Paul's Peculiarly Puny Practice Pieces

by PaulAsaran

In Over Your Head: Clockwork

Clockwork
Prompt: "In Over Your Head"
Story Placement: 16/63

If Clockwork Callous died tomorrow, he would be remembered for living up to his name. No pony could produce clocks and automatons to match his creations, not even those technologically advanced – Ha! – bucks from Equestria. A thousand years had clearly destroyed the imaginations of his brethren. If those plain, unoriginal monstrosities were what passed as quality these days, Callous was happy he’d missed a millennium.

But today would be different. Today, after a year of struggling to obtain funding, browbeating ignorant assistants and five redesigns, Callous would show the world what real craftsponyship looked like.

The clock tower rose tall over the streets of the Crystal City, its brilliant edges gleaming in the sunlight. Hundreds of ponies lined the streets to witness the moment of activation, when the first modern – truly modern, as Callous defined the term – clock tower of the Crystal Empire would be activated by none other than the Princess of Love herself. Among the attendees were not only crystal ponies, but foreigners of every stripe and design, most of them tinkerers, designers and inventors in their own right. All had heard of the fabled clockmaker returning to their world, and not a one wished to miss his first public work in a thousand years.

The tower was a thing of beauty. Its lithe crystalline form twisted into the sky, all graceful curves and precision. The shimmer of its surface was rivaled only by the Crystal Palace itself, the silvery edges glimmering like water in sunlight to fool the eye. Many among the audience questioned if the structure had edges at all; perhaps it continued into some hidden, magical dimension created to hold all the gears and bolts. After all, surely the inner workings of a clock would never fit into something so thin and with such a strange, rolling shape!

There was no illusion. The careful engineering required to put everything in the tower was the true masterpiece of this creation. Callous had given the princess a view of the interior only two days ago, and her astonishment still filled him with pride. Those modern ponies with their square blocks of ticks and tocks would be studying his design for years and may never grasp its true beauty.

And so the time came when the princess approached the tower. Held in her magic was but a small golden key. One simple turn, and Callous’s greatest creation would come to life.

It was then that the long hidden worries arose, the fear that only the master inventor knew. The designs and patterns flowed through Callous’s mind. Where were the flaws? What were his mistakes? What if a critical shaft had been produced below specification? Months of planning, endless nights with no sleep, weeks of tension and fear and hope and desire, all coalescing into a single twist of a key!

That key entered its hole. A dainty, royal hoof touched it. With the lightest of motions, bolts moved behind crystal walls.

High atop the tower, the smallest hand of a brilliant glass face shuddered into motion. It moved again. And again. Seconds of life, seconds or reality slipping by. Words were being spoken, praises were being sung, but Callous didn’t take his focus from the hands. One minute. If it went for at least one minute, then his work would be done.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty.

Forty. His heart began to flutter.

Fifty.

Crunch.

And with that, Callous’s greatest success ground to a halt.

Silence filled the world. All eyes were set upon the hands of a clock that remained as still as death. Then, they focused upon the legendary inventor himself.

Yet he saw them not, for all Clockwork knew at that moment was failure. His prize, his dream, the design he’d longed to complete before even the rise of Sombra, gone. For the first time in his long life, Clockwork Callous felt the burn of tears. Perhaps those modern ponies had been right all along. Perhaps the famed clockmaker of history should be relegated to precisely that: history.

A soft hoof touched his shoulder. Calm came upon his soul, and at last he wrenched his gaze from the face of his defeat. She stood before him, that young princess. He prepared to apologize, to beg forgiveness, to promise to never insult her with his work or waste her time again.

She stopped him with only a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Clockwork. Thank you for this beautiful expression of love.”

Author's Note:

This is one of those stories that just came to me. After finishing the last one, I got up and took a walk around my apartment. My eyes set upon this old clock, cut from the stump of a willow tree, hand-painted by my mother and preserved in lacquer by my grandfather. A clock that doesn't work.

And boom, have a story.

This one fared far better than the A Most Dastardly Foe, but a number of stupid typos (removed for this version) severely hindered it. Regardless, I am pleased with the final product.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

This was fantastic, a blend of personal tragedy and Cadence at her best. Thanks for putting it and its sibling on Fimfic.

[PaulAsaran]

7309521
Interestingly (to me, at least), the decision to set the story in the Crystal Empire and have Cadance there was decided on a whim, and maintained largely because I almost never use her in my writing. I think it was a good call.