Clockpunk Prologue
Bones accept gears as their own
Fingers move like clockwork
A hinge becomes an elbow, to an arm sewn
The prejudice 1 must endure, negative gazes (lurks)
Dreams of a land with no division between bodies all and gear
Blood and love need to be thicker and fear
Patches mask the eye you may no longer have
But sight will be henceforth denied
Gearists tell you depth is lost, but in what 1 hears it's found
The notes of enemies, letters of friends
The work in the arts turns on what your mind sees
Gearbodies, all-bodies, united, bound
The work in the sciences, advancing technologies
Flight, adventure, travel, new ground
The ticking of society, winds up the masses
The springs of places, taught down in classes
Sunrises, stroll leisurely, for art 1 poses
A world in renaissance, we travel back
Sunsets, pack quickly, market closes
What do you, my clockwork angels, lack?
Chapter 1: A not-so chance meeting, 20th and 21st days of the Michelangelo Moon Cycle, 2040 Da Vinci Calendar
"Dankon, Goodnight nia kara fanoj" (Thank you, goodnight our dearest fans) shouted Chiara Ammuri from the top of her lungs as the latest show of her band (Phoenix Crysalys), had concluded. The Montegran, French Republic crowd was ecstatic for their hometown band (as they always were at the Terre et Sole). But all good shows must end, and the band scattered to chat with fans as their helpers took apart their instruments and acoustic amplification equipment. The Terre et Sole was a simple, but acoustically perfect venue. The Northwest corner was where the stage was located (just large enough for the 5-person band), with cones (sorry, megaphones) positioned perfectly in front of the instruments, vocals, and across the whole tavern so everyone could hear. The southeast corner was where the bar was located (but I use that term loosely, as this whole nation is on the wagon.) The floor had Tables and small chairs on the left, standing section on the right. The walls were cobblestone and various shades of grey. Lighting was minimal (torches mounted in the walls), and so was the decoration (a few paintings and sketches from the locals, but a stunning map of the world on the south wall.)
Forgive me if I bounce between tenses, but I am having a lot of trouble keeping track of my mind AND my counterpart's. I am Aaron, and I have travelled from the world of a detective novel to a world run on the gears of a clock. I will introduce the rest of the band and the helpers later as my focus is on Chiara and her husband Fabio. I am happy that in this alternate universe (just as the 1 I came from), they're married and inseparable. If this world's counterpart of me has accurate memories, I wrote a detective novel here too. And while successful, it was very radical and controversial (as there is no whodunit genre and my ideas were quite provocative), so I was told by a few people in this world's parliament to skip the Brit-Irish Dominion of Canada for a while, so I thought I would travel the world with my newfound wealth. I also remember that contrary to public opinion, Chiara's and Fabio's parents supported their union. You see, Fabio (like this world's me) is what is called a Gearbody (that is, someone who has needed at least 1 part of their bodies amputated) and Chiara was known as an all-body (she still has all of her body parts).
But I suppose I can't really start this adventure without making my way over to the lovely couple, now can I? I move through the crowd, heading straight to the counter and shout: "Bonan vesperon, mia bonega amikoj. Mi esperas ke vi havas tempon por amiko kiu venis granda distanco." (Good evening, my excellent friends. I trust you have time for a friend who came a great distance). Chiara and Fabio turned and were shocked to see me (not knowing exactly, how far I came), "Aaron, you don't have to speak Esperanto to introduce yourself to us. I'm surprised you didn't draw attention to yourself coming into the tavern. Your detective novel was just released hear a few lunar cycles ago (about a week). It was stunning; I could just imagine that tall hotel in my mind the whole time I read it." Chiara and I exchanged hugs while Fabio tapped me on the shoulder…
…with a Gear-based left arm. It did not startle me in the least (though I do wonder how he learned to play the Cliano…a gear-piano, with it). "I on the other hand good sir, have a lot to nitpick about your little book." I laughed and replied, "So does the Brit-Irish government." but he was not deterred as he turned to a server. "3 espressoes, bonvolu?" (3 Espressoes, please?). She nodded and we headed for a private booth, while I was trying not to celebrate that the French Republic did not outlaw coffee here (like they did a few things, namely alcohol). Chiara stared at me briefly, "Your eyes, It's like they changed colour."
