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First Published in PERSPECTIVES by ASAP Imagination

The red and white checked paper ripped away, revealing a pita full of spiced meats and pickled vegetables. The passenger door opened, and Nick looked over as Dean folded his too-tall body into the car.

“Well? What did you end up getting?”

Dean pulled a long package out of a plastic bag. “I got the donair, too.”

“Nice choice, man. You won’t regret it. They don’t call Sam ‘The Donair King’ for nothing. I mean, the chicken shawarma is good and all, but nothing rivals his donair.”

Dean tore the paper and took a bite. Nick waited for his reaction.

“Holy shit,” Dean finally said after swallowing his bite.

“Right?” Nick turned his attention back to his own prize. He brought the pita up to his mouth and paused briefly to take in a long whiff of the spices and garlic. A rumble came from just above his belt, and he bit into the donair.

There was no room for conversation when eating Sam’s, and the two men ignored each other accordingly. Nick let that sweet sauce linger on his tongue—savouring it—when Dean went and spoiled the moment by speaking.

“Did you hear that?”

Nick swallowed and held still, listening.

“What?”

“You don’t hear that?” Dean furrowed his brow.

Nick looked out the front window. The ‘open’ sign on the little donair shop was turned off, but the glow from the awning and a single street light still lit the parking lot. Nick scanned the area, but theirs was the only car left. The front of the shop was empty, and there was no sign of movement. Sam must’ve gone into the back. It was just them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man.” Nick went to take another bite, but the pita never made it to his mouth.

He’d heard something.

He listened. There was definitely something there. Some kind of ticking. He looked over at Dean, and Dean nodded, acknowledging that they both heard it now.

Dean turned around, looking out the back window. “It’s getting louder. Like it’s moving…”

“And coming closer…” Nick felt on edge. The uneven ticking didn’t belong in this setting. “It’s hard to tell which direction it’s coming from.”

“Should we call it in?” Dean looked over.

“A mysterious ticking?” Nick chuckled through his words despite his unease. “I think we need a little more than that to—What?”

Dean wasn’t looking at him anymore, but past him. His eyes had gone wide, and he was fumbling for his sidearm.

Nick turned, following Dean’s gaze out the driver-side window. The donair fell from his hand. “Jesus Christ!”

* * *

Joseph leaned back and took off his glasses. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and reminded himself—for not the first time—that he needed to get a new pair that didn’t pinch his nose so much. Above him, the little window had gone dark, and Joseph sighed at the night sky beyond. It was late. He supposed he should go home and leave the rest of the repair until tomorrow.

Reaching for a pen, he opened a notebook and jotted down some notes so he would know where to pick up in the morning. He set the book next to the watch and placed the pen carefully next to the book. Tools were scattered everywhere and he returned each of them, one by one, back to its rightful spot. A dozen brass metal gears lay spilt across the table, and he scooped them up, pouring them back into a drawer.

He stood back, looking for anything else to put away, but he’d spent months compulsively organizing and reorganizing his shop, and he was all out of excuses to stay there and keep tidying. He sighed again, reluctant to spend another night in his empty house. The clocks were better company than his own lonely thoughts. A dark brown coat was folded across the back of a nearby chair, and he shrugged it on, checking for his wallet and keys. He glanced at his cellphone before dropping it into the front pocket of his jeans and, with one final look back, he clicked off the lights and closed the door. The front of the store was dim, but the lights were still bright enough to glint off the rows and rows of watches in the display cases.

The walls were lined with numerous clocks of various shapes, sizes, and materials. People asked him how he didn’t go crazy working in a store full of constant ticking all the time, but he found it soothing. There was something calming about the rhythmic ticking of a clock. Each one set perfectly, marking the passage of time, synched up with every other clock. Time connected people, whether they wanted to be connected or not. It made him feel less alone. Time is one of the few things you can’t buy and never seem to have enough of… And can’t get back.

His face fell at that thought, and he put a hand to his chest, feeling the familiar stab of grief. He frowned and visualized his own heart, imagining it hardening. He’d wasted too much of his time longing for the past. He was done. He needed to let go and move on.

He walked to the front of the store and paused by the security alarm to arm it. But his fingers stopped short of the buttons. He looked back into the dimly lit store.

Something was off. There was a ticking that wasn’t matching the others. His eyes moved over the clocks on the wall, letting his eyes focus his ears.

He took a step back into the store and slowly made his way along one wall, trying to pinpoint the source of the ticking. The rhythm was unusual; it almost reminded him of a heartbeat. He shook off the thought while he ran a hand along one of the cases, feeling the dead eyes of the clockwork toys staring up at him. A couple of dozen metal animals silently begged him to wind them up and give them life, but he ignored their pleas. The out-of-sync ticking wasn’t coming from the main part of the store. He wandered to the back room and pulled out his keys again. Turning the knob, he pushed open the door and flicked on the lights. Listening.

