Clockworkers

by Ramsey Isler

  “So, broadcast is like shining light?” the elf asked.

  “No, not quite. Radio is like light, but a little different. They’re both electromagnetic waves.”

  The elf gave me a blank stare.

  “There’s a lot to learn here,” I said with a smile and a pat on the elf’s shoulder.

  “Will you teach me?” Piv asked.

  “Yes,” I told him. “Yes I will.”

  * * *

  Sam closed the book and breathed deeply. She had to calm herself down. She had never been one for reading stories—technical books had always been more to her liking. This was the first time a book had made her mind go wild with new ideas of what was possible in the universe. The things she read were absolutely stunning and fantastical.

  But it was all real.

  She saw Piv out of the corner of her eye. She turned to him, and when she looked at him now she saw him differently. He was no longer an oddity. He was an asset.

  “Now I can figure out what to do with you,” she said.

  Piv cocked his head quizzically. “Hmm?”

  “My father had you fix all those troublesome repair jobs at the shop, didn’t he?”

  Piv nodded.

  Sam laughed. “For all those years, the old man had everyone convinced that he could work miracles. But it was really just an elf in the back room. Imagine what he could have done with a little more focus and planning.”

  “That wasn’t how your father saw things,” Piv said.

  “Oh, don’t I know it,” Sam said. “But I don’t have the same problem he did. There are some big things I’ve been wanting to do for a while. I think you’re just the secret weapon I need to make everything happen.”

  Piv nodded. “Very well.”

  “I’ll need to give you a test first,” Sam said. “Just to make sure you can handle it.”

  Piv crossed his arms and examined her with half-open eyes. “You’re different than your father.”

  “Different in what way?” Sam asked.

  Piv rocked back and forth on his heels and toes. “Hmm. What’s the word? You’re...ambitious. Yes, that’s it.”

  “I guess,” Sam said.. “But you could say that about a lot of people.”

  “Not your father,” Piv said. “Samuel was never ambitious. Curious? Yes. Creative? Certainly. But never ambitious. He spent half of his life with me and my kind, discovering things that maybe no one else will ever see. And he was happy with that. Just that. Nothing else.”

  Sam just stared at him.

  Piv continued, “The words I just said don’t change anything, do they? You don’t want to follow in your father’s footsteps at all.”

  “No,” Sam said.

  “I didn’t think so. You want to go on your own path.”

  “That is the plan,” Sam said.

  “I can help you, if you ask. Yes, yes I can.”

  “And what do you want for payment?” Sam asked.

  “Payment?” the elf said. “I’m fulfilling the last request from your father. This is a favor. A gift. No payment is required.”

  “Great news,” Sam said. Then she yawned wide and long. “It’s getting really late and I need to sleep. How about we start again tomorrow?”

  Piv nodded. “Yes, let’s do that. I will stay here, if you do not mind.”

  “I think that’s okay,” Sam said. “But you stay downstairs. My bedroom is off limits. Understand?”

  “Yes,” Piv said.

  “And stay quiet,” Sam said.

  “Of course,” Piv said. “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” Sam said as she grabbed her father’s journal and headed upstairs. “Fix my gun.”

  * * *

  Morning arrived. The spring sun cast persistent shafts of light that somehow found their way through Sam’s blinds. Once the sunshine hit her eyes, she eagerly jumped out of bed, stretched, and headed for the kitchen. Halfway down the stairs, she heard whispers. It was an eerie sound, like moist leaves rustling in a stiff summer wind.

  Sam froze.

  At first, the sound scared her into paralysis. An electric bolt of fear tingled along her neck and shoulders. Then the fight or flight response hit her again. Some primal part of her brain told her to run.

  Then she remembered there was an elf in her house. This kind of thing was probably normal under those circumstances. The evolved part of her brain took over. Reason resumed control. She relaxed, and wondered if she’d ever get used to this.

