A Cog in Their Machine

The following short story has been inspired by the weekly Iron Age Media literature prompt "The Annexation" for Wednesday, May 3, 2023.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

With a glance at his pocket watch, Otto picked up the pace, turning his walk into a brisk stride as he navigated the smog filled streets in that damp, cold morning. The sound of his footsteps disrupted the synchronicity of the rhythmic metallic clang caused by a formation of soldiers marching mechanically down the street. Holding back a cough as he passed them by, Otto hoped they would not find this minor disturbance to be an infraction. 6:43 AM. He couldn’t afford to be late again this month.

He turned left at a street corner, barely recognizing the building that stood there as a bakery he had visited once or twice in the past. It had been completely remodeled now, as had been so many other buildings in the recently occupied city. Sweet rolls and loaves of bread had given way to what now looked to be a shoemaker’s workshop, producing the exact number of footwear as dictated by strict and precise regulations issued by the city’s new regime. He rushed past it, continuing on his way. 

Even at this early hour, the streets were bustling with activity. Confused faces looked back at him through the fog, mirroring his own expression, as people moved along their newly assigned daily routes. Butchers on their way to work at the bank, greengrocers trudging along to the coal yard and postal workers getting turned around as they struggled to remember which way to get to the steelworks. Otto joined them, lamenting having to abandon his practice and set aside medicine in favor of the imposed role as a hardware shop clerk. 

6:50 AM.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

The incessant turning of gears filled the air, the city now turned into one vast mechanism, each person an individual gear in plans set in motion by inscrutable minds. Everyone had heard the stories, but few had given it credit back then, before the annexation. Tales of an unstoppable force, advancing from town to town, subsuming one after another into a greater whole. 

6:56 AM. Otto turned another corner, straining to see through the mist. Coughing as he looked around, he was relieved to finally recognize where he was. If he hurried, he just might make it. Rushing down the street, he avoided the sections where the cobblestones had been removed in precise intervals and where bewildered workers had been instructed to install complex machinery of some unknown purpose. From the hands that had crafted the machines in the factories, to the ones that dug the holes and now installed the contraptions that belched the white smoke that filled the city, each human cog knew nothing of the big picture. They would obey, or they would be taken away and made to obey. 

At the street’s end, Otto spotted the hardware shop. He looked at his pocket watch once more. 6:58 AM. With a sigh of relief, he kept walking, trying to modulate his pace while keeping an eye on his watch. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

There was a soldier standing guard by the shop’s entrance. There was always a soldier at the door. The exactitude of the city’s function could not be threatened, and those enforcers made sure everyone’s day to day life followed clockwork precision. 

6:59 AM. Otto was just a few paces from the door now. Feeling another cough crawling its way up from the back of his throat, he took a small bottle of syrup from his pocket and took a gulp.

Thirty seconds. 

Noticing he was going too fast, he slowed down a bit. The guard remained motionless, ominous in his dark overcoat and helmet, his features thankfully unseen under the pale light of the morning.   

Twenty seconds.

He could not stop and wait, otherwise the soldier would approach him. It had happened last week, and Otto was down to his last two infractions for the month. As long as he kept moving, albeit slowly, it would be fine.

Ten seconds.

His eyes darted from the shop’s entrance to his watch, and back again. The guard didn’t even seem to acknowledge his presence. As the pointers neared the exact position, he took the last couple steps and opened the door.

7:00 AM.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

Closing the door behind him, thankful as the sound of moving gears was muffled, Otto relaxed, allowing the cough he had been holding back to burst its way out. Moving behind the counter, he donned his apron and turned to analyze the notice affixed to the wall, which detailed the sales he was to make that day. 

“Sales”, he thought to himself, as he looked over the day’s schedule. If each and every transaction was preordained, down to the number of items and the time of the customer's arrival, was it really a sale? What mind could possibly think it could control the lives of hundreds of thousands to such an extent?

Not a human one, he mused.

Going over the schedule, Otto saw a name recognized. Heinrich Löwe was slotted for a large purchase that afternoon. His designated purchases were always big, which usually gave them time to talk for a bit while the items were retrieved from the storage room. Maybe Heinrich would have some news to share.

Committing the details of his first sale to memory, he awaited for his 7:15 AM customer to arrive. 

---

“I’m serious, Otto. This could be how we start to turn things around.”, insisted Heinrich, while the hardware shop clerk counted the precise amount of iron nails for his purchase. 

“Hush, Heinrich! What if he hears you?”, Otto replied, glancing furtively through the window at the immobile soldier standing guard outside the shop. 

“Nonsense.”, dismissed the other man. His piercing blue eyes flashed, his determined temper making him hard to argue with. “That pile of junk won’t do a thing unless it thinks I’ve broken one of their rules. As far as I know, talking is still allowed.”

“Still, it’d do you no good to push your luck, especially if you get me mixed up in all this”, the clerk said, turning back to his task and noticing he had lost count of the nails. “Damn it all… how much time have you got?”

