What a Wonderful World
Only a few cars went down the street, it was dark, first light had not yet broken. A hooded figure wandered the area near the shops. Her breath was foggy in the cold air, the streetlights catching the fog in its light. There was only one light left on the street, the Clock Repair and Shop. The door was left ajar, the closed sign clearly illuminated by the dim light inside the building, soft music played. Inside the shop, each clock moved in time, creating a distinct clicking sound. They lined the walls, simple and extravagant handcrafted clocks sat neatly, all facing the middle of the room. The owner of the store was slumped against the counter, the cold no longer bothered him. An open clock resting at his fingertips. Cogs lay on the table, each serving a specific purpose, no matter how small. It was early in the morning, all clocks showing the time to be near four. The clock at his fingertips couldn't be fixed, he couldn’t move.
***
It was midday, a prime time for traffic. Three friends walked rather quickly towards their work, a large building. Dodging and weaving through the waves of people to make it to the stairs in front of the entrance. In a split second, one fell, tripping on the second step in front of the collection of blank-faced pedestrians. The remainder of the group moved swiftly, rushing to their fallen friend. One laughed, lightening the seriousness of the situation, another offered to help, making sure he was ok. He slowly rose from his twisted position of the stairs, smiling along with his friends. They hobbled inside, each having played a part in getting their friend working again. Their group was repaired, back to their previous positions. If only a clock could repair itself.
***
Streetlights outside flickered, lighting up the grey walls across the road covered in graffiti. The clockmaker faced the open machine on the counter, knowing exactly where each cog would fall into place. If a cog too big joined the mix, surely it would connect with others, stopping the machine from working. If only he could push those aside, so they wouldn't be confused with the cogs needed for this specific project. Instead, his body stayed still, refusing to cooperate. He glanced to the many clocks hanging upon the walls, knowing the intricate details of each machine inside. It was as if he was a part of their mechanics, offering replacements and additions if they stopped working. His heart sank as he looked back to his project as he let out a final breath. He couldn't save it.
***
Each person moved in time, creating an endless stream of faces. The sound of the cars and chatter filled the street. As the light changed to red, cars stopped, allowing the pedestrians to pass by. The area continued like this, moving in time to make sure everyone got where they needed to be. Buildings towered above the cars below, reaching far into the sky. Inside sat people, working. Each building had different participants, yet they all functioned in unison. Each piece adapted to their environment and did their job. These people weren't cogs, they were so much more. They could change, grow, have so many different uses. As robotic and planned each aspect of their lives were, they were far more human than the workings of a simple clock.
***
The figure that had earlier roamed the streets approached the shop, letting the warm light from inside the shop cover her. She was hooded, the jumper protecting her from the harsh cold of the early morning. She easily slipped into the shop, shutting the door behind without making a sound. Each clock had its own problem. The clockmaker knew this all too well. A small space in the clock meant only the simplest of mechanics could fit, others had hiccups in their design, all these small things could be repaired, to a certain extent. The music played on, nearing the end of the song.
***
The news flashed on the television above the office desks. Another natural disaster had hit a city close by. The houses were flooded. It cut to a view of rescue teams. Several meters away was a dog, its limbs moving frantically in the water as it tried to stay afloat. The rescue boat quickly drove over to it, reaching and pulling it by the collar. Once it was aboard one member of the boat wrapped it in a blanket. A sigh of relief echoed throughout the office. Earlier, the same disaster hit a city further down the coast. Houses were now rebuilt; the community was fixing itself with the help from others. The world seemed to always have problems going on, whether caused by humans or not. But over time, they were fixed. The world was much more advanced than any clock could be.
***
The same song continued to play, yet the clockmaker didn't move. The figure quietly snuck over to the man, realizing he was probably asleep. She slipped her hood off, revealing her face. Her hand moved down to her pocket, reappearing with a metal object now in her fist. Pausing, she looked at the man’s lack of movement, noting it as unordinary. She glanced down at the unfinished clock and placed the screwdriver that was in her hand, down by the clock. With ease, she moved the bigger cogs aside, clicking the final pieces in place. Quickly she got the back of the clock and used the screwdriver to reattach it to the new and improved timepiece. It was done, just like she had been taught. The clockmaker smiled, yet his body didn't move. The girl dropped the tool, finally realizing what was in front of her. The final lyrics of the song rang out into the empty room.
What a wonderful world.
By Rosie Collyer