The Clockmaster and The Inventor

RIIIIP! I ripped a huge piece of brown paper off a roll, carefully folding it around a box as best as I could, tieing it with a string. I heard steam and looked up to see Scrap clanking intot he room, steam pooring out of his head. “Here you go Scrap.” I said, gesturing to the pile of neatly wrapped packages. His amber eyes glowed at he stayed rigid before bowing; as he did, a few of his bolts fells off, and a wire on his arm popped off.

Rolling my eyes i began to stack the packages, not bothering to check the labels; I had been working in the packing room of the factory all day and assumed I had them all correct. Scrap stood there, his arms out, shaking and every so often whistling quietly. “Here.” I piled all the parcels into his arms, carefully checking his arms to make sure he could hold the weight.

“Please deliver those to the addresses on the labels, Scrap.” He whistled in reply, turning on his brass heel and clanking out the door. I had to smile; he was the only automaton I ever made that worked, but sometimes i wondered about him.

Turning back to my work, I took notes from teh books and started writing out more labels, occasionally slapping one on a package. I glanced out the window that led to the factory floor; it was small with less then one hundred employees total, but our products were surperior compared to others. In the past year, the Clockmaster’s company had grown exponantially, from him making watches in his clock tower, to owning a small shop, to the factory.

I watched as most of the employees began to leave, moving over to a machine of my own invention by the door. I called it “Clocking out”; they hit three buttons in their own unique pattern, once when they arrived and once when they left. It helped monitor pay by marking a card with it.

Soon the factory floor was empty, leaving only me. Remebering that Sky had asked me to take inventory, I headed down the stairs next to the office, and into a small room underneath it.

Crates were stacked up to the ceiling in some places, and in all there was only one walkway going down the center of the room where a table with papers scattered all over it sat, barely three feet of room on either side of it. Sorting through the papers, I grabbed the supplies sheet and a fountain pen.

“Lets see here….” I whispered, carefully counting and scratching down numbers and the names. I was so intent on my work, I didn’t hear the angry, fast footsteps in the office above me or the door open and lock with a click.

Suddenly, I was pushed agaisnt the wall sandwiched between a body and the cold cement. Terror flooded me, but then the familiar scent washed over me. “Oh, hello darling.” I said calmly trying to look over my shoulder at the Clockmaster. Insteard of a verbal answer, his hands reached around grabbing the pen and paper, tossing it aside onto a crate.

“What are you doing?” His hands moved to either side of my head, and he leaned back just enough for me to turn around. Finally he spoke. “Kara, were you the one who gave Scrap the packages to be delivered?” “Yeah I did. Why?” I said cautiously, seeing the anger in his eyes.

“Those boxes,” he growled “Were defective watches. They were to be scrapped and used for any usable parts.” “Alright, I’ll just go there, explain and get them back.” I said trying to duck under his arm.

“No you can’t.