Tania Hershman

The Doomsday Clock

is not an optimist; it’s in the name. If you ask it what it wants, it doesn’t say: peace, harmony. It bares its teeth. You didn’t know clocks had teeth? Believe me, all devices that log time can bite. The Doomsday Clock longs for midnight because, in 1947, humans set it so. Its hands are now ninety seconds off full-on End-of-Days catastrophe. But what if we

renamed it, for hope instead of dark: the Joyous Clock, the Clock of Delight? You're               unconvinced. Can it be that easy? Why not, doomsday’s just a word, and the clock isn’t               made from materials unique to apocalypse or cataclysm, it’s the same as any time-piece.      Let’s ask it. I’m fine with that, says the clock. Call me anything you like. And besides, doesn’t             everyone deserve a shot at happiness? It grins, and for a minute, we swear

                           we see its hands

                                                       dancing.