Heinrich consulted his pocket watch, as Otto restarted his counting. “Four minutes still, don’t worry. But really, you should think about it. If what this Fritz guy says is true, we have to do something about it before it’s too late.”

“But how can you trust him? We haven’t seen anyone from outside the city since before the annexation. And then he just shows up, putting all these dangerous ideas into your head?”

“Wake up, Otto!” the other man blurted out, angrily. “What is more dangerous: trying to do something about it, or letting those things do whatever they want with our lives? Don’t you want to be free from all this?”

“Of course I do. But it’s too risky. You know how they don’t like any interference into whatever they’re doing. It just seems like suicide.” 

“Maybe, but it's better than living like this.”

The two men were silent for a few moments, as Otto finished counting the nails and placed the last couple of items into a wooden box for Heirinch. A small cough escaped from his throat, followed by another, soon turning into a coughing fit. He took the bottle of syrup from his pocket.

“You really shouldn’t drink that stuff.” Heinrich admonished, one eyebrow raised in skepticism.

Taking a swig of the medicine, Otto sighed in relief, turning the small bottle for the other man to see.

“It’s only cough syrup. It’s all here in the label. I used to prescribe it myself, it’s perfectly safe.”

Heinrich snorted. “They tell you exactly where to buy it, don’t they? Do you really think they wouldn’t just change the labels?”

Otto shrugged, pushing the box with Heinrich’s order over the counter. “I just can’t handle all this smoke.”

“Even more reason to come to the meeting tomorrow night.” He picked up the heavy box. “Look, just think about it. You could really make a difference, you know?”

Grabbing a pencil and a scrap of paper from the counter, he started scribbling something.

“This is the address, if you decide to come. It’ll be me, Fritz, and a couple guys from the construction crews, that’s all.” He handed the piece of paper to his friend. “Be there at this time. Just don’t get caught with this, okay?”

“Fine, fine.”, agreed Otto, taking the address from his friend. He looked it over and put the piece of paper in his pocket.  “Now off you go, your time’s almost up.”

With a handshake, the two men said their farewells. As he was about to cross the door, Heinrich turned to face his friend, a hopeful smile on his lips. 

“See you soon, doctor. We’ll turn this around, you’ll see.”

Otto offered a pale smile of his own, nodding goodbye to his friend. With his box full of hardware, Heinrich exited into the streets.

No sooner had Otto turned to check the schedule for his next sale, than he heard a loud crash as the box fell to the ground in front of the shop, scattering tools and nails everywhere. His heart beating fast from the surprise, he rushed out of the shop, only to find the soldier who stood guard by his door holding Heinrich by the wrist.

“Citizen Heinrich Löwe.” He spoke, in a weird, metallic voice. His back was turned to Otto.  “You are twenty eight seconds late in your schedule. This is your final infraction for the month. Your allotted salary will be cut accordingly.”

Heinrich struggled to free himself from the soldier, but his hold was unbreakable. 

“Let go of me, you damn bag of bolts!”

“Citizen Heinrich Löwe.” Said the soldier, his voice monotone. “You are resisting disciplinary action. Your food quota will be cut accordingly.”

“Damn you and your quotas, let go!”

Otto took a few steps towards them, uncertain if it was safe to approach the two. He checked his pocket watch, his mind racing to estimate if he had time for this before his next customer was due to arrive. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

“Please, it was my fault.” He pleaded to the soldier. “I took too long to prepare his order. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Without even turning to face Otto or releasing Heinrich, the soldier continued with his unwavering sentencing. 

“Citizen Otto Schaf. You are interfering in lawful disciplinary action. You now have one remaining infraction for the month.”

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

“Stay out of this, Otto!” Heinrich shouted, still trying to escape the soldier, his face contorted with rage and pain as the hand still squeezed his wrist. 

Otto hesitated, unsure if helping his friend was worth the one monthly infraction he had left. 

“Citizen Otto Schaf.”, the soldier droned on, turning slightly towards the uncertain man. “You will return to your workstation or face further disciplinary actions. This is your only warning. Citizen Heinrich Löwe, you will compl…”

A loud clang of metal echoed in the foggy street, as Heinrich hit the soldier’s head with a hammer he had picked up from among the spilled hardware box. The guard’s helmet flew off, and he took a few steps backwards, reeling from the impact. While a normal man would have been knocked unconscious from such a blow, if not outright killed, the soldier simply turned slowly to face the dissenting citizen. For he was not an ordinary man.

Glistening in the hazy sunlight that filtered down the street, the soldier’s head was made out of metal, cold steel taking the place of skin and flesh. A maddening myriad of moving cogs was visible beneath gaps in his metallic face, the infernal complexity of their functioning lending a semblance of human behavior to that unholy fusion of machine and flesh. Somehow, its eyes were the most unnatural feature. They were made of glass, like those of a taxidermied animal. But far from making the creature seem more human-like, this pallid mimicry only exacerbated the fact that there was no soul behind them. 

