The Non-Human Society

Chapter 82 - Eighty One – Renn - Hands

Chapter 82: Chapter Eighty One – Renn - Hands

Studying the finer details on one of the largest clocks here, I wondered how long it took him to build these things.

Even the smaller ones which could fit in my hands were very detailed. Not just the wood or metal that housed them either. The hands and faces were so detailed I had to get up close to really appreciate their intricate designs.

"Why is this one ticking backwards?" I asked Hands as I watched the longest hand on what he had called his grandfather's clock go the opposite way.

"That one's a simple toy. I built it for me," Hands said.

A toy...?

Stepping back a little to take the whole thing in, I wondered if maybe he was older than me.

This thing was taller than me. Maybe even taller than Vim. It was extremely fancy, even the little grooves of wood that made up the sides had entire scenes of carved into them. The front was a giant display of squirrels and acorns, and there were probably hundreds of them crafted into the thing.

Such a thing could have taken years to build on its own.

And it was only one of...

While looking around, I shivered as my ears trembled. This room was not pleasant for me. Too many sounds, and they were all weird and unnatural. The ticking was like an itch I couldn't find.

I was in a large storeroom near the house Vim and I was staying at. Hands, the man moving boxes in search of something to show me, was a member of the Society.

Before Vim had left, to go handle something, he had introduced Hands to me and me him... It turned out Hands was a raccoon.

"Did your grandfather build this one?" I asked him as I looked back at the tall one. That would explain the level of detail upon it.

"Huh?" Hands peered his head out from behind the pillar nearby. He frowned at me and shook his head, which made his little glasses bobble. "No, no. That is a grandfather clock, not my grandfather's clock. I built it. To be honest I don't know why they're called such things. The shorter ones are grandmother clocks," Hands explained to me.

"Oh..." So it was the name of them.

Grandfather and grandmother...

I frowned as I tried to imagine why they had such monikers. Maybe it had something to do with time and the keeping of it, and I simply didn't understand.

"Vim was the one who told me their names," Hands said as he stepped around the pillar and waved me over.

Walking over to him, I tried once again to imagine how many clocks were here.

I gave up within a few steps, since there had to be hundreds if not thousands.

"Why... why do you make so many?" I asked Hands as I walked over to the counter where he had took a seat at.

"Why? Well... to keep time of course?" Hands said as he fidgeted with a circular golden plate. Upon it was a large set of gears, which he had told me were the inner-workings of most clocks.

Keep time...

Reaching the counter, I glanced around at the many clocks... and especially so the ones that weren't accurate.

More than half weren't even clicking properly. The whole room had endless ticks and tocks, but only a small handful seemed to be anywhere near accurate in their timekeeping.

A part of me wanted to ask why he didn't fix them, but another part of me knew I shouldn't.

"Here, here. Look, look," Hands turned one of the smaller gears on the little device he was messing with, and as he did the whole mechanism went into motion. The gears began to spin, little cylinders started moving, and the three black hands that hung a few inches above the mechanism went to moving. There was no face plate on it, so I couldn't really tell what time it was supposed to represent, but I knew he was only showing me how they operated.

"See here? This little gear is the heart. Its beat is what gives it time," Hands spoke quickly, and stared at his little device with a strange fascination. He had dark circles under his eyes, but seemed lively and rested... if a little fidgety.

"How do you make the gears?" I asked him.

"Carefully. Very carefully. These are wheels, these are pinions," he pointed at one of the larger gears, and then pointed at one of the smaller ones.

"I see," I said. I couldn't tell the difference between the two, other than the obvious fact one was bigger than the other... but he did seem excited to tell me about them.

"For the longest time I couldn't get the hour to properly register. It was always a few seconds off. It wasn't until Vim helped me re-calculate the necessary teeth," Hands explained.

"A few seconds off isn't bad is it?" I asked him.

Hands looked up away from his device to me with such speed his glasses nearly flew off his nose. "Not bad! A few seconds an hour, lost forever! Only three seconds lost per hour equates to a minute and twelve seconds lost a day! That's seven hours and twenty minutes a year lost for us all!" Hands spoke loudly as he waved his hands in front of him, as if I was some kind of freak and he couldn't comprehend what I was saying.

"Oh... that is a lot," I agreed, and not just because he was acting so aghast.

"It is! Over my life that would be... A hundred and forty seven days, lost from my life! Oh the time..." he groaned, and seemed genuinely upset over the idea.

Wait... a hundred and forty? Based off that earlier calculation?

I should have paid more attention; it would have let me know how old he was.

"So... each swing of these pendulums is a second?" I asked as I pointed to the little circular pendulum on the device. Thanks to being on the table, it wasn't really swaying like it would normally do, thanks to it being laid on its back.

