A cool breeze blew through the air, leaves rustling swiftly in the wind. It had rained recently, a dense fog blanketing the path, the air damp with anticipation. Rocks crunched under Emerson’s feet as he walked, trying to follow the winding path of level 797. He was not here on the basis of exploration; he was here to study integration points in a more hands-on environment. Despite the years of his life he had dedicated to studying the concept of time and its magic, information about integration points eluded him, as if it was being obscured. He had to learn more, for he had spent all his time studying to save others so they wouldn’t end up like her. For what it was worth he knew how volatile and dangerous they could be, yet if the information he gathered could help him save even one person, it would have all been worth it.
He continued along the twisted path, searching for one of the many caves scattered throughout the extent of the knot. He stopped in front of one of the caves, pulling back the plants to peer into the darkness. Other than patches of grass and scattered pebbles, not much reached his eyes—whatever lay within hid behind shadows. He knew he would have to enter, his hands shaking at such a prospect. He focused as hard as he could on his future, and not on what he wanted it to be, but would it would be, as he ever so slowly, reached his hand out into the dark.
He was stopped, the loud sound of crunching rock and frantic footsteps pulling his attention away. With a sudden, abrupt swaying motion, he turned towards the source of the noise, seeing the form of a fellow wanderer inching closer and closer. They appeared lost—head turning from side to side, confusion etched onto their features as they searched for a way out. Emerson stepped away from the cave and made his way towards the wanderer, wishing to take them to the Forest Outpost. There they could rest and recharge, allowing for a chance to try and teach them any necessary information about the level before helping them travel their way back.
“Hey! Wait up!” — He waved to the wanderer, yelling out to them, his pace quick as he ran down the path. The wanderer didn’t acknowledge him as they continued their search through the level, looking for an exit. Emerson had to stop them before that, for they could end up in an integration point if he didn’t.
The wanderer came to a sudden stop and turned, facing one of the many cave entrances. Emerson, realizing what they were about to do, ran towards them. He yelled out to try and warn the explorer ahead, but it was of no use. He watched in horror as they disappeared into the cave, drowning in the darkness within. Without much of a thought or plan, he ran into the same entrance, hoping their paths would cross.
Emerson crashed into the space, a fuzzy feeling enveloping his body as it tried to adjust to the unfamiliar sensations brought to him by a place such as the one he had just fallen into. He looked around in wide eyed fascination at the blurry fragments of distant futures that dotted the blue walls, constantly shifting and bending between timelines. He could recognize himself in them—though it was hard to make out through the blur. His gaze was vivid as he watched each and every shard shift and turn in the endless blue, yearning for a timeline where the world allowed him to study each and every fragment before him. But that didn't matter, not right now. What was more important was locating that wanderer, their safety was of the utmost priority. One particular fragment was of someone he did not recognize. He looked closer, relief washing over him as he realized it was of the wanderer. They had to be here, somewhere.
The ticking of the Enigmachina faltered for exactly 0.037 seconds. While a regular human would not have noticed, the The Gearmaker was alerted to it in an instant. Ae examined the gears and pistons of the machine with careful touch, soon finding the fault—Two wanderers had stumbled their way into an integration point. Ae began to repair the issue, yet something made aem stop. The Gearmaker realized who else was in there; Emerson, a wanderer whose studying time and training of chrono-magic ae had been silently observing, was in there. Ae knew Emerson could turn out to be a valuable asset, and was already showing himself to be, but he had yet to be truly tested on what he had learnt.
“So he has decided to help? I do suppose a test of his skills can take place.” — The Gearmaker pulled back, deciding that ae would not interfere until the pair had gotten themselves out. The master of gears had put aer trust in Emerson believing that he and the other wanderer would end up safe. Ae was confident in his ability to do so, and so left him to his devices.
“Hello! Are you here?” — Emerson called out, his voice echoing and splitting up as it traveled. He moved through the timeless sea with careful precision. Every step he took caused cracks to travel through the floors of the domain like breaking glass, revealing new futures, experiences he knew he would never get a taste of. He could change his future, but he could not experience more than one. As he got farther, the occasional interspersed fragment of the wanderer’s futures became more and more frequent. He knew they were close.