"Shit, is Chiara the genre-savvy one in this world? Does Isaac even exist here? No matter, I'll try to misdirect her" I thought to myself. "Must be the lighting here. As you were saying, Fabio?"
"Well first of all, I died in a bathroom."
"No you didn't. I switched you with a copy of you. Inside us is blood, and inside blood is something I believe that world called DNA. DNA is what makes us. Did you even bother reading the last 40% of the book?"
Fabio was at a loss for words, "Ok then. But why was that girl as your murderer? She seemed so sweet and innocent."
"That was the point. It wouldn't be a good intrigue story if it were obvious."
"No, I suppose not. Thirdly, How did you imagine a world of…well over 7 billion people? Most of us don't even have counting racks that can go that high."
"Fabio, this is a subgenre that I call alternate history. It's where things turn our differently because there is a change in a timeline somewhere. In this case, I made the Black Plague shorter. Which in turn lead to a lot more survivors. And over the course of time, people will build more…and faster."
"I would imagine someone would call it some kind of industrial revolution?" observed Fabio.
"Man the people on this world are sharp" I thought to myself. Better just point at Fabio and nod. "Mmhmm."
Chiara raised her hand, "Would this lead to more art?"
"I imagine it would. But at a cost of a lot of nature. I imagine it would lead to dirtier air among other things."
Chiara shook her head, "Sounds unbalanced."
Fabio nodded in agreement undeterred, "#4. Did this 'industrial revolution' lead to these things called computers and internet?"
"They sure did. Imagine if you can, a tool where you could talk to a fan of yours on the other side of the planet like they were in the same room."
…Fabio stared off…"I can't. Where would the excitement of writing and receiving a letter go?"
I decided to be honest, "It's a dying art in that world, unfortunately."
"I will admit you had a good idea about keeping your music on a…oh Chiara, what did Aaron call them in his detective novel?"
"Compact discs, I like them too. They sure beat sending large indented pieces of metal in the mail to other countries. Sometimes they fail to arrive, which is decidedly inconvenient. Then again, a song or even a whole album being these…um, MP3 FILES! That's them. Yes, a whole album being in storage in a non-existent place. What's next, transportation that runs without having to be wound up?"
I laughed just then, remembering my doppelganger's memories of being in flying machines that needed to be wound up like an old-fashioned toy and then assisted by a spring-loaded lever. Wow, talk about a massive pinball mechanism. Chiara then leaned forward and whispered, "Thank you for no contractions in your words. I understand that not everyone in the world is tri-lingual…"
I couldn't help it, I raised my eyebrows.
"…but there are certain words…missing."
I was enjoying this, "Ok, such as?"
Chiara looked up at the ceiling, as if to get her thoughts in order, "Gearbodies, All-bodies, Clesonator, Clesonaste, Clums, Cliano, Newsboy/girl and finally, Gearist."
I was impressed, and almost immediately had her answers (searching my counterpart's brain was getting easier), "Well, the strife between gearbodies and all-bodies is minimal (especially if you lost a part of you in battle). In fact, gearbodies are called amputees and their new parts are generally non-geared. Now for musical instruments, my book's world has learned to harness a static energy that I call…electricity. With electric amplification: The Clesonator became what I call a Guitar, The Clesonaste became a bass guitar, Clums became drums, and a Cliano became a keyboard. Imagine being able to project your sound over distances 10 times as far as you can acoustically with half of the equipment."
Fabio and Chiara were speechless, the idea that their friend had such an imagination to envision such an energy. They both immediately had pictures of lightning in their mind, wondering if this was what gave Aaron such an idea. After almost 2 minutes of silence, Chiara regained her thoughts, "What about newsboys? Or Girls? I didn't really read about any in your book. How do you transport information? Papers? Letters? Packages?"
Aaron decided to lie about something he took for granted, "It was an idea I ultimately cut out of the book as it was not important: Metal boxes keep the papers, my dear. People put coins into a slot at the top of the box, then a series of mechanisms let you open the box and take out a paper. Most of the rest of your question can be summed up by two words: Post Office."
Chiara raised her eyebrow, "Post Office? As in, there's a building where people just drop off what they need delivered? And they take care of the other details?" I nodded, suppressing the urge to run in fear as to how perceptive Chiara and Fabio were to a world that they thought wasn't real. Chiara smiled, "I wish we had that here. We probably spend as much hiring newsboys/girls to travel and deliver letters and music to our fans as we do on everything else. Good thing our staff are great at what they do."