"Yes, for the grandfather clocks. The smaller ones are half-seconds, and thirds and quarters," Hands quickly went to teaching me as he stepped to the right as to point at one of the larger, thinner, clocks. It hung from the wall behind him.

"How... how are they working? I mean... what makes them move?" I asked.

"Most use a weight, like this one. The chain is connected to a little wound spring, which you tighten by winding with this little tool!" Hands grew excited as he opened a drawer and produced a small golden key... or well, maybe not a key. It looked like one, but had a weird butterfly looking design on it.

Hands stepped around the counter, and came up next to me. He handed me the little key and then guided me to a nearby clock. One that was no longer moving.

"Here," he pointed to a little hole on the side, and I nodded and put the key in.

Feeling it click, I went to turning it gently... just in case. It felt fragile, somehow.

After a few turns of the key, the clock made a click and then begun to move again. It didn't have an open section beneath the face, so I couldn't see any of the internal mechanisms... but the seconds hand began moving in unison with the others.

It joined the chorus of ticks, and I somewhat regretted adding to it. I was going to have a headache before the day was through.

"Wow..." I stared in awe as it came to life, and I wondered just how doing such a thing could actually make it work.

"Fascinating, yes," Hands clapped his hands softly, as if seeing it for the first time himself.

While watching the newly moving clock... I realized this was probably why so many of them were out of sync with the rest. They... stopped working, and by the time Hands or someone else re-wound them, it was already too late.

Somehow that made me feel a lot better. I had worried there was a grander reason to having so many of them being wrong.

"How do we know what a second is?" I asked him after thinking about it.

"A man much smarter than I figured it out. Vim gave me a journal that told how to calculate it based off the stars and sun," Hands said proudly, as if he himself had figured it out.

"A journal?" I asked.

He nodded quickly. "From Vim."

I wanted to ask more, but I could tell he wouldn't... or couldn't tell me more. He knew it was from Vim, and to him that was all that mattered.

He seemed to respect Vim greatly.

"The calculation was divine, almost. To be perfectly honest I am incapable of crafting anything precise enough to accurately measure it. My best attempt is hanging in the lower..." Hands went quiet, and then glanced at me. He coughed and hurried away, mumbling something.

I didn't press him, nor follow him. I had already long realized that Hands was... a little odd... but he was harmless. And I also felt he was similar to Lughes, in a way.

"Vim gave you that journal?" I asked him, changing topics in a slight way. Since he seemed to not want to tell me more.

Rather he didn't seem to mind telling me about clocks, or time, but he didn't want to tell me where certain ones were. Odds were it was hanging in some other Society location. A place that I could know, and might someday go to, but he didn't know yet if I was trust worthy enough for that information.

"He did! Amongst others, yes. Precious, lovely treasures," Hands said quickly as he headed back to the counter.

"I see," I said as I walked back to the counter as well. I put the little key down onto the counter, since Hands seemed preoccupied.

"Vim is a phenomenal teacher. Wise. Wisdom beyond cunning. Yet, terrifying," Hands said as he paused, and tapped his belly with his hands while going into thought.

While watching him, I couldn't help but smile at him. He really did remind me of Lughes.

It made me wonder how many of my members were like them.

Vim wasn't... but he was undoubtedly an outlier.

"No... no, no, no," Hands mumbled to himself as I poked at one of the little gears of the naked clock on the counter.

After touching it I had to pull my hand back and I saw the little red nick on my fingertip.

"Sharp..." I whispered in awe. I hadn't realized it was.

"Sharp! Yes! Come, let me show you!" Hands then turned on a heel and hurried away.

He ran off, disappearing behind a large pillar covered in clocks.

"Huh...?" I worriedly tried to make sense of what just happened. Did... did he want me to follow him? He had basically ran off...

After a moment he reappeared, waving for me to follow him. "Come, come little kitty. Quickly now, before he returns!" Hands said with a hush. He kept looking at the door nearby, as if in worry.

A little bothered, I went to follow him... but did so carefully. I wasn't too worried over him hurting me, or doing anything strange... but he was definitely an odd one. Maybe he needed to get out of this room more often.

While I followed him behind the pillar, he led me into a hallway. One that had at one time been large and open... but now was cramped and untidy, thanks to all the clocks and parts everywhere.

"Hurry, hurry, before he's back," Hands ushered me as he quickly hurried down the hall. Following him, I studied the multitude of clocks I passed. There were far more here than I had thought. Maybe their incessant ticking had made him insane.

Reaching the end of the hallway, Hands hurriedly looked around... even though there was nothing to look at. Except all the clocks. The only thing was a large door, but it was blocked by boxes and clocks. At first I thought he was going to go about moving them, so we could enter that room, but instead he focused on a cloth in the corner. He grabbed it, and then went still.

