Futuristic Clockwork Fate, Redux

[The Kaosophile]

The Brass Age of man is a fantastical time: new, alternative forms of energy are being found, Alchemy in the form of particle collision is becoming commonplace, and war is a thing of the past as humankind unites under a single flag of New Pangaea and prepares to reach ever outward, into the stars. But progress is never without sacrifice; androidal clockwork golems have been created and integrated into society, but a war has broken out on their place in this universe.


Technology:


Almost everything has been replaced with mechanical energy: steam, water, gears, cogs, wind, axles, and pistons are the most common parts of machines, but electricity is still used for lights, energy transfer, and particle colliders.


Compact Home Ionic Mass Rotary Accelerator (CHIMeRA): The primary product of MYTHOS Inc. is a hoop, four meters in diameter, ten centimeters thick, made for colliding ionic compounds at high enough rates to combine them at a nuclear level, creating a new material. Alchemy through the power of SCIENCE!


Primordial Ooze: MYTHOS Inc. manufactured plasmic sludge for use in CHIMeRA alchemy kit. Highly volatile, kept in Eversafe™ Γammaγuard™ Globoid (E.G.G.)


Ottcorp Single Passenger Ramjet Engine Yottahorsepower aeroplane (O.S.P.R.E.Y. jet): The yottahorsepower is made possible due to a compact nuclear fission engine. For reference, the prefix ‘yotta-’ means 1000^8 or 1000000000000000000000000. In layman’s terms, this thing packs a helluva punch. So much of a punch, in fact, that it can go anywhere on the planet in seconds. However, only Golems can survive this massive acceleration, so humans in these flying metal deathtraps would have to slow it down. Even then, it takes only minutes to circle the Earth at maximum non-lethal speed. Carries one pilot, one passenger, and small cargo.

Giltbert Ott’s Life-Emulating Mechaniloid (G.O.L.E.M.): The original mechanical android, Mk’s 3-9 are still in use, Mk 1 was a complete failure, and Mk 2 is fatally insane. Many companies have attempted to replicate the reploids, with varying degrees of success, but most are near-exact copies of one of Ottcorp’s Mk 3-9.


Mk-3 “The Ape”:


Large, heavy and durable, a rather rudimentary artificial intelligence, it takes much longer to take in new information, and is prone to acting not unlike a child. Easily manipulated, but also short-tempered.

Mk-4 “The Zombie”:


Much closer to human-size, but quite stiff and slow. AI degrades over time, leading to instances older than ten years becoming victim to either Alzheimer’s or Dementia.

Mk-5 “The Patriot”:


Human-size, relatively fragile, and, due to a spike in government funding in an attempt to prevent a civil war, overly patriotic and highly advanced, putting the good of New Pangaea above all, often spouting hate speech about ‘terrorists’ and ‘foreign aggression’.

Credits to D.J. Coffman and Brandon J. Carr at flobots.net


Mk-6 “The Ticker”:


Size of a small human, better armored, greatly improved AI, but, due to the loss of government backing, a defect in the speech mechanism caused words to be replaced with binary ticking noises. Translation can be difficult, but not impossible.

Giltbert Ott on left.


Mk-7 “The Replicated Man”:


Human-sized, near perfect human AI and human anatomy, these often disguise themselves to fit in with human society, as they are almost identical at a glance or a cursory conversation.

Mk-8 “The Thinker”:


Human-sized, quite fragile, and an overly active AI generally renders these difficult to work with, as they will analyze any action or situation in great detail before generating a response. Overly polite and helpful, causing some to fear a conspiracy.

Mk-9 “The Ascendant”:


Leaders of the Machinists, the Mk-9s are so self-aware, they have gained a superiority complex, and believe all organic life to be inferior.

Religion:


Despite the rise in technological advancements, religion has blossomed in a new renaissance, while not religion in the traditional sense, these sects follow their beliefs and leave no room for others in most cases:


Machinists: Extremist cult who believe that machine is the next stage of Earth, and humans should be the slaves of the new golems, then wiped out once all the nonbelievers have been converted or removed. Extremely violent.


Purists: Extremist cult believing technology unchecked to be the source of all problems, and that man should return to the iron age. Xenophobic society in a great, walled city.

Equitarians: Members believe in the views of the Old Gods, and that all men are created equal, whether birthed from a womb or from an assembly line. Generally peaceful and self-contained, but will zealously defend other Equitarians. Very widespread, but small in number.


