Malich sat in his home, located in the outer portion of New Varwick's inner circle. Although the place was much smaller than his previous residence, which had been located in the outermost section of the city, the view here was unparalleled.
From his fifth-floor window, he could see between the ivory towers and to the Grand Clock of New Varwick which towered over all of them, the largest and most magnificent clock tower in the entire city. The towering structure was the ticking heart of the city, responsible for keeping everything running like clockwork.
Calling it a tower seemed to do injustice to the colossal structure, made from gleaming bronze, and steel. It was a castle. Gears protruded from its sides, turning and clicking every few seconds. The clock face was enormous, visible from almost any point in the city.
In fact, the structure was so large that additional structures were attached to it, either built out from its sides or one that was seemingly built on top that somehow wrapped around and connected back down to the side of the structure. From Malich's window, he could see a beautiful glass structure covered in green plants that seemed to be a garden which hung from the side of the clock.
Malich had always been fascinated by the Grand Clock, a fascination that was natural as everyone was fascinated by the very structure that kept time moving forward in the city. But there was another fascination that was spurred on by admiration for his father, who had once worked within its confines.
It was every tinkerer's dream to be in charge of such a magnificent machine. The leader of the clock, or Clock Keeper, as they were known, held a position of immense prestige and influence that was said to rival what the kings had in the pre-chronostatic era. The salary, too, was unmatched, which Malich, who had fallen from his youth of riches, saw as another excellent bonus.
Malich dreamed of working inside that building and climbing his way up the ranks to become the Clock Keeper and live amongst the highest of society.
It wasn't just the money that motivated him, but the desire to gain the same level of respect and admiration that his father once held.
Malich's father had been the right hand to the Clock Keeper, and was in line to take over the prestigious position. However, he was removed from his position in the Grand Clock under dubious claims.
His father claimed that he was sabotaged and that others feared his ingenuity. In the aftermath of his removal, his father turned to heavy drinking.
To make matters worse, Malich's mother passed away not long after his father's fall from grace. Although her death was not unexpected, as she had been sick her entire life, it was still a painful blow for the family.
His father then spent the family's entire fortune trying to invent something that would restore his reputation, but his efforts were in vain, and he left both him and Malich completely penniless.
After the family fortune had been squandered, Malich's father resorted to selling his creations on the black market to unsavory buyers. Malich learned many unsavory things during those years, none of which he wished to know.
When his father gave him a pocket watch just before he killed himself, Malich tried to convince himself that it was his father's way of apologizing for his behavior in his final years.
Malich looked down at his pocket watch. His father had given it to him just before he killed himself.
Malich liked to think that his father had killed himself as a way of saying sorry for the last few years. In the last years of his life, he had become such a sad and violent man. Nothing like the father Malich loved. Malich still found it hard to accept that the two were even the same person.
He wasn't sure if he was pursuing his dream of becoming the Clock Keeper out of some lingering admiration for his father or simply for the money and power that came with the position.
“Perhaps,” he admitted to himself, “I am seeking some hint to see if my father truly was sabotaged as he claimed.”
He knew he needed to stop trying to find reasons for his father's madness, but he couldn't help but wonder if the Grand Clock had something to do with it. Everything wrong with his life started from there.
Malich touched a spot on his upper chest, a place of reminder of his father’s madness.
Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. It was late, practically the middle of the night, so Malich immediately knew who it was.
He didn't want to answer. He wasn't sure how the conversation would go.
Malich got up and opened the door to see his landlord standing in the doorway with a stern expression on his face. "You're late with the rent," the man grumbled.
Malich's heart sank. Even with all the other pressing matters that preoccupied him, he hadn't forgotten about his rent payments. He had simply hoped to avoid the man until he had money.
He sighed, feeling the weight of the situation on his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice heavy with remorse. "I don't have the money right now. I'll be sure to have it for you in a few days, I promise."
The landlord's scowl deepened, his lips curling into a sneer. Malich braced himself for the worst, but to his surprise, the man nodded and left, slamming the door behind him with a resounding bang. Malich let out a deep breath, feeling the tension slowly leave his body.
Malich walked back to his desk, where his alarm clock laid dismantled on top of it. He should have found a replacement before taking it apart, but he had convinced himself that he could wake up on time without it. He had been wrong.
He had overslept, well past the time he normally did, and had arrived late to his meeting with Mr. Alkinous.
Seated at his cluttered workbench, Malich picked up a small screwdriver and a handful of tiny gears and got back to his work.
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He had been working tirelessly on the contraption for months, pouring every ounce of his energy and creativity into its creation. And now, with his rent payment and basic needs hanging in the balance, he needed to get it working today—or face the dire consequences of his poverty and the consequences of those he promised this machine.
Peering inside the metal box before him, Malich studied the intricate network of gears with a critical eye. But it was the small, shimmering creatures at the heart of the machine that commanded his attention. They were faerins—rare and dangerous creatures from outside reality—and possessing them was strictly illegal, except for regulated uses.
Malich had learned that laws were more of a suggestion and that you shouldn't let them get in your way when you really want something.
The first faerin glinted like a tear-shaped gem, its otherworldly power pulsing through the copper wires that bound it to the central gear. This one wasn't an entire faerin but just part of one. It was still more than enough to power the machine. The other faerin, a smaller purple one, was tied to a gear at a distance from the first. Both had been given to Malich by the same person who had hired him to create the contraption.
