The path Malich took home led him beside a murky canal, the water tainted by the factories' runoff. The area was deserted, as people were too scared of falling ill to visit.

The importance of water management was not lost on Malich. It was one of the most critical aspects of post-stasis living, alongside food and national security.

The water became more and more polluted as it traveled from the grand clock out the furthest districts from the center then it was cycled back to the grand clock where it was used for cooling and also cleaned.

This cycle made the furthest parts of the city have water that was near undrinkable and made any who drank upon it sickly. This was one of the reasons why the outer district was so sparsely populated. People rushed to live in the inner district, but it was too expensive for most people. This left a small middle area where a majority of the people lived but then moved into the inner and outer districts to work during the day.

The water was supposedly once clean all the way to the outer city, but it became dirtier and dirtier every year. This made more and more people strive to live closer and closer to the Grand Clock where clean water flowed.

Malich reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a metallic tube. Twisting one of its rings, he tossed it into the water. He watched it sink slowly, disappearing into the depths. Suddenly, the water erupted in a shower of raindrops, drenching him from head to toe.

Malich extended his arms, savoring the sensation. And just as quickly as it started the rain drops stopped.

Malich's face contorted in a frown as he stared at the rippling water. To him, explosions were like delicate flowers that bloomed and withered in an instant.

They reminded him of the first time he had accidentally made an explosion. It was small, but it sparked something inside of him.

As he delved deeper into tinkering, he discovered that explosions were his calling. Each failed prototype was meticulously analyzed and dismantled, its every cog and gear scrutinized until he finally discovered the issue. It was an arduous process, especially when he had to examine a device that had been broken and blackened by the destruction it caused, but he persevered nonetheless.

Thanks to his father's connections, he was able to gain a foothold in the black market and sell his new explosive devices. Over time, he earned a reputation as "Catalyst," a sought-after technician whose lethal weapons were the talk of the underground.

Despite the violence his work created, Malich never felt remorse for selling his devices. He knew he should, but he never did. He attributed it to his upbringing and the desperation he once felt. However, the fact that he felt more guilt towards his faulty enrollment in school than selling actual weapons was a cause for concern for him.

Perhaps his morals were shifting, or maybe it was something else. He didn't know, but he didn't hate the feeling. He assumed that as he began to prepare to leave his old life behind, he was slowly freeing himself from the burdens of the past.

He would entirely be free once he finished his dealings with Mr. Hourglass and thinking about what awaited him in school made him smile.

A sudden thought struck him, and his mind raced to make sense of it. "Could it be possible that I feel guilty about getting into school not because someone helped me, but because I'm afraid to leave my old life behind?" The notion seemed absurd, yet it fit perfectly within his mind, like an expertly cut gear.

As he headed towards his home, Malich couldn't shake the thought from his mind. It lingered like a nagging itch that he couldn't scratch, and he knew he needed to find answers before he could move forward with his life.

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As Malich walked along the dimly lit street, the gas lamps casting flickering shadows around him, he suddenly came to a stop. A long shadow stretched out before him, and as he looked up, he was surprised to see that the figure casting it was not human. It was an automaton, towering over him at over seven feet tall. Its form was so thin and delicate that Malich could hardly believe it could even stand.

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He quickly moved out of its way, assuming it was an automaton out on a task, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that came over him.

“What is an automaton like this doing in here?” He thought.

As the automaton turned its faceless head towards him, Malich heard a voice that seemed to materialize out of thin air. It was a voice that he couldn't distinguish between male or female.

“Hello Malich,” the automaton spoke.

Malich's jaw dropped. He had never seen an automaton that could speak, and many questions raced through his mind. Had it come from Stutas or Phelouris, or perhaps even further away?

“Sutas could have created an automaton like this with their tricks and I’m willing to bet that Phelouris could as well.” Malich thought.

Malich took a step back, becoming more wary of this strange automaton, but also intrigued by its capabilities.

As he stood there in stunned silence, the automaton reassured him, “There is no reason to be afraid. I have no desire to harm you.”

"Desire? Like emotions? So, you are from the Sutas Kingdom!" he blurted out, digging into his pocket and pulling out a metal cylinder, ready to defend himself if needed.

The automaton's fluid movements belied its mechanical nature as it swiped the cylindrical bomb out of Malich’s hand.

Malich yelped as the bomb was taken, his only defense.

The automaton spoke in a calm and measured tone, "There's no need for this.” It said waving the bomb in its hand. “I am not from the Sutas Kingdom nor any other kingdom. You have no need to ask where I am from. I am simply here to ask you a few questions, not the other way around."

Malich swallowed hard, gripping his hands together, "What do you want to know?"

“Let’s start simple. Do paradoxes exist?” the automaton asked, its smooth featureless face locked on Malich.

Malich was stunned by the question; it was not what he had expected. He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "No, they don't exist in reality only in abstract ideas. If there is something we see as paradoxical, it is simply because we don't understand the rules behind it yet," he replied, trying to sound confident.

But the automaton did not seem convinced. "If a man came from the future and killed his own mother before he was born and he still stood after this event unaffected, would this man not be a paradox?" it asked.

Malich's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the question. "It's only a paradox in the abstract. Once it becomes material, it no longer is true. If a man did go backwards in time and kill his own mother before he was born and still stood, it would not be because the man is a paradox. It would be because that is how the rules work. Perhaps a person is always cemented in time, and by going into the past, that future no longer existed. He never needed to be born because he already existed then. He perhaps overwrote the past," he said, hoping he sounded convincing.

"You're correct about the rule of going backwards in time, not about whether paradoxes exist," the automaton said calmly, twiddling the bomb in its hand.

“Then paradoxes are real?” Malich asked, not sure if he should trust the words of a strange machine.

“Of course there is one right here.” The automaton outstretched a long metallic finger and pointed at Malich.

“Me?” Malich said in surprise.

“And every other human,” it replied.

“And what makes us paradoxes?” Malich asked, trying to wrap his head around the concept.

“Abstract,” the automaton said.

“What?” Malich said, confused.

“You said a paradox can only exist in the abstract. Your mind, Malich, your thoughts are abstract, and therefore you are a paradox,” it explained.

Malich thought for a moment, pressing his thumb to his chin. “I guess you’re right,” Malich admitted, feeling a sense of unease creeping up his spine.

“Was that all you wanted to ask?” Malich said, trying to shift the conversation to a more comfortable topic.

“I suppose. I wasn't looking for answers, I simply wished to talk,” the automaton replied.

“Are you a paradox?” Malich asked, sensing the emotion in its strange voice.

It paused. “I wish to believe I am, yet at the same time, I dearly hope that I am not.”

Malich did not comment on the apparent paradox in its statement. He felt it would be better not to say anything that could impact this creature.

“Who are you?” Malich asked. He said the words out of genuine curiosity. He felt certain that this machine was akin to any other person, and he wished to know its name. He wanted to know more about it.

“I simply came here to talk to you before it began,” it said, its voice full of sadness. “Goodbye father.”

“Wait-” Malich started to say, gears clicking together in his head, but before he could finish his sentence, the automaton vanished.

It didn't disappear in a burst of smoke or become a blur as it zipped away. It simply vanished, as if it had never been there.

Malich was left standing alone by the water's edge, dazed and feeling emptier than he ever had before.