The Pocket Watch

by Michael Shaw

I grabbed the phone. “Jason.”

  He looked at me, anticipating an answer. A name. Anything.

  I closed my eyes. “I’m going to go get her necklace back. But I can’t tell you where I’m going, or who I’m seeing to get it.”

  “Jon,” he said, concerned.

  “I may be wrong, so just let me see.” I stood up and put the phone in my pocket.

  He hesitated. His eyes stayed down on the box. And I remembered how Jason had cared about my parents just as much as I did. He lowered his eyelids and sighed. “Okay. Go.”

  The scene changed again. Hunter and I stood in yet another alleyway. Hunter was in a zip-up jacket, I in a short sleeve shirt and jeans. Hunter had thought we were going to do another stalking session. But in light of the news about the necklace, I had something else in mind.

  “Where is it?” I asked sternly.

  He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “The necklace.” I pointed a finger at him. “Did you take it?”

  “Necklace?” He held his hands up. “I thought we were here to check out another scarface, Jon.”

  His devilish smile made me sick. I saw guilt in his eyes.

  “That night we came to my house,” I dug my finger into his chest, “you saw how to get in, didn’t you?”

  He pushed me off and adjusted his jacket. “Back off, man! I didn’t take any gold necklace.”

  Cars periodically drove by, their headlights shining on our faces as they passed. Save for those lights, we stood in darkness.

  I took a step closer to him. “I never said that the necklace was gold.”

  He backed up to the wall; his head leaned against the brick. “What? Yeah, you did, you said it was-”

  I grabbed him by the jacket and pushed him against the building. “What did you do with it?”

  He cringed as I slammed him into the wall. He was skinny, small. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Come on, Jon, I didn’t do it.” His hands held onto his jacket.

  I looked where he was grabbing. Behind his jacket, I saw a corner from a piece of paper. It looked to be hanging from his inside pocket. “What’s in your jacket?”

  He grit his teeth and struggled against my hold. No answer.

  “What is it? What are you hiding?” I reached in with one hand and yanked it out. It was a list. I let go of Hunter and walked toward the entrance to the alley, trying to get some light.

  He stumbled forward a few feet. “Jon, wait.”

  At the top of the paper in bold was the word “Contacts.” The list had names, phone numbers, dates, and pictures. All men with scars on their faces.

  Hunter grabbed for the sheet. I snatched it away.

  The dates went back to when we had first started, and forward all the way into two months in the future. I looked at all the pictures. They were either guys we had investigated in the past, or new faces I hadn’t seen yet.

  “Contacts,” I read the top out loud. “Contacts?” I turned back toward Hunter. “You’re collaborating with these people?”

  He held his hands in front of him. “Jon,” he pleaded quietly, “just calm down-”

  “You have them scheduled?” I shoved the paper in his face. My voice escalated. “You have it set up all the way to two months from now!”

  He reached into his pocket. An uncomfortable look on his face. “Jon, don’t make me do this.”

  “This isn’t an investigation,” I realized out loud. “You’re - you’re just leading me on a wild goose chase!” I held the list up. “Find some guys with a scar, ask them to act along, and charge me for every time.” I folded the paper up. “This whole thing was just a scam.”

  He had nothing to say.

  I stared at Hunter, waiting for him to respond. An explanation, a denial, an excuse, anything. But he gave me none of that. He just stood, looking at me, hands in his pockets. The fear left his face, replaced with a look of confidence.

  I walked up to him. “Well?” I growled. “Tell me, Hunter!” Frustrated, I reached out to grab him.

  Suddenly, I was knocked back. Hunter thrust his hands out of his pockets. Two gloves now on them. He pushed them out toward me and I flew backward, propelled by an invisible force. My side slammed against the ground.

  For once, Hunter wasn’t so chatty. He took slow steps toward me. His feet stopped inches from my face. I peered upward, breathing heavily. My eyes met his as he looked down on me.