  She turned the corner and found Piv sitting cross-legged on the floor and whispering to Rupert. The dog was in a Sphinx-like position facing the elf, and he stared directly into Piv’s pale green eyes. He seemed to be listening intently to whatever Piv was saying, but both Piv and Rupert turned to her when she appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Good morning!” Piv said cheerily. Rupert wagged his tail.

  “Why were you talking to my dog?” Sam said.

  “Why wouldn’t I talk to your dog?”

  “Okay...better question: what were you saying to my dog?”

  “It’s not polite to intrude on the conversations of others,” Piv said.

  “Okay, smart ass. Keep it to yourself then. You won’t have much time to chat with the dog after today anyway. I’m going to keep you busy.”

  Piv smiled brightly. “You have tinkering that needs to be done?”

  “Something like that,” Sam said. “Come here.”

  Sam led him to the door at the rear of the kitchen. She opened it, and stepped into the garage. Piv followed closely.

  The garage was empty, except for a gleaming red car that had its guts spilled all over. There was a small crane there, and from it hung a mass of metal and gears.

  “This is the engine block of a 1967 Ford Mustang,” Sam said.

  “This was your father’s automobile,” Piv said.

  “Yes. He gave it to me a few years ago. We had been working on the restoration for a while, but never could find the time to finish.”

  “Time does not need to be found,” Piv said. “It’s always there.”

  Sam ignored him. “As you can see, the engine is in about a hundred pieces. I’d like you to put it back into working condition.”

  “Why?”

  “The internal combustion engine has many similarities with clockwork,” Sam said. “You might even say that a clock’s movement is an engine of sorts. But there are many differences as well, and those differences will help me figure out if you’ll really be any good for what I’m planning. I need to know how quickly you can adapt to new mechanics.”

  “Very well,” Piv said.

  Sam grabbed a book off the work bench and tossed it to Piv. “That’s the manual. If you can put this back together we have a deal.”

  “I understand,” Piv said.

  “And is my gun fixed?”

  “Yes,” Piv said as he reached behind him and retrieved the sidearm that was tucked into the waistband of his simple gray pants. Sam took it from him and examined the weapon carefully. Everything seemed to be in order, but she would try firing it at the gun range later just to be sure.

  “I’m going to go back to the watch shop,” Sam said. “I’ll stop by the grocery store on the way home. Is there anything specific you want?”

  “Pudding!” Piv said as he jumped up like a child on Christmas morning. “And eggs. Lots of eggs.”

  “Okay. Don’t go outside, and if anybody knocks, or the phone rings, ignore it.”

  Piv stood rigid, gave her an officer’s salute, and said. “Yes, ma’am!”

  Sam sighed, shook her head, and left.

  Chapter 7

  Life at Better Timepieces was business as usual. Clients came and went, dropping off exotic timepieces with exotic problems. They all left with smiles on their faces—happy that their precious toys were all better. Sam barely noticed the smiling and waving patrons in the shop. At one point, Yusef said something to her about some kind of billing issue, but it hardly registered to her. She
merely nodded and mumbled something close to an affirmative. Just before closing, while Sam was staring out of a window in the shop, Yusef finally confronted her with some things that had been on his own mind.

  “What’s going to happen to the shop?” he asked.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to the shop,” Sam said.

  “I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Yusef said.

  “Mind what?”

  “If you wanted to close the shop.” Yusef said. “I’d understand. I can find a job somewhere else, you know. My uncle has been trying to get me into the family restaurant business for years. He thinks I can help him cook the books.”

  “I’m not closing the shop,” Sam said.

  “Then what are you going to do with it?” Yusef asked.

  “What makes you think I’m going to do anything at all with it?”

  “Five years of working with you,” Yusef answered. “Sam, you don’t want to be here. We all know that. Your father knew it.”

  “Have you gone nutty? I love my work. I love being a gadget girl.”

  “Of course you do. I didn’t say you hate your work. I said you don’t want to be here. This shop is too small-time for you, Sam.”

