The Clockwork Boy - Chapter 1 - New

Chapter 1: NEW

 Whirr… Click. Whirr… Click.

(muffled voice) … “... could you…”  (muffled) “... to the baker?”

Whirr… Click.  Whirr… Click.

Tommy blinked his eyes. Before him stood the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had dark brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Her eyes were blue-green and sparkled with the glare of the sun that shone between the leaves of the tree that overshadowed her features. She had the most pristine little lips that seemed to be saying something to him. 

“Hello?” said the lips. “I said, ‘Could you please take this to the baker?’”

Whirr… Click. Whirr… Click.

Tommy blinked once more before he attempted to respond. He despised his own hesitancy, hating the thought of disappointing that beautiful little face. He forced the words, “... the … umm … baker?” out of his mouth. 

The words felt odd as they left his mouth. He then thought to himself, this is it. This is my first memory and I will never forget it. His eyes unfocused a bit. He listened to the, Whirr… Click. Whirr… Click. in his own head and smiled at beautiful girls and bakers. What a wonderful first memory, he thought. 

That internal smile started to take shape on his face but was suddenly halted by a rock ricocheting off of his forehead. 

“Hey. You.  Are you broken? … defective?”

Tommy’s eyes refocused. He blinked a few more times as he lifted his hand up to the spot where the rock had struck his head. He rubbed it carefully as he refocused on the girl in front of him. This time he attempted to add a level of purposeful intent to his look. He focused carefully on her eyes and attempted to answer the question. 

“Umm. No.” he mumbled, and then with a little more clarity, “At least, I don’t believe so.”

“Well…” continued the beautiful girl, “this is heavy and I could really use the help.  Do you think you could take this to the baker?”

Tommy nodded an affirmation but made no move. He knew he didn’t want a rock to the head, that was an unpleasant experience. But more than that, he knew he did not want to disappoint the beautiful girl, regardless of rocks and foreheads. As he considered this, his first memory began to feel like old history, and was quickly being replaced with a torrent of new questions. Why was his memory new? Why was this his first memory? Where was he a moment ago? Who is this beautiful girl and why does she need help? Why has no one else already helped her? Who wouldn’t help such a creature with all of their being? Why am I not already helping with all of my being? 

She gazed at him for a moment. After that moment turned into a few more moments, the girl contemplated grabbing another rock… but then realized out loud, “Wait. Oh, I see. You’re new, aren’t you?” 

The question grabbed his attention immediately. “New?” asked Tommy, not because he did not understand the question, but because her question brought outside reality to what he already knew on the inside. His internal torrent of questions veered into this line of thought: Why? Why would he be new? Was he new to everything or just to this place? How did the beautiful girl detect his newness?

“Do you have any memories?” asked the girl, and then, almost to herself but still looking directly at Tommy, “Oh. I’ve always wanted to meet a Clockwork Boy when they were new!”  and then, “Do you really not remember anything before now?”

Tommy heard the Whirr… Click.  Whirr… Click. a little louder now. The words Clockwork Boy were echoing in his ears and trying to find an appropriate place in his mind. He wanted to respond to the beautiful girl, to make her happy with his answers. He wanted to help her, to fulfill her excitement at his apparent newness. He looked down at his feet, trying to make sense of his thoughts and his newly discovered title. It was then that he noticed his feet… Old-ish looking work boots, faded overalls of a thick durable fabric, an almost woolen button-up shirt underneath, with worn edges and not-a-few frays… but his hands. 

He held up his hands before his face. They were pristine… they were… new.

“My name is Bella.” said the girl, causing Tommy to look up again and into her eyes. “It is short for Annabelle, so my mother calls me Anna when she is annoyed… ‘Annoying Anna!’  My father calls me Winnie, but I don’t know why. It is my Nan… my grandmother… who calls me Bella mostly. 'Beautiful Baby Bella!'”  she continued to prattle on for a few more minutes before she paused, looking intently at him. 

Her face, containing an expression of expectation, made him a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure what she was expecting, so he simply blinked and smiled in response. 

“So, what is it?” she asked.

Confused again, which was quickly becoming his primary state of being, he looked down at his feet and then back up at the beautiful girl. “Umm… what is what?”

With a little laugh, “Your name, silly.”

She was smiling at him. He felt a sense of relief wash over him with the realization that she had not become frustrated with his lack of responsiveness. 

“Tommy,” he said. “My name is Tommy.”

“Tommy, huh.”  she responded, continuing to smile, head tilted to the side, “That’s curious isn’t it? How would one have no memories and yet know their name is Tommy?”

He shrugged his shoulders and felt a little double click and a buzz as he did so. That is curious, he thought, and then he remembered Clockwork.  “Clockwork.  Did you call me a Clockwork Boy?”

She smiled again, but this time with the tiniest bit of pensive sadness. He didn’t know how he knew this or how he recognized it in her face any more than how he knew his own name … or how to shrug … or language.  How did he know language? 

“Yeah.” she stated. That sadness lingering still, just at the edge of her mouth. “But don’t worry about that.  My Pop used to always say that we’re all clockwork in one way or another.” The sadness in her face vanishing now as quickly as it had arrived. She then pointed down to the large burlap bag at her feet. It was now that he noticed, that there was a broken wagon, just behind her. “So… Could you help me get this to the baker?”

As Tommy nodded and stepped forward, he felt for the very first time in all of his known life, an energizing sense of purpose. He grabbed the bag and hefted it onto his shoulder. The movement came so naturally that it surprised them both. 

He took a step and then stopped, realizing that he had no idea where any bakeries were located, let alone the bakery that was awaiting this bag. He turned to find the beautiful girl smiling at him. The sadness from earlier was completely eradicated, to such a degree that he could not comprehend that it could have ever been there to begin with.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would have said that you’d picked up 100 bags of flour every day for 100 years!  You picked it up the same way as my dad and my Pop!  And my Pop’s been doing it forever!”  She laughed a little as she continued, “I’ll bet you are wondering which way it is to the bakery.”

Tommy felt a little embarrassed. “Yeah.” he said, the embarrassment quickly fading in her presence. “It just felt so right to pick this up and deliver it.”

“That means you’ve found your purpose!  All Clockwork Boys have one… at least, that is what Pop says.”  She closed the gap between them, and to his surprise, wrapped her arms around his chest. Her head nestled snugly under his free arm, and with it he gently returned the hug. In that moment he knew that he would gladly deliver every bag of flour to every baker in the whole world for what he was receiving in that one hug.

She released the Clockwork Boy and took a step back, grabbing his free hand in hers.  There was an ever-so-slight glisten in her eyes that she quickly wiped away with the other hand. The smile returned, the clouds were gone, and she stepped ahead, leading him along with a little skip. “The baker is this way, my Clockwork Boy!”