  I had forgotten about his glove. This time, I was feeling the full brunt of it. Telekinesis in the hands of a guy like Hunter was a dangerous thing.

  He lifted his hands in feigned surrender. “Oh no,” he said lightly, “you caught me.”

  I rolled over onto my back, knees bent.

  “I thought you’d appreciate this.” He stared at the two gloves. “Two gloves now. And they’ve gotten a nickname, too. ‘Midas.’” He exhaled. “They’re even more powerful than before.” He smiled deviously. “And so am I.” He held one hand out to the paper on the ground.

  It lifted from the pavement and glided into his hand gracefully. He was right. His telekinesis was even stronger.

  “We had a good thing going here, you know.” He bared his teeth in a crooked grin. “I find some red herrings for you, you feel like you’re making headway, and then I get your money every time. Just for finding guys with a scar.” He chuckled. “You know, that reminds me, have you ever seen Memento? It’s an old film-”

  “You used me!” I lurched forward.

  He forced me back down onto the ground. I felt it in my chest. Hunter held me back with the Midas gloves.

  “Forget it, then. As for the necklace,” he twirled the spindly fingers of his free hand around, “just an added bonus. It’s that simple.”

  I glared at him. “That necklace was my mother’s.”

  His smile vanished; it appeared that he hadn’t known that. His eyes dropped to the ground for a moment.

  My breathing quickened. “And none of those men are even the real guy-”

  “There is no guy!” He yelled.

  I cowered back in fear. My friend had transformed into a powerful monster right in front of me.

  “You’re chasing a phantom, Ashe. Whoever he was, he’s either dead or long gone. No one’s finding him.”

  “Then what happens when I tell everyone your secret?” I shot back. “I’m not letting you get away with my money, and her necklace.”

  “You’re not going to tell. Anyone.” He opened his jacket, putting the list away and pulling something else out. A stack of photos. He dropped them down in front of me. The picture on top was one of me and Hunter inside a house.

  “Who broke into this place?” He released me, letting me sit up, and put his hands on his hips. “Oh yeah, we did. And this?” He slid the photo to the side with his foot, revealing the next one. A picture of the two of us hopping a fence. “That’s a really good one.”

  “Why would you incriminate yourself with this?”

  “Because these never get out unless you tell our little secret.”

  I nodded at the photos. “So, this is all Eclipse is. Scamming people out of their money.”

  “No!” Hunter yelled in opposition. “Eclipse is a business.” He knelt down and got in my face. “And we’re making things happen, Jon.” He showed me his fake Mark, and he flexed his fingers in front of my face, flaunting Midas. “But I’m just an employee,” he said, pointing a thumb at himself. “This,” he pointed at the pictures, “this wasn’t Eclipse’s idea. It was mine. My idea. My money.” He picked the pictures back up and turned around.

  “All that stuff about being my friend?” I called to him. “Trust?”

  He stopped, but his back remained turned to me.

  “That didn’t mean anything to you, did it?” I sat up on the dark pavement.

  Hunter squeezed the pictures in his hand. He began to turn back toward me, but he stopped himself. He shook his head and walked away, his footsteps crunching on the rocks and trash scattered on
the ground.

  I got up and ran out of the alleyway. As soon as I emerged, I saw a car pull away rapidly.

  I called Hunter’s cellphone the next day, and his number had already been changed. I didn’t see him after that.

  Chapter 17

  “Jon.”

  I blinked.

  “Jon?”

  I looked up. I was in a room. Metal table in front of me.

  “Are you spacing out or something?” Cooper asked.

  I looked around. I was still in that security room in Eclipse. The watch showed that just a second had passed.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  No one else could have known, but I had just experienced a memory by simply touching the watch. I didn’t even have to press the button that time; it just happened. My hand felt as though it were buzzing. I put the pocket watch down.