Fabio kissed Chiara for no reason and told her, "My turn dear. Just 1 more thing Aaron, before I shift from Language to Geography."
Aaron immediately began looking around the tavern for a map of this world, after spotting 1 he turned his attention back to Fabio, "Go ahead."
"Gearists, not one use of the word Gearists in your entire book. I kind of understand why if you used a different form of artificial body parts, but what would the equivalent be?"
"Doctors." stated by me, matter of factly. "We should move to that table by the wall if you have Geography questions. It'll help me paint a picture in your head."
Chiara and Fabio nodded, and the 3 of us moved over together (while hugging a few fans who approached them, 1 or 2 seemed to know who I was but left me alone…and for that I thank them). They sat in the same configuration as before, only with me ready to point at any part of the map that he needed.
"Where do you want to start?" I asked, "Locally"
Fabio nodded while Chiara asked, "So in your world, There is a Union where the French Republic is merely 1 small piece of a greater continent?"
If my memory serves me correctly, I made a facial expression of ambiguity, "Yes and no. There is a European Union (Where 1 currency is generally used), but there is no French Republic. What you know of the French Republic is divided into France (I used my index finger to draw the borders), Switzerland, and Italy."
Chiara gave me a faint smile that suggested she remembered reading of her home as not being under French rule in a history text as a child, not so long ago. "Please continue."
I obliged, "Ok, Beneluxanyland is 5 countries. Belgium, Netherlands, Luxembourg, Germany and Poland are separate places. Although a few of them will do things together, such as co-hosting a gathering of sport of some kind. The British have a commonwealth, but most of Ireland is not a part of it, although Northern Ireland is…sorry, I did not think that 1 one through. Nor did I really do much to the Kingdom of the Danes, I just kept the mainland Denmark and split the rest into Norway (which was featured), Sweden and Finland (which were not) You guys ask such great questions."
Fabio and Chiara laughed as their server came to them and asked, "3 pli?" (3 more?)
All 3 of them shook their heads, then I asked "Al barelo de la plej klara akvo vi havas, bonvolu." (A barrel of the clearest water you have, please.) Then I pulled out a 500 Republic Franc coin and placed it on the table, as if on instinct. "Reteni la trooj." (Retain the surplus) Everyone's eyes went wide (I doubt they saw too many 500 Republic Franc coins in their lives, especially in public places such as a tavern). I think I heard her say "Jes Sinjoro" (Yes sir) as she disappeared.
"Back to the somewhat local land. The Eurussian Commonwealth is even harder to explain. There are multiple, small independent countries at the most Westerly point (I used my finger again to draw Hungary, the Czech Republic, the former Soviet Nations etc.) And this big piece (I point to Russia as far as the Ural Mountains), is still joined to this big piece (I moved my finger over to a land called Siberolina. Which was the far east of Russia, Mongolia and China).
"Good Da Vinci, there is 1 country spanning across almost half of our world?" shouted Fabio
I nodded, amused that Leonardo Da Vinci is such a messiah here. They needed a minute looking at the map to see where to ask about next, Fabio then introduced his index finger to a land very familiar to me, "Are these places grouped together to form your alleged 'United States of America'?" With a laugh that suggested that I was either an idiot or insane for creating such a place, I was not amused at all.
"Very good Fabio." I quipped with a tone of condescension to let him know I was mildly insulted. "Ok, This piece of the province of the Yukon is the northernmost state which I'll just go ahead and call Alaska. No one in the detective novel lived there so I largely ignored it. Oh and you know how the French Republic has those islands randomly in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?"
Fabio and Chiara nodded and said simultaneously, "We went on our honeymoon there. It was so expensive because the glider had to be wound 2000 times before we took to the air. Maybe more."
I nodded, trying to show sympathy, "Well instead of it being called The French Republic Islands of Polynesia, It's just simply called Hawaii. Now these 5 pieces of land make up the other 48 'states'. New Japan is 6 of them: California, Nevada, Arizona, Oregon, Washington and Idaho."
Chiara shrugged her shoulders and proclaimed, "I still want to play a show there. Whether It's on the coast with the fisherman's wharves, entertaining the gamblers in the badlands or with the Potato farmers. I want to play Western BritIreland too. How many…uh…states are there?"