I went still too as he looked at me, and then behind me. "Is he still gone?" he asked with a whisper.

Looking behind me, I frowned and wondered what he'd do or say if Vim really had been there. "He's still gone," I said.

"Good. Good. Look, come closer, and look upon a marvel!" Hands pulled back the drape, revealing...

Stepping forward, I frowned at the sight of the circular orb. It sat inside what seemed to be some kind of metallic cage, and...

"A painting?" I asked. It looked kind of interesting, especially since they had painted it on an orb instead of a flat surface. I hadn't even ever thought of someone painting in such a way. It was interesting.

"No! It's more! So much more!" Hands shivered as he raised his hands as if to touch it, but he didn't. The man stood there with trembling hands as he stared wide-eyed at the thing.

"What is it?" I asked as I got closer. Now I could see words on it. I couldn't recognize any of the letters, but...

"The world," he whispered in awe.

Before I could ask him to clarify what he meant, Hands bent down to his knees... and actually clasped his hands before it. As if praying to it, like an idol.

The sight made me hesitate, since it seemed... so out of character, even for this odd man.

"See? See his wisdom? Ohh... it's flawless..." Hands spoke quietly, as if to himself.

Yes. This man needed to get out more.

"The world...?" I asked him as I stepped up next to him. I guess I could see it, maybe. I didn't recognize it, of course... but maybe it was some kind of map? But then why was it on an orb?

"A map. Of every corner, yet no corners," Hands said, and then as if to prove a point he carefully reached out. With a single fingertip he touched the orb, and then spun it.

I stood up straighter as it did indeed spin somehow, slowly revolving as if it floated on water.

"Huh..." I had to admit it was neat. Not only was it detailed, and very unique... the way it was spinning was also interesting. How did it float inside the mechanism? I didn't see anywhere where it was connected to it or...

Then the orb came to an abrupt stop, and Hands pointed with a wavering finger. To a spot not too far from a vast swath of blue. "See? We are here. Right now, that is us," Hands said.

Really...? I bent forward to try and read the words painted before his finger.

The area was on a large... bumpy shape of green and brown. Maybe it was supposed to represent the nearby forests and mountains?

"I can't read that language," I told Hands. They weren't even familiar like some of the signs and books I'd seen lately.

"No. None can. No one but him," Hands said.

"You mean...?" I started to ask why he couldn't read it either, but Hands suddenly stood up. I nearly tripped as I stepped back and away from him as he hurriedly went to cover the orb back up with the cloth.

"Secret! Secret... no one can know!" he spoke quickly as he did his best to wrap the cloth back around the ball.

Although startled, I nodded all the same to him. I may not really understand his strangeness, but I knew he was in his own way trying to show me something important. Something precious... and not just to him.

"Come! Another!" Hands then turned, hurrying past me so quickly he almost bumped into me.

Watching him go, I gulped as I hurried to follow him. This time a little more genuinely than the last time.

Heading back down the hallway we had come from, Hands led me around another pillar. This time this hallway wasn't as cluttered, and the door at the end wasn't blocked.

He dug into a pocket, and a black key appeared as he fumbled with the door. He unlocked it with a loud click, and then froze. He looked around, worried.

"He's not back yet," I told him. I hadn't heard the main door open yet.

"Good, yes. Hurry," Hands nodded as he opened the door and hurried into the room.

Following him into a rather dark room, I hesitated a moment as I watched Hands clamber over boxes and junk to reach a window. He barely got hold of one of the shutters, and threw it open. The sunlight pierced into the dark room, and thanks to it I was able to see the sea of dust that Hands had kicked up during his ruckus.

This place hadn't been cleaned in years.

"Here, here... quickly!" Hands hurried back towards the other side of the room, to a wall that was free of boxes and shelves and...

No. Not free. There were massive drapes covering the wall. Nearly a dozen of them. They were dark and thick looking.

Hands hurried over to one near me. I stepped aside as I watched him reach up and carefully tug on the edge of the huge drape. Something unfastened, and the drape fell free. As it slid down the wall, revealing a... painting... I realized that there were probably a dozen paintings lined up on the wall.

This one was large. Nearly as big as I was tall and thrice as wide as Hands was. It was actually far more interesting than the orb he had just shown me, especially since it reminded me of...

My heart felt a small stab of pain as I stared up at a large painting.

For a tiny moment I thought of the Sleepy Artist. I took a small breath and smelled the paint and wood, even though this place smelled like sawdust and dirt.

Then I blinked... and suddenly the world got quiet.

"What...?" I didn't know what to say, as I stared up at Vim.

"See? See! Knight! Brave and wonderful, wise and strong!" Hands clapped his hands, a little louder than usual but still softly and without force... as I stared up at a painting of Vim, in armor.