  The two security men frisked me. I stood there uncomfortably as they did. Next, they passed their scanners over my belongings. After looking at the watch, one of them glanced up at Cooper. He nodded.

  We put our stuff back in our pockets and proceeded to the door.

  “I still don’t understand what I’m doing here,” I said to him.

  He grabbed the door handle. “When I was notified to come get you, I was told that there was more to this than just getting you a new Mark.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He looked me in the eye. “It’s a good thing you contacted us, Jonathan Ashe.” He opened the door. “You’re not just here for us to help you. It looks like we need your help, too.”

  Cooper walked into the room. I took everything in. “Whoa.”

  ∞

  It was bigger than I had ever thought. The room, long and wide. Metal ceiling, concrete walls. Several people walking back and forth. It was like a factory. Doors to other halls and rooms stood around the perimeter. People around tables, drilling parts, discussing plans, or drawing up blueprints, filled the place. It was all computers, tools, and people. Everywhere.

  Suddenly, I saw a familiar face. I face I hadn’t seen in years. The person I had gone to for help once before. The one who had betrayed me. But now, I was reaching out to him yet again. When I saw his face, the images from the memory I’d just experienced resurfaced. I tried to contain a shudder. Hunter Calhoun.

  He approached me swiftly. “There he is,” he said bluntly. He came up to me with one other man. Dark hair, graying just a bit. “Jonathan Ashe,” the man declared.

  I nodded.

  He shook my hand. “Welcome to Eclipse. You need new ID and QRI code?”

  “Yes,” I replied, noticing his firm handshake. “And your name is?”

  “This way.” He turned to the side and walked to one of the doors.

  This place was beginning to worry me. Every second I was here, I realized there was more to Eclipse than Hunter had ever let on.

  They brought me into a smaller room. One table sat in the middle. On top of it stood a metal device. It was just like the one from the storage unit, looking like a mix between a printer and a sewing machine. The engineering side of me began to appreciate its design. A scanner on one side, and on the other, a metal arm that hung horizontally over the table. A needle protruded downward from it. Underneath the metal arm was a structure that ran parallel; Velcro straps ran along the top of it. It appeared to be an arm rest.

  The man walked toward the table.

  Hunter and I finally shared a glance. He had a goatee now, and his skin was rougher. He hadn’t smiled once since I entered.

  The quiet guy started setting up the machine.

  “It’s been a while,” he murmured.

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  He shook his head. “I just… I’m sorry for-”

  “Leave it behind.”

  He exhaled through his nose.

  “Where are we?” I whispered to him.

  “Do you think I know?” He shrugged. “I’ve only come here by using the portals.”

  “All these years?”

  “That’s what they tell us. Use the portals.”

  “How do those work, anyway?”

  “They’re like the gloves. Anomalies that only the inventors seemed to know how to harness.”

  “Then who invents the stuff?”

  He didn’t answer.

  I was beginning to understand Eclipse. They made things. Inventions. Technology. But how could all these innovations be created? Where was the money coming from?

  The man turned on the machine. It made a low hum. “It’s ready, Mr. Ashe.”

  I stepped up to the table, feeling odd.

  Hunter tried to smile and nodded toward the machine.

  “Left arm.”

  I held it out. The man rolled up the sleeve, exposing my Mark, and strapped it onto the arm rest.

  “Will this hurt?” I asked.

  He pressed a button, and the needle lowered. He glanced up at me. “Yeah.”

  It made contact with my flesh. I immediately tensed up.

  “Don’t shake.”

  I grit my teeth.

  Hunter stepped up from behind me. “Don’t worry. You get the short version.”

  I gripped my bicep with my free hand. “Short version?”

  “Yeah.” He pointed at my arm. “They’re just filling in a few squares on yours. It’s like a shortcut. Completely changes the QRI code with just a few color-ins.”

  “Then what’s the long way?” I squeezed tightly around my arm.

  He showed me his. “They had to remove the whole thing on mine, and then they replaced it entirely. Takes a long time.”

