The Time of the Clockmaker

To all of us who are sure they were born in the wrong time and place

PROLOGUE

THE NORMALLY OVERCROWDED
streets of New York were even more packed than usual that day. Everyone was pushing and straining to get the best vantage point. I relentlessly made my way through the throng on Seventh Avenue, past the transfixed people wearing bright green sweatshirts, raising their phones to take photos, while waiting for the annual parade to begin. I was searching the crowd for her.

One face after another passed by, and still there was no sign of
her.
It was like looking out upon a sea of interwoven greens—kelly green, chartreuse, lime green, forest—every possible variation was present. I was wearing white, as I had been instructed. I imagined it was to better stand out, so she could spot me. I believed she was to be dressed similarly. It didn't help my concentration that my mission had me tied up in knots. There was tension around me as people pushed and shoved against one another, doing their best to hold the observation points they had
staked out as their own.

None of that mattered to me in the least. I was not here for some infantile parade, annual tradition or not. This grossly overcrowded setting was merely the meeting point to which I had been directed. I knew I had a purpose, and though this green-tinted mob was less than navigable, I pressed on. My eyes darted, scanning to find that one familiar face. Babies cried, old people complained about the crush, and children alternately screamed and laughed—a cacophony of invasive sounds. Tuning it out completely was no easy trick, and since there was too much overlapping noise to count on sound to guide me, I was forced to trust my sense of sight above all else. So I continued searching the ocean of faces and the sea of green, but to no avail. Although I wanted more than anything to get out of that maddening crowd, I knew that was not an option.

Redoubling my resolve, I pushed on. The parade's music and announcer were within three, perhaps four, blocks from what little I could distinguish above the observers' noise. There was no sign of them yet, just the noise that heralded their approach. The parade seemed to be mocking me, its appearance as elusive as my intended meeting. Why did she want us to meet here?

As I bolted, trying to dodge around people, the people I bumped hollered after me. I feigned ignorance or deafness and doggedly pursued my search. Systematically examining every form with the proper height, build and hairstyle with no luck made me feel quite discouraged, and so I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and calm my nerves, but I never stopped scanning the crowd.

After taking several deep breaths, my head felt a bit clearer,
so I once again began walking among the observers, determined to find her before the parade was in full swing and further movement became impossible. As I bumped into people who looked at me with disgust, as though I didn't belong in the crowd, I could only think
If you only knew the half of what I've been through!

I pressed onward. I could see no one I recognized until I glanced to the left across Fifth Avenue and suddenly there she was—the woman I'd been trying to find for so long. She was across the street from where I had been not five minutes before. I began running toward her, through jeers and more shouts saying that they were
waiting all day for a front-row position.

Something hit me in the stomach. I stopped short. Looking down, I saw that it was the metal barrier meant to keep the crowds out of the street and out of the way of the parade. There was no way around, and no way over.

I waved my arms and shouted in her direction, but her eyes were fixed elsewhere, and I realized that no one could have heard me from where she stood, not over the roaring swarm. I was relieved to see her at long last, yet at the same time, now that I'd found her, my apprehension heightened and I yelled louder.

I kept pressing against the barrier with my weight, but all of a sudden, when I looked up, she had disappeared once more. I felt my heart catch. I had glanced down for only a second—where could she have gone? I began to push harder against the crowd now, hurrying as best I could to a spot where I could hopefully have her within my sights again. It became hard to move against the people as the parade drew closer and the mob continued jockeying for position.

Suddenly, I spied her again. I was pressed up against the metal barrier, and across the street, she was too. I smiled and started to shout her name, but the look of utter bewilderment upon her face at that moment was something I had never seen before.
What's the matter with her?
The thought had no sooner crossed my mind before I followed her gaze downward and saw a stain of red coloring her shirt.

I tried my best to get to her. The crowd roared as the parade started on the street. I clambered awkwardly over the barrier, running into the street. No one was looking at me, so entranced was the crowd with the parade. With every step I took, I saw the red stain spread faster and faster. As I got closer I made out a knife sticking out of her stomach and though I thought I would be sick at any moment, I knew there was no time. Everything was happening so fast, but it all looked slow motion to me. Never taking my gaze from her as I ran, I saw her eyes widen; then her natural pale complexion became almost ethereally transparent. It reminded me of how static on a television back in the days of antennas, before cable or satellite, could make ghostly images out of real figures. I extended my hands, trying to will myself to get to her in time, but I knew it was futile. Each second felt like an hour as she literally began to fade right before my eyes.

She crumpled backward, and the crowd was oblivious to her as she fainted against them. I watched helplessly as she made one brief moment of eye contact with me, that puzzled look still upon her face. I wanted to scream, but my voice was frozen in my throat. She managed a very brief smile, as though to let me know it was somehow going to be all right—I could almost hear her tell me that I must find a way to go on. And
then she disintegrated into mere specks of dust before she hit the ground. Still, no one around her had taken notice, all eyes on the approaching parade. It was as if she had never existed. I knew I couldn't have possibly heard the dull clatter of the blade hitting the sidewalk, but I swear I did. It was coupled with a piercing screech that I at first could not identify, until I realized it was my own voice. I stood frozen in my tracks, terror flowing from my open mouth, horrified by what I had just seen.

“Come now, miss, it can't be that bad.” A jolly, overweight policeman smiled as he took my arm.

I hadn't realized that I'd frozen in the middle of the street.

“I know it's just the high school bands leading the way, but they're trying their best to sound good, y'know.” He tipped his hat at me. He walked me toward another officer, who stepped aside to let us through a gap in the barricade. The jolly officer winked before he walked off, having escorted me to what he thought was the safety of the sidewalk.

I stood there in stark disbelief, in the same spot where she had just dematerialized. I somehow found the presence of mind to find the glittering knife lying near the gutter. With all eyes upon the parade and not me, I picked it up, thinking to slide it into the front pocket of my sweatshirt. Maybe it would provide some clues. I just couldn't leave it there for someone else to find.

It all felt so surreal. I stood there in the mass of bodies feeling only one thing—the brutal cold of the knife blade in my hand, still slick with blood.