"15." I answered quickly. Chiara's mouth opened, and would not close.
"I swear, 15. But don't worry, few were even used. New York, New Jersey, New Hampshire, Delaware Connecticut, Vermont, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, Vermont, Rhode Island, Maryland, Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia."
Fabio quipped, "And I suppose that due to its' close proximity to this Europe of yours, settlers landed there first?"
"More or less." I decided not to bother telling him about the 13 colonies or missions to the West Indies, mainly as I did not see the Caribbean at all on this world's map.
Fabio smiled with confidence, "Well my main dreams are to play in New Spain, New Germany where the anti-Beneluxanyland rebels live and Mexico, because it's so big."
It took me a moment, to settle where everything was located in my head…and the other me's head (I have no idea how to describe this phenomenon. It's like I have double vision, seeing my world and this world at the same time like a double exposed photograph) "Well, New Spain in my book is 7 of the 'states': Mississippi, Kentucky, Missouri, Tennessee, Alabama, Florida and West Virginia. New Germany has 8: Minnesota, Michigan, Illinois, Wisconsin, Indiana, Ohio, North Dakota and South Dakota. Mexico was tricky for me, as I broke the northernmost piece off and split it into 12 places so that these 'United States' were an even 50. 1 I even called New Mexico because I'm lazy, the other 11: Texas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, Arkansas, Kansas, Colorado, Utah, Nebraska, Iowa, Wyoming, Montana."
The server returned with the barrel of clean water. I was impressed, for this was a world so different from my own that I doubted that clean water was even possible, I could see the bottom of the barrel. The rest of the band saw who it was for, and promptly joined them (the helpers having already packed up and left). Chiara was the singer, Fabio was the Cliano player. But now the conversation had Gregg (The Clummer), Karl (The Clesonaste player), and Phoenix (The Clesonator and backup singer, who had really wanted to sit next to me for some strange reason). Gregg broke the ice, "Mr. Aaron Collins, the novelist made good from my home and native land that is…the Chingacousy Township, even though you called it Brampton and made it a big city. Oh and thanks for giving me my right eye back"
Phoenix nodded and added, "And my left leg"
Karl finally chimed in, "And for keeping me an all-body. I have too much empathy for the gearbodies to want to be one, even in fiction"
I laughed slightly, feeling a pinch of pity that there are no artificial eyes for this world's Gregg and shock that Phoenix's artificial leg (aside from the gears) looked strikingly similar to Terry Fox's. Karl noticed the map and asked, "Partway through reading your book, I began to suspect that this 'Australia' of yours was in fact my home of Upper Zealand, did I guess right?"
I nodded, "I had this dream where Upper Zealand was a prison used by the British, and still part of the commonwealth."
Karl shuddered, "No thanks, Upper Zealand independence for me, thank you."
I shrugged as Gregg asked, "Why is Ontario so big?"
I sighed and decided to point at a particularly emphasized line in the map, "Because I do not enjoy this world having a First Nations wall. The relations between the First Nations people and the rest of Ontario are not perfect in the world of my novel, but are much more pleasant than they are here. So I scrapped the First Nations wall and a town in its' place called Sudbury. I had this idea to put up a smaller wall dividing Berlin, Germany…sorry…Beneluxanyland. But I decided against it because the technology of the west made a perfect contrast to the traditions of the east."
Gregg nodded, "I respect that. Did you want to make things more peaceful by removing the word 'Fort' in front of the word Kingston?"
"I did."
"Would that also be the reason why you broke up East Ontario into 4 provinces?"
"Actually I did THAT because of the language barrier."
Gregg's eyebrows raised, I took pride that the right eyebrow raised over the patch.
"Well, most of what used to be Quebec speaks French, so I gave them some of the independence they lost back to them."
Gregg sighed, sympathetic to the plight of the French-speaking East Ontarians that left the Neo-Napoleonic politics of the French Republic. He and Karl were the only ones old enough to remember reading about the BritIrish sending soldiers, money, weapons and supplies to Ontario to create a crossfire, thus conquering them and establishing 1 trade route between the BritIrish and the BritIrish Dominion of Canada. It was either called the Quebec City massacre or the Liberation of the Plains of Abraham, depending on which side of the battle you were on. Gregg did not want to relive that part of his childhood as he was an Ontarian whose family had not only supported Quebec independence, but whose parents pulled some strings to ensure speaking French was not punishable under BritIrish law. Gregg sought a distraction, "Please continue."
