Clock Work

Clock Work
Brandon Morgan

         Tick-.  The watchmaker bolted upright from his work on the table.  There it was again; the unmistakable sound of, among the hundreds of clocks and watches surrounding him in his workshop, one of them being slightly off.  He listened intently, straining his ears to single out the sound.  The offending timepiece seemed to be grossly maladjusted, its ticking having no rhyme or rhythm.  Perhaps a gear had come loose?

         Stopping and starting, holding no steady beat to partition time into manageable segments, the asynchronous sound grated on his nerves, on his very ego.  The thought of such shoddy workmanship being present in his shop horrified and angered him.  He stood to investigate, to find the culprit and rid the blight of imperfection.

         As he stood, the noise stopped.  Narrowing his eyes, he made a round of the shop, stopping by each clock, listening closely.  Everything ticked away perfectly, daring him to find fault in his own workmanship.  He even checked the back room, even though none of the pieces back there were running, all sitting silently, waiting patiently for his attention to be completed.

         Finding nothing wrong with his wares, he returned to his work table, musing about what he had heard.  Sitting down, he rubbed his tired eyes, contemplating that maybe he shouldn’t be keeping such late hours.  Shaking his head, he turned back to his work.  He stared down at the table, puzzled.  Wasn’t there just a cog here?

         Suddenly, the sound started up again, this time much louder, and faster.  The watchmaker jumped to his feet again, but instead of the sound stopping, it started moving.  It was low to the ground, zigging and zagging through the shop, heading for the back door to the alleyway that he had carelessly left ajar.  He dove for the noise, trying to head it off, but was too late.  He heard a thump as the source of the mysterious sound hit the door and forced its way through to the alleyway beyond.

         He scrambled to his feet, rushing for the door.  As he stumbled into the alleyway, he only caught a faint glint of metal in the dark night, as the tiny, furious clacking sound of metal on cobblestone faded away.

         The wind-up key on its back spinning madly, the miniature mechanical man made good its escape, clutching the cog tightly as its prize.  It skittered through a small hole in an old door, into an abandoned storage room.  There it finally stopped, the clockwork sounds fading as they echoed in the old stone room.

         Standing still, the light blue glow of its eyes was the only sign of life in the otherwise seemingly random collection of gears, cogs, and springs.  The key in its back began spinning slowly again as it made its way to the far corner of the room, filling the air with its ticking.  It reached a pile of spare watch parts, where it reverentially placed the cog onto a spindle, slotting it into place among other cogwheels of various sizes.

         The little clockwork creature stepped back, watching expectantly.  When nothing happened after several moments, it reached out and poked a gear.  Still nothing happened.  It began pushing and prodding various parts of the little contraption, but with no results.  It sat down glumly, hanging its head, the sound of its gears fading out sadly in sympathy.

         It sat there for several minutes, the light of its eyes dim in its loneliness.  It then stood up again slowly, but then paused when it had reached its feet.  It glanced over its shoulder, and raised an arm experimentally.  It swung its arm up and down again a few more times, watching as the key in its back spun with each movement.  The glow in its eyes grew brighter, and it reached around with both arms, grasping the key.  After a couple pulls, it finally managed to dislodge the key.

         It marched around to the other side of the pile of parts, where there was a conveniently key-shaped hole.  It plunged the key into the slot, and began twisting it with all its might.  The sound of gears clicking filled the room, and the mechanical man struggled as the pressure of the wound up spring grew greater.  When it could turn no more, it finally released the key.

         It watched excitedly, the light of its eyes almost burning now, as the key began to slowly turn.  The spare parts began to move, now apparent for what they were; arms, legs, torso, and head.  A second set of mechanical sounds joined the little clockwork man’s own.  The new creature rose to its feet, turning to meet its maker.  The light blue glow of its eyes shone with life.

         They stood there for several minutes, staring at each other, the clacking sound of their gears echoing off the stone walls.