Emerson could make out the sounds of panicked breathing and restless confusion among the unwavering silence, obnoxiously loud in the otherwise quiet space. But then, he came to a halt and through the fragments he could see the wanderer—shaking and afraid, their body curling on itself. The wanderer's eyes were wide in terror looking as if they might cry as the space around them shattered into a million pieces; distant, blurry fragments of lifetimes swirling around them in a frantic dance. The cracks multiplied and spread and at any moment they could fall through the veil holding the place onto itself. He had to be quick.
Emerson racked his mind and spoke something, deep in concentration. He watched as a couple of the cracks seemed to mend themselves, stitching back together as if they were being repaired with shaky hands. Emerson kept his concentration, the words flying out of his mouth in patterns no word should follow. He was attempting to make a path the wanderer could safely walk through but as his spell took hold, he could feel static spreading throughout his skin—and he swore he was beginning to hear faint cracking. He paid it no mind.
“Who- who are you?” — The voice of the wanderer was delicate as they peered through the fragments. Emerson looked on as he tried to maintain his concentration. A nervous smile crept up the wanderer’s face as they locked eyes with Emerson, his own face lit up and he motioned for them to come closer. The mortal bolted forward, reaching out and grabbing Emerson’s hand—the contact of the pair’s skin within the integration point was like oil and water. A sharp, burning pain radiated through both their hands, surfing its way across their entire bodies. The wanderer yelped and jolted backwards, nearly falling on their own feet. Emerson’s own concentration was broken for a second but the feeling of static and the soft sound of cracking died in an instant as Emerson’s chrono-magic ceased its work. Any sense of confusion he had was snuffed out the moment he saw the area around them start to shatter, blurry fragments of the wanderer's futures multiplying as the cracks spread.
As the wanderer was about to get swallowed up by one of the fragments Emerson leapt into action, reciting a spell to close it up. As the words spilled from his mouth he watched as the shard began to flicker in and out of existence. The static of his skin and cracking in his ears began to reappear, growing stronger with each passing moment as he continued his spell—it was as if he was becoming charged. As the time between flickers grew, the visions of what he could become began to spread and grow clear. In one he was tending to someone’s wounds in a makeshift medical tent, in another he was helping a team of MEG field agents pull someone out of the rubble of a collapsed building. Emerson ignored them, turning his attention towards the wanderer. With a sharp turn, he snatched the wanderer up by their sleeve, pulling them back up to their feet and away from the flickering fragment as it got swallowed up by a sea of blue.
“What the hell is this place?!” — The wanderer exclaimed, eyes wide and body shaking. — “I was lost and I was just trying to get back to my base and-”
“It’s an integration point, I’m trying to get you out!” — He cut them off, not wanting to waste time while the cracks continued to spread. — “I don’t think it’s used to multiple people being within the confines of the same point.” As he gazed up at the vast blue walls that surrounded them, the blurry fragments began splitting into kaleidoscopic visions. The sound of shattering glass grew louder and impatient, the visions that shattered and shifted around becoming clearer and clearer by the second. He stared, wide eyed, into what could become of his future.
“How do I get out?” — The wanderer’s question snapped Emerson out of his trance. They looked at him, eyes wet with fear. Fear Emerson could not even begin to fathom.
“You need to know how your future will turn out,” — Emerson stated, his explanation coming clear as he looked at the wanderer hoping they could understand even a fraction of what he was saying. — “Once you see the shard of the vision you know deep down will happen, walk into it.”
The wanderer watched as Emerson turned his focus back to sealing the cracks, frozen for a moment before doing what Emerson had told them to do—focus. They tried to think about their future, casting away any version that gave them a sliver of doubt of their destiny. Who was Emerson and how was he so versed in the laws of time?⁶
Emerson watched them intently as he focused his own energy on sealing the cracks and dispelling the fragments that threatened to engulf the wanderer. The static feeling in his skin was painful now, the sound of shattering glass deafening in his ears. Clear, disgustingly empty fragments attempted to plague his mind, the point was angry with his meddling, yet he ignored it all, only putting the bare minimum of his energy to keeping himself steady. He could focus on himself after he got the wanderer out.