Unionists: Members believe that humans should be augmented with golem parts, creating the next evolution of man. Openly accepting and widely recruiting, but nonviolent.

Gaeists: Simply want the golems gone, and wish to settle them on another planet, while humans remain on Earth until it is engulfed by Mortuum Solaris.


Heiretics: Opposite of Gaeists, this sect wants to find a new planet for humanity, leaving the golems behind.


Capitalists: Members want golems to be used for their original purpose; factorization and cheap labor.


Apocalyptics: Members believe that this new war was meant to wipe all life from Earth. Ironically, this sect is extinct, but rumor has it, they built a large, underground bunker full of enough stockpiled weapons to glaze over the Earth fifteen times, nicknamed the Ragnarok Stash.


Weaponry:


Beyond conventional firearms, which are still in use, melee weapons have made a comeback, though mostly against humans, as only a few models of golem have vulnerable spots for cutting weapons to strike. Blunt weapons are effective, if one has the strength to dent a golem and jam the complex inner mechanisms, the golem could be horribly crippled, or even rendered inactive.


Plasma Grenades: Some resourceful people have decided chucking E.G.G.s at enemies would be a good idea, and since the devices hold plasmic hydrogen, it works. It’s expensive, but it works.


The Railgun: A clever repurposing of a CHIMeRA lead to white-hot plasma rocketing at immeasurable velocities in the general direction of the target. Very difficult to transport and aim for a human or smaller golems, but when attached to a tank, it is an effective (If inefficient) weapon.


Chemical Warfare: As Golems are made of brass, the first combat method was ammonia in gaseous form to eat away at the Golems from the inside and out, but many Golems have coated themselves with counter-solutions to prevent this from working on a wide scale. Biological and Chemical Warfare are all but extinct now.


Frostthrowers: Nitrogen casters are expensive and bulky, but effective at disabling Golems without damaging them, if that matters to a person.


Civilizations:


There are hundreds of populated areas in the world, but as there is a war, people have grouped together around several main cities


Admiralty: Home of the Unionists, located in the Northeastern Eurasian mainland


Aluminia: Located on the island formerly known as Great Britain, common home of the Equitarians.


Aich: Seat of the high council of Machinists. Non-slave humans not allowed. South American Mainland.


Arcenica: Highest concentration of Gaeists in the world, near the coast of Northwest Africa


Deziar: Home of the Heiretics, and site of the most non-war-related scientific and technological innovation, located on the island of Australia.


Gilding: Abandoned city, former home of the Apocalyptics, thought to house the fabled Ragnarok Stash. Located on the Island formerly known as Madagascar


Muntz: Ottcorp HQ located here, central Europe, home of Capitalists, most diverse society.


Tonval: In the dead center of the North American mainland, Tonval is founding place of the Purists.


First, some norms before I get into the hard and fast rules:


Give others a chance to post; I understand if you get eager in a conversation with your character's love interest or locked in a deadly battle, but in general, take some time to let other characters intervene, some people can't type as fast as others.


If you have any plans or conversations with other RPers about this RP, try key me in on the ideas, so I know if any bunnying is approved.


Spelling is a thing, make that happen, a couple slip ups or difficulty typing on a phone I understand, but don't be in such a rush that every other word is unrecognizable.


Now, the rules:


1. Stay connected, if you fail to post for seven days, your character will be dealt with. If you know you aren't going to be here for a while, PM me, and we can work out an extended grace period and a reason for your character to disappear for a while.


2. No godmodding, I understand that science can do a lot, and this also has science fiction bits, but just don't. Being VIP means I can delete your posts. Don't make me use it.


3. If you have read all of these rules, be sure note your character's favourite colour in his/her bio.


4. Keep things interesting, if you get a case of writer's block, talk it out in the OoC tab or through PMs, but don't let your fellow RPers down by providing nothing to the story.


5. If you use Tapatalk, edit your settings to remove the 'Sent from my ___ using Tapatalk' signature. I know this is an odd request, but the tag really bugs me.

 

[The Kaosophile]

X405 updated Clockwork Fate, Redux with a new update entry:


The Clock is Ticking!

I'm waiting on only a couple more prospective sign-ups, then we should start. Sign ups close when this happens, so those of you working on your characters better hurry!

Read the rest of this update entry...

