, vacation packages, bookings, trades... auction closings. There were days when Maya missed her former job as an auctioneer. But never as much as she missed...

She bit down on her lip.

With a heavy sigh, she placed the iPad on the nightstand on top of the shopping list she'd been writing out earlier. No matter how many note apps there were in this age of tech gadgets, Maya remained "old-school"—she loved that expression—when it came to using pen and paper to make to-do lists.

The fridge was getting bare so she'd need to stop off and do the groceries after work today. Like with sleep, she did not need to eat. But food was something Maya could not do without for other reasons. Hmm, was it early still to plan what to prepare for breakfast?

She glanced at her Clock centred on her bedroom wall and gave a wistful smile to the minute hand that ticked past the XI just then. The clock was a wrought iron piece she'd taken a a fancy to back in the late 1500s and the Eleventh Hour had teased her when he'd found out she'd gotten it, accusing her of copying him since he had one very similar.

Maya was looking forward to seeing her Eleventh brother for dinner this evening. It had been a while. Would he have news to share of her other brother and sister guardians? Since they all lived scattered around the world in their Here and Nows, it wasn't easy to keep in touch... luckily for her.

The Twenty-third Hour purposely kept to herself. And the reason why was a secret only her Eleventh, and First, brothers knew of. A secret that had changed everything in her existence as of four years ago.

Her breath hitched when an icy shiver ran through her. Instinctively she glanced at her Clock again whose hour hand had just moved to I. First Hour's watch.

"Mommy?"

Her daughter stood blinking sleepily in the bedroom doorway in her rumpled pjs, pillow and teddy bear dangling from each small hand.

"Bad dream, Mommy."

"Come here, Zoe."

Maya lifted her blanket for the child to clamber into the bed and cuddle beside her. The Twenty-third Hour sighed again as she stroked Zoe's tousled curls, curls that perfectly matched the little girl's father's. Yet Zoe's dusky grey eyes were all her mother's, their gold flecks catching the warm glow of the streetlamp outside before little eyelids closed in sleep.

The Twenty-third Hour gazed out the window into the night. The full moon was dimming, the sky growing overcast. And yet the forecast had called for clear skies the next 24 hours.

If only the weather were as predictable as the time, Maya thought.