A crack intersected several timelines as it started to move towards the wanderer, its movements dangerously rapid. He knew he wouldn’t have time to warn them, instead he bolted through, attempting to shove the wanderer out of the way. As he did, his body collided not with a fragment, but with one of many cracks.
For a second everything was frozen.
Everything was tranquil.
Too tranquil.
He could see his future, his true destiny. One where he saved people, one where he mattered.
It was beautiful.
Terrifyingly beautiful, the same way the sun shining through the eye of a hurricane is.
Just as quickly as it started, the beauty and tranquility were over as a flash of black struck Emerson. Agonizing, burning pain spread from his chest and throughout the rest of his body, shattering so loud it could burst out his ear drums. He let out a blood-curdling scream—a sequence of pure agony and terror spilling from his lips. As the lightning struck him one last time, the shattering started to come from within. Cracks appeared on his body and they began to spread. Quick, behaving not as physical damage, but as a disease.
As they expanded, the vision of his true future began to collapse. In one he was a nobody protecting someone from an entity, in another he was helping patch up someone’s wound as they bled out, Then it cracked again. Visions of him helping train new MEG field recruits, followed by a vision of him doing research on an item a team had found. A kaleidoscopic vision of his futures flooded his vision and mind as he sobbed, tears pouring from his eyes as quick as the cracks came. As they diverged more and more from his real future, the cracks started to expand, splitting Emerson apart as if he was not a person, but a porcelain vase. He shrieked as he felt his body get pulled apart in all different directions, unable to process such vile, raw pain.
In another timeline, he was a nobody relaxing on the beach of a level. In another, he watched as someone died, unable to do anything to save them. All he could do was watch in horror. Another timeline showed him watching someone suffer, apathetic to it. It filled him with disgust—he physically could not scream anymore.
The wanderer watched in horror as Emerson’s body got torn apart, dispelling into the different timelines like shards of glass when a cup is unfortunate enough to fall into the ground. After a moment, the landscape cleared up and with it, he was gone. Every single aspect of Emerson’s physical husk except for his heart, cold in its death, yet still beating, was gone.
Something was wrong, the Gearmaker sensed it the moment it had happened. Ae rushed to look through the integration point, but by the time ae did, all ae could see was the wanderer. Emerson was gone, the only thing left of him being his heart; lying cold in the blue expanse, beating as if it was still connected to a body. He had to be alive, in some way at least. Ae could fix this.
Ae rushed to fix the integration point and revert things back to how they were—Emerson would be back, alive and intact. Aer hands moved through the machine in a blur, tightening the loose gears and replacing faulty pistons. As ae repaired the broken section, the integration point began to mend itself, returning back to the pristine blue of its timeless sea. The Gearmaker took a step back and peered into level 797, admiring the results of his efforts. Yet something wasn't quite right yet; Emerson wasn’t there. Ae looked into the integration point he had been in earlier, he was not there, not intact at least. His heart, on the other hand, was still beating, lying frozen on the ground. It dawned on Divus that ae would have to rebuild Emerson aemself. Divus hoped ae would be able to, ae did not want to lose someone as dedicated to his study and magic as Emerson over a faulty mistake. Ae moved across the Enigmachina with a grace that betrayed his anxiety, looking through at the different timelines in a desperate search for the pieces of Emerson’s body that had been scattered throughout timelines. Ae could feel aer own pistons tightening, a feeling akin to worry pooling inside aem.
“Usually I trouble myself with broken timelines, not people. But nothing I cannot fix,” — Divus muttered, confidence oozing from aer voice that even ae did not fully believe in. Divus’ eyes remained fixed on the integration point as ae signaled to a few filigree angels to prepare for transit. Ae looked back into the timelines— capable only of hoping for the best as aer form dissipated into a cloud of brass particles.
