Frank is a clock mechanic, set out to replace a broken loop in 2018, but when Luz, the friend he shouldn't have made sees more than she should've, the simple tasks he was given turns into a mission to save the world.
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The world doesn't live on beca...
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Earth is seamless. Constant. Yet, a variable in a universe contrived to be a single functioning unit. Some species call the planet an out-of-date sore in their side. Others run to government gatherings, begging galaxy officials to finally rid the star system of the planet that can't keep it together. But there's a history to Earth many others don't understand. Nostalgic, in a way. And that is why the overlords cannot let it go.
And why I'm here.
When I first agreed to become a Cog, I thought the overlords would send me somewhere easy. There is a planet off the skirts of Nebula Nine that have the tiniest hiccups. Yet, for the small creatures living in that world, one little hiccup can lead to the existence of their miniature, fuzzy species. Fixing their world is easy, so I've been told. And considering I had trained there for three months, I grew fond of the furry rats and wanted to see them again.
But no, here I was, on Earth. I have nothing against the ancient planet; it is a beautiful place. With oceans, deep and blue, and animals of all sorts, I could spend days sight seeing and watching what humans call "National Geographic." There is something about watching lions attacking their prey from the comforts of one's home. I just didn't have the time to pretend like I was on vacation.
They gave me a task, just one simple mission. Or, as my Cog Leader Mikel reminds me every morning, "You have one job, Frank. Don't mess it up."
Looking at the clockwork machine in front of me, I tell myself, there's no actual way to mess it up. It was just one loopy, defective year. Nothing else. Traveling back three hundred years, through two dimensions, was a lot harder on the body than a second hand stuck on nine. So this, repairing a micro-second affecting the world, is an easy fix. One I know many of my galaxy officials will grumble about.
Besides, the way I see it, Earth's soul may be old and out of date, but there's nothing wrong with it other than the humans that live on the surface. Their history is as bloody as a hungry Miyomir's mouth after devouring an entire star system. And that's the primary reason why a human can never be employed by the overlords; they're uneducated and violent.
Not that anyone should witness a Miyomir's rampage. They're just as violent and dumb. But ugly. I didn't think humans were unpleasant to look at.
Unlike the rest of the galaxies outside of Earth, I personally took a liking to humans. While they were a bit rambunctious and reckless, they're also amusing. I have met plenty of folk in my life and I'd say for a young Brigon, the numbers are pretty high. But they are a blur of fake smiles and introductions. Humans, on the other hand, have a lasting effect on my daily life. I enjoy them.
And that's why I pull my hand away from the machine, putting it back in my pocket. Humans can survive a few more days with a broken second hand, right?
In my ear, the tiny communication device given to every Cog chirps with a request. With a gentle sigh, I look up towards the machinery ceiling, taking in the sights of gold and brown. Just like the insides of an actual clock, gears are connected together, spinning and whirring as time is told. Tiny wires are placed beside them, shooting electricity into the soul of it all. The screws keeping them in place shimmer, glowing under the faux constellations that is Earth's heart.
