Faster! Shorter! Sooner! Does all this hurrying get us anywhere?

"I remember wondering where he was going in such a hurry," says Mrs. Gibson, a Dallas real-estate agent and mother of two. "A few miles later, I stopped for gas. And who should pull in behind me but that guy."

Ah, the rush to nowhere. We inch through red lights, slink out of church before the benediction, pound the (essentially useless) "close door" button on elevators. And all for what? To rush somewhere else we'll be in a hurry to leave.

"With the rush most Americans are in, even if Moses was on the news for the 10 Commandments, Dan Rather would go on the air and boil it down to the four main stories," says Matthew Felling, media director for the Center for Media and Public Affairs in Washington, D.C.

Maybe he's not exaggerating:

Stores start bringing out Christmas merchandise around the time most of us are carving pumpkins. St. Patrick's Day decorations go on shelves before Valentine's Day.

Less than a year after the 1996 election, presidential hopefuls Steve Forbes, Dan Quayle and Lamar Alexander took tentative steps toward running on the 2000 ballot. In that case, however, the early birds did not get the nomination worm.

Popular TV sitcoms last only a half-hour. But apparently that's too long for many folks to sit still: 15-minute shows may be in the wings, Mr. Felling says.

People get visibly upset when an elevator doesn't arrive within seconds. Ditto for how long the door takes to close once they're inside. Actual time elapsed: About four seconds, according to research by Otis Elevator Company.

Books show how to slash time on everything from reading to our children (One-Minute Bedtime Stories) to therapy (Shortcut Through Therapy: 10 Principles of Growth-Oriented Contented Living.) Interesting note: A whole other genre tells us how to slow down.

Recent police studies show that on many Dallas highways, average speeds now exceed posted limits by 10 mph. Commented a veteran police officer, "People are always in a rush really to go nowhere."

But why?

Explains James Gleick in Faster (Pantheon Press; $24): "What is true is that we are awash in things, in information, in news, in the old rubble and shiny new toys of our complex civilization, and - strange, perhaps - stuff means speed . . . we live in the buzz."

In his work as executive director of the Pastoral Counseling Center and Education Center, Wayne Albrecht knows the effect of today's frenetic pace.

"I see young professional couples with children who get themselves into some pretty heavy mortgages and a lifestyle that our culture dictates as part of the professional image," he says. "They just pedal till they run out of wind trying to keep up with that."

The rush may seem to have begun in the last decade. But it's actually been part of human nature since Fred Flintstone hurried home so he could hurry through dinner so he could hurry to the bowling alley.

"This is a perennial theme," says Dr. David Shi, a cultural historian and president of Furman University in South Carolina. "From ancient times, people have dreamed about and struggled to achieve a simpler life, only in most cases to fail."

In lectures about life's seeming acceleration, he tells this anecdote: One day on campus, he and a woman literally bumped into each other. As she continued her pace, she called back to him over her shoulder:

"I'm sorry! I'm late for my relaxation class!"

Back in the 1980s, Dr. Shi wrote a book called The Simple Life (Oxford University Press; $14.95). He jokes to people that he's working on a sequel called The Frenetic Life.

"As more and more of us use our computers as our primary technology, unwittingly we begin to presume that we should be operating at computer-like efficiency," says Dr. Shi.

Which brings him to what he calls an "ugly term," tips for which can be found in just about any magazine: Multitasking.

"I hate that whole term," Alexis Herman, Secretary of Labor, recently told The New York Times Magazine. "I always say it's not multitasking; it's simultaneous management."

Whatever term you use, it boils down to this: We can't merely talk on the phone anymore; instead, we feel compelled to stir soup, lift weights, fold clothes. We can't sit in traffic without feeling the need to listen to language tapes, to call in for voice mail, to apply mascara.

In Faster, Mr. Gleick writes about a man who has mastered the - albeit questionable - art of flossing his teeth while browsing on-line discussion groups. In the April issue of Good Housekeeping, fitness guru Denise Austin offers suggestions on incorporating exercise into household chores.

Perish the thought we should devote our entire attention to merely one activity. Besides, which of us is willing to go first?

"It's hard to be a pioneer, it really is," says Bronwyn Conly, a Dallas mother of two active daughters. "Am I going to be the only person in town who starts doing one thing at a time, and then doesn't get it all done?"

Wait. Something's not right here. Multitasking, microwaves, fax machines, speed dial, ATMs and precooked bacon are supposed to be saving us time. So why aren't we reaping the rewards? Why do we still feel rushed?

Unfortunately, says Dr. Shi, "We're so committed to saving time, we feel increasingly deprived of the thing we value most - time."

In one attempt at saving precious moments in the morning, Kellogg's came up with Breakfast Mates. The single-serving portions include cereal, bowl, spoon and milk. Voila - What a timesaver!

Or so you might think. When a New York Times writer tested the product one morning with his family, it did indeed slash breakfast prep time - from 14 to 13 seconds.

"What's so ironic is that all these things we've invented to save us time have made us busier and busier," Mrs. Conly says. "What happened to waiting by the stove, talking to a child while you boil a pot of water for tea? A hot-water dispenser's a great idea, but for heaven's sake!"

Still, she concedes, "I can't reinvent the wheel. I won't be the one to take the microwave out of my house."

Lately, she's been trying to gear her multitasking toward benefiting her family. For instance, she signed on to the confirmation-class committee at her church because her younger daughter will soon be going through confirmation.

Even so, her life remains rushed.

"I'm sewing curtains for our house," Mrs. Conly says. "Then say someone from a volunteer project calls and that totally changes my head. Somebody calls from school; I'm involved in the PTA. You may have your whole day planned, but forget about it. You're going to have 15 things come your way."

Unfortunately, we all get swept along in the rush. On one hand, we wish for a more traditional notion of happiness, security, simplicity. On the other, we almost feel guilty if we're not in a hurry to get somewhere or to do something.

After all, muses Dr. Shi, "Who goes to Starbucks and brags about how serene their weekend was?"

OK. You've sat still long enough (unless you were reading this while on the treadmill). One final note before you rush off to wherever: If you don't have time to actually read Mr. Gleick's book, it's also available in an audio version - abridged.