The very instant the Gearmaker entered the integration point, ae began to scout the area for the heart. As ae walked through the brilliant blue sea, short waves spread out from where ae stepped, as if it didn’t know how to react to aer presence. It took only moments before Divus spotted the heart, walking over to it—thoughts of arriving too late plagued his mind, thoughts of being unable to bring Emerson back to life tugged painfully at the gears of aer mind, but Divus paid them no care. As ae knelt down to pick up the heart, ae noticed that the warmth of life had been vanquished from it, but a steady pulse remained. The fear ae felt wouldn’t shake. The organ pulsed against aer clockwork hand, metal contrasting with the soft flesh as ae stared at it, terrified that ae might accidentally crush it. Ae gently handed it to one of the angels, aer form dissipating once more.
The Gearmaker rematerialized within a massive space resembling a parking garage. Ae recognized it as level 1, yet something was wrong; The place was eerily quiet. Too quiet. Most entities were hiding from the light, but there was an unexpected lack of people. They weren’t gone, ae had seen a couple wanderers as ae made aer way through the empty expanse, but not as many as to be expected. There was a lack of MEG activity, or any group of interest for that matter.
Dust and debris crumbled from the ceiling, cracks littered the pillars, threatening to split and fall at a moment’s notice. The entire level seemed as if it was being held together by a prayer.
The sound of barking echoed through the parking garage, alerting the Gearmaker who rushed over towards the source of the noise. Ae turned the corner and saw a couple hounds snarling and barking at a young wanderer. Such futile stone in his path. As ae was about to leave, ae spotted an arm—the wound on it looked as if it had been ripped off, yet somehow it remained clean. Ae recognized it as Emerson’s arm, relief washing over aem in an instant, realization dawning upon Divus; ae was in the right spot. One of the hounds tried to snap up the arm, but before it could take another step forward, the Gearmaker froze both of the entities in an instant, the seconds ending abruptly for them. One of the filigree angels swooped down to pick up the arm, handing it to aem. The Gearmaker clutched the arm, blood dripping from it in time with the heart’s beating. Ae relaxed a little, handing it back to the angel as ae prepared to leave for the next timeline.
Aer form rematerialized within a small base consisting of a crudely made shelter with supplies and bags scattered around some poorly made beds. The place was empty, though it was evident people still lived here. The backrooms were unable to replicate such natural, human mess. As Divus explored the base, ae could hear someone groaning and whimpering in pain, their voice quiet yet distinct within the quiet embrace of the shelter. Divus made aer way over to the source of the noise, a wanderer lay asleep on the bed, tossing and turning—bandages wrapped around their stomach. The Gearmaker investigated the bed, searching for the piece of Emerson ae was here for. Yet as ae went on with aer search, the wanderer stirred awake, looking at the being before them with groggy eyes.
“Who are you?” — The wanderer dares question the divine before them, confusion lacing their voice, budding concern within their eyes.
“Who I am is of no importance to you, I am not here for you,” aer voice was stern and neutral. Ae gestured to the hand poking out from the other side of the bed. “I am here for that.”
Confused, the groggy human turned and jolted as they were met with the sight of the severed arm right beside them. Hesitation stirred for a fraction of a second, but Divus did not want to wait. Ae reached over them and picked up the arm. The limb was cold to the touch, ae had expected such, yet it did not prevent worry from creeping through aer body. Divus wished to look back at the angels—to see if his student's heart was still beating, but ae refused. Still holding the arm, aer form disappeared before the wanderer’s very eyes once more.
As soon as the Gearmaker reappeared, ae looked back at the angels, aer gears slowing to a calmer pace as ae confirmed Emerson's heart was still beating. Ae handed one of the angels the arm, and continued aer search. Upon hearing the bustling sounds of people from both outside and inside the building, ae was quick to recognize it as Base Beta. Desperation filled aer body as ae began to search the building, attempting to avoid the prying gaze of others. Compared to aer timeline, ae noticed a lack of backborn entities, a few were around sure, but nowhere near as many. Strange. What kind of reality had ae stumbled into?
The Gearmaker ignored that, it wasn’t aer job to meddle with the timelines in that way, besides, ae had a much more pressing matter to focus on. Ae stopped in front of a door leading to a training area and stepped inside. A wanderer, bearing the MEG insignia, stopped Divus the moment ae walked through the door.
