Three words stopped me from changing the world. Instead of washing away the problems of humanity, I ended up washing windows. It was all just a matter of timing.

The three words told the story of my life, so I should probably mention which particular words they were. Well, not just yet.

Introductions first. My name's Howard. I'm dying. No, don't feel sorry for me - it's my own damn fault, and it goes back to my three word motto. See, I was a window washer, but that career ended when the cables on my cart snapped outside a thirty-second floor window. I'd noticed the faulty cables at least a week before, but never got around to telling anyone. So I'm falling to my death. I expect to make quite a mess when I land.

Now you might find it a little odd that I'm writing my life story in midair. Even I would have said the idea was absurd before my discovery, but now that I've had time to think about it, putting my thoughts into some writer's head is child's play.

The seeds of my discovery were planted when I was a little kid. Mother was always yelling at me. Feed the dogs. Wash the car. Quit watching TV. So I'd yell back at her. I'll do it later. Can't you wait? Not just yet!!

My parents let me get away with that sort of thing because they thought I was a genius. They said, "Howie, you're a genius. You'll do great things someday. You'll be a scientist. You'll live in a mansion and make wonderful discoveries and have all the friends in the world. Yes sir, Howie. Someday."

Someday...

I really don't know if I was a genius or not. I just happened to have discovered the secret of the universe when I was twelve. That's when I found out that There Just Isn't Enough Time.

My teachers said I was a genius, too. They got angry when I didn't do my work, because they thought it was "so easy" for me. Sometimes I'd put homework off to the last minute. Other times, I'd never get around to doing it at all.

My free time was more important.

Now, procrastination is a habit for many people, but for me it was an obsession. I was positively bent on putting things off. I spent all my free time looking for more free time. Everything else was secondary.

Howie, they'd say, are you coming to dinner? Not just yet. Howard, are you planning to turn in this assignment? Not just yet. Howard, are you going to fill out these college applications? Not just yet. Those three words became my trademark.

Somehow, I wound up washing windows. I suppose I liked it - there was plenty of time to think up there, and it was solitary, so I didn't have to waste time on friends or coworkers. I had a lot of time on my hands, but I wanted more.

I was twenty before I made my discovery. It was simple, really: I could relax twice as much if I relaxed twice as fast. If I took all the feelings, thoughts and daydreams that went through my mind in an hour of sitting around doing nothing and crammed them into half an hour, I could do twice the loafing.

I toyed with my idea, and bit by bit came up with a procedure for increasing the speed of thought not just to double speed, but a million times over.

I fancied myself a hero. How much nicer the world would be when people could put a year or two worth of thought into split-second decisions! How many more great inventions there would be when the brilliant men and women of the world could think a million times faster!

But the procedure would take three seconds to perform, and a full two minutes to explain on paper. That was way too much trouble for me, so I put it off.

And put it off...

And put it off...

And fifteen years went by.

When the cable broke, I knew the last minute had finally arrived. As the ground rushed up towards me, I began the thought process I'd developed fifteen years before.

Three seconds later, time stopped. My discovery worked! After forty-five long years, I'd finally gotten myself more time.

It was quite a shock at first. I was thinking too fast for my body to catch up - I couldn't even force myself to blink. All I could do was stare at the unmoving shapes of people, trees, and cars below me. I'd been caught in an eternal adrenaline rush - a split second of terror and excitement stretched out to a million times its length.

I wanted to scream, but couldn't, and that made it even worse. Eventually I came to my senses and realized I was safer than ever before. I could relax without having to worry about bills or eating or splattering all over the ground. I was cheating death at the last minute.

When I was comfortable enough, I began experimenting. I tried the process again, and then a third time. As near as I can figure, that put me at a speed of 1,000,000,000,000,000,000 times that of normal thought. Math people call that a quintillion.

I spent much of my newfound time daydreaming about nothing in particular. After a while, I learned to ignore the frozen image of the street below me, and my hallucinations became a new reality. My dreams were of window-washing, and putting things off - and I began to think that maybe none of this had happened, that the fall had been the dream.

Another dream-decade passed before curiosity finally took precedence over loafing. At the mental age of fifty-five, window washing begins to lose its appeal, and I knew that if I was dreaming, I could find much more fun subjects to dream about.

So one day, I reversed the process, taking the train of thought backwards. The world became a blur for a second, then returned to normal. Surprised, I tried again, getting the same effect.

I tried one last time and found myself hurtling towards the earth. Screaming, I sped my thoughts up once again. This time, I fought off the dreams, and let myself think rationally.

My body was hanging in midair. I'd run through the acceleration procedure three times, so naturally it took three reversals to return to normal.

If it took three seconds worth of thought to multiply my thinking speed by a million, to speed it up a second time took only three millionths of a real second, a third time three trillionths, a fourth three quadrillionths, and so on to infinity. At high speeds I was free to spend as much time thinking as I wanted, but in real time - well, I'd already wasted at least six seconds changing mental gears. How long could it take to hit the ground from thirty- two stories? Never mind. I don't want to know.

Trapped for eternity, I revised my philosophy, and actually began looking for a solution. After all, now that I knew I had as much time as I wanted, I felt able to spend some on my problem.

I set up a laboratory, in my mind. It's in a mansion, peopled by imaginary friends, just like my parents wanted. If that seems a little childish, well, all I can say is that if you can go approximately eight thousand years in solitude without becoming a little imaginative, then you're a better person than me...

You can do a lot with near-infinite time. Telepathy took me about a century to figure out. Without it, I never could have told this story. But then, telepathy deserves a story of it's own. Right now, I'm working on telekineses - you know, controlling things from a distance. I'm especially interested in one form of it - levitation. Wouldn't that make the headlines? WINDOW WASHER AVOIDS DEATH BY FLYING! On the other hand, I've got all the time in the world to figure that one out.

You know, that would make a great painting... Me soaring off over the crowds. I think I'll paint a picture of it- maybe send the image to some struggling surrealist painter or comic book artist or something when I'm done.

Oh, don't worry. I'll get back to this, and let you all in on the secrets I discovered - thought acceleration, step by step, solving the world's problems, uncovering the secrets of the universe, and all that other stuff.

Look, I promise I will...

But not just yet.