“Citizen Heinrich Löwe.”, came the voice, maintaining the same tone, yet made more menacing by the sight that accompanied it. A large dent broke the symmetry of his face where the hammer had struck, and as he turned towards Heinrich, small bolts, springs and broken pieces of metal fell to the ground. “You have assaulted a member of the Clockwork Corps. You will now follow me and submit to retrofitting.”

Heinrich’s blue eyes flashed with surprise and indignation, and his expression solidified into one of somber defiance. Wielding the hammer, he stood his ground, while Otto remained frozen in place. 

“Heinrich, please…”, he cried to his friend.

“No! I won’t just kneel and accept that!”. Facing the advancing clockwork soldier, he lifted the hammer. “I’ll die before being turned into one of you abominations!”

The soldier stood still for a moment, as if processing the man’s words. Then, it spurred back to action, advancing upon him. 

“This compromise is acceptable.”, the monstrosity advanced, being met by the man’s fiery resistance.

Immobilized by fear and doubt as his friend fought the soldier, Otto only watched. He stood there as Heinrich tried to strike again at the soldier’s head, seeking to smash it where it had already been weakened, but this blow was blocked by a metallic forearm. He watched as the guard once more grabbed the man’s wrist with its iron grip, crushing bone and forcing him to release the improvised weapon with a scream. He did nothing as the clockwork horror took his friend and slammed him onto the cobblestone street, causing the man’s head to hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Only when it was too late, when Heinrich lay sprawled on the street, blood pouring from his head, did Otto do something. Taking a step towards the fallen man, he was interposed by the soldier. 

“Please, I’m a doctor”, he begged of the clockwork guard. “Just let me help him, please!”

“Citizen Otto Schaf. You are not authorized to act as a doctor. This is your final infraction for the month. Your allotted salary will be cut accordingly.”

“Please, I…” the clerk’s voice trailed off, as he looked down at his friend, bleeding just a few steps away. Otto’s hands pulled his pocket watch, and his eyes checked the time. 15:38 PM. His next customer was due to arrive in two minutes.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

Placing the watch back into his pocket, Otto’s fingers brushed the scrap of paper that Heinrich had given him earlier. He moved it aside and took the bottle of cough syrup to his lips, tolding  himself it was probably too late. Even if he could somehow get past the soldier and render Heinrich aid, where would he take his friend? The hospitals wouldn’t just accept someone who had defied the Corps’ rules. No, unfortunate as it was, it was better to just go back to work, keep his head down and avoid a similar fate. 

With resignation, he turned away and made his way back to the shop. As he closed the door, he could see through the glass as the clockwork soldier, looming over the man dying on the street, pulled a flare gun from its coat and fired it in the air. The blanket of smoke that covered the street was lighted red, matching the blood stained cobblestones, as the soldier called for the workers designated for collecting the dead. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

15:39 PM. Otto’s hands shook as he made his way back behind the counter, where his schedule dictated he should be. 

“Just stick to the schedule and all will be okay”, he mumbled to himself, trying to repress the image of Heinrich’s blue eyes staring lifelessly at him. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

---

8:44 PM.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

In the gloomy corridor filled with doors, Otto stood in front of the one that led to his apartment, a paper bag secured under his arm. One of his hands held his pocket watch while the other had his key at the ready. The clockwork guard stationed at his floor remained by the stairs, and so Otto allowed himself the transgression of not controlling his steps in that awkward dance to reach the door at the exact moment he had been told to open it. 

8:45 PM. Click, turn, open, close.

The apartment was small, much simpler than the one he had lived in before the annexation. In the life before, he had enjoyed the luxuries of a comfortable bed, a cozy armchair and a bookshelf filled with volumes on topics ranging from medicine to philosophy. These had been considered unnecessary in the new order that had been imposed onto the city by the unrelenting march of the Clockwork Corps. 

His new lodgings consisted of a single room, with a creaking bed, whose hard and uncomfortable mattress he hoped his scheduled purchases would eventually allow him to replace, as well as a small wooden table, chair and cupboard. The interior smelled of mold, as Otto never opened the window, in an attempt to keep the worst of the smoky air outside. His books had been disposed of when he had been relocated there, deemed unnecessary by the regime. The clockwork rulers knew it all, planned it all, instructed it all, so there was no need for the people to read anything other than their schedules. 

He crossed the room with a few steps, his arrival upsetting his roommate, a small rat, causing it to abandon his quest for food and sending it scurrying back through a small hole in a dampness stained corner next to the cupboard. 

“Smart”, Otto thought to himself, taking the things he had bought on his way home out of the bag. “Would that I could avoid trouble like that.”

As he had left the hardware shop, at precisely 6:00 PM, he had taken his allotted salary from the cash register, adjusted accordingly to account for his infraction earlier that day. A weak voice inside his head mused that Heinrich had paid much more dearly, but it was quickly drowned by the unbearable inconvenience of Otto’s reduced pay. 

