City of Decay: The Cleaner | MxM

Chapter 4: Unwanted Emotions

I'm tense. I don't know how long we've been sitting here, waiting for the doc to arrive. Mrs. Lane hasn't moved much. We managed to guide her back upstairs, where Thomas called the doctor. Good thing rich people have communicators in their homes. It's quite a handy thing to have, but nothing I could ever afford.

In the Lanes' case, this communicator is overly ornate, as is everything else in this mansion. Just another thing they had an Archist make for them, but it's probably one of the most common things in wealthy households. It connects people.

In my case, I just have to walk to the next public communicator. And write letters. Not that I ever do, but still.

Ever since we sat down on the overly sterile, red couch, I've pinned my eyes to the clock. It's enormous. The freely hanging sphere depicts a clock on both sides of the sphere; I don't really know what time zone the other side is showing, and I don't care.

The planets of our universe are depicted in smaller spheres, attached to the rings of their orbit. In this case, the sphere with the main clock depicts our Earth, showing the others – smaller than they should be considering the size ratio – planets following their natural orbit around it. Basically, it's a very, very big orrery with our planet in its center and only showing the suns and moons circling it.

By the size of it, I doubt an actual orrery displaying all planets would really fit into this room, not even with the three to four-meter-high walls.

The one thing that caught my eye is the fact that it counts five stars in direct circulation. Two suns and three moons. The moons are crafted in silver, whereas the suns are crafted in gold. This clock must be old, or the Archist who made it was a hopeless romantic, reminiscing over the old times. The second sun went out decades before I was born. Before anyone in this mansion was born.

Not that there aren't people who remember the golden days when the city of marble was still blessed by two suns, warmth, and progress, but I don't think there are that many left. And the ones that are, are stored by the arch anyway, like the relics they are.

Now this sun is just a black planet, the cause of the black fog and so much despair.

I huff. What a stupid thing to have. But it shows the time accurately, so I won't complain. Finally, after around fifteen minutes of just sitting around, I can hear a knocking on the door. We're on the second floor, the entry hall is on the ground floor, and yet I can hear it so clearly. There must be some magical enhancement at play, but I don't question it. Not now, anyway.

I glance over at Thomas. He notices, throws a concerned gesture toward Mrs. Lane. We try not to speak too much. We can't really assess her current state. She has become apathetic, and hasn't moved since Thomas sat her down.

Her head is lowered but her back is as straight as it can be. And yet she still seems lumped over. She really isn't but the aura surrounding her, her silence, her lowered head, the way she has been staring at her hands which she had firmly placed in her lap...

I sigh and nod toward her, signaling Thomas to stay with her. He has been running enough for one evening. And if she does get up to run away, she will have to cross my way. And the way of the doctor. So I get up and descend the stairs, opening the door.

I'm greeted by a well-known but rarely-seen sight. The doctor has arrived in his usual attire. A black cloak covers the whole of his body, the only thing I can see is the lower half of his delicate, young face.

I can't help but raise the corner of my mouth in an amused way that stems from self-irony. We look alike. Not our appearance, but I can clearly see the bruise covering his chin. We're one of a kind.