Iron Gears

A Melancholy Tail of a Mechanical Cat

Chapter One:

A Melancholy Tale of a Mechanical Cat

A straggled cat hitched its way down the street. It was being shadowed by the only person who saw glory in the neglected thing.

Larkin weaved through the crowd of men in waistcoats and pocket watches. Women fitted with button-up boots clicked down with them. The barrage of horses’ hooves and wooden wheels was a constant clatter on this street.

           These things were nothing to Larkin as he trailed behind, his eyes fixed on the cat.

It was a rusted thing, forgotten by most. The cogs that ticked under its filthy brass plates strained and hiccupped as it haggled through the crowd. It was missing a large blue eye, leaving behind a black socket, and the other eye was badly scuffed and muted. The jaw was hanging loose and crooked, dangling by a few pins and a single spring.

A well-scrubbed boot kicked it aside when it got too close to an off-tempered man. The top-hat gentleman hissed disgusted words as the cat landed into a nearby alleyway.

Larkin’s lip twitched. The nerve of some people. How could they be so blind to potential?

           He made sure not to meet the man’s gaze as he passed him. Striking a passerby was not smiled upon, especially in this well-to-do area of Meridian's metropolis, Superior City.

Larkin stood in the ingress of the alley.

Even as the cat was sprawled on its side, its legs continued to move and struggle on with the journey. The damage of the recent blow got the better of it and a cog jammed with a click, and it arrested in an absolute moment. It laid in silence in a puddle of dirty water.

Larkin was renowned for finding anything in the world, but this was a chance encounter as he happened upon the abandoned creation. His footsteps approached, and his well-worn boots stood in the puddle with the forgotten treasure.

He stared down at the cat and saw possibilities in the broken thing. He bent down and scraped up the limp contraption.

“Hello,” He said, interested in the untouchable machine. “We meet at last.”

Larkin stood as he looked over the cat, his curiosity peaked. It must have been roaming the city streets of Superior for years, and it was perfect for what he had in mind.

He curled it up and placed it under his arm as he started back down the street.

Mary-May Mundi and her boarding house was a three-story, white Victorian with mint-green trim on Wayland Avenue. A wrought iron gate stood between two waist high hedges, flowers in pots and beds littered the small front yard.

Larkin pulled out a key as he came to the door and unlocked it. He was greeted by the smell of lilac and a hint of cinnamon.

Closing the door behind him, Larkin made his way across the tiny lobby toward the stairs.

“Mr. Ashbrook?” Mary-May called as she stepped from the door to the right of him.

She was a plump as a rounded pumpkin, her apron strings pulled too tight around her. Gray hair was in a messy beehive bun on top of her head. Even in her later years she had very little wrinkles to show, and her eyes were sharp with an unbridled wit.

She spotted the rusted cat under his arm, “Another useless stray?”

“A stray, yes; useless, no,” Larkin replied with a small grin.

“You and your tinkering. I honestly don’t understand you.” She waggled a finger at him, “You could find a better pastime that makes money, you know.”