“You’re not from here,” — they sneered, looking aem up and down with disgust. Ae just ignored them, walking past to the location ae remembered seeing the piece in. The wanderer followed close behind, suspecting the sudden intrusion. Who was this mysterious being that was so bold in their entrance, daring to not even introduce themselves?
“What are you doing?” — The MEG agent questioned, attempting to stop Divus, who continued to ignore them. Yet another inconvenience littering their path. Ae looked beside some equipment, aer eyes quick with spotting a severed leg abandoned beside the boxes. One of the filigree angels swiftly swooped down to pick it up.
“What the hell is that? Let me see, now! You- you can't just step foot inside the area and steal whatever the hell you're holding!” — Their voice was filled with confusion and disgust as they attempted to grab the leg, but in an instant ae was gone.
The Gearmaker materialized within a brick hallway lined with electrical cabling and breaker boxes. The hum of electricity was deafening, the hallways empty but not dead—the sound of talking could be heard beyond the walls. Soon after materializing, Divus was offered the leg by one of the angels. Ae took it in an instant, looking it over to make sure nothing was wrong. The cold of the limb felt wrong, but ae felt comfort in knowing his heart was still beating. Soon enough, ae handed the leg back to the filigree angels, continuing aer search.
Divus came to a halt as ae stopped in front of a door, unlocked and cracked open—an unexpected sight within the environment ae traveled through. Inside lay an empty, yet strangely clean laboratory—but something in the air told the Gearmaker that this place had long been abandoned. Ae walked inside, gaze attentively searching around. Beside a computer, ae spotted something unusual poking out from behind the desk. Ae went to investigate. Leaned up against the structure of the desk was a leg, bearing the same ripped yet clean wound the other three limbs had. Ae knelt down to pick it up, examining it with careful hands, making sure nothing was wrong—ae found it to be near identical in condition to all the other limbs.
The Gearmaker had gotten all four of his limbs, each one bearing the same wound—graphic, yet oddly taken care of. It filled aem with hope, though the worry in aer pistons, that something, anything would go wrong, would not shake. With careful hands, ae took the heart from the angel, needing to check it as a means to calm aemself down. Divus’ fingers began gliding over the flesh as if it was the cogs of one of aer own machines—this organ did not belong to aem, yet ae knew better than to not respect it as if it too was one of aer own. Ae could feel the steady beating of the organ pulsing against aer clockwork hands—steady, despite all that went down. It was so delicate, could be crushed without a thought, yet it had traveled through time without so much as a scratch. Ae handed the heart back to the angel, and the leg to another, before aer form dissipated once more.
Ae appeared once more on a sandy beachfront— it stretched for miles in either direction, not a cloud in the sky. The sand was warm, bathed in sunlight from a sun that never seemed to move. Rustling could be heard from the bushes; the place was bursting with life—animals darting around, plants ornamenting the place… All beautifully intact, bathing under the sun. It was quiet, beautiful, serene. Ae walked through the level, sand crunching under aer feet, filigree angels following close behind keeping a lookout. But suddenly, Ae spotted something leaning under the shade of a tree. Ae walked closer to inspect it and found what ae had searched for: a human torso—limbs and head ripped from it, a hole where the heart should be, laying against the bark as if it had been basking in the sun.
The Gearmaker recognized it as Emerson’s and knelt down to pick it up. Yet Divus stayed there, just holding it. Ae stared, grip tightening a tad as ae ran aer metal fingers along the exposed cavity, gliding along the bones. Ae was so close to fixing him, to getting him back. Relief rushed through his veins at the possibility that even if late, with a miracle, ae was still able to put Emerson back together. The Gearmaker stood back up, handing the torso to one of the angels, before dissipating once more.
Something about the next place Divus had found aemself in felt… wrong, like something was lurking just behind the corner, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. The walls and floor were covered in deep scratches and blood, but Divus knew better than to pay attention to that, ae was so close. So close to bringing back what ae had lost. As ae turned around, ae saw a body covered in blood, their stomach ripped open and a look of horror on their face. Divus paid it no mind. They appeared to have been crawling over to something, viscera staining the ground in a trail behind them. The Gearmaker walked ahead of them and froze as ae noticed something on the ground just a few feet ahead—a human head, severed from its body, laid on the ground. The Gearmaker knew it had to be Emerson’s, and knelt down to get a closer look. Ae picked up the head, holding it in both of aer hands as if it too could break under the smallest of forces. The cold of death on each different piece had worried Divus before, but something about seeing the look he had, eyes glazed over yet afraid, made aer pistons tighten.
