Clockworkers

by Ramsey Isler

  Her day continued with several more meetings for everything from design reviews for new packaging to legal reviews for new human resource policies, and she breathed a sigh of relief when the clock struck 6 and people started leaving. But, even though she was tired, things had gone fairly well today. There were no problems in her work until she sat down to review the very last message in her voice mail. Apparently, her distributor came by the factory last night to pick up the scheduled big shipment of the last of the old Victoria models before the company moved on to production of the Victoria II. But there were none of the usual shipping crates awaiting him, and no one responded to his knocks at the factory doors.

  This was all quite odd since the elves always had the deliveries ready to go on time. They were never late; it just wasn’t in their DNA. With humans, Sam could easily dismiss this annoyance as a product of laziness or forgetfulness. But neither trait applied to the Kith.

  Sam rushed to the workshop and her growing uneasiness became full-on fear when the shop was devoid of the usual bustling activity and there wasn’t a single Kith in sight. She searched the building frantically until she found Noc Noc and Hax in one of the bathrooms. They had filled the sinks with a frothing liquid, and now they were using plastic rings from the workshop to blow soap bubbles into the air. The two Kith gleefully watched the iridescent spheres float in the artificial breeze of the air conditioning.

  “What...are you two doing?” Sam asked.

  “Playing,” Hax said.

  “Why aren’t you working?” Sam asked. “What happened to the last shipment of watches?”

  “We didn’t finish them,” Noc Noc said before he blew out a string of tiny bubbles. “Hax said we’re on bash.”

  Sam’s fear was quickly becoming irritated confusion. “On bash? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “My chum Noc Noc got his words all mixed up,” Hax said happily. “What he meant to say is that we’re on strike.”

  Chapter 23

  “Strike?” Sam said. “Has that tiny mind of yours gone rotten?”

  Hax stuck out his chin as he tilted his head back to look her dead in the eyes. “The demands of the workforce were not met.”

  Sam groaned. “Is this about that stupid second workshop you wanted?”

  “Of course,” Hax said. “Of course!”

  “Do you really think you can get away with a strike?”

  “Yes, silly girl. Otherwise what would be the point of having one?”

  “There’s no point at all,” Sam said. “If I don’t give in to your demands, what are you going to do? Leave?”

  “Of course we would,” Hax said. “Noc Noc, would you have any problem leaving?”

  Noc Noc considered this for a moment and said, “I would be sad to leave. We have had so much fun here, but I suppose we can find other places to have fun. Maybe one of those cake stores we saw on the television.”

  “You see?” Hax said. “We could make cakes! We don’t need you.”

  “I know your names,” Sam said.

  Hax nodded. “Yes, you do. But I believe you also know the rules about those names.” Hax held up his hand in a pinching motion, with a narrow space between his thumb and index finger. “You only have a teeny bit of power over us. You can’t keep us here.”

  “And you’d rather go and make cakes?” Sam asked.

  “Why not? Cakes are fun, and we could eat all we want!”

  “You’re bluffing,” Sam said.

  “Am not,” Hax said.

  “Well then,” Sam said, “do whatever you want.” She walked out of the bathroom frowning, but by the time she got back to her car she was smiling. The little elves were actually showing some initiative in a way she never thought they were capable of. As Sam drove home she thought more about Hax’s little uprising and figured it wouldn’t amount to much. The Kith were having too much fun and discovering more interesting things than they ever knew existed. Their curiosity would keep them coming back for more. This strike thing was just a temporary diversion for their unfocused minds. Sam was sure that all she had to do was wait them out, and her workshop would soon be full of busy Kith again.

  * * *

  “I was so, so wrong,” Sam muttered to herself a week later. She was standing in the center hub of the Better workshop. It should have been filled with Kith working on fantastic watches that retailers around the world had eagerly pre-ordered without even seeing the designs. Sam had easily convinced them all that a slight delay had affected their delivery schedules, but it was nothing to worry about.

  But the workshop was still empty. The workstations were neat and tidy, as they always were when the Kith were away. But there were no ebullient voices engaged in idle chatter. There were no short legs happily swinging back and forth beneath the desks. There was only unyielding quiet, and dust.

  Sam walked through the place slowly, as she had done every day since Hax had delivered his ultimatum. Each day, she came in slightly less sure that the Kith would return soon. Today was the first day she actually felt worried. She walked on until something caught her eye. There was something new on one of the desks—Hax’s desk. Sam walked over to it and laughed once she was close enough to see what it was. Placed in the dead center of the desk was a cupcake.

  It was, without question, the most beautiful baked good that Sam had ever seen. The little cake was frosted with a base layer of flawless icing shaped into a smooth semi-sphere. On top of the base layer were intricate snowflakes made out of delicate sugar that looked like glass. The whole thing was topped with a light dusting of multicolored granulated sugar that sparkled in the light. It was a masterpiece, and it was a message. Hax was quite serious about his cake-making threat.