The man had trusted Malich, despite his history of selling questionable items through the black market, and had offered him an exorbitant amount of money to build the machine.
Malich had taken the job, not entirely sure he could deliver, but the money was too much to refuse. He originally thought about pawning off the two faerin and running away, but knew that he would be chased down if he did such a thing. He also understood that the opportunities that success would give him far outweighed the risks.
Malich sat at his cluttered desk, studying the intricate design notes and comparing them to the machine that stood before him.
The blueprints weren't entirely his, but also his father’s. He had found the original design hidden among the many that his father had left him. He didn't know why his father had created such a design, but it was thanks to the blueprint that he had left, that Malich had the confidence to take the job.
Unfortunately, when he built the machine to his father's specifications, it didn't work. But that was to be expected when using his father's blueprints to build anything.
He revised it multiple times, so much so that the only things his design shared with the original were a few core mechanics and its name, Temporal Loop Initializer, a deliberately simple and straightforward name.
He and his father had agreed that a name should convey its function, a concept that Malich held dear. The fanciful titles that people gave their creations these days were something he detested. Though the thought occurred that he may just be jealous at how good some of their names were. He was always terrible with coming up with names.
Malich glanced at his pocket watch. Like he had thought, it was the dead of night.
He wasn't surprised that the landlord came up at this time. It was well known in the building that the man was a notorious night owl.
He looked out the window at the sprawling cityscape bathed in the eerie glow of gas lamps. Despite the sun and stars remaining in place, it still got dark at night, a mystery that Malich found both intriguing and unsettling.
According to some theories he had read, the sun might actually move, but the illusion of its static position was maintained by temporal distortion. Even if that did answer the question of why night and day were still things, it did not answer how light traveled through the stasis.
Checking the time once again, Malich jotted it down along with the test number, ninety-seven. His employer had strictly instructed him to test the device only at night. The reason remained a mystery, but Malich guessed it was to minimize the chance of detection by anyone who might sense the device's use.
He took a deep breath and pressed the button at the base of the machine. The air canister inside released its pressure, and the gears began to turn with satisfying clicks. Malich's gaze was fixed on the shimmering faerin at the heart of the machine, waiting for the moment of truth.
For a moment, nothing happened, and Malich's heart sank. Then, with a sudden burst of light, the faerin's power was unleashed. The air crackled with energy, and the machine hummed to life. Malich leaned in closer, his eyes glued to the tear shaped faerin's shimmering form. Its energy flowed through the copper wires and then through the gears, and he knew he had succeeded.
The machine had a simple but incredible power: to create a loop in time. Unlike most machinery, which was powered by burning zek and giving form to that power by the faerin, this machine was powered by the small purple faerin and its power was given form by the second white faerin. The gears were used to conduct power between the two faerin. Doing such a thing would eventually kill both faerin but the benefit was that it could create unique and powerful abilities that any normal machine could never accomplish.
His father had once made the metaphor that the process was like a lock and key. The faerin was the lock, and at the same time, the case that held the desired function. The system of gears embossed with zek was the key, and turning the gears was akin to turning the key.
But Malich now knew there was more to it than that. There were multiple keys that could open the same lock, each key revealing something different inside the case. It was a complex system, far beyond the metaphor his father had used.
What Malich had done was like melting one lock to use as a key for the other. It was another poor metaphor and an extreme simplification, but he couldn't help but smile as he thought of it.
With a surge of excitement, Malich picked up an unused gear off his desk. He paused, it was the same shade of bronze that the automaton skeleton in Mr. Alkinous had in his office. He hoped he too would someday make an automaton that would be seen as a masterpiece.
He tossed it to the floor and pressed the button again, shutting off the machine. He turned to look where the gear had originally been, and his heart raced as he saw it back on his desk, as if it had never been thrown. He had successfully looped backward in time, and his machine worked.
As Malich finished testing his new contraption, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. The faerins at the heart of the machine had held up, their power surging through the wires and gears without issue. However, their glow had faded slightly, indicating the stress they underwent and the limit to their power.
Malich was no expert on faerins, but he knew enough to understand their limitations. He estimated that the two faerins had enough power to run the machine for one hour before both were killed by the strain, making the machine inoperable.
With a small smile, Malich began to fasten the faceplate to the machine, concealing its inner workings from view. He carefully tightened each screw, ensuring that every piece was in place and secure.
Finally, with a satisfying click, the faceplate was in place. Malich stood back, admiring his handiwork. The machine looked like nothing more than a simple metal box, but he knew its true power.
Malich's hands shook slightly as he hefted the weighty machine off of his workbench and into his large suitcase. He knew that the contraption was a risky and illegal invention, but he needed the money his employer had promised him.
His thoughts raced with the possibilities of what he could do with the cash - pay his rent, buy food, and maybe even buy some high-quality paper - the kind specifically designed for tinkerers like him. The thought of having the right tools at his disposal brought a smile to his face.
He took a deep breath and zipped up the padded suitcase, securing it with a lock. With the machine secured in his suitcase, Malich walked over to the large closet and put it inside.
Normally he would've hid the device in the hidden compartment beneath the rough carpeted floor, but the machine was simply too big.
With that done, he had one more thing he had to do tonight. He didn't want to go out so late, especially with tomorrow being his first day of school, but he needed money. And so, he put on his jacket and flat cap and left the apartment.