 

[The Kaosophile]

X405 updated Clockwork Fate, Redux with a new update entry:


Full steam ahead!

You may begin posting, I was going to make an opening post, but there's not much for Giltbert to say until he meets one of your lovely characters. Begin!

Read the rest of this update entry... 
It was a cool summer morning in Muntz, the kind of day where kids should be playing outside and their parents having lemonade and chatting on the porch. Sadly Muntz is not hospitable to that kind of lifestyle; everything has to be at peak efficiency. Housing is minimalistic, utilitarian, and as compact as possible. When children run around, they are carrying packages to and fro, and adults are generally working at this time of day. Don't get any ideas of a bleak, smoggy, industrial hellscape, though, Muntz is a beautiful city, and from some of the higher rooftops, you could see the sprawling city of glass and ivory buildings, and splashes of vibrant color in advertisements and furniture. The people of Muntz are either content with their lifestyle, or they catch the first Osprey out of there.


The Ott estate, up on its hill, was jarringly different from the city below. Copernicus Avenue was lined with trees and shrubs, the courtyards were lush and green, and the manor itself had more character in a single brick than the entire, sterile city of Muntz. The Manor had begun as a small cottage with an attached workshop, as requested by Giltbert Ott, the master of the estate, when he was supplied with nigh infinite grant money for developing Golems. At the time, the humble abode and the relative solitude were paradise for the young inventor, but as he grew, he longed for something more. He began expanding the house on his own, adding a porch here, an office there, until the monstrosity of a home began overtaking the entire hill. The result was a hodgepodge assembly of mismatched rooms and disparate architecture. It was Giltbert Ott's home, and he wouldn't trade it for a skyscraper.


Giltbert currently sat in his study, sipping his morning coffee and listening to a radio overview of the world for today. The tinny voice rang from the speakers, forecasting weather and commenting on the rising tensions in the War. 'The time is 07:00, Greenwich Mean Time, and it is a beautiful day almost worldwide; forecast calls for sun and only partial clouds all around Admiralty, Aluminia, and Muntz, but should be rather cool all day. Little warmer in the rest of the world, so bring ice if you travel.' the tinny voice grew more serious as it moved on to a more grim topic 'Aich has still refused conference with diplomats from any Faction, and the border skirmishes are getting worse. Experts believe this conflict will evolve into all-out war in a matter of weeks.'


Giltbert switched off the radio and walked to the French window. Cal skittered up on his shoulder and made a ticking noise akin to purring. "This is technically your fault, you know." Giltbert chuckled to his octopode companion. As he stared out the window, his thoughts moved to Mk-2, whose mindless ramble seemed to be all too close to reality. He shook the unhealthily dark thoughts from his mind and went to check his mail for Golem support tickets. He discarded the fanatic hate-mail and the zealous fan-mail, along with the increasingly threat-like requests for improved Golem AIs. He grabbed his coat and headed to his Osprey to respond to these repair requests.

 

[Sen Pai]

The heat of the sun beat down on the old, abandoned vehicle graveyard in Aich. The Machinist ruled country was once known as the continent of South America, a place known for its hot and gruelling weather and nature as well as the infamous Amazon rainforest. The rainforest is also known as “Selva Amazónica” in the human language Spanish.


Unfortunately, the refreshing and sheltering leaves of the trees in the Amazon rainforest did not exist in one of the garbage dumps in Aich. The only choice of shelter there were the easily heated metal from the cars and the scraps left around the dirt ground.


Although the sky was as blue as it could possibly be, the lack of fluffy white clouds seemed to disturb a certain Mk-3 considering he enjoyed staring up at the heavens and making pictures out of the floating balls of make believe cotton candy. However, even if there were no clouds in the sky to make bunnies and the old transport of airplanes, the golem knew how to enjoy himself without causing his gears to overheat. Sure, one could easily lie down under the shelter of the large scrap piece of metal that the golems called a roof and turn on the electric fan and point it towards oneself but Liam believed in other means of cooling down on such a hot summer day.


“Michael! Michael!” The young Mk-3 ran towards the shelter that protected the old Mk-4 from the rage of the summer heat. His footsteps caused the whole area to shake by the mere weight of the Mk-3’s metal body. Waving his large arms in the air, Liam’s soft and childlike voice rang through the vehicle graveyard but it did not catch the old Mk-4’s attention. Liam had to bend down slightly to fit underneath the roof due to his immense size but the golem did not have pains like humans did from arching his neck for so long. He was young as well, both physically and mentally so body aches were non-existent to Liam.


