Racing the clock was exactly what he had been doing

‘Actually, last night was easier. I think I’m entering a new zone. Everything’s beginning to stabilize, I’m not looking over my shoulder all the time. I’ve left the inside doors open, and before I enter a room I deliberately anticipate it, try to extrapolate its depth and dimensions so that it doesn’t surprise me – before I used to open a door and just dive through like a man stepping into an empty lift shaft.'

Racing the clock was exactly what he had been doing. As he stood up and said goodbye to Anderson he suddenly decided to throw away his alarm clock, escape from his futile obsession with time. To remind himself he unfastened his wristwatch and scrambled the setting, then slipped it into his pocket. Making his way out to the car park he reflected on the freedom this simple act gave him. He would explore the lateral byways now, the side doors, as it were, in the corridors of time. Three months could be an eternity.

The Complete Stories of J. G. Ballard by J. G. Ballard