Chapter Text
On the outside, the clockwork city of Derry was very peaceful. If you asked its residents, they’d say so too. There was no poverty, no protests, no strikes, and no peasants. Derry was the ultimate model city. At least according to critics.
If you asked Eddie, he would say the exact opposite.
Every morning, there was a routine for everyone. If you were a government official, you'd sit inside the government clock building and sip cold coffee until a real issue came up, and in the meanwhile you could enjoy your little lazy life. If you were a market seller, you’d sit happily outside your stall helping people buy your goods. But if you were Eddie, the schedule would be much, much tighter.
First, waking up at 5 o’clock straight. It was hard to ignore it; when almost every city building was just a big clock full of cogs, it was quite difficult to turn off the alarm. Then, a piece of bread or a cup of milk, and a quick pack of his toolbox and materials, then he’d be rushing straight out the door.
Next, running across the street bridge. Eddie always avoided looking down the bridge. Whenever he was very high up in the sky, he got a little queasy. He had to grow used to it, or course, living in a goddamn world where every layer of the city was high above the ground. When he finished crossing, he’d have to pick between two roads that both ran into his daily train station; the long road, or the short road. Which one would you pick?
Oh wait, my apologies. I haven’t yet mentioned that if you were Eddie and picked the short road, you might have an unlucky run-in with a bunch of older kids with stubbly beards and dark eyes that had nothing better to do than rough you up good and maybe dangle you around the bridge, just to rile you up. People just sort of did that to you when you had a right arm that was replaced with a machine so people would stop screaming CRIPPLED FUCKING RAT in your ear. But somehow, no matter how cool Eddie thought it was that he had a cog-controlled machine right arm, nobody else seemed to like it. Not even his own mom. If she thought Eddie never saw the looks of disgust and shame out of the corner of his eye, she’d be dead wrong. And that broke his little 13 year old heart.
He had gotten it after the clock he and his dad were working in blew up from a bomb a protester had planted in an effort to panic the government.
It didn't work so well though, did it? Eddie would think bitterly every time he was reminded by it. Nine people died, and so did my limb, and maybe the rest of invisibility I tried so hard to muster. Now I’m a cyborg cripple and working class and a mama’s boy.
It was just the kind of thing people stared and snickered at.
It was very annoying.
But Eddie always kept his mouth shut. Just like how they did with the bomb, the government council and the citizens of Derry turned a blind eye to whatever happened to the ‘lesser’ half of Derry. The half that had to work twice as hard for whatever the other half got in less than a week. But Eddie always kept quiet. It wasn't worth stirring up trouble. If he ignored it, it'll all go away.
Eddie always picked the long road.
After picking the long road and contemplating the brief directions he’d been given to a client’s clock, after a long bit of walking, he’d get to the train station. There were only two trains; one went all the way right, and one went all the way left. The train rails were suspended cleverly in the air, doing a full circle around the whole of the clock city that was Derry.
Then he would hop onto the train that went right, the one that had a working clock in the front. The left train didn’t, and Eddie would’ve offered to fix it for barely anything if the train driver with the crooked nose and bald patch in the middle of his grey rat-nest of matted hair hadn’t always looked disapprovingly at Eddie during that single time Eddue chose to hop the left side train.
The right train was better, anyway. It might’ve been a tad few pennies more priced than the other train, but it was because it went further around Derry; and personally Eddie liked it more because it never had more than two or three people on it at a time. Most of the time it was just Eddie.
Or, he should say, just Eddie and the train driver.
Still following the routine, Eddie had just landed a seat near the front of the carriage at exactly 6:03. He checked all of his pockets and packs and his toolbox just to make sure nothing was missing. There was no time to be forgetful when you fix the only thing in the city that keeps it running, after all.
He put his safety goggles on his head and brushed his hair down a little with his fingers. He didn't really like it tousled, but it usually just went against his wishes and tousled anyway. Straightening his scarf, he took some time to rest a bit, and looked dreamily outside of the window. The view was excellent. He could see almost every clockwork, almost every bridge and almost every person in Derry right now. Yellow lights shined outside nearby windows, and silhouettes flitted around in front of him. It was the perfect way to pull his mind of worries, queries, and…distractions. Speaking of distractions.
A loud clang rang ahead, and Eddie turned his head lazily. The locomotive’s door swung open and the conductor peered out, then grinned. “Just you again, ey? More fun for me.”