When the Mk-3 finally caught Michael’s attention, the old golem’s gears began to make a loud whirring sound as he slowly opened his eyes and blinked twice. “Hello…there….Liam.” Michael’s speech was slow and somewhat slurred, but not in a drunken way. The Mk-4 had never taken in any sort of alcoholic beverage. Was it even possible for a golem to get drunk? Perhaps, Michael was looking into the idea of a drunken golem and thinking about how it would ever be possible.


Liam beamed with joy as he held out a kitten that was shaking in his hands. “Michael, look at the kitten.” The Mk-3 seemed to mimic the human action of smiling as the corners of his mouth raised up slightly. “Isn’t she cute?” Liam brought the tiny kitten up to his face and cuddled with it, swaying back and forth. Bringing his attention to the older golem, Liam pouted, if golems could pout, and put on his best “puppy dog eyes”. “Can we keep her…please?”


Michael seemed to chuckle, his gears making a low whirring sound similar to that of a motor from an old motorcycle. “Liam,” The Mk-4 allowed his eyes to close once more as he lay in the way of the electric fan’s breeze. “Put...the kitten down.” Michael heard Liam open his mouth to speak. “No buts....You’re....scaring it.” Feeling quite amused when he heard the young golem sigh with disappointment and gently place the kitten on the ground, Michael opened his eyes and stared up at the blue skies.


“Michael?” Liam’s voice became softer as he began to think deeply. The Mk-3 glanced over at the old golem and then turned his gaze up at the clear blue skies of Earth. “Do you know where Octavia is?” The large golem was easily readable, his voice sounded concerned and worried. Although Octavia wasn’t the nicest of golems, Liam knew that the Mk-9 was a genuinely good person deep within her gears. He was just aware that her goodness was deep within her. Like, you needed to mine thousands of feet into the ground to find a diamond.


Michael’s motors became quieter as he continued to stare up at the blue skies. “No, Liam…. I don’t.” The Mk-4 didn’t seem like he was concerned about the female golem at all, even his gears seemed to calm down and not speed up with adrenaline. However, Michael knew that some way, somehow, Octavia was going to get herself in some sort of trouble. She was always so stubborn. Michael mused to himself about how he had managed to live so long and not break down from a “heart attack”. Octavia was prone to given him such problems.


Liam let out a sigh and then sat down on the dirt ground. “I hope that she’s alright…” Sitting crossed legged on the ground, Liam glanced back at Michael to see him nod silently and listened to the whirring of the old golem’s gears.


“The sky…is very blue…” Michael’s old and rusty voice could be heard from behind Liam. His riddles confusing those who try to understand them but at the same time, they made complete logical sense. “The sky is very...blue.”

----------

​

“Urgh.” Octavia groaned as she trudged up the hill, towards O.S.P.R.E.Y. jet. “Why is it so goddamn hot?” The Mk-9 could feel her gears heat up due to the weather and cause her much discomfort. The weather of Aich was generally always hot and or tropical but a day like this with Octavia’s already pissed off attitude was just grinding away at her patience.


Climbing into the O.S.P.R.E.Y. jet, Octavia hissed at the pilot, a simple Mk-7 called “Timmy”, to turn on the engine and get the piece of machinery moving. “Let’s go, Jimmy! I don’t have all day.” Scowling and folding her arms over her chest, Octavia rolled her eyes when she heard the Mk-7 say something about his name. It’s not like it really mattered. Octavia had more important matters to attend to.


Timmy sat in the pilot seat and droned about the usual safety. Something about wearing the seat buckles and the oxygen masks in case of faintness. Octavia slammed her fist down against the O.S.P.R.E.Y. jet and growled lowly. “Timmy, you are wearing my patience down.” Glaring down at the little Mk-7, Octavia smirked when she saw the Mk-7 flinch and then start the engine of the jet.


“Y-yes, of c-course. Where to, m’lady?” The Mk-7 grinned nervously as he wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel. The metal of the Mk-7 was easily revealed in the sunlight. It was Aich after all. You didn’t need to look like a human here. That would just be disgraceful, low, and absolutely disgusting.


Octavia leaned back against the wall, not bothering to put on the seatbelt. “To Muntz, of course.” Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Octavia stood with her feet apart and was not fazed when the O.S.P.R.E.Y. jet blasted off at an inhumanely speed. “Humans are so silly.”