No armor I recognized, however. It was silver, but adorned with spikes and weird... were those blades? Knives, on the actual armor pieces? It was weird looking. Unnatural. Unusual. It wasn't armor, it was something else... but I wasn't sure what to call it.

Yet as weird as the armor were, it was obvious it was Vim who was wearing it. And he was something that deserved far more of my attention than the armor's strange spikes and...

He stood firmly, staring out to the left of the painting. To something far off in the distance. He had a spear in his right hand, and his left was curled into an angry fist. He was glaring at something, and there was a hint of actual hate on his expression.

He wasn't just in armor, he was facing an enemy.

As was the army behind him.

Countless people, all wearing similar armor, stood behind Vim. Of the few faces I could make out, since most looked far off in the distance, I recognized none of them... and the most surprising thing wasn't the army but...

They looked human. All of them. Not a single one looked like one of us.

There were huge mountains in the distance, and it looked like they were standing on rocky plains... but I didn't recognize the scene at all. Neither the location, nor the purpose.

Surely this wasn't just some artistic representation... this had to have been something the painter had seen. With their own eyes. It looked too real... too strange.

"Vim..." I whispered and stepped closer. To study it better.

"Terrible secret, yes. Vim the protector," Hands spoke quickly, with brisk whispers. He kept looking at the door, as if expecting Vim to be standing there.

I gulped as I studied Vim's face. It looked like there was a helmet hanging behind his suit, attached by threads of silk. He looked... dirty. Sweat. Grime. Dried blood marred his left ear, but I didn't see any injury.

This wasn't a scene set before a battle, but during it.

I couldn't see any other parts of his body. The armor covered everything. The spear he held looked to be made of the same metal his armor was, and it had a red ribbon dangling in the wind near the tip. It was frayed and worn, as if old.

A Vim I didn't know stood before me, yet somehow...

Somehow I felt that this was the real Vim, and not the one I knew.

"Oh no!" Hands then startled me as he hurried forward. I tried to stop him, but he quickly got the drape back in front of the painting. One moment Vim was there, the next he was gone.

"Hands...!" I wanted to complain, but wasn't sure what to do or say. Hands immediately spun around after securing the cloth, and began ushering me out of the room.

"Secrets! Keep them, for all time!" Hands pushed me out of the room, and my heart thumped loudly as I worriedly glanced at the nearby wall.

There were dozens more of those paintings. I needed to see them.

"Hurry. Hush. Quietly," Hands pushed me out into the small hall, and then closed the door behind him with a soft thump. He quickly locked it, and then spun back around to keep ushering me out.

"Hands, really!" I complained as he hurried me down the hallway.

He was going to kick me out!

"Shush! Secrets! Too secret for any one!" Hands pushed me, and I wanted to spin around and slap his hands away. Not because he was touching me, but because I wanted to ask more questions. To study that painting closer, and see what kinds of paintings had been hidden behind the other drapes!

But before I could, I got pushed to the door. I steeled myself, thinking that Hands was actually going to push me into the door... but he didn't. He stopped immediately, and hurried around me as to open the door.

"Hands!" I tried to get his attention, but he was focused. He kept his head down, and eyes to the ground as he returned to pushing me out.

Although upset, I didn't fight him. It was very obvious he was not going to stop trying, and wouldn't listen to me... maybe I just needed to come back later.

Getting pushed out into the hallway, I sighed as Hands nodded quickly and retreated back into his office. "Shush!" he whispered loudly, putting his fingers to his mouth.

I nodded. "Alright," I said to the very obvious panicked man. His dark circles under his eyes made their wide white pupils even more noticeable.

He nodded back, and then grabbed the door. He looked left and right down the hallway, in a panic, and even though saw no one else... he still jumped and hurried to shut the door as if he had.

The door shut solidly behind me, and I found myself standing alone in the quiet and dimly lit stone hallway.

Looking left and right, I groaned as I realized I had just been kicked out.

Stepping away from the door, just in case he opened it again in one of his strange episodes, I sighed as I tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Hopefully by the time Vim came back and found me, I'd find some sense of understanding... since I'd probably ask him if I couldn't.

And something told me I shouldn't ask Vim about that painting... and not just because of how Hands had acted.

Amber had told me how he had destroyed paintings of him... and those had been simple sketches. Of the mundane.

That one had been anything but.

Shivering a little I stepped to the right, to head to the little sitting area nearby that I had seen on the way here. I couldn't really remember where I was, but I was sure I could find my way back to the house from here... but I didn't want to.

I wanted to wait for Vim. He had said he'd be back soon, after all.

For now I'd just sit...

Sit and ponder.

And maybe if I'm lucky, also get those incessant tick-tocks out of my head too.