Following his personal schedule, he had spent the money precisely where he had been told to, bringing home exactly the dictated items. He hung his new hat on the coat hanger, alongside his pristine three others, since he had no habit of wearing them. He also set aside the two paint brushes. He looked around the room, the painting peeling from the walls. With some luck, the schedule for next week would allow him to buy some paint and do something about it. 

Smiling at his more useful purchases, he carefully took the small bottle of cough syrup from the bag and placed it on the table. He was almost out of medicine, but the schedule thankfully always made sure to include it. Finally, he took his quota of food from the bag. He had never been much of a fan of pickled herrings or spinach, but he was glad he had not insisted on helping Heinrich that day, or his portion of food might have been cut. Otto’s defiance of the clockwork soldier had cost him, however, for his purchase of new shoes had been canceled. 

“Oh, well”, he thought to himself, looking at the worn pair he had on. “Maybe next month”.

Gathering a few pots and pans, and turning on his small stove, Otto set himself to the task of preparing dinner. His mind went over the day’s events. He would have to be more careful. If only Heinrich had gone by things as they were supposed to go, he wouldn’t have blown his last two infractions for the month. Otto would have to take it easy the next few days. One more rule broken would mean less food, and after that, who knew? Going against the clockwork regime was never a good idea. 

“What if things could be different?” came again the weak voice in his mind. “What if life could be lived as one wished, not having to follow all these strict rules set by faceless, lifeless machine men?”

The voice made a persuasive case this time, and Otto stopped and pondered. He thought of Heinrich, and the price he had paid for being just a few seconds late. What if there was something to what that Fritz fellow had told his friend? Putting his hand inside his pocket, Otto felt the scrap of paper with the meeting’s address. What if he could help make things better, as they used to be? It would be nice not having to eat pickled herring…

The herring!

Lost in thought, Otto had forgotten his dinner as it cooked on the stove. The overcooked fish filled the small room with dark smoke, causing its occupant to hack and cough. Rushing for the window, Otto threw it open as he tried to wave away the smoke, only for a puff of the white smog that perpetually covered the city to invade his apartment through that careless opening. 

As he doubled over in a coughing fit, the man struggled to take control of the situation. First, he turned off the stove, hoping some of his dinner would still be salvageable. Then he did his best to clear the room of both black and white smoke, closing the window when the air inside was passably breathable. Still coughing, he hurried to the table and took the bottles of cough syrup, downing the remains of the old bottle and immediately opening the new one. 

“That’s what I get for thinking about such foolishness…”, he thought, censuring himself. Gathering from his stove what still looked edible, he set his plate at the table. Then, straining his ears, he tried to listen if his culinary mishap had upset anyone. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

No sound of moving gears beyond his door, no heavy metallic footsteps coming to punish him for breaking the rules. Otto sighed in relief. His pocket watch was the only sound he could hear. 9:27 PM. He still had some time to eat and indulge in a small, clandestine act before having to retire for the night. 

Moving quickly to his bed, he lifted the stiff mattress up and retrieved a magazine. It was a medical publication, whose once wide circulation had been all but interrupted after the clockwork soldiers had marched in. Still, Otto clinged to that small memento of his former life. 

Sitting down to eat his dinner, he turned the wrinkled and torn pages carefully. Some of the text was faded, but the former doctor could read some of the text. The magazine had not been part of his own collection, but rather found by a stroke of luck. As Otto struggled to make his way to the hardware shop in the first days after the annexation, when the Clockwork Corps reorganized every building and every citizen around the city, he had passed by a pile of books and magazines being discarded. 

Taking advantage of the fact that the nearby clockwork soldiers were busy dealing with the discontent of those chaotic days, Otto had looked over the pile and grabbed the magazine, in an act of rebellion that would have shocked his current self. 

Now, some nights, when he felt particularly daring, he would pick up his hidden magazine and look it over. There were some articles on potential new treatments and medical discoveries, advertisements of medicines and surgical tools, and Otto could almost pretend there was a way to go back to life as it was before.

“What if there was a way?”, instigated the voice at the back of his head. 

Otto paused. Looking down at the magazine, a bite of the food he did not enjoy still in his mouth, he noticed the page had the Hippocratic Oath printed upon it. Like much of the magazine, it was faded and torn in some places. Still, as if drawn to it, his eyes turned to a still legible excerpt of the text. “But I will keep pure and holy both my life and my art.”

Looking around at his room, he suddenly became keenly aware of the dampness and of the stench of mold. There was nothing pure or holy about it. He opened his mouth, spitting out the half chewed and half charred fish. When was the last time he had eaten something he enjoyed, or even had chosen himself? 

Then, the image of Heinrich fallen on the street, dying before his eyes, came rushing into his mind. WIth it, tears came rushing too, as did a burning sensation of shame. Otto had failed his friend, betrayed his oath as a doctor. He could have done something, he should have done more! 

As he cried, his throat acted up once more, causing his body to shake from both grief and coughing. Rising from his chair, he made his way to the cupboard to grab the cough syrup. Uncorking the bottle, he was about to drink, when Heinrich’s words echoed inside him.