 

[DarkAncient]

"So Tock where too next?" Alexander smiled to his little companion and waited patiently for the ticks to stop before laughing. "Come on Tock since when do golems get tired after a hike?" The two were sitting on the edge of a cliff looking out at the sunset. "Isn't it beautiful Tock? Why can't everyone just stare at the same sunset together and realize that we are all equal. If we could just do that, I think that everyone could learn to love each other, and we would have no more wars." Even as he said that he was polishing his magnums. The two had recently been given small alterations. One was now made of a shining red metal and was embossed with a fire streaking down the side. The other had been replaced with a shimmering gold metal and was embossed with a pocket watch on either side of the barrel that instead of ending in twelve ended in thirteen. Tock suddenly let out a long line of binary and Alexander laughed again. "I guess I am a bit fond of making things look nice but I haven't seen you complain about your makeover. Alright so it was costly to have the guns altered like this but we had the money and we weren't using it for anything. You are so mean sometimes Tock." Alexander laughed again and patted his friend on the metal shoulder before getting up and stretching. "It's going to be very dark soon we should get back to the cabin first."

 

[Sen Pai]

It only took a few seconds until the O.S.P.R.E.Y. came to a sudden halt and slowly lowered itself onto one of the grassy hills of Muntz. The cargo on the ship shook as if there was an earthquake but the sturdy straps that held it down kept the metal crates from falling and tumbling around the O.S.P.R.E.Y. The intense speed that the piece of metal had just went would have easily ended the life of a human being but, fortunately, both the driver and the passenger were not human.


Timmy's humanoid hands gripped the wheel as if his life depended on it. The whirring of his gears could be heard easily as the golem was beginning to panic and hope that he had gotten his passenger to the location fast enough. Even if he himself was a golem, Timmy knew that Octavia was not the most patient person, especially when it came to travelling. She knew how fast the O.S.P.R.E.Y. could go and if it was too slow for her, Timmy would find himself immobile in a trash can.


The Mk-7 was shaking with fear as he heard the heavy footsteps of his passenger on the roof. It was as if Octavia was purposefully stomping on the roof to make Timmy afraid of what was going to happen. And she was. An almost sadistic expression could be seen on Octavia's face if her facial gears allowed her to put more emotion into her face. Chuckling lowly, Octavia jumped off of the O.S.P.R.E.Y. with one force of moment from her legs and landed on the ground, standing upright.


"Good job, Timmy." Without even throwing the little golem a glance, Octavia tossed a few coins to pay for her transportation back at the Mk-7. Rolling her shoulders back, Octavia burst out laughing. At that same time, a strong breeze came from the east, causing the trees to sway and bend, as if they were bowing down to the female Mk-9.


Timmy clumsily caught the coins in his hands, juggling them until he finally got a proper grip on the coins. Letting out a sigh of relief, Timmy felt his gears cool down as he started the O.S.P.R.E.Y. up once more and a large gust of wind came from the vehicle as the piece of metal hovered up in the air before shooting off into the distance at an intense speed. Octavia stood, her feet planted into the ground. The force did not throw her off one bit. After all, if a tiny bit of wind from the O.S.P.R.E.Y. could take her down, then that would mean she was weak.


As Octavia made her way up the hill, she found herself staring at an Mk-6 and a disgusting creature. A human. Feeling like she was staring at a rodent, Octavia frowned when she saw that the golem was getting along with the human. Shaking her head at the situation, Octavia decided that it would be best if she laid low in Muntz rather than storming in and causing a battle. Even if it did hurt her pride to do so, Octavia knew that if she was going to achieve the golems' dream of becoming the ultimate race she would have to be slow and steady.


Approaching the human and the traitor golem, Octavia tried to give the golem the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the golem was simply getting close to the human so that it could force it into slavery? The Mk-9 mentally agreed with herself but before she could continue with her thoughts, she was already in the eyesight of both the human and the golem.


Narrowing her eyes, Octavia had to bit down on her mental tongue to keep herself from hissing with disgust at the human. "Hello," The Mk-9 folded her arms over her chest and stuck her nose up in the air, her body ready to pounce and pull out her guns to obliterate the human. "What are you doing here?" Even if it was Octavia who had been the one to intrude, she still asked the question as if they weren't supposed to be there.