Eddie groaned. The right train conductor was the polar opposite of the left train’s. They were a young boy, no more than thirteen like Eddie himself, but acted foolishly, like a five-year old. The first time Eddie had boarded, the boy had stared the whole time during the train’s stops. Edde had instinctively shifted his arm away, just in case things were about to get messy. They hadn’t. All that came out of it was the other boy had grinned stupidly and took it upon himself to verbally berate Eddie whenever they came into contact. It was irritating.
“Helloooo?’
Eddie sighed, and rubbed his blurry eyes a bit. He’d lost track of his thoughts again. Was it already a stop? He really needed to stop spacing out, especially in front of other people. Black, shaggy curled hair and coke-bottle glasses came into view, along with a shit eating grin.
“What?” Eddie snapped. Then he winced. That came out more harsher than he’d been anticipating. But the other boy didn't seem to mind at all.
“I was just going to ask,” the boy went on, “For your name. I mean, you’ve been riding on my train for eeeons, so it only makes sense, right? Puh-lus, I’m a tad lonely. Nobody really talks to me at all on the train.” He pulled a mock-crying face, and whimpered, which made Eddie snort, before disguising it as a cough.
“Edward,’ Eddie mumbled, adjusting his goggles. The other boy snickered and stuck out a black gloved hand.
“Richie, at your service.” Eddie took the hand gingerly, trying not to make a face.
Eddie didn't say anything after that, just took a swig of water from his flask. He slowly turned back towards the boy. Richie blinked, smiling, waiting expectantly (for what, even?).
“So,” Richie said, taking his train cap off and twirling it around with his fingers. “Where’re you off to?”
“A job,” Eddie replied dryly. He avoided talking to strangers, and to be honest, strangers avoided talking to him at all costs, too.
“What job?”
“Fixing a clockwork. Repairing large cogs. Stuff.”
Eddie fixated on Richie’s shoes instead of his face. Brown, leather boots. Messily laced. Scuffed on the side.
“That’s sweet. Maybe if our train clock breaks down, you can help me out.” Richie reached out and took the toolbox. “Can I open this?”
“Well, actually-” Eddie started, only to falter as Richie had opened the box anyway.
He took the tools out and put them back in one by one. “Wow,” Richie said, gripping a wrench in one hand and a sharp knife in the other.
“Yes, wow,” Eddie said irritably, snatching both back and shoving them inside the box. “Be careful. A clumsy idiot such as you could take someone's eye out just swinging those around.” He closed the box shut. Richie giggled. “How could someone so small and thin like you carry all this junk around? You’re, like, shorter than my ears.” For good measure, he patted the top of Eddie’s head.
“I’m only a few under the average for thirteen. I swear, it's true!” Eddie exclaimed, glaring at Richie messing up his hair a little bit more. He shoved his hand off roughly and muttered a piss off. But there was no heat in it. Richie giggled a bit more, and for some reason, Eddie couldn't help but smile.
They talked for a long while, even after the train stop. Richie let Eddie into the locomotive and he got to push a few buttons before Richie yanked him away and told him if Eddie was a conductor he’d kill everyone on board.
It was nice talking to Richie. He laughed at everything Eddie said, and didn't once ask about his metal arm. And he talked about literally everything, about how he was an only child, and how nice his parents were to him. “But I know my mom would’ve rather had a girl. She says it when she drinks too much sherry.” Eddie’d never drank or heard of sherry, but it sounded a bit like cherry, so he just assumed it was cherry coke. But he had never drunk cherry coke either. Just water, or milk.
Eddie checked the clock. 7:30. “My stop,” he said quickly, breaking the conversation. “My stop,” he said again, fumbling for his toolbox. “It should be right…”
Richie stopped the train and the doors slid open. The bell on the top went ding!
“Alright then!” he said happily, but Eddie thought he looked rather dull and sad. Right before his foot touched the last step on the train, Richie said “You’ll… be back tomorrow, won't you, Edward?” He twisted his fingers together and looked at the floor. Eddie barked out a slightly bitter laugh. Where else would I possibly be? he thought, confused. He did the same thing everyday.
“Of course,” he shouted. He gave one last wave before the train doors slid shut. Then he walked up the street to a big clockwork building. Another 5 hours of fixing a clock for some old hag who’d look at him like she’d rather have a broken clock than a little, dirty boy in the mansion. But it was, as said, routine. He should be used to it.