  Sam turned away from him. “I’ve never said that.”

  “You don’t need to,” Yusef said. “I can see it. Well, now I can. To be honest, I didn’t notice until your dad pointed it out.”

  Sam spun to face him again. “He said that?”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  Sam had no response for that. She stared out of the nearest window, as her mind was working hard to comprehend this new information.

  “I miss him,” Yusef said. “I miss his weirdness. He always made the day interesting.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” Sam said.

  “I miss him for other reasons too, of course. He was such a great guy. He was...he was like family.”

  “He felt the same about you,” Sam said.

  “If I’m family then that means I’m like...your brother or something.”

  “What in the world are you talking about?” Sam asked.

  “As your brother I’m telling you to do what you want to do,” Yusef said. “Don’t worry about me. Don’t worry about what your dad would have thought. Do what makes you happy. That’s all your father ever wanted.”

  “I know,” Sam said. “I know.” She waited for Yusef to say something else. When he didn’t, the silence grew too uncomfortable for her.

  “Did you two talk often?” Sam asked. “You know, about...me?”

  “No, actually. I mean, yes we did talk often but no we didn’t really talk about you. We just chatted about random things. He was actually one of the few people I could just feel free to ramble on with. We only talked about you when you did something that worried him.”

  “Great,” Sam said.

  “We’re getting off topic here,” Yusef said. “So...what do you want?”

  “I want this conversation to end,” Sam said.

  “Don’t dodge the question.”

  Sam pondered her answer for a few seconds. “I want...I want to keep doing what I’m doing, but on a grander scale. That’s all.”

  “A neighborhood watch shop isn’t good enough for you?” Yusef said with a wry smile.

  “I didn’t say that,” Sam said. “Don’t put words in my mouth. You asked me what I want. I told you. That doesn’t mean what I have isn’t good enough.”

  “Fine,” Yusef said. “Grand scale. Sounds great. But why?”

  “Think of it this way,” Sam said. “Wouldn’t it be nice to not have to worry about money, ever?”

  “I don’t worry about money now,” Yusef said. “I mean, I worry about company money of course, but not my own finances.”

  “That’s because you’re healthy, single, and you have no kids. If any one of those things changes you’ll be singing a different tune.”

  “Fair point,” Yusef said. “But you’re also in the ’healthy, single, no kids’ category. And I don’t think any of that is going to change anytime soon, unless there’s some guy in your life I don’t know about.”

  “Please,” Sam said. “The only males I see regularly are you and Rupert.”

  “Exactly,” Yusef said. “So that leaves the health issue.”

  “No. I was just using that as an example, okay?”

  “Actually, I don’t think you were,” Yusef said. “There’s no shame in it, Sam. You’ve lost two parents to cancer.”

  Sam glared at Yusef, then she looked for something within arm’s reach to throw at him. Something sharp and made of metal would’ve been perfect. Unfortunately all the tools and parts were on the other side of the room. So she did the next big thing, and gave him a stare full of the proverbial daggers. It wasn’t working. Perhaps it was because her heart wasn’t really in it. Perhaps it was because he was right.

  “My life has been full of reminders of mortality,” Sam said, accepting Yusef’s bait. “I know I’ve only got so much time to make my mark on the world, and I’m not going to spend my days doing anything ordinary.”

  “At least now you’re actually being honest with me,” Yusef said. “I disagree with you, of course.”

  “Wouldn’t you want to be part of something remarkable?” Sam asked.

  “I am,” Yusef said. “We do great work here. We make people happy. That’s enough for me.”

  “Not for me,” Sam said.

  “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Yusef said. “If you want to bail, don’t worry about me.”

  “I’m not bailing,” Sam said. “Whatever I decide to do, this company is going to be a part of it.”

  “How’s a small-time local watch shop going to fit into your grand vision?” Yusef asked.

  “I’m working on it,” Sam said. “Just trust me.”

