Tangled Wires

Clockwork was antsy. Every bit of him twitched and fidgeted, his mind still mulling over the answers that eluded him. He turned and peered through the curtains. Daylight cartwheeled into the room before he closed them. It was best that no one saw him in the golden hours. Clockwork sat on the edge of the bed, restless. He could only keep up the charade for so long. His foot tapped on the ground, the frantic rhythm of a drum as the world continued to spin. The gears in his mind spun. The ache in his thoughts begged for answers to questions he didn’t even know how to ask. 

He laid back down on the worn hotel bed. Clockwork closed his weary eyes and let his processor slowly power down and ease him into rest. 

Dreams -- Androids weren’t supposed to dream. 

Clockwork, however, he dreamed.

He found his body splayed out on a table like a specimen, live wires exposed which sparked. Clockwork heard every snip and felt every tweak. That wasn’t normal either; the whispers of excitement from the doctors and engineers that surrounded him dictated as much. 

None of them were familiar, save one nametag. 

Ezra Langholdt. 

The name that had signed the papers he’d salvaged from the fire. The same doctor who told him urgently about the file, as the sirens blared and the building burned around them. He’d hoped they survived, but it was ash and rubble by the time he made it out. The newspaper articles flooded his mind: All twenty four scientists’ bodies accounted for. Terrorist attack demolishes laboratory. Millions of dollars lost on government project.

His heart clicked in his chest, his mechanical valves turning. Clockwork let his voltaic green eyes open, it was clear that would have to be enough. Granted that was the benefit of running on electricity levels rather than physical exhaustion levels. He ran a hand through every fiber of his artificial hair. He stood and sensed he was running low on fuel, he needed to eat to let his body have time to process it into biofuel. 

Clockwork peered outside, noting dusk had nestled into the land, that would have to be good enough. He scanned the tile by the door, virtually giving his payment and a tip for the maid.

After he departed, Clockwork let his gaze wander the streets. the presence of someone else burning a hole in his senses. The wires just under his skin seemed to ignite his muscles, ready to fight if it came down to it. He ducked down an alley and into a cafe, sitting in a corner booth. The bell on the door rang seconds later and determined steps clipped against the floor that stopped when a young woman sat across from him.

“What is your name?” She stared at him, her bright eyes boring into him, but Clockwork refused to look at her.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I hope you are who I think you are.” The young woman slid a pad across the table, and reflected back on the digital screen was a picture of the dead of night, his face in the dim light of a city street. Fabian Clearwood Alive or an Imposter? 

“Fabian Clearwood.” The name rolled off his tongue like a sheath of icy frost sliding off a spring flower in the sun.

“You say the name like you’ve never heard of him.” 

“It’s because I haven’t heard of him.” Clockwork glanced up at her, meeting her milky chocolate gaze. 

“So you’re an imposter.”

“Imposter is a strong word. I don’t even know who I really am. I haven’t known my identity for eight years beyond a name I found on a sheet of paper.” He slid the device back over to her.

“Then who do you think you are?”

“I go by Clockwork, and unless you’re dealing with a job you need done for a high fee? I’m done with this conversation.”

“Don’t you want to know who you are?” She blurted out as he stood to go.

“You don’t know who I am. That Fabian Clearwood you’re looking for, he’s human. I can tell you right now I’m not a human.” He knew it was a risk, yet if she kept pressing the matter, it could get worse for both of them.

“Then you are him.”

Clockwork looked up at her, eyes fiery. “Listen I don’t have time for falsehoods and fairytales.”

“It’s not a fairytale. Fabian was dying and everyone knew it. With no cure he did the only thing he could and had a risky procedure done. They said he died in the operation. But many theorized the experiment was tampered with.” The expression on her face held pure rapture.

“And what is your proof beyond articles written by conspiracy theorists in their basements?” He looked at her incredulously. Clockwork didn’t dare to hope that after eight years the answer had found its way to him.

“I will take you to meet him.”

“Meet who precisely?”

“Doctor Ezra Langholdt.” The girl’s chest puffed out with pride as if she’d just announced the position of Checkmate.

Clockwork would have paled if he had blood in his body to do so. Instead his lips parted slightly in shock. “How do you know that name?”

“I’ve met him and he’s been looking for you.”

“That’s not ominous or suspicious at all.” He stood once more to leave. “I don’t think the idea of meeting a stranger who’s hunting me is wise.”

“Please. Just meet him on a public street corner at night. You’ll go unseen and undetected.” 

Clockwork mused over this before nodding, a desperation for verity clung to his heart. “Where can I find him?” 

“Meet him on the corner of Sunset Drive and Mainstreet.” She grinned. “Eight o’clock sharp this evening.” The girl stood and left swiftly, without so much as a hair left to follow her trail. 

• -     -

The street was littered with drunks and clubbers, but Clockwork simply let them go by. If he ignored them, they would ignore him in return. He waited, leaning against the lamp post. He found that simply observing people was riveting to someone who lacked so many qualities of being human and yet was on the brink of such an existence, like himself.

That was when Clockwork saw him.

Doctor Ezra Langholdt, in the flesh.

The doctor was supposed to be dead, yet here he stood, a relieved smile showed just how happy he was to see Clockwork. Clockwork could feel it in every inch of his steel body. The wires in his stomach seemed to knot in anxiety as he stepped towards Doctor Langholdt. Daylight faded and paved the way for night to waltz through the streets as the two met. Today was the day Clockwork would come to understand his destiny.