Elbert never forgot his deal with the clockmaker. Each night after his evening performance, he graciously made his way through the usual crowd of devoted fans and dutifully went to Santiago’s shop to help out. Over the months, he’d learned quite a bit about clock making and the mechanics behind it—how to clean a clock, how to fix a broken pocket watch, how to replace the gears.
He had also picked up a few other tricks from Santiago, like how to use lavender oil as a healing scent, and how to make long-lasting candle clocks that told the time with each melting stripe. “Candles are no ordinary things,” the clockmaker liked to say with a wink. “You can light many more candles with just one, and the original flame never weakens.” On Elbert’s eighteenth birthday, before lighting the candles on Elbert’s cake in that very fashion, Santiago also taught him how to create perfect buttercream frosting.
The shop itself often hinted at something unusual beyond everyday clock making. Elbert could’ve sworn, on several occasions, all the clocks stopped ticking at exactly the same time, only to start again when the old clockmaker appeared at the doorway. There were also instances when the hands on the grandfather clock moved not forward, but backward, until it struck six o’clock when in fact it was near ten in the evening. When Elbert pointed this out once, the clock hands jumped and promptly reset themselves to show the correct time. Santiago simply gave Elbert a mysterious smile afterward and went back to polishing a pocket watch.
The old clockmaker also had a few unusual ideas about time itself. One wintery evening, as they watched the beginnings of a snowstorm through the shop window, Santiago told Elbert about the time touch.
“Legend says three pieces of time fell from the sky ages ago,” said the clockmaker. “A piece of the past, a piece of the present, and a piece of the future. They floated across the land, drifting like clouds. Everything they touched experienced time differently from how we normally do.”
“How so, sir?” asked Elbert.
Santiago held up a mantel clock. “You and I experience time as a line, from one minute to the next.” He then adjusted the knob so that the minute hand rotated backward. “But with a piece of the time touch, we would experience time not as a line, but as an entangled web. Cause and effect would not be as clear.”
Elbert didn’t follow, but decided not to interrupt.
“Very few people have stumbled upon pieces of the time touch, and even fewer have been able to recount its magic,” Santiago said cryptically. “Those that have say the three pieces of time scattered across the world. When they finally settled, each became locked inside a unique object that maximizes the piece’s power. People have searched centuries for these objects. The power contained in these fragments of time is not to be underestimated. It is said that with a piece in hand, one can control time.”
“What kind of objects are we talking about?”
“Allegedly all sorts of things—lockets, flasks, jewelry cases. Even clocks. Imagine that. Of course, only a slim handful know what—and where—the true objects are: the few who’ve stumbled upon the real thing.”
“Do you know what the real objects are?” whispered Elbert.
“I have some guesses,” the clockmaker replied with a twinkle in his eye.
“What do you mean by ‘control time’?”
“If the stories are true, each piece supposedly allows you to control a part of time: the past, the present, or the future. But what the time touch can do to a person is incredibly dangerous. There are rumors of people losing their minds after coming into contact with one of the pieces. People competing for ownership. Even killing one another. Yes, you may be able to control time…but it might ultimately be that time controls you.”
A gust of wind rattled the window. Elbert waited for the clockmaker to continue, but the old man went back to fixing a broken pocket watch and refused to speak about the time touch any further for the rest of the night.
The next evening, Elbert brought up their conversation from the day before. He wanted to know more about the time touch.
“How is it dangerous, you ask?” replied Santiago. “Anything that has the power to reshape how we think is dangerous, Elbert. It can stretch us to our limits and send us down a slippery path. Ultimately, the time touch changes our very character—either for the better or for the worse. That is why whoever stumbles upon a piece of the time touch must not share it widely, lest the rest of the world fall under its influence or try to compete for it.”
The answer didn’t satisfy Elbert. “And how would one even know if they stumble upon a piece of the time touch?” he questioned. “Does it rattle or glow?”
“It’s an ancient magic, invisible like the wind.” Santiago picked up a rag and started polishing the clocks on the shelves. “But it’s unmistakable. It draws you in, becomes part of you. Someone who does magic for a living like yourself would sense it right away, even if you couldn’t identify it. Moreover, with the time touch, time itself would begin acting strange in your presence.”
Elbert felt almost foolish asking, but he blurted, “You’ve seen it, haven’t you, sir? The time touch?”
Santiago smiled. “An answer for another time, perhaps. For now, let me ask you this. Which would you rather? To be able to know the future or to travel to the past?”
“Being able to know the future,” Elbert answered promptly. “Then I can see if I’ll ever be famous enough to perform alongside the Great Houdini and all the best magicians.”
“Mm, is that so?” The clockmaker carefully wiped the face of a cuckoo clock until it gleamed in the surrounding candlelight. “The time touch would take it one step further, I’m afraid.”
At the time, Elbert simply