@DarkAncient

 

[DarkAncient]

Alexander glanced over in Octavia's direction and smiled. He was aware of the pure power that an Mk-9 held and that a wrong move could get him killed here. Gently he placed his twin pistols into the holsters that kept them to his back and held a hand out to calm Tock who was about to reveal his pistol attachment. "Hello there, I am Alexander and this is Tock, we are out spreading the beliefs of the equitarians my metallic friend." Alexander had a way of keeping a constant smile on his face that was able to make most people lower there guard towards him. This was never an attempt for him to get their guard down so that he could strike, but more so that he could make them feel comfortable around him. It also helped to have that extra few seconds to run if things got bad. At this point though, he was regretting not buying those black market upgrades for his pistols. He was very proud of their old style, but it was perhaps time to get them upgraded to have more stopping power. The upgrade would have given them the enough piercing potential to stand a large threat against any golem, but then again it would have cost him most of his travelling money. "I do hope you speak binary, it might be a little hard for Tock to keep up in the conversation." Alexander never stopped smiling, but a small bead of sweat was beginning to form on his brow. Here was an MK-9 famous for their superiority complex and hate for humans, and it had stumbled upon Alexander who felt a greater need to arm himself against metal and not man. "What would happen to be your name? It would seem rude of me to have no name to call you buy if you wish to continue a conversation with me."


"01010000 01100101 01110010 01101000 01100001 01110000 01110011 00100000 01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01101001 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110100 01100001 01101100 01101011 00100000 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01000001 01101100 01100101 01111000 01100001 01101110 01100100 01100101 01110010 00111111" (perhaps I am more suited to talk here Alexander?) Tock spoke in a long series of fast clicks before Alexander smiled and laughed a bit.


"Now now my friend I think we will need to know if our new acquaintance has a hold of binary first. I'm sure they do, after all most golems are built with a high intelligence, but I don't know much about the Mk-9 build, and binary may have appeared as an obsolete idea when they were born." Alexander preferred to say born when he talked of golems mainly because of how much he really stood by his equitarian beliefs and how much he wanted to look at everyone as being equal in this world.


@Darth Pai

 

[Lucem]

In Muntz, everything and everyone worked at their prime. All that happened was the embodiment of efficiency and continued at a quick pace. The city manged to do so without turning into a wasteland of fog and soot, maintaining a radiating elegance and beauty. All in Muntz seemed to have a glorious exterior that would make anyone stop to marvel. However, there was one place in the grand city that contradicted everything prior.


In one of the more remote parts of the city, situated near the edge of everything it encompassed, stood a small building. In Muntz, all housing was kept to a compact size to maximize is efficiency, the state of the wooden contraption made them seem like a resort in comparison. While other buildings were towers made of glass and ivory that stood tall above the citizens, this place lacked such a titan-esque appearance.


In the corners of Muntz stood a building comprised of wood that seemed as if it would come crashing down if touched by the faintest breeze. Held together only by a cluster of rusted nails, the structure made of rotting oak beared the name 'Geppettos', evident by an a sign that showed just as much signs of deterioration as the rest of the foundation. In contrast to the other buildings of Muntz that were a mass of bright of vibrant colors, this one was a stain of plain gray and brown.


The interior was just as unpleasant to the eye as the outside. Inside contained no signs of modeling attempts, walls never having been painted and maintaining the same splintering wood as seen from exterior. Lined with copious amounts of dust and cobwebs were a series of benches that were lined with various metals and tools, all showing signs of wear and tear. It seemed as if the small amount of weight would cause the work space to fall through the floor, already having a series of holes.


Besides the obvious amount of filth and the overall decrepit state of the area, other items were quite noticeable. Throughout the building were various sculptures, all varying in shape and size, as well as color. Some of the contraptions were out in full display, while others remained covered by torn linen sheets, some of the metal still visible. There was never a discerable pattern when it came to what they were. Some were small combinations of metal that resembled human beings and wildlife, while others were a complete mystery. However, there was a large amount amount of wooden clocks throughout the small space, hanging from the walls and sprawled across the ground. The sheer amount of materials from these items left little room for movement and it had obviously been this way for quite some time.


