Hey! I got this done, here you go! C:
Day Seven: Steampunk
Open, remove, repair, replace. The pattern is irreversible, and people like it that way. Alice has been doing this for three years now, as the only clock repairer in Liverpool. She knows clocks inside and out, and can name the year, brand, and type of wristwatch someone is wearing by a mere glance.
That is, until people realized that clocks can last much longer than hearts. Someone thought it would be brilliant to replace human hearts and blood with clocks and oil; and they made it happen. People are making the switch all over the world. Alice finds it ridiculous, but then again, she can see the good aspects of the transition. People with failing hearts can finally find a way to live again. Politicians are able to stay in office longer. Loved ones are living longer, although after the age of eighty they need to begin replacing their limbs and organs with synthetic replicas, although most outer replacements are just made out of wood and metal, rather than realistic looking ones.
Because there are so few tinkerer's and clock workers in Liverpool, Alice was immediately forced into the job. People came at high demand, almost literally selling their lives to get a new 'heart', which was just a clock, in all aspects. She loathes her job deeply, angered by the fact that she's working with people, which she doesn't like to do.
But the job pays great, and in times like these, she needs to keep her head up and keep living. After all, her brothers have finally left for the war, and she can't leave, being a woman. She needs to stay here and help others live.
Right now, she's waiting for her next appointment. A 'Gilbert Beilschmidt'. Age twenty-four (she's twenty-three herself), height of six-one, eye color red, hair color white, and blood type O. A very rare specimen indeed. She has to know all of this information beforehand, so she can properly use the perfect clock for the patient. She's picked a new brand, recently made, beautiful silver pocket watch, although it's larger than a traditional one to fit the needs of a male that works in a blimp graveyard and does a lot of physical work. His appointment starts at one in the afternoon.
He arrives a little late, the door opening to reveal a drained looking German. A little smog from the outside follows him into the room.
"Sorry," He apologizes hastily, "I got lost on the way." She nods. Her shop is downtown, crammed in between a clothing store and a diner.
"Quite alright, Mister Beilschmidt." She answers easily. "Follow me." She comes out from behind the counter, and disappears into a hallway. He's moving slowly behind her. "Are you unsure about your decision to have a new life source?" She asks, like she asks every patient.
"A little, yes."
"You don't talk a lot, do you?"
"I do," He denies, "but there's not a lot I have to say at the moment." She accepts the explanation, and leads him into a room, with a padded table in the center. Cabinets line the walls, and there's a small rolling table next to the table.
"Please, take a seat." Alice says monotonously. He follows the order immediately.
"So, how are you gonna drug me? Needles?" He asks, almost trying to joke. It is a joke to Alice, and she laughs a little.
"You didn't look into this procedure much, did you?"
"Not really, no." He answers honestly. She laughs again.
"Well," She begins, "I'll lead you through the entire surgery, so you'll know how it all happens at the end. Please remove your shirt and pants."
"Wait, you aren't gonna knock me out?!" He squeaks out, unbuttoning his shirt slowly and shimmying out of his trousers. Alice nods.
"We have to have you conscious the entire procedure, it's protocol. We can't have you dying on the table." She explains. "You won't feel a thing, though. I assure you. And we can talk about whatever you wish."
"A-alright…" He gives in.
"Now please, lie down. This will only be a moment." He does so, and she moves above him, inserting an IV into his forearm.
"You'll need two IV's right now; one on one side to remove the blood, the other on the other side to replace it with genetic material that will keep you alive, but numb your body completely. It's colored yellow, in case you wanted to know." Gilbert nods slowly.
"How long have you been doing this for?"
"Since the procedure became possible, Mister Beilschmidt."
"Can you call me Gilbert?" She gets that from each patient.
"Of course, Gilbert."
"Do you like doing this?"
"No," She answers slowly, unsure about this question, "I think it's a waste of time, and that God made us the way we are for a reason."
"Me too."
"May I ask a question?" She requests. He nods, and she continues. "If you are against this transfusion, then why are you getting it?"
"It's a new thing for those who want to go into war. Those that are already on the battlefront don't need to change their hearts, but men that wish to go to war this far into it need the switch." She nods at this new information, thankful that her brothers, though they are assholes, don't need to go through this.
"Blood to Byproduct switch is finished. I'm going to remove the IV's now." Alice informs, slipping the metal out of his blood streams. "Can you feel anything?"
"Nothing." His reply is a little sloppy, but that's normal. She feels his flat stomach, checking for any uncertainties, and finally moving to where his heart should be.
"You can ask me anything," Alice informs him.
"…What's your name?"
"Alice Kirkland."
"Pleased to meet you, Alice."
"You as well, Gilbert."
Alice has cut the skin on his right pectoral.
"My brother has already gone to war." Gilbert says quietly. "He's younger than me, just out of school. When the war started, he immediately signed up, saying it was his duty as a younger citizen of this society."
"My brothers also went to war at the beginning. They left me alone at the house, having our parents dead, and I've been caring for the home since. I don't go there very often, I just live here. This doubles as an apartment." Alice explains, locating the collarbone and the ribs. "Is that why you wish to leave?"
"Yes and no," He answers, "I'm tired of working on the graveyard. It's just taking apart and selling old blimps and their parts, and it's just… I'm tired of it, I guess." Alice nods.
"Oh, tell me about it. I miss the days when I was just working on clocks, and not human bodies. I'm going to open your ribcage now, Gilbert. It might become hard to talk."
"Okay."
"My mother was always ashamed of the path I chose in life. She wanted me to be a model."
"Well…" Gilbert wheezes. Alice watches his lungs twitch with life for a moment before returning her attention to the heart. She has the clock in her hands, the beautiful silver reflecting into her eyes, making her squint a little. "You… have the… body for it…" Alice can't help but redden a little at the compliment.
"Thank you, Gilbert. You look very nice as well."
"Don't mention… It."
"I'm moving your hearts valve openings to the clock. You might feel a tugging, but try not to pay attention to it." Alice says, and snips the tubes, quickly stitching the remaining openings to the clock. "I'm fully removing the heart now."
"Alright."
"Do you want to keep it? Some patients like to preserve it in a jar."
"No!" He shouts, and the clock begins ticking. That trick always does it. She laughs. This is her favorite part of the procedure, watching the clock start the life up again.
"Good, the clock works perfectly. I'll stitch you up, and you're good to go." She smiles, but it soon disappears. "You said that you don't really want to join the war, but your life is too boring for your ambition, correct?"
"Yeah…"
"How about you come live with me? You can help me here as well, and not only is it a different environment from a blimp graveyard, but you get paid a decent amount. I'd split my earnings with you." She blurts it out before she can stop herself, and a blush consumes her face. "Unless you don't want to, of course, it's your decision. I could use some help here and at home, though. It's a big house."
"…Sure. I'm cool with it. It sounds fun, although… Still a little boring."
"Oh, trust me," She looks up at him, giving a wink as she snips the final string to the stitches on his chest. "It's anything but boring."