Otto stopped himself, taken by sudden resolution. He had to do something, to stop being afraid of the smallest infractions. To stop living according to a schedule imposed by unnatural forces that knew nothing of what it meant to be human. He had to stop living like a rat.

“That’s it!”, he said, softly. “Let’s start by doing a small experiment.”

He took the bottle of syrup with him to his unfinished plate at the table. Cutting a chunk of fish, he soaked it with the medicine, picking it up with his fork and taking it across the room. There, he placed it in front of the small hole wherein lived the rat that shared his room. 

“I’m sorry little one. I hope I’m wrong, for both our sakes”

Looking at his pocket watch, Otto noticed it was 9:54 PM. In six more minutes, any apartment with its lights still on would incur the unwanted attention of the clockwork soldiers. Otto quickly got ready for bed. 

“Tomorrow’, he thought, “I’ll start to make things right.”

That night, Otto barely noticed how hard and uncomfortable his mattress was.

---

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

10:47 PM. 

Otto paced in the dark alley as he waited for the right hour. He put his watch back into his pocket. “Funny”, he thought to himself. “Here I am, about to meet someone who claims he can help bring down this clockwork madness, and still I’m a slave of the time.”

He felt more alive than he had in a long time. His expectation throughout the day could barely be contained, and he counted the hours until the secret meeting that Heinrich had arranged with the mysterious Fritz. As he made his way out his apartment, quietly opening his window after curfew and climbing down the fire escape with as little noise as he could manage, Otto had marveled at how easy it had been to slip away into the night. Maybe the clockwork soldiers didn’t expect people to break curfew at this point. Maybe it was easier to break the rules than it seemed.

Energized by the thrill of transgression, Otto had skulked about the sleeping city, struggling to contain his coughing fits as he crossed the streets towards the school turned warehouse where the meeting would be taking place. The omnipresent sound of turning gears still made itself present in the late hours, but fortunately the heavy footsteps of soldiers allowed the doctor to avoid them and sneak by undetected.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

10:56 PM.

“To hell with it”, he made up his mind. Glancing up and down the street, he left the alley and hurried towards the warehouse’s door.

He stopped in front of the entrance, unsure how to proceed. Was there a secret knock or something of the sort?

Otto decided to knock twice. After a few moments, he heard faint movement beyond the door,  and it opened up a little, just enough for a human face to be seen, illuminated by the warm glow of an oil lantern.

“What do you want?”, asked the man inside, curtly. 

“I’m here for the meeting, to see Fritz”, answered the doctor, hopeful it was enough.

“Don’t know any Fritz. Go away.”, the door began to close, the night taking back the terrain lost to the glow of the light.

“Wait, please!”, Otto tried to hold it open. “My name is Otto. I’m a friend of Heinrich Löwe’s. He invited me to the meeting.”

The face appeared once more in the threshold between light and dark. The man held up his lantern, squinting to see Otto’s face in the shadows. 

“Come closer. Let me see your eyes.”

Otto obliged, coming closer into the light. He opened his eyes wide, turning his head slightly from side to side as the man inspected them. After a while, the light was lowered once more, its holder apparently satisfied.

“Alright, wait here”. The door closed. There were sounds of steps going deeper into the building  and hushed voices could be heard inside. 

Looking around nervously, Otto wondered if he should knock again. Having experienced the light of the oil lantern, he suddenly became aware of how dark it was outside. He could hear the sounds of marching soldiers echoing in the night, their metallic feet beating in rhythm with the ever present sound of turning cogs, and his resolve started to crack. He thought of his bed, of his hard mattress, how the uncomfortableness would at least bring with it the certainty of another day, however dreary. 

Light poured over him as the door opened once more, and the man behind it ushered him in. The interior was also gloomy, save for the light of the lantern, but that dim illumination brought with it the comfort of purpose. As Otto and the other man made their way in, the flickering flame revealed a few crates scattered about and long, tall shelves used for the storage of goods. High windows let in the palest moonlight that pierced the fog outside, and the sound of gears was blessedly subdued. 

Another man was waiting for them. He was tall and gaunt, as if the last months had not been easy on him. His hair was going thin, but his eyes sparkled with determination.

“Good evening, I’m Otto, Otto Schaf”, the doctor introduced himself, extending his hand to the thin man. The gesture was not reciprocated, and the strange figure just glared at Otto. 

After a few awkward moments, Otto lowered his hand. Turning his gaze away from the intense stare, he coughed and tried another approach. “I’m a friend of Heinrich Löwe’s.”

“And where is Heinrich, then?”, asked the man, still maintaining his eyes on Otto.

“He… he’s not coming. A soldier got him. I’m sorry.”

“God damn that man and his big mouth…”, muttered the man with the lantern, setting it down on a crate. “I’m Stefan, by the way”, he shook Otto’s hand. “Heinrich mentioned you. He said you could really help us.”

“We’ll see about that”, interjected the thin man. At last, he offered his hand for a handshake. “I’m Fritz.”