While the contraptions that filled every corner of the place were certainly eye-catching, the part of the wooden abomination that drew the most attention was the sheer amount of mechanics that were built into this place. In every free space available, gears and cogs spun, their purpose not exactly clear. The copper bits and pieces had a lot of neighbors, iron and bronze making a notable appearance in the form of appliances that seemed to serve no purpose. All were connected by a series of wires that stretched across the open space that hadn't been taken, the center of it all being brought towards the one desk that the best condition when compared to the rest, but still quite unreliable.


The reason for why this area seemed a bit more groomed compared to the others could be seen by the series of sparks emanating from its center. The source of the sparks was a small, mysterious tool, the top being a grooved portion of metal with a metallic tone. The one currently making use of said tool was the owner of this building. Clad in a dark coat and trousers, the young adult appeared to be a man based on a figure. In all honesty, it was hard to tell. The mask that covered the supposed male's face made it hard to guess, until he finally spoke.


The mask was unnerving, to say the least. With wires hanging from an open hatch that seemed to be used when speaking and the dark, eye-like portions creating an appearance that seemed like a mechanical skull, there wouldn't be many people willing to strike up a conversation with its owner. Well, that was how he preferred it.


Gareth Reed was the owner of Geppetto's, a small run-down shop that made novelty clocks and served as a repair stop for those that found themselves in need of quick service. To say the place didn't get a lot of business was an understatement. Not a single customer had walked through the deteriorating doors since he bought this place. However, Gareth didn't mind. In fact, enjoyed his solitude. It was for that reason he bought this place so far away from the main commotion of the city.


While his shop, as well as home, didn't see any business with other large businesses consuming the market, Gareth did manage to make a small living with his other skills. In order to sustain his biological needs for food, he built sculptures. There was never a shortage of people that liked to have some sort of art displayed in front of their homes as a ornament or as a small Knick-Knack to keep on their desks. While he wasn't necessarily in high demand, he did occasionally receive a job. At the moment, Gareth was fulfilling one of his requests he had gotten.


As the sparks settled down, Gareth's eye piece resigned to it normal position as he looked at the small item in his hand. A gilded angel with a glimmering reflection rested between the dark fabric of his gloves. The eyes were very fragile, as they were made of glass to show the gears and cogs inside the head that were currently at rest. Outstretched from a molded gown of metal were a spectacular set of wings, finely detailed to show each feather. They were the most extravagant part of the piece, since angels were known by this key characteristic.


Hearing the cranking as he extended his right arm, Gareth twisted the newly added key-like device on the sculpture. After twisting a few more times, listening to the lovely sounds he received in response, he released it from his grasp and watched as the main feature of the item was set into motion. The thin wires that connected themselves to the wings and back began to tug, as the metal feathers began to shake. The wings then started to flap, creating a simulated scene of taking flight, without soaring into the air. The halo that hung above its head responded to the gears that rested in the head below and began to spin. After three spins, the sound of a piano could be heard from its body, wings flapping in harmony. Doubling as a music box, the angel created a soothing lullaby as its beauty radiated.


Turning the sculpture over in his hands, Gareth stared into its cherub face, watching through its eyes as the gears gears turned to create the entrancing sounds. Even though this piece was very beautiful and an obvious work of art, Gareth felt no fulfillment when his work was completed. No matter how much the angel would flap its wings, it was only a simulation. The glass eyes contained no sign of life and there was only an empty husk, no matter what the rhythmic sounds would lead others to believe. He never felt not when working on these contraptions. Gareth had a desire to work on things much greater, but he could never allow himself to give into that desire. Never again.


The melody would soon be drowned put by the sounds created by the gears and mechanics that lined the shop's walls. The noise was almost deafening and it would certainly be seen as an annoyance to others. However, Gareth loved this sound. Silence could drive any man to insanity and the absence of sound made his skin crawl.


Gareth lived a life of seclusion. He was trapped in a lonely and repetitive cycle where every day seemed just like the last. All ventures outside created paranoia and made his mind run rampant with anxious thoughts. He could not do what he loved and he could never allow the face behind the mask could never be seen. He couldn't even reveal his name. But that was okay. This was the life he had chosen for himself as punishment and this was how things would remain. He was not happy, but he had taught himself to be content.


As Gareth place the angel in a padded box to be sent off to the client, he crossed his arms and placed them on the desk, feeling the rough texture of the wood with one and creating a soft clunk of metal with the other. He rested his head on his arms as he drifted off with the lovely mechanical sound filling his ears, beating any other lullaby. Yes, he was content. At least, that's what he had trained himself to think.