  Threat. The word seemed odd and wrong. This was probably the first time in history that a cupcake was used to punctuate a warning, but there was little doubt about the intent. None of the other Kith had ever done anything remotely threatening. This was new, and Sam wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

  Giving Hax what he wanted seemed the easiest choice. But it would set a dangerous precedent. If the Kith got in the habit of making demands based on their erratic whims, she could have a serious problem on her hands. It was time to call in the cavalry.

  “Piv,” she said, “we need to talk.”

  She stood there for a few moments, waiting for Piv to show up. When he didn’t appear immediately, she turned her attention back to Hax’s cupcake. It was captivating in an odd way. You could stare at it for a while and still find something interesting you hadn’t noticed before.

  “Are you going to stare at it, or eat it?” Piv asked.

  Sam turned and found Piv looking at her with droopy eyes. He had apparently been napping somewhere.

  “We need to talk about this strike that Hax started,” Sam said. “It has to end. Now.”

  Piv shrugged. “Fine. Agree to provide another workshop.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Sam said. “I want you to convince the other Kith that this is silly. Aren’t they bored?”

  “Not at the moment,” Piv said. “The city provides plenty of entertainment for now.”

  “You guys have been wandering through the city?”

  Piv nodded. “It’s a very different kind of place. Many old buildings with no one inside. We find the strangest things in them.”

  Sam groaned. “Nothing good can come from having hundreds of bored Kith wandering around Detroit and looking for something interesting. We need to get everyone back to work. Can’t you talk to the others? They’d surely listen to you over Hax.”

  “Hax proposed his idea first,” Piv said, “and what he has said makes sense. It is not our way to create conflict. Kith are really quite agreeable, you know.”

  “That’s exactly my point,” Sam said. “Why can’t you just convince them to agree with me?”

  “I am not sure your way is best,” Piv said.

  “And Hax’s is?”

  Piv giggled. “Oh no no no no. I
didn’t say that either.”

  “Come on, man,” Sam said. “So which side are you on?”

  “Side?” Piv said. “I’m on no side. I merely want what is best.”

  “And what is best for the Kith?” Sam asked.

  “That is not the right question,” Piv said. “What is best for the Kith at the moment? Time, dear Sam. It is all about the right thing at the right time. In the spring, the wise trees grow leaves so that they can feast on light from the sun. In the winter, the trees cast their leaves aside.”

  “You’re not helping me here,” Sam said.

  “I am, but you do not understand.”

  “Well how about you try telling me something I can understand?” Sam said. “Like what you guys are really planning to do with an extra workshop.”

  “That depends on who you ask,” Piv said. “But many of the others do want a place for their own tinkering. Melkidoodum, for instance, wants to make televisions. I don’t think he has learned how yet, but I am sure he will work it all out in due time. And Kibblefor wants to make chairs.”

  Sam tilted her head and rose an eyebrow. “Chairs?”

  “Yes. He loves chairs.”

  “What about Hax?” Sam asked. “What does he want to make?”

  Piv was quiet for a second and his cherubic face went blank as he lost himself in his own thoughts. “Hax is...different,” he finally said. “He’s a lot like you.”

  “How so?”

  “He’s...what’s the word again? Ambitious. Yes, that’s it.”

  “That’s all?” Sam said with a snicker. “That’s actually the first bit of good news I’ve heard in a while.”

  “Truly?” Piv asked.

  “Of course. I’ve been waiting for one of you little oddballs to show some ambition. Maybe Hax can actually be of some use to me if I can direct that ambition to something productive.”

  “I don’t think his ambitions are the same as yours,” Piv said.

  “I can fix that,” Sam said. “As long he’s got some kind of aspirations, we can work something out.”

  “Very well then,” Piv said. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I won’t,” Sam said. “Based on what you’re telling me, it seems like I’m actually better off letting Hax have his playground.”

  Piv shrugged. “Mayhaps.”

  “Find him and tell him I’ll give him what he wants,” Sam said. “But...don’t tell him anything about our conversation just now.”

  “What do you want me to tell him then?”

  “Tell him that I’m only agreeing to this new workshop because you convinced me to do it.”

  “But that’s a lie,” Piv said. “Kith do not lie to Kith.”

  “It is not a lie, my industrious little friend,” Sam said. “You’ve given me lots of ideas on how I can turn this stupid labor dispute to my advantage. The Kith might actually use this new workshop of theirs to create something extremely profitable. That’s especially likely if Hax is as ambitious as you say he is, or half as ambitious as Hamilton was.”

  “Very well then,” Piv said with a heavy sigh. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Chapter 24

  It wasn’t hard for Sam to get everything arranged for Hax. She found a new facility that met all of his requirements. It had once been an automotive parts factory from Detroit’s heyday, but it was now vacant and surrounded by rusted, decaying homes. She took a few days to surreptitiously get it in decent shape for the Kith. Still, Hax would have to give it his blessing before she could proceed.

  She chose an early Saturday morning for his first visit to the new workshop. It was 5 a.m. and the sun hadn’t risen yet, but the faint reddish glow from the eastern horizon made it clear that soon daylight would wash over the area. Sam drove there by herself, and waited. She watched the sky shift from dark blue hues to a majestic gradient of orange, cerulean, and purple. It was beautiful. She lost herself in relaxed skygazing.