“Well, I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.”, the doctor offered a soft smile.

A knock at the door brought the trio’s attention back to the entrance. Stefan grabbed his lantern once more, leaving Otto with Fritz amid the shadows in an uncomfortable silence. After a short while, Stefan returned with two more men. One of them had bandages wrapped around his head, covering half his face and one of his eyes. 

Fritz tensed up at the sight of that, but Stefan was quick to calm him down.

“Relax, it's just Karl and Günter. Karl here had an accident at work, but he’s good. His eye is normal, see?”, he raised the lantern, and the light shined on a brown and decidedly human eye.

“Fine, but be careful out there”, scolded Fritz. “There are few of us around, we can’t afford to lose people”. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

Stefan checked his pocket watch. “11:03. That’s all of us, then.”

“Who’s this one?”, asked Günter, pointing towards Otto.

“Friend of Heinrich’s”, answered Stefan, setting the lantern down once more. He still held his watch in his hand, keeping an eye on the time.

“And where is Heinrich?”

“Not coming. Got clocked by a soldier”

“Shit…”, Günter shook his head.

“All right, enough time wasted”, Fritz pulled a box of matches from his pocket and lit up a cigarette. He puffed for a second, then turned towards Otto. “So, our late mutual friend told me you could be of use to our cause.”

Otto felt uncomfortable as everyone turned to him. He let out a small cough.

“Well, I think so. I hope so.”

“What did Heinrich tell you about what we’re doing?”, inquired Stefan.

“Not much”, admitted Otto. He turned to Fritz. “He mentioned you were from out of the city, from somewhere else that had been annexed before here. That you knew more about what those… things were doing, and that we had to stop it somehow, before it was too late.”

Fritz continued on smoking, sizing Otto up before speaking. 

“And do you want to stop those things, Mr. Schaf? Do you want to be more than just a cog in their machine? To live like a man, deciding for yourself what to do, where to go, when to go? Or are you happy to live on like a sheep under their control?”

“Of course!”, Otto exclaimed. “I want to be free again, that is. I’m tired of how things are now, I wish to be free again.”

“But you do realize”, continued Fritz, pressing him, “that it will take effort and great risk to conquer this freedom we have lost, right? Are you up for it?”

“I… yes!”, the doctor felt his courage be spurred on  in the dim light of the clandestine meeting. “Yes, I’ll be a part of it. I’ll help.”

“Good, good.” Fritz slapped him gently on his arm. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

“11:08.”, announced Stefan, watch in hand.

“Do we still have to count the time?” Otto asked.

“If you want to go back home tonight, yes we do.” quipped the man with the watch. “The night patrols are punctual. We have until 11:30, then they’ll be around this block. Better leave before that.”

“Now, Heinrich told me you’re working at a hardware store, right?” jumped in Günter, looking expectantly at Otto. “We could really use some tools and supplies for me and the boys here to put to good use”, he motioned towards Stefan and Karl.

“Well, the sales are highly regulated, but I suppose I could set aside a few items that don’t show up often in the schedule. But what would you need it all for?”

“Right, sorry”, Fritz tossed his cigarette to the floor and stepped on it. “Forgot you’re jumping in on a moving train. You’ve seen the machines the clockworks have us put into the ground around the city, right?”

“Yes, the ones spewing and this damn smoke.”, Otto grimaced.

“Yeah, those. You see, they’re not just digging up this one city to lay down all that stuff. They’ve done it before. Everytime they annex more territory, they dig up the ground for those machines.”

Fritz lit another cigarette as he continued talking.

“And not just in the cities, oh no. I’ve seen where they had the countryside dug up to make way for metal tubes and exhaust pipes. Long stretches of land torn up, the soil turned to waste as they connect the territory they conquer, spewing their smog into the air, and the people who live there be damned.”

“But what could they possibly want to accomplish with all this work?”, asked Otto.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

“Beats us”, Stefan shrugged. “But whatever it is, we have to do something about it. Break those machines, sabotage them or something. 11:12, by the way.”

“You see,” continued Fritz, his eyes aflame as he spoke. “The clockworks don’t just put their machines anywhere. That would demand too much labor, too many resources. They’re all about precision, about control.”

He pulled a folded piece of paper from a pocket and began to unfold it on top of a crate. Stefan brought the light closer for Otto to see. It was a map, showing the several cities that had fallen to the Clockwork Corps, as well as those still yet to fall to the mechanical menace. 

“Here, here, and here”, Fritz pointed to annexed cities, one by one. “All territories they’ve occupied, and where they’ve laid down their machines.” His finger ran over the tracts of land between the cities, where he had marked the areas where the ground had been dug open in order to install the mysterious contraptions. But then, he pointed to a small town in the middle of the occupied territory that had been mysteriously left alone. Then another, and one more. 

“See? They don’t just take over everywhere. They’re picky invaders. Some places they overrun, turning people into more of them and defiling the land. Others, they avoid completely.”

“That doesn’t make any sense”, Otto frowned, looking at the map. “Why leave some places alone and invade others?”

