Clockwork (Part1)

Time... does it work against us or for us?

First, there's the linear concept of time.
It moves forward; everything is in chronological order.
The perception is, time does not stop for anyone. We are all treated equally, whether you’re rich, poor, man, woman, child, elder, sick, healthy. Whoever, whatever.
It is fair.
But it can also seem very cold; time keeps ticking until comes the time to die.

Now, death can be a scary event for anyone. It is when everything ends as we know it.
But because it is the realm of the unknown, some people believe death as the beginning of an "afterlife". That could be true or false. Nobody knows for sure. Even science has yet to prove its  realm; as for now, it's open for the vast plane of imagination.

It is no coincidence that time, is often viewed as the grim reaper, the bestower of death, where time is the ominous enemy, the ender of life. Time becomes something that instills fear in us.
If it had a physical form, it may look something like this ...

[artwork by Yumai]

And this, is the frame of reference for the song "Clockwork".


The story opens with the protagonist rushing to work, running, breathing heavily trying to make it on time. He slides through the door at work, barely making it on the clock, ducking the eyes of an irritated boss that's 'clocking' him. The protagonist hurries and slips out of his normal clothes and into his work clothes, starts brewing up the orders of coffee or whatever the customers are waiting on. He hustles and works hard, but still trying to catch up with his own breath from running so hard, away from Clockwork. We see customers enjoying themselves, but from time to time they notice how the protagonist hustles hard but somehow comes across awkward and out of place, but they resume quickly back to their conversations not letting it bother them.

A shadow of an eerie long-legged character creeps up to the shop. We don't see what it is, but we can sense right away that it belongs to Clockwork, and so does the protagonist. Fear grabs him quickly and the feeling of panic begins to creep up. He serves and fulfills all the orders on the shop floor, but he can no longer hold his composure. As a huge drop of sweat from his forehead hit the wooden floor, we see him bolting out the shop door, running for his life. The boss is very upset, seeing his employee not only coming into work late but leaving, without permission, way too early. And we see Clockwork's figure going after the protagonist, neither fast or slow, but precisely and emotionless, but neither the customers nor the boss seem to notice Clockwork's presence.

The protagonist slams the door shut behind him. He is breathing very hard, panting. He looks around for a place to hide. He is back (at what seems to be) his apartment/atelier; we see acrylics and oil paint splotches on floors, paint palates with color mixes, canvases with various landscape paintings, portraits, conceptual drawings, and an unfinished painting, half covered by white cloth. The protagonist has no time to think, as he feels in his gut, the ominous shadow is now in the building. He panics, but somehow able to slip out of the window and escape onto the street again. The protagonist runs for his life, but Clockwork is persistent, cold, and unwaveringly on his tail.

The protagonist is running (being chased), as we see the streets violently move up and down from his perspective, and we begin to see the sight fade away into his memory sequence. We are now seeing the protagonist, in his own memory, painting day in and day out, struggling to "make it" as an artist. He would give anything, to be able paint without compromise, for a living. He would give anything to be accepted into that world, a world where he has never been admitted into yet been yearning for since as far as he can remember; a world he thinks and associates the purpose of his own existence with, that still had not "heard of him". And we see him burying his head into the clutch of his own arms, in the middle of his dimly lit apartment, with his unfinished artwork half covered by white cloth.    

There are people all around now. We are back in the present, in the middle of a crowded traffic, what seems to be the concourse of a huge train station. The protagonist is bumping into people, desperately trying to lose Clockwork on his tail. The protagonist then trips and falls to the ground.
We see Clockwork's shadow casted over him; and the next thing we see is his cold hands grabbing the protagonist's shoulder.

"I am doomed! This is the end...", the protagonist says to himself.
His eyes are shut tight, hands clinched. Sweating and shaking like crazy, preparing himself for the moment of death! ...

The hand on his shoulder, to his surprise, is still.
Nothing. is. happening.

Am I dead?

He slowly opens his eyes. And to his dismay and shock, he sees something he cannot believe his owns eyes for. His eyes were seeing plethora of colors, violently coming into his retina, as if he was experiencing a psychedelic drug. The crowd of people are no where to be seen; all he sees is himself floating in a space of colors, a tunnel of melting visuals, zipping by at tremendous speeds giving him the sensation of almost traveling through...time!

He is suddenly conscious again of the unmoving hand on his shoulder. He is afraid to look, but he musters all the courage he can and turns around. Clockwork is looking straight back at him, as if death itself was. At this moment, the protagonist realizes a small thought that popped into the back of his mind: this monster...is not here...to harm me.

He feels a sensation of serenity, warmly wrapping around his fears; fading it away.
The protagonist redirects his sight again in the direction of the movement foward of the "psychedelic time tunnel", his vision is washed away in a blanket of white light and momentarily blinds him.

How much time has passed, he does not know...
Nor does he know if time passed or is gained?

He finds himself sitting in an alien technology of sort, a modified wheel chair, and Clockwork is right there to assist the pushing/controlling of the chair. The protagonist just sits and glides through, finding himself at his day-to-day operations, going to work, serving customers, making the boss happy, etc. The only difference is, he is on this wheel chair being pushed by Clockwork, but oddly enough, no one seems to see the wheel chair nor Clockwork.

[contines to PART 2]


Listen to “Clockwork“:
https://srcflp.bandcamp.com/track/clockwork







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