Ae remained staring at it for less than a second before coming back to aer senses and getting back to aer feet. Divus could not bear to look at it for a moment longer, not here, not like this. Ae handed it to one of the angels in a hurry and checked them over to make sure they had everything, before aer form disappeared one last time.
The Gearmaker reappeared within aer own timeline, in the Enigmachina with each of the pieces in hand. In a rush to make an operating table, aer movements were but a blur—a rare moment where ae was not caring about the craftsmanship of something. Ae grabbed some wire and metal, fashioning it into sutures and a needle. Two of the angels flew closer to aem without a call, sensing an unexplained need to aid their father God. One of them, the one holding the torso, laid it gently on the table. Ae grabbed one of the arms and went to sew it on and as ae did, the pieces started to repel each other, behaving not like the living shards of a man, but like magnets. Ae stared down at the table, confused, and went to try again. The pieces refused to touch each other once more. The Gearmaker’s eyes widened, the gears of aer mind spinning even faster. Ae could fix this, ae had to fix this. In a last ditch effort, Divus reached for one of Emerson’s legs and attempted to attach it, to no avail.
“Could it be that these pieces aren’t as important?” — Ae muttered to aemself, signaling for the angels holding his head and heart to come over. With touch reverent as if it might break at any instant, Divus grabbed the head and lined it up with the rest of the carcass, yet the same thing happened. Ae grabbed the heart, yet something was not quite right—the chest cavity seemed to have an invisible wall blocking it, no matter which angle ae tried, no matter how hard ae tried to shove it inside, it refused to fit. Everything refused to fit. He could not be gone, not after everything, not after all this time. The pieces had been altered. They were still him, but they had become connected to different timelines. The timelines did not match, the universe was rejecting them. Aer effort could and would not be for nothing. With grounded gears, cogs skipping seconds and eyes wide with desperation, Divus refused to give up—ae had to fix this, there had to be a solution.
The Gearmaker got an idea and went to grab the supplies: metal, screws, gears; everything ae would need for aer creation. Ae handed the pieces of Emerson back to aer angels and got to work. Hands moved in a blur, each gear placed with immaculate precision, each screw tightened as if it were glass. Divus did not want to risk even the slightest damage or fault to aer creation. As ae tightened the final screw, ae took a step back—a body lay before him, mimicking that of the wanderer ae had tried in desperation to put back together; Emerson. Yet it was empty—a cold, lifeless husk, the inner workings of its chest lay exposed, waiting.
Divus took the pieces of Emerson's body, pieces that should not be there, and one by one, converged them into the body, his essence filling the metal husk and making it whole once more. His own present and future was repaired and returned to where it was meant to be—the parts of him had been converged, imbued into the metal body, life could be felt, yet he did not wake. Divus had expected this. Aer fingers ran over the exposed pistons and gears of his student's body, imbuing each one with a mixture of chrono-energy and aer own essence. Each piston began to move as the gears started to turn. Everything was slow at first, but as ae continued to add more, the machinery began to speed up, bringing forth his own life. Divus let go and attached the panels of his chest a final time. And with that, ae stepped back and stood there; watching, waiting, gears grinding to a halt as ae hoped that this would work.
A shifting, fragmented, blurry haze began to bloom, growing clearer and clearer by the millisecond. Memories that were not meant to exist began merging into one, and then into nothing. The fog and haze of his mind began to lift. His body was heavy, as if he had just been woken up, yet it buzzed with an energy he knew all too well, but could not describe. His entire body felt foreign to him. He could recognize that he was cold.
So very cold.
Every aspect of his own body felt heavy. He reached up to touch his chest, and where he had expected soft skin, there was only hard metal. The feeling, unexpected and foreign, jolted him back to reality. His eyes shot open in fear. He stared down at himself, glistening metal staring right back. This wasn’t him, not his flesh and blood, but something rigid and unfeeling. He curled in on himself, the teeth of his gears ground against each other. He wanted to cry, but no tears could fall. It was wrong, so wrong.