“Again, beats us”, answered Stefan.

Fritz smoked his cigarette, while the doctor continued to look at the map, trying to decipher some pattern that would reveal the Corps’ intent.

“Whatever it is they’re doing, it looks like they’re following some sort of plan. They love their plans, those damn things.” He met Otto’s gaze as it lifted from the map. “I’m not about to wait around to see them succeed. If we can stop them here, before they complete whatever it is they’re building, maybe we can prevent the worst. So, are you in?”

Otto looked at the men gathered around them, feeling the camaraderie and the sense of purpose that brought them together. He smiled at them.

“I am.”

The men cheered at his acceptance, quickly controlling themselves and lowering their voices afterwards, but still laughing softly. Even Fritz had a half smile on his lips.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

“Welcome aboard, Otto”, Stefan shook his hand, grinning. He glanced once more at his watch, before closing it and putting it away. “11:26. We better get moving.”

“I’ll get you whatever tools and equipment I can.” Otto promised. “I’m also trained as a doctor. I suppose that could be useful, if anyone gets hurt.”

“That’ll help, for sure.” agreed Günter, tapping Karl on the shoulder. “Maybe you can take a quick look at Karl here before we go? He’s been awfully quiet since coming back from the hospital.”

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

“Wait”, Fritz froze, suddenly alert. He looked in the direction of Günter and Karl. “Do you hear that?”

“What?” Günter turned his head, confused. “It’s just Stefan’s watc…”

His voice was cut short when Karls fist punched through his chest. The loud crack of broken bones echoed inside the dark warehouse, and the mortally wounded man only had strength left to feebly grasp at his killer’s shoulders, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. 

Chaos erupted. Fritz cursed loudly, while Stefan jumped back, knocking the oil lantern to the ground and breaking it. Otto screamed in surprise and horror, and as Günter fell lifeless to the floor, his hands pulled the bandages that covered Karl’s head and face, revealing the metallic surface, turning gears and the lifeless glass eye underneath. 

Shadows moved eerily on the face of the monstrosity as the fire caused by the fallen lantern rapidly spread through the warehouse. Fritz pulled a gun from his coat, emptying it on the thing’s chest while cursing nonstop. The clockwork abomination took the bullets, only staggering back a couple steps before advancing unrelentingly on the thin man and grasping him by the neck. 

Otto screamed once more. The creature was between him and the exit, so he ran deeper into the warehouse. He could hear Stefan running behind him. Taking a quick look back, he saw as the clockwork thing jerked its hand, breaking Fritz’s neck and releasing the body before turning to pursue the two remaining men. Blood poured abundantly from the bullet holes in its chest, but the wounds did not seem to slow it down.

Sprinting in the near darkness, Otto desperately sought an exit. There were the high windows, his mind raced. He kept on running. Too high, he would have to climb the shelves, and the thing was right behind him. Left, right, and down a corridor he went, bumping into unseen things while footsteps echoed behind, until he spotted a heavy metal door with a small glass window. He rushed for it, hitting it with his shoulder and flinging it open, the adrenaline giving the pain no time to make itself known.

His eyes darted around the room, still looking for a way out. He noticed a heavy metal bar near the door. Quickly, he closed the door once more and lowered the bar, sealing it shut.

Catching a glimpse of movement through the glass, he ducked beside the door and hid. His heart was beating wildly, and he fought to control his breathing and make as little noise as possible. He could hear footsteps approaching the door.

“Otto, it’s me, Stefan!”, came the urgent whisper. “I think I lost him. Let me in, please!”

Sitting on the ground, his hands covering his mouth and nose, Otto didn’t dare to make a sound. He glanced at the sturdy metal door, at the heavy bar that blocked it and kept him safe from the creature beyond. “It would make too much noise to lift it”, he thought. “If I just stay quiet, maybe Stefan won’t notice me and will go away.”

“Please, I know you’re in there!”, the voice beyond the door shattered his delusions. “Just let me in, hurry!”

Ignoring that plea, Otto stuck to his plan. “Stand still, stay safe.” his mind repeated over and over, like a mantra. “Stand still, stay safe”. The glow of fire poured through the small window, conjuring shadows that danced like accusing ghosts around him as the fire consumed the warehouse behind the door.

“Otto, damn you! You can’t just leave me out here to… oh God!”, Stefan’s hushed imploration turned to a fearful cry. Otto heard as he stepped away from the door, breaking into a run. Another set of footsteps joined in, measured and inexorable. 

Holding his hands tight over his face, Otto could feel a cough trying to break free. He struggled to hold it in, to remain quiet until danger had passed, but that terrible sensation grew in his chest. In desperation, he used one hand to check his pockets for his cough syrup, cursing himself when he remembered he had left it at his apartment. Unable to control it any longer, he tried to muffle the sound by coughing into his arm.

At that exact moment, a loud cry of terror filled the warehouse beyond the metal door. Feeling relief wash over him as it drowned his coughing, Otto seized the chance to look for an exit. 