  Long minutes passed, and Sam was struggling to stay awake. It had been weeks since she last got a good night’s rest, and her body was doing its best to urge her to remedy the problem. She yawned wide and long, shutting her eyes for a brief respite. When she reopened her eyes just a few seconds later, she wasn’t surprised to find a Kith staring at her through the windshield. She’d gotten used to these demented little games of hide and seek that would make a normal person piss their pants.

  Hax walked over to the driver’s side of the car and Sam rolled her window down. The elf was frowning a little.

  “So that’s the new workshop?” he asked.

  “I think so,” Sam said. “Why don’t you go inside and look around. Let me know what you think. If you want anything changed or added, now is the time to tell me. We’ve gotta make a move soon.”

  “You want me to go inside alone?” Hax asked.

  “Yes,” Sam said, yawning again. “That was the plan.”

  “Bad plan,” Hax said. “You come with me.”

  “Why?”

  “I might have questions,” Hax said.

  “Make a list and ask me when you come out,” Sam said.

  “That would be a waste of time for both us. Just come in with me.”

  Sam considered this for a moment. Hax was insistent, as always. But what was his motivation? Did he really just want to ask her questions? Hax just stood there, staring at her intently like a predator waiting for his prey to reveal a weakness. Then she realized what was really going on here.

  He didn’t trust her.

  “If you’re scared,” Sam said with a fabricated smile, “you can just say so.”

  “What would I have to be afraid of?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said as she got out of her car. “You tell me. You’re the one acting like a little baby. Come on, let’s go. Do you want me to hold your hand too?”

  Hax sneered at her before walking briskly ahead. He reached the door of the building, and gestured for Sam to go first. She obliged.

  Once inside, Sam reached for the light switch and the wide old factory was suddenly full of dull orange light.

  “These lamps are horrible,” Hax said. “They will have to go.”

  “Light bulbs are easy to change,” Sam said. “Just focus on the workspace and make sure it’s what you want.”

  Hax shrugged and started to inspect the building. He moved cautiously and sniffed everything, like a cat exploring new territory. He even ascended a pile of old crates and crawled across them. Sam watched him casually and pretended not to care much. In actuality, she was noting his every move.

  After fifteen minutes of sniffing, prodding, and climbing, Hax came back to Sam and pointed to a slightly rusted metal staircase. “What’s up there?”

  “An old storage area,” Sam said. “There’s really nothing up there but dust and rat poop. It doesn’t even have lights.”

  “I want to see it,” Hax said.

  Sam laughed. “Well go up there then.”

  “Come with me,” Hax said. His tone made it sound more like an order than a request.

  “Why? Scared of the dark?”

  “Of course not,” Hax said. “I was born in the dark.”

  “Then you should be just fine up there by yourself.”

  Hax shrugged and made his way up the stairs. The old staircase was rickety and rusted, but it didn’t make a sound as Hax scaled it. The door to the storage area was a faded brown hatch with peeling paint and a distressed brass doorknob. Hax cast one glance at her, waved, and went through.

  Then Sam stood there for about half an hour.

  The long pause began with Sam just staring at the door, waiting for Hax to realize there was nothing up there. After ten minutes passed, she started listening carefully for any signs of trouble. After fifteen minutes, she began to get restless. Then, exactly twenty-six minutes after Hax disappeared, she went to go look for him.

  As soon as she stepped on the first stair, it groaned in metallic agony. Each subsequent step brought f
orth a similar protest. There was no way anyone wouldn’t know that Sam was coming.

  She reached the door and put her ear close. There was no sound from inside. “Hax!” she called. No answer.

  Isn’t this how horror movies start?

  Sam brushed the thought aside. She wasn’t worried. She had confidence. She had months of experience with elves. And, most importantly, she had a gun.

  She reached behind her and grasped the handle of her Glock, which was tucked away in the waistband of her jeans. She’d brought the gun as insurance. This building was in a shady part of Detroit, after all. But now she found herself mentally preparing to use the weapon on whatever she might find beyond that door. She flicked the safety off and flung the door open.

  Darkness greeted her. There were no lamps, and there were no windows. Her eyes could tell nothing about what was going on in there, and neither could her ears. But her nose filled with the smell of oldness—decay and mildew and things she couldn’t identify and didn’t really want to.

  Sam had a small flashlight on her keychain. She propped the door open with her foot, and kept her right hand still clutching the gun resting at the small of her back. Then she grabbed her keys with her left hand and flicked the flashlight on.

  It only took a second to find Hax. He was standing ten feet from the door, with his back turned to her.

  “Hax? Are you okay?”

  “It will do,” he said.

  Sam kept her index finger on the cool metal trigger and slipped her gun just an inch out of her waistband. “What are you talking about?”

  “This place,” Hax said. “It will do. Make the final arrangements.”

  “O...kay,” Sam said. “You wanna get the hell out of here now?”