Clockwork | ONC 2021 Entry (at first)

Chapter One

Listen to the music above while reading.

I wipe my head as I wash dishes in a dingy, beat-up sink. Chatter fills the room behind me, as the bar quickly becomes filled with people. It's a Sunday afternoon, which can only mean one thing: there's another story waiting for us in the paper. Stories all of us, higher and lower ranks, unite together to read.

They're stories from the dimension traveler--an unknown being who was blessed with the abilities to travel to realms beyond one's imagining. Many refer to him as a God, but I wouldn't give him that much credit.

Adrienne comes up behind me and eagerly taps my shoulder, a little too forceful for my comfort. "Ana, did you read the latest story? You wouldn't believe where he's gone this time!"

I bite back a half-assed retort. "Not yet. I'll check it out once my shift's over."

Adrienne laughs. "You can take a break if you want, I can cover for you for a bit! The bar's not as busy as it's been before."

I consider her offer for a moment, checking outside of the kitchen to make sure she's right. "You sure? It's still packed."

"Yes, I'm sure!" she replies, brown curls bounding as she nods eagerly. "You go enjoy yourself. I won't even take off coins from your wage!"

"Thank you," I respond, surprised at Adrienne's generosity. She's always been unnecessarily happy, but when it comes to work she doesn't offer to help often.

"Of course! You work too hard all the time, anyways." she responds. "Just be back by 3 so you can begin your next shift!"

"Got it," I reply, sliding on my jacket and taking my asymmetrical blue hair out of its net. It shrugs down, almost in a ripple-like effect as I shake it out, then dart out the door before she can go back on her decision.

The outside air is cool and crisp, as it often always is. I hop on my motorbike, parked not too far away from the bar, slip on my sleek white helmet, and head off.

The story's posted in electric-blue ink about the same shade as my hair, just below the world clock in Time Square, where it's always been. A huge crowd of people gather below it, each craning to know of the dimension-traveler's latest adventure.

Slipping off my helmet, I turn off the engine of my bike and read the story. It goes something like this:

While I had originally planned to traverse to the tropical realm of Lactunia, where the fish-people resided, I found myself in a place completely different.

It was a land of darkness, yet it was bright. The ground my feet had fallen upon was unsettlingly cold, until I realized that it was, in fact, ice.

Everything was ice. I looked up at the night sky for stars, yet instead found cold diamonds, some of which I could jump up and touch.

I saw no inhabitants. No creatures or otherwise. The land was vacant, and eerily quiet. "Hello?" I called out, but my voice echoed off of frozen glaciers and was the only response.

I looked around me, in hopes to find something different. I walked for a while, only to find myself in the same place I'd been before. The realm seemed more like a maze than that of a realm by the time I reached an hour in there.

The land was hopeless, a devastated ruin. I saw nothing of what the place had once been, and only of what it was now.

Until I reached the third hour. I'd hopelessly sat on the ice floor, wondering what had happened to it, until I saw something move under the ice from the corner of my eye.

Alarmed, I rose, and looked around to see what had been moving.

But then I saw it. A frozen corpse, mottled and decayed all the way to the bone, was swimming its way up to the ice floor. Impossibly, it was alive.

I jumped up to a glacier, afraid for it to break through and attack me. But it remained the same... hovering just below the ice, peacefully.

Then it began to speak, in a whispering, centuries old, yet impossibly loud tone. "Welcome to our world, the realm that had once been. It is now no longer."

It then began to speak in a different language, one that at first seemed unfamiliar to me, but then one I later realized was Janarian. Alas, I only understood a few words of the language, but it seemed it was telling me of the realm's past. I continued to sit respectfully on the glacier until it was done, and when it was I calmly stood up, attempted to say "thank you" in the language, and promised I would come back again.

It stayed there even as I opened the portal back to our world, poised in the same position as if the impossible life that had been suddenly flowing through it had come to an end.

I regret that this was not a story of happiness, or of adventure. I will be sure to tell a more exciting and enthralling story next week.

-The Dimension-Traveler

I finish the story, feeling surprisingly happy about it. This story wasn't like one of the usual tales he told; tales of magic, happiness, and good over evil. It was a story of reality, how things that had once been were no longer. By far my favorite of his tales.

A middle-aged woman stands not too far from me, looking up at the story sadly and talking to nobody in particular. "What an absolutely dreadful journey. I wish it had a nicer ending."

"I actually liked the ending," I respond to her, even though she hasn't asked.

She turns to me, looking at my ranking above my head and ignoring what I've said. "You, girl, you're a 6? Not bad of a ranking. Did you come here with your parents?"

"No, ma'am. My father is... away for the time being."

"Oh," she responds. "Well then, what is his ranking?"

I grimace at the fact she's invested in my personal business, but since she is a 5 and in a higher ranking than me, I can't deny her question unless I want to be incarcerated. "He was a 9."

She puts a hand over her mouth, shocked and feigning sympathy. "You poor girl. A 9? You must be barely out of poverty."

"I work, ma'am, and my father is too old to keep working at his age." I bite my lip after I say it; people in the upper class never worked.

"My, my!" she exclaims. "A 6 such as yourself working? You must truly be desperate if you undertake those measures!"

She leans close enough to me that I can smell her heavily chemical-infused perfume. "You know what I suggest? Find a man with a higher ranking. He'll benefit both you and your father. You won't have to lift a finger again for the rest of your life!"

I do my best not to recoil. I have no interest in marrying, and I intend to tell her that; however, this conversation has been getting more personal than I liked, not to mention the fact I can't disagree. "Yes, ma'am. I'll heed your advice."

Her lipstick-caked lips form a wide smile. "Good. I hope you'll understand that I'm just trying to help you out for your future, you know. Us high-rankers are meant to live lives of luxury and splendor, not like the working class, got it?"

I nod, acting submissive to avoid any argument. "Thank you."

She says goodbye and hurries off to a nearby tea shop, while I grimace and put back on my motorbike helmet. As I rev up the engine, I notice that it is well past 3.