  * * *

  Yusef didn’t ask anymore questions or give Sam suspicious stares. They just closed up the shop, waved goodbye, and went their respective homes. Sam left in more of a hurry than Yusef did. She was quite curious about what her new little friend had been up to. But first, she had to take care of some household duties.

  Sam knew her fridge was nearly empty, and so was Rupert’s food bowl. She was so accustomed to feeding two stomachs that much of her grocery shopping routine was conducted on autopilot and muscle memory. She barely put any thought into the process most of the time. But now there was a third mouth to feed in the Chablon household.

  Sam stood in the pudding aisle for ten minutes before deciding to get a couple of variety packs just in case Piv’s tastes extended beyond vanilla. She also picked up a few dozen extra large eggs along with a fifteen-pound bag of dog food before she left the store.

  She parked in the driveway, carried her groceries into the kitchen, and found Piv standing in front of the door to the garage, with his hands clasped together under his narrow chin, and his eyes reflecting the amber rays of the kitchen lamps above them.

  “You’ve returned!” the impish fellow beamed.

  “I do live here,” Sam said as she reached into one of the bags and retrieved a carton. “Here are your eggs.”

  Piv eagerly grabbed the package and opened it. His mouth twisted into a pouty frown when he saw the contents. “They’re white,” he said. “What kind of eggs are these?”

  “Chicken eggs,” Sam answered.

  Piv’s eyes grew wide. “Chickens get this big?”

  “They do when you feed them growth hormones and genetically engineer them,” Sam said.

  Piv touched one, and gasped. “They’re cold!”

  “Well, yes,” Sam said.

  “Horrible,” Piv said. “Horrible.”

  “Fine,” Sam said, “leave them on the counter for a while until they warm up. But don’t come crying to me when you get salmonella poisoning.”

  Piv put the eggs aside, and grabbed the pudding packs. He deftly snatched a container off the pack, removed the plastic top, dug his fingers in, and started eating.<
br />
  Sam said, “How long of a lunch break do you plan on taking before you get back to fixing that engine?”

  “Im mdun ahleddy,” Piv said through a mouthful of pudding.

  Sam frowned. “What?”

  Piv swallowed, and said, “I’m done already. What a fun puzzle that was! Please try to make it more difficult next time.”

  “Pfft,” Sam said. “Whatever. I’m not that gullible, kid.”

  Piv shrugged, grabbed another packet of pudding, and walked into the garage.

  Sam disregarded him and went about putting her groceries away. Rupert heard the customary sounds of cupboards being opened, and plodded into the kitchen. Sam filled his bowl dutifully. It was all quite normal, but Sam still had a nagging feeling in her gut. Piv was awfully quiet, and his work on the engine should have been pretty loud.

  She decided to investigate, and walked into the garage.

  Sam stopped in mid-stride when she saw her father’s car...with no tools or engine parts surrounding it. The garage was more orderly than it had been since Sam bought the place. Piv sat on the floor next to the Mustang, rocking side to side as he spooned pudding into his mouth and watched his reflection in the chrome wheels. Sam walked to the car and opened the hood. The pristine engine was completely assembled and installed.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said as she closed the hood. “Does it run?”

  Piv turned to her and said, “No, silly. It has wheels. It rolls.”

  “Was that a joke?” Sam asked.

  “Hmm,” Piv hummed. “Was it?”

  “How do you know for sure that it works?” Sam asked.

  “Trust me.”

  “I don’t trust anybody,” Sam said. She moved to the driver’s side window and stuck her head inside to look at the odometer. She’d remembered the exact reading on that car: 20,178 miles. It had never changed in the years since she and her father had started restoring it. But today it read 20,180.

  Sam opened the car door and slid inside. The familiar leather seat felt right except for the fact that her knees were too high, and her chest was far too close to the steering wheel. She stared at Piv with her mouth agape as realization hit her. “Piv,” she said, “you didn’t actually go out and test drive this thing, did you?”