  I cringed. “Well, thanks for the short version.”

  The process lasted about ten minutes. The needle would dig into my skin, draw and fill a perfect square, then lift, slide over to another region of the code, and lower down again. It was like one of those mechanical claw games, but with a sharp, painful needle instead.

  “You know,” I said as it finished up, “I came up with a way to prevent fraud like this.”

  “Well,” Hunter scratched the hair on his face, “good thing no one listened to you.”

  I surveyed the code on my wrist. “What’s my new name?”

  The quiet guy unstrapped me. “Adam Clarke.”

  I reached down to touch the new ink.

  “Don’t touch it. Let it dry. It will take a couple days for your new identity to show in the universal database.” He shut down the machine. “So you’re not free to let people scan it just yet.”

  That seemed to make sense. With the way that these codes worked, they would bring the scanner to a link. The link would then display information on whatever the person was scanning. Back when the codes were just used for advertising, the scanner would be brought to a URL for some company’s website. Now that they were used for identification, an individual URL had to be assigned to each person. And with that, safeguards had to be put up. Securities to keep anybody from just creating a new URL for himself. Clearly, Eclipse had found a way around this.

  “I’ll need your driver’s license and passport.” He held out a hand.

  I dug into my bags to give them to him.

  “We’ll get you new ones as quickly as possible.”

  “Thanks.”

  “When they’re finished, I will be back with your new identification and the bill.” He walked out the door with the IDs in hand.

  “The bill,” I repeated, realizing I had almost no money.

  “What?” Hunter asked.

  “I’ve got a couple hundred to my name.”

  “You can pay for the Mark with that.”

  “But after that?” I asked. “How am I going to-”

  Another man suddenly walked in. Bald head. Wrinkled face. Glasses. He wore a long-sleeved button-down and dress pants. “Jonathan Ashe.”

  In my peripherals, Hunter seemed to grimace.

  I nodded. “Adam Clarke, now.”

  We shook hands.

  “I’m Donald Lane. We need to have a
meeting.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Hunter.

  He only stared at Donald. “Jon, this is my boss.”

  I looked back at Donald. “A meeting about what?”

  He smiled. “I’m very glad you contacted Eclipse, Jonathan. You probably thought you were just getting a new QRI.”

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “I’d like to tell you about something, if you’d come with me.”

  I took a step back. “I’ve been strung along here. What’s going on?”

  He looked me in the eye. “We’ve brought you here on purpose, Jonathan. In fact, you’re here for a reason much bigger than you even know.”

  Part II: Paradigm

  Chapter 18

  He brought me to a small meeting room. Wooden table. Soft chairs. No windows. He poured glasses of water for the both of us.

  “You are not here because you needed a Mark,” Donald said. “It is the situation that led to your need of a Mark that has brought you here.”

  I opened my mouth. “I…” I hesitated. “What situation would that be?”

  “Your guardian dies. You’re accused for his death. Your house becomes a police and detective cave. And Luna claims you have something that’s theirs.” His head tipped to the side. “And a couple days ago, we picked up a signal.”

  I slid my feet out just slightly. They rubbed against the carpet. I directed my thumb toward myself. “A signal from me?”

  He nodded, expression remaining lifeless.

  I bit my lip, nodding. Not until now did I notice that I had started rubbing my hands together. “Where did you first receive this signal?” I asked. “In Sacramento?”

  He reached down to a briefcase at his side, pulled out a laptop computer, and opened it up. “Actually, the first one we saw,” he turned it around and showed me the screen, “was here.”

  It displayed a map of California. Multiple dots were across it, all numbered. I blinked. It really was me. The first signal came from Los Angeles. That was where I had first used the pocket watch, back at my university.

  “The signals were sent out at a frequency higher than any man-made instrument would typically make.” He raised his eyebrow. “Have you experienced any ear bleeds in the past forty-eight hours, Mr. Ashe?”