The Clockworkers by Michelle Koubek

            “It’s rusted!”

            The Head Clockworker taps the metal hand of the planet-sized clock and then turns to his brother, the Second Clockworker.

            “Have you not been keeping up on your upkeep duties?”

            The Second Clockworker shrugs, sending a heatwave to the planets on his mantel as they shift temporarily closer to their sun.

            “There’s always the spare,” he says.

            “And where did you stow that?”

            “The basement,” the Second Clockworker looks at the star-lined doorway to his right.

            “Where the failed galaxies are?” the Head Clockworker sighs. “What would make you put it there?”

            “Didn’t think it mattered,” the Second Clockworker mumbles and then adds, “Not all of us organize our stars into constellations.”

            “Whatever. Come and show me what box it’s in.”

            “So, it’s the box labeled ‘Milky Way?’” the Head Clockworker clarifies. “Doesn’t ring any bells. Was that the one with the talking potatoes?”
            “Don’t believe so,” the second Clockworker tosses a box to the side.

            “Careful! A lot of time was put into making those.”

            “You’re such a hoarder,” the Second Clockworker scoffs, “but look here. I think I found the box we need.”

            He opens the box and peers inside.

            “Oh, I remember now!” the Head Clockworker grins. “This had that one little planet with the big reptiles. We gave up on it, because they showed no signs of advanced intelligence.”

            “Where are they now?” the Second Clockworker holds a magnifying glass up to the blue and green orb in the box below him.

            The Head Clockworker sighs.

            “Looks like they must have been shaken off. See? This is why I tell you to handle the boxes carefully.”

            “I get it,” the Second Clockworker taps the floor.

            “Good,” the Head Clockworker crosses his arms. “Now where is this spare clock hand?”

            The Second Clockworker points.

            “I put it inside that green and blue planet. It’s been a while though, so the winds and shifting ground have probably covered it in sediment.”

            “Like an itty bitty mountain,” the Head Clockworker chuckles.

            “The biggest one on there, probably,” the Second Clockworker lifts his magnifying glass up again. “Yes! I see it!”

            He reaches in preparing to yank it out.

            “Wait!” the Head Clockworker grabs his brother’s wrist.

            “What? I can handle a task as tiny as this.”

            “It’s not that,” the Head Clockworker leans forward, so his head is halfway inside the box. “I see new lifeforms on that planet’s surface.”

            “Advanced?” the Second Clockworker asks. “But I thought we ruled this galaxy out.”
            “Something must have happened once you knocked most of those big reptiles off,” the Head Clockworker smiles. “We must bring them up to my mantel.”
            “But how will we remove the clock hand without disturbing them?”

            The Head Clockworker scratches his chin. “Place them in the freezer and cause a minor ice age. Once they’re huddled in their caves, pull the hand out. This should avoid there being any witnesses.”
            And so the Second Clockworker does just that.

            A day later, the brothers sit together in front of their fireplace.

            “What do you think they tell themselves?” the Second Clockworker points to the new solar system sitting on their mantel. It sits beside the planet-sized clock and brings the Clockworkers’ den together. “The people of the blue and green planet, how will they justify a giant pit appearing on their planet’s surface?”
            “Impossible to know,” the Head Clockworker shrugs. “Probably, think it’s some sort of natural anomaly.”
           

            “Strange,” the scientist declares, examining the lake-sized hole in the snowy landscape. “It appeared out of nowhere. What could it mean?”
            “It means it’s the end of the world,” the other scientist says, covering his ears with his hands. “Can’t you hear the ticking? It’s counting down to our deaths.”

            “At least, we got the spare hand on,” the Head Clockworker says. “That clock should be good for the next ten thousand years or so. They’re kind of lucky, don’t you think?”

            “Why would you say that?”
            “Because,” the Head Clockworker smiles wistfully. “Those people on that blue and green planet have no idea that it could all end if the hands stopped ticking. Must be nice to be that in the dark.”