I detected Gregg's unease, so I obliged, "1 piece was a challenge as it's half-English, half-French. My publisher suggested naming it in English but some of the cities in French, so that was what became New Brunswick. Thirdly, I wanted to show some love to Scotland, but some author already owned the rights to New Scotland, so I had to settle for Nova Scotia. And lastly, in yet another display of my laziness, what was left over literally became New…Found…Land based on some journal I read of a Viking from when I was a kid."
Everyone shared in a laugh until Phoenix finally had her thoughts in order, "Way to break up the Hudson Bay Company, Fek Kapo (Shit head)"
"I didn't really break them up so much as I turned them into a marketplace. It was a joke due to the commercial nature of those bastards and their exploitations of First Nations people."
I yet again, used my finger to draw a line, "Everything north of this are 3 territories: Yukon (which I downgraded from a province because not too many people live there), Northwest Territory (Ideal for ice fishing, but I couldn't for the life of me come with another name) and Nunavut (as most of the Northern First Nations tribes settled there). Below the line I drew a few moments ago, are 4 provinces: British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan (that would be where you live Phoenix, sorry that it's just a rectangle) and Manitoba."
Phoenix laughed and nodded, "I'm still trying to figure out how I got from Fort Kingston to the Hudson Bay Company to the French Republic in this world without getting raped and murdered, much less in the world of your novel."
Fabio had an idea into his head, and suggested to Aaron, "Want to write the story of Phoenix Crysalys? You could put it together better than any of us ever could."
I feigned apprehension, "I don't know guys, it's your story not mine."
A mini-symphony of begging ensued, I "caved". "Ok guys, I'll write it down right here and now. What adventure should we focus on? How each band member auditioned? The tribulations of the Adriatic Sea? Just as long as it's not another mystery novel I'm ok with writing down anything."
Chiara shook her head, "No my dear Aaron, we're finally going to release the story of our bid to play for the Olympics."
My attention turned to Gregg, "You're the newsboy of the group when you're not a clummer, are any paper stores open this late at night in the French Republic?"
Gregg laughed at me.
"Could we buy the paper and the sketch pencils from the printing press directly?"
"Maybe, if we grease the right gears." He then rubbed his thumb and forefinger together suggesting a bribe while I had to suppress freaking out that that exact gesture is multiversal. I took out a 100 Republic Franc Coin out of my pocket and slipped it to Gregg. "Just buy everything they're not using."
Gregg nodded and left the tavern, needing only to go next door. The conversation turned to the places I visited travelling from my doppelganger's residence in the city of York, Ontario to Montegran, French Republic. It was a particularly long journey between the tensions of the world and my own desire to not be recognized (I was facing a trip to the Guillotine or Gallows just for the body count of my book alone in some regions of this world). I started to Mount Royal, East Ontario where I enjoyed hiding from my enemies in plain sight (the fact that people who may want me killed for my ideas and ideals call me brother makes them my favourite enemies), I then took a really long and bumpy flight to London, BritIreland where I was welcomed by everyone (I even decided to stage a couple of book signings and donated the BritIrish pounds sterling I raised to a local orphanage), then a second flight to Paris where no one cared who I was, and I was happy to just observe the local artists. I bought a gearbike there (a bicycle that when wound up in the rear can go almost as fast as a motorcycle by my world's standards). I rode the rest of the way here, enjoying the French Republic Countryside before I checked into the Inn across the street from my current location. This was of course me accessing my counterpart's memories, which was becoming progressively more painful. Chiara, I think, noticed:
"Your nose, it's bleeding. Will you be alright?" said Chiara, though the others were also concerned. In my world it's a by-product of social anxiety, I wondered if it was here too.
"I'll be ok, big crowd is all."
Chiara, Fabio, Karl and Phoenix accepted that answer as Gregg returned from the printing press, "Here you go Aaron, and I think I cleaned them out."
I smiled, and jotted down notes about coming here from another world (privately, to be posted on Facebook in some other world at some later date as an "Interquel") and about the aftermath of this concert (which you're reading the expanded version of right now).
"Ok guys, ready when you are."
Fabio shook his head, "First I must tell the world, how I lost my Left Arm."
No one argued.