//------------------------------// // #2 // Story: Like Clockwork // by Cackling Moron //------------------------------// The bell above the door jangled. Paul, who was busy, glanced up. “Closed, come- you again, suspicious child.” “Hello Pall!” Cozy said, bounding up, smiling wide. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing back the glasses he’d been wearing, the kind with all the lenses on little arms he could flip down for the really delicate stuff. “Paul. Pa-ul. Not Pall. Not like gloom. Or bearer!” He said. Bad start, but she could roll with it. Cozy cocked her head. “Paul?” She ventured, taking some care over it. Paul nodded. “Better. Thank you.” The glasses then went back into place and Paul resumed working. It looked like he was still dealing with the same toy he had been yesterday. The thing was still twitching whenever he poked around. Cozy moved up and again stretched to her fullest extent to be able to just peer over and at what he was doing. “You arrive late. Thought you would be here in morning,” Paul said while he poked. Cozy had been so distracted watching the odd little spasmodic movements she took a whole half second to respond. “Uh, chores. Got held up! You know how it is,” she said. All casual. Because she was a normal child, just out and about. Her life was perfectly normal, nothing to pry into. Nothing to see here. “Hmph. Arrive after everyone gone, too. Again,” Paul said, sparing her a lingering look, one eye huge on account of those many lenses. This conversation was veering off-course. Time for a nudge in a better direction. “Still fixing that little guy, huh?” Cozy asked. “Yes. Stubborn. And I am getting distracted.” He made sure he was looking at her for that one, and she made sure to look appropriately sheepish. “Oh, hah! Sorry.” He didn’t say anything after that, or after that, or at all, and it appeared that as far as Paul was concerned the conversation had ended. Cozy wasn’t sure what to do. She tried smiling at him adorably, but, again, he wasn’t paying her much attention. She was going to say something else just to puncture the tension but Paul - surprisingly - beat her to it: “Get stool, sit. You are staying, so sit,” he said. “Stool?” “There,” he said, waving behind him. There was indeed a spare stool and Cozy moved to get it. The immediate issue was that the stool was sized for something of Paul’s dimensions and he did not help her heave it across the floor, to her chagrin, nor did he help her mount it once she’d managed to get it settled on the opposite side of the worksurface to him.  Realy, normally, she would have just hovered up, but the cunning cloak hid and restricted her wings and, besides, no point in letting on more about yourself than you strictly needed to. In the end she stopped trying to make a big song-and-dance of struggling up and just hopped up in one go, huffing. “Good job,” Paul said, without looking at her. “Thanks,” Cozy said, more acidly than she might have intended. Her new position did offer a much better view of the work he was doing, which was good, even if it still made absolutely no sense to her. She leant in anyway, just to try and get an idea of what was going on. She saw what looked to be clockwork, at least those times when his hands weren’t in the way. “So, from yesterday, from when we were talking, when you say ‘dangerous things’ do you mean…” She broached. “I did not say, you say. You guess,” Paul said. “I was right though, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I?” Couldn’t really deny that, and he had always felt bad lying to children. Those few times he had been in a position to, obviously. Which hadn’t been that often, but still. It just made him feel bad. And it still did. “...yes. But you should still not make assumptions. It is rude,” he said. “Sorry, sorry… A pause. Then: “So what kinda dangerous things?” She asked, going for innocently-keen in tone. Paul sighed. “Why are you asking me this?” “Because it’s interesting! And neat! And cool. Come on, please? I won’t even tell anypony else! It can be our secret!” Cozy had been thinking about these things for most of the day up until this point.  Not the toys themselves, obviously. Toys weren’t a whole lot of use. But the human’s ability to make them and probably more things besides them really did represent a myriad of possibilities, and at this point possibilities were gold dust.  She didn’t really have a whole lot to work with. And sure, not her style, strictly speaking, but they were new and therefore useful. Everything had a use, after all, and that which was unexpected could not be planned for. Element of surprise was very important, sometimes vital, and so these might have some value. Every piece played a part, etcetera. Meanwhile, Paul was observing her closely.  The child was very, very suspicious. Didn’t act like the other children. Wasn’t as amazed at the toys, wasn’t clamouring for one, didn’t have parents present to pay. Wore a mysterious, identity-concealing hooded cloak. And right now she just kept sitting, smiling, making sure he saw her smiling. Something about her just seemed off to him. On the other hand she was adorable, and she was just a child. And Paul, for his many, many failings, did remain something of a softy at heart. Though he would never admit it. “Hmph. Fine. But do not tell others, yes? I do not want them to know. Okay?”  “I promise!” “I do not believe you. But oh well,” he said with another sigh, setting his tools down and pushing the glasses back up off his face and tucking them into place this time, rubbing his eyes. Cozy waited, rocking a little on the stool, mostly for effect.  “The things I made, the dangerous things, I make for the army. Like the toys, but bigger, bigger. Metal men, metal animals. Moving weapons. Lots, lots,” Paul said. Cozy had to resist the urge to throw her head back in triumph here. She knew it! She knew it had to have been something like that! And she’d guessed it! Based on scraps and hints and cleverness! Put together in her own head, just like that! Always a step ahead, and in actuality always a step ahead of where everyone thought she was! Aha! That was two whole steps, and one of them was invisible! “Wow…” She instead said, trying to go for an appropriately awestruck, child-like reaction to learning something neat-sounding. Paul frowned. “Not a good thing,” he said. “And they were dangerous?” “Very dangerous. For army, yes? You have army here, guards, I know. Mine worse. Very dangerous.” He didn’t really want to go into it any deeper than that, especially with a child. It wasn’t something he’d talked about at all since arriving, in fact, and hadn’t given a whole lot of thought to. He was thinking about it now, and rather wished he wasn’t. He upped tools again and got back to fixing, just to try and distract himself. Cozy watched him quietly for a bit before deciding enough time had passed for her to forge onward: “So what’s the biggest, most dangerous thing you ever built?” At this Paul’s attention slipped enough for him to jab himself in the finger with a tool and hiss out a stream of something Cozy didn’t understand but didn’t really need to to get the intent. Sucking blood from his finger he gave her a sour look. “Why are you asking this still? Youthful curi-os-ity?” He asked. That last part took him some work to properly pronounce, but he got there. “It’s cool!” Came Cozy’s answer. He’d met more than one child in his time who’d thought the same when they heard what it was he did back home. Hadn’t seen it for a while, but he had seen it.. He didn’t like it, but he wasn’t surprised by it. Were he young again he imagined he might feel the same way. Always something engaging about metal machines smashing things to bits. At least until you have to walk over who and what they’ve smashed so you can go and fix the busted machine so the smashing can continue. Did rather take the shine off, at least for Paul. “Hmph. Biggest and most dangerous?” He asked, scratching his chin. “Yeah! Please?” She asked, throwing her hooves up in jubilation before hitting him with the Big Eyes. Paul grimaced. But he supposed there wasn’t much harm to be had in indulging her just a tiny bit... “Biggest...siege construct. Like a big man. Very big. At least…” he held a hand in front of him, above the worktop frowned, raised it a little bit, then a little bit more. “Very big. Size of a building at least, very big. There was a wall, a very big wall. Construct made to break wall.” This explanation aided by a demonstration of him holding out one hand flat and the other as a fist and then smacking the fist into the flat hand, which he then turned over. Very visual. “And did it? Break the wall?” “Oh yes. Big wall, big hole in wall, siege over. Everyone was very happy with the work. Used it to level most of city, too. To make sure, they say. Left construct as statue outside city, monument. Too big to take away.” A lot of the bespoke stuff had been treated as disposable in this way. Indeed, all of the machines had been treated pretty much just as munitions, as disposable. To Paul it had always seemed a dreadful waste, but it wasn’t his job to make those decisions, just make what he was told to. If they wanted to keep throwing money away that wasn’t his problem, as some of that money had been fluttering down on him. “And you made something like that?” Cozy asked. He shook his head. “No, not me, team. Whole team. Lots of us, working together. I helped. Did my part.” Not really what she’d had in mind, exactly. “Oh. Well what’s the biggest, coolest, most dangerous thing that you could make? On your own? If you, you know, had access to the right stuff?” Whatever sense of indulgence he had been feeling towards her more-or-less dried up here. “I do not make dangerous things now.” “No no! Of course not! That’d be awful! But you could, right? Just, you know, it’d be possible?” “Maybe,” he said, jaw tight. “It’s probably been a long time though, right? You’re probably rusty. That’s okay. These little toys are good too. The other kids like them. Especially the really little kids. Really seem to get a kick out of ‘em!” Cozy said, extra-brightly. “Yes,” Paul said, extra-flatly. Paul was not rising to that and once it became clear that he was not rising to that or even going to deign to reply, the tiniest smidgen of Cozy’s frustration leaked forth. Outside she might have looked cute as anything, inside