He was jolted back to reality as he felt one of the angels put its hand on his knee, an attempt at comfort. He looked up, scanning the world around him. He had expected to see the integration point he last saw himself in, maybe level 797, but what he did not expect was to be placed in emptiness surrounded by a massive, clockwork machine whose size he could not even register properly in his mind. It was odd, it was a place he had never been, much less seen, yet he felt as if he belonged. He froze as he noticed the figure before him; a clockwork being clad in white and red robes. He jumped back in surprise, the filigree angel grabbing him to hold him steady.
“You’re awake.” — Relief washed over the Gearmaker, happy that aer plan had worked. Ae looked Emerson up and down, aer expression softening for a fraction of a second before returning to something stoic but not uncaring. It had worked, and ae could not be more grateful.
“You are Emerson Lockhart, correct? You can call me the Gearmaker.” — Divus gestured to aemself. Emerson shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze.
“Oh my… I’ve heard about you in my studies!” — Emerson bursted with awe, although remained very confused about what had happened and the state of his body. He frowned a little, fingers tracing the seams where the plates met. Nothing felt wrong, it was not painful nor uncomfortable, but it felt off. The angel, recognizing that he had started to relax, let go.
“I am quite aware. You see, I have been observing your studying and training. I must say, I am impressed, you are quite promising,” — Divus stated, confident in aer voice. Emerson looked up at aem with hope in his eyes. — “I could not bear to lose someone like you over a mistake,” Divus continued, aer voice solemn. Confusion overcame Emerson as he tried to remember what Divus could be talking about. He racked through his mind, but everything after the integration point was a messy, nonsensical blur.
“I am sorry, but… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I do think I was helping… with…” — But as soon as he was about to speak, one of the memories collapsed into another one without any prior warning. He shook his head. — “I’m really sorry I don’t actually know.” — He apologized, looking down at the table with something akin to shame.
“That is understandable, I do not expect you to remember—you have been broken apart, scattered. I had to put you back together. Though I am sure you can tell that your body is quite different now. My original plan did not work, I had to make this-” — Divus gestured to Emerson’s mechanical body — “-for you.” Emerson was at a loss for words, unsure of how to process what he had been told. He could not grasp it to its full degree, he could not even remember a second of it.
“You would do that, for me?” — Emerson asked, shocked and confused, a small smile on his face.
“Of course.” — Divus nodded contently. In a second, ae went to change the subject, not wanting to dwell on this any longer for ae did not want aer stoic facade to crack.
“I have imbued you with chrono-energy and some essence of my own, as well as taking the liberty to add some things. Those changes will be explained to you when the time comes.” Ae gestured to Emerson as ae figured it would be better to let him see it for himself. Emerson felt around his body. He could feel something on his hip, and with the same human curiosity that kept him alive prior to all of this, he pressed it. A pocket watch, attached by a chain to the inside of hip ticking in time with the Enigmachina lay there. His fingers traced the filigree, touch light. The Gearmaker watched him, not making a sound.
“I think it would be a good idea if I were to mentor you in your training.” — The Gearmaker offered. Emerson perked up at the suggestion, still holding the pocket watch, but his focus was now fully on Divus.
“I would love that! I mean- you saved me, it’s really the least I could do!” — Emerson nodded with eagerness, almost shaking at the prospect. The Gearmaker gestured for him to relax. Ae was beyond happy to see him like this, even if ae did not show it.
“I can tell you are excited, but you should get used to your new body first.” — The Gearmaker insisted, not wanting to jump into things too soon. The student nodded eagerly, watching as ae went to give him space, going deeper within the Enigmachina to examine it.
Emerson’s attention drifted away from Divus and back to the ticking of the pocket watch. He could feel that same ticking in his own body. His pistons relaxed, the gears that had been spinning so fast came to a halt as they finally started to slow down. His eyes remained focused on his own hands, moving in the same rhythm that guided the world, that same rhythm he longed to understand.