His feet carried him back to his work table, and he looked around. All of the clocks in the repair shop were usually broken, so there shouldn’t be any ticking coming from inside. But there was.

Joseph followed the sound through the narrow rows of shelving, but it had grown faint. Finally, he found himself facing the back door into the alley and gave the deadbolt a turn.

Stepping out into the night, he looked up and down the alley. Dark, silhouetted garbage bins lined the backs of the nearby businesses, and a lone bike was chained to a gate, but there was no movement. And there was no ticking sound, either. Frowning and confused, Joseph retreated back into the building and locked the door behind him. He gave the room one final frown, went to the front, set the alarm, and left his store behind him.

The chilly air quickly found the bare skin on his neck. Joseph popped his collar and gave his zipper a final pull.

He looked left, then right, then watched as a solitary car drove by. The sight of red tail lights triggered memories he wanted to forget. He fiddled with his wedding ring while he stood there, not wanting to think about where its matching partner was. The car stopped at the next intersection, disappearing around the corner when the light turned green.

Joseph gave one last look at the store and started walking after the car. His mind wandered back to the watch he’d been working on, still trying to solve the problem that was no longer in front of him. There had never been a watch or a clock he hadn’t been able to fix. His mind was built for solving problems with clockwork; even problems that weren’t meant to be fixed with clockwork. He encouraged his thoughts to go back to his work for fear of where they might wander otherwise.

A ticking broke through his concentration, and he let his surroundings back into his focus. Jen’s Convenience glowed at the end of the street, like a lighthouse breaking through his thick fog of thoughts. He had been so lost in his work, he’d barely paid attention to his walk home and was surprised he’d come so far already. But his surprise was quickly pushed aside by the continued ticking.

The street was mostly residential now, sprinkled with the odd store like Jen’s. The ticking was the same irregular ticking he’d heard in the shop. He narrowed his eyes, peering into the night. Blue light flickered behind glass windows and porch lights sprinkled the street, but everything was still. He started to doubt whether the sound was even real. Maybe it was haunting him. There was no way that sound could still be real. Too much time had passed. He stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it, hoping to clear the sound out of his head. But the heartbeat-like ticking remained.

He glanced ahead at Jen’s Convenience and forced his legs forward. Before he knew it, he was running. Running from what, though? His past? His grief? His bad decisions?

The bell above the door jingled as he burst into Jen’s. No one was at the till, but Jen’s eldest son appeared from a hallway marked with an ‘Employees Only’ sign. Joseph straightened, hoping he appeared calm.

“Ah, Mr Collodi! How are you tonight?”

Joseph walked away from the door, but his eyes darted back to it before returning to Sonny.

“Fine, Sonny. How are you? How’s Jen? Is she feeling any better?”

“Yes, Mr Collodi. She’s just got a bit of a sore throat that won’t let go, but she’s already back yelling orders at us.”

Sonny chucked, and Joseph forced a smile.

“Anything I can help you with tonight?” Sonny smiled and waited for an answer.

“Nope. Just going to grab a chocolate bar. Got to satisfy that sweet tooth.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Sonny nodded as Joseph grabbed the nearest chocolate bar. Setting it on the counter for Sonny to ring it through, Joseph looked back to the door and the bell above, like he was expecting it to ring at any moment.

“Mr Collodi? Are you sure you’re okay?”

Joseph looked back, forcing another smile. “Yes, I’m sure.” He handed over the money and told Sonny to keep the change.

He paused before leaving, trying to see up and down the street through the glass panes, when he realised Sonny had said something. He turned back around.

“What?”

“I said have a wonderful night, Mr Collodi. It’s nice to see you out and about again.”

Joseph smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, uh, thanks. You have a good one too.”

With that, he leaned into the door, causing the bell to ring overhead. He flinched but didn’t look up as he stepped back outside. The cold air instantly found him again while he stood there listening. But it was just the normal sounds of his quiet neighbourhood.

Those normal sounds kept him company, but every nerve was on edge the rest of the way home until he was safe inside. He leaned against the nearest wall and rested his head against it, willing his heart to calm down. He took a deep breath and finally pulled himself away from the front entry. He threw the chocolate bar in the fridge, aware of how little appetite he had these days. Instead of eating, he filled the kettle with water and turned it on. A warm drink always seemed to soothe him.

He waited, staring at the countertops, mindlessly tracing the patterns in the granite, while willing his brain not to focus on anything in particular. He thought back to Sonny’s last comment. Sonny was a good kid—always had been—but Joseph was tired of people’s looks of pity and well-meaning comments. He resented them and their normal lives—and their happy families.