He discovered a way out in the form of a small service door at the back of the room. Trying the handle, he found it to be locked. Luckily, there was a key ring hanging from the wall next to it. Frantically, Otto tried one key after another. A second scream reverberated in the fiery warehouse beyond the door, this one carrying notes of pain along with the fear, and Otto was comforted by the fact that he would have enough time to find the right key.

At last he managed to open the door, and stepped into the cold and hazy night outside. The white fog was joined by roiling clouds of black smoke as the inferno raged on, consuming the building. The clang of clockwork guards converging on that disturbance to their orderly city could be heard all around. Panicked, Otto ran to the nearest alley and cowered in the dark as the first soldiers appeared on the street.

He did not know how he managed to slink back home. Maybe the clockwork soldiers were too busy with the burning warehouse. Maybe he got lucky. Avoiding the night patrols, he wondered what madness had possessed him to risk everything like that. As he climbed his way back up the fire escape, opened the window and got back into his room, coughing as quietly as he could manage and with a cold sweat covering his body, he had only two things in mind.

Crossing the room, he took care of the first. Ignoring the diminutive corpse of the rat in the corner next to his cupboard, he grabbed the bottle of cough syrup and took a deep gulp. 

Setting the bottle down, he shambled to his bed and took care of the second. First, he hung his watch from the headboard, then collapsed on the hard mattress. Its uncomfortableness soon lulled him to sleep. It meant he was where he was supposed to be, that there would be another day ahead of him. 

With this last thought, his consciousness faded, exhausted by the night’s events. His watch ticked on into the night, the clockwork mechanism ready to wake him up when the time came. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

---

6:49 AM.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

As he walked through the streets on his way to the hardware shop, a metal pipe jutting from the ground released a cloud of white smoke onto Otto’s face. Reflexly, he pulled his bottle of medicine from his pocket and took a sip. He was thankful that his schedule always included his medicine. The regime would take care of him, so long as he didn’t cause unnecessary trouble.

“Why rebel when you can obey and be taken care of?”, he thought to himself, navigating with confidence the long path from his home to the shop. He looked around, seeing the people on their way to their designated work that morning. Otto shook his head. He pitied the poor fools who chafed at what the city’s rulers had set them to do. Couldn’t they realize that the clockwork minds saw the bigger picture? Let the decision of who was to do what be left to them, as they steered society to a better future. Why should his desire to be a doctor be of any importance? Did the city not also need hardware shop clerks?

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

He checked his watch. 6:56 AM. he was right on time.  A smile spread on his face, the happiness of conformity, of belonging, of being free from the burdens of free will and just doing what he was told. Sure, sometimes he unwittingly committed an infraction, but he accepted the penalty gladly in order to keep his small place in the bigger whole. He was a cog in an unknowable machine, blissfully unaware of its greater functioning, just concerning himself with spinning around according to the designs of others.

He had given it much thought over the weeks after the ghastly events in the warehouse. The little voice at the back of his head had insisted on popping up, trying to plant the insidious seeds of defiance and non-compliance. “Where has that taken everyone?”, Otto had questioned that voice. Heinrich was dead. As were his friends, Günter, Stefan and Karl. Even the wily Fritz, who stupidly thought there was a way to turn back the tide, had met his end by following that path. Otto had lived in abject fear the following days, but somehow no soldiers had knocked at his door or come for him on the streets. Maybe the man-machine hybrid that was Karl had perished in the fire. Maybe Otto had proven he would be obedient. At any rate, if he wanted to survive, he would just have to accept this was the new normal of things.

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

6:58 AM. The shop came into view at the end of the street. As always, there was a guard by the entrance.

With steps that matched the ticking of his clock, Otto made his way to the door. Just stay alive, just conform and accept it as it was. That’s all that mattered. Questioning was dangerous, thinking for yourself a perilous and unnecessary act. He could live with the job he didn’t enjoy and the lack of his books, with the food he didn’t like and the imposed schedule he was forced to adhere to. Did it matter if he lived like a rat, if at least he would live? 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

6:59 AM.

As he got closer to the door, following his schedule down to the seconds, his mind was pleasantly dulled by the fact that he wouldn’t have to think or plan anything that day. His daily sales had been preordained, as had what he was to do with the money assigned to him at the end of his shift. Maybe today’s schedule would include the purchase of the new shoes he needed. If not today, then tomorrow, or whenever the time was right. He had faith the regime would provide, eventually. He would obey, he would be good. 

Tick, tock, tick, tock…

One second.

As he opened the door, he briefly looked at the soldier stationed beside it. His gaze made its way up the metal frame that formed the thing’s face, cogs spinning in their incessant work to mimic humanity, and finally arrived at its eyes. Those blank, soulless blue eyes. The voice at the back of his head flared up feebly, protesting, pleading, begging for Otto to not be a part of the inhuman mechanism that had substituted the light from those lights into lifeless glass.

Otto silenced the voice. 

Better to live like Otto Schaf than to die like Heinrich Löwe.