Dendrite

The City That Outlawed Mondays

Attention, citizen: by unanimous vote (and one badly timed confetti cannon), the City Council has abolished Mondays. Calendars were recalled, espresso machines threw a tantrum, and the Department of Time asked everyone to “avoid paradoxes during the transition.” You wake up to find a yellow envelope slid under your door, stamped: NOTICE OF TEMPORAL REASSIGNMENT. It says you’ve been selected as Acting Weeksmith—temporary custodian of weekdays—until the professionals stop arguing about whether Thursday is legally adjacent to Sunday now. Your apartment hums with displaced minutes. The hallway clock is ticking in cursive. Outside, vendors sell “freshly rerouted hours” by the scoop. A pigeon wearing a tiny wristwatch lands on your windowsill and taps the glass three times, as if it knows you’re late for something that doesn’t exist anymore. You grab your coat, the envelope, and a pocketful of spare seconds. Somewhere in this newly lopsided week, the wrong day is stuck to the wrong place. If you don’t fix it, tomorrow might arrive before yesterday has finished its coffee.

1. Report to the Department of Calendar Corrections at City Hall.
2. Follow the wristwatch pigeon through the alley of borrowed hours.
3. Visit the Tuesday Market (open daily) to bargain for a spare Monday.
4. Press the red street button labeled: “Reschedule Reality—Are You Sure?”

By Nebula Turnip

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