she was a coiled spring of sizzling tension. Things had been rough lately, after all. “Oh come on! How can you go from making super powerful, cool stuff like that to being happy making this? Not that this is bad or anything, it’s great for all the kids. It just...seems like kind of a step down, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you rather be still doing the big, cool stuff?” Like, maybe now? For her? With no questions asked? She might actually have a few specific ideas cooking up, if he was in the mood for taking requests. “I only make those things because they tell me to. If I did not, they would shoot me. I saw them shoot others. So I did what they tell me. And because I was good at it. I did not want to. Never helped anyone, the things I make. Here? No need for them. And no-one telling me to make them. So no. No dangerous things, no weapons,” Paul said, again plainly starting to resent the effort involved in having to talk so much. Cozy wasn’t wholly sure what shooting meant but she could work out that it was bad, and what he’d said was also bad, at least for her. Something of an obstacle, but not insurmountable. Just had to find a way around. Always a way around, always started with one step, just had to find the direction to nudge them in. “But you could make, like, one of the toys, but bigger? Right? Still safe! But bigger? Maybe like my size! That’d be fun. You could do that. I think the other kids would really like something like that! And that wouldn’t be dangerous, would it?” He could kind of actually see that working out, now she mentioned it. Something a little bigger would indeed probably be quite appealing to the kids, and at some point he would reach a stage where everyone had one of his little toys who wanted one, and then what could he do? Couldn’t coast on the money from repairs forever. Not a bad idea, actually... But then he shook his head. “Should you not be getting wagon? Going home?” “Oh, I missed the wagon!” Cozy said, cheerfully. She’d thought about this. Another calculated risk. Paul raised an eyebrow. “You seem happy about that,” he said. “Do I? I’m just excited! It’s fun learning! And it’s fun meeting new ponies, or, uh, humans, heh. Though I guess it does mean I’m stuck here. With nowhere to stay…” She said, tapering off to doleful and worried, looking about her as though only just realising how big and scary the world was. Paul was neither impressed nor moved. “You are angling for me to let you sleep here, yes?” Maybe she’d been a bit too on-the-nose. Oh well. “No! Well, maybe. I-if that’d be okay...I wouldn’t want to make you feel you had to…” She said, lip just threatening to wobble. Paul jabbed a finger at her. “You are. It is why you bring it up,” he said. Not being born yesterday this sort of thing kind of stuck out to him, just a bit. But noticing it didn’t change much. He sighed, rubbed his face. “Hmph. I am not comfortable having child in my home. Especially child I do not know. The locals will talk, bad reputation. I do not need that.” This seemed to Cozy, a pony, a rather odd way of thinking. Why would taking a child into your home get you a bad reputation? Probably some weird human thing. Not worth asking about. “It’s one night! And it’s cold outside. Please?” She asked, lip properly wobbling now, lashes fluttering, eyes enormous and just on the cusp of brimming with tears. Paul had to hold up a hand to block the sight of her. “Stop looking at me like that. I know what you are trying to do. There is boarding house in village, I will pay.” “No!” She yelped, recovering: “I mean no, it’s full. I checked. It’s why I’m asking you.” Paul stared at her silently for a second. Then: “You are lying,” he said. “Why would I do that?” She sniffled. “To get what you want. I know people like you. Prefer when they are honest, at least.” Well this wasn’t going like she’d hoped. Time for Plan B. Crying. Just out-and-out crying. “Pllleeeaaasseeee!” She wailed, instantly in floods of tears. Not subtle, but there was a time for subtlety and now was not it. Besides, she had a feeling she was on the right track. Paul grimaced and continued trying to block the sight of her with his hand. He wasn’t going to fall for this. However much the sight of a crying child - even an obviously fake crying child - got to him. “Stop that,” he said. She did not stop. If anything, it got worse. Paul had to turn bodily away and raise a whole arm to block the sight of her. But it didn’t block the sound. The sound! He caved. “Fine, fine. Fine! Stop! You can stay. One night! Then I do not want to see you again, yes? Suspicious child, you are up to something!” Cozy decided not to draw attention to that, or acknowledge it. So he wasn’t buying it completely, so what? He was buying it enough, no reason to worry. She just decided to be happy. Or at least look happy, which was basically the same thing. “Yay! Thank you!” She said, making a show of sniffing and wiping away the tears. Paul just glared at her. “No, no thank you. Vile horse. Everyone will think I am soft. Or idiot. Both,” he growled, angrily strapping on his leg before heaving up off the stool and stomping about to go and get the place locked up for the night.