A thin whistle rang out, announcing it was time to fetch a cup and a teabag. As the whistle quieted, Joseph realised there was another familiar noise: a ticking. Almost like a heartbeat.

It was coming from the front of his house. Right out-side.

Taking a step towards the noise, he whispered to him-self, “It can’t be…”

He started when a loud knocking came from the other side.

“Mr Collodi?”

Confused, Joseph strode forward and opened the door.

“Nick?” Then he noticed the small girl holding Nick’s hand. She smiled at him, let go of Nick’s hand, and rushed forward to hug Joseph’s legs.

“Papa!” she said and pressed her cheek into him.

Joseph put a hesitant hand on her head, feeling the weight of the world fall back upon his shoulders, before looking back up at Nick.

“We found your, uh…your…” Joseph watched Nick struggle to find the right word. “Your… We found Penny. She was outside of Sam’s. Scared the living daylights out of Dean and me. Especially Dean. Have you met Dean yet?” Nick ploughed on, not waiting for Joseph to answer, “He opted to stay in the car. I probably should’ve told him about Penny, especially with that new eye you added and all…”

Joseph glanced down again and watched as Penny brought her hand up to gingerly touch the eye Nick was talking about. Almost like she was self-conscious.

Nick carried on, “but I wasn’t really expecting to have an encounter so soon. Not a lot of robots in our town, you know. I didn’t think we’d see Penny out wandering this late. She get away from you?”

Joseph just nodded. The silence that hung in the air was filled with the irregular ticking sound. Nick seemed to be waiting for Joseph to say something else, but how could Joseph even begin to explain? So he said nothing.

“Well, have a good night, Joe. Just keep a watch out on that one, okay? We don’t want your, uh, Penny, to get lost again.”

Joseph’s lips moved into something he hoped resembled a smile, and he thanked Nick before closing the door.

He stood there for a moment, watching as Penny crawled onto the sofa and found the remote to turn on the television. He walked over and sat beside her, but paid no attention to the show. Instead he sat there frowning, chewing the inside of his cheek, trying to solve a new problem. He’d driven her far enough out of town that her battery should’ve run out. Did someone wind her back up? Was it a compatibility issue between the AI and the clockwork? He’d always been unsure about pairing the two technologies. But he knew that the solution was likely the simplest one, as it usually was: Penny had figured out how to wind herself. And with that realization, the burden on his shoulders increased. He would have to do the very thing he’d wanted to avoid.

“Penny?”

She looked over at him.

“Yes, Papa?”

“Can we turn off the TV for a moment?” Joseph reached over and took the remote from her and clicked the power button.

He scooched closer to her, and she looked back at him questioningly with her one dark brown eye—an eye that looked so much like his daughter’s. And from the other side—where the other eye should’ve been—a small clock face with delicate hands ticked in an irregular rhythm. Not too soon after he’d made Penny, he’d replaced her one eye with the clock face. On the outside, she was perfect; an exact replica. Too perfect. Because on the inside, she wasn’t his daughter. She was a mistake made in desperation that he couldn’t bring himself to undo. He didn’t want to be alone.

As time went on, he’d needed that visual reminder that she wasn’t real.

“Penny. You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too, Papa.”

Hearing those words with that voice was a punch to the chest.

“Papa? Why did you leave me?” Her one eye showed her confusion and hurt, while her other eye marked their time together. The second hand of her eye matched the louder ticking that came from inside her.

Tears gathered along Joseph’s lower eyelashes. “Can I check your motor, Penny?”

She nodded and obediently turned away from him. He brushed her hair off of her neck and unzipped the top of her dress, revealing a rectangular outline on her upper back. He opened the panel, and beneath lay an intricate system of gears and cogs and springs and metal ribbons. But in the very centre, nestled in the chest cavity, was a motor: her heart. Joseph delicately reached in, tinkered with a few parts, removed the motor, and relatched the panel.

“All done.” The words came out in a strangled sob.

Penny turned and looked at him.

“I’m tired, Papa.” Her smile was weary.

Joseph smiled back at her, and his tears overflowed. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. “I know,” he said into her hair. He kissed her head.

“Can you sing to me?”

He loosened his hold and looked down at her, the warm brown eye full of trust. He nodded and cradled her in his arms like he did when his daughter was younger. But when he opened his mouth, he couldn’t find his voice. The tears flowed harder.

“What’s…wrong?” she asked. Her words dragged out as her system slowed down.

He longed to say goodbye, but those weren’t the words that came. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

His gaze switched over to her clockwork eye. He could hear the ticking slowing and the gears coming to a rest now that there was no motor.

Joseph closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, the second hand had stopped.