Earth is seamless. Constant. Yet, a variable in a universe contrived to be a single functioning unit. Some species call the planet an out-of-date sore in their side. Others run to government gatherings, begging galaxy officials to finally rid the star system of the planet that can't keep it together. But there's a history to Earth many others don't understand. Nostalgic, in a way. And that is why the overlords cannot let it go.

And why I'm here.

When I first agreed to become a Cog, I thought the overlords would send me somewhere easy. There is a planet off the skirts of Nebula Nine that have the tiniest hiccups. Yet, for the small creatures living in that world, one little hiccup can lead to the existence of their miniature, fuzzy species. Fixing their world is easy, so I've been told. And considering I had trained there for three months, I grew fond of the furry rats and wanted to see them again.

But no, here I was, on Earth. I have nothing against the ancient planet; it is a beautiful place. With oceans, deep and blue, and animals of all sorts, I could spend days sight seeing and watching what humans call "National Geographic." There is something about watching lions attacking their prey from the comforts of one's home. I just didn't have the time to pretend like I was on vacation.

They gave me a task, just one simple mission. Or, as my Cog Leader Mikel reminds me every morning, "You have one job, Frank. Don't mess it up."

Looking at the clockwork machine in front of me, I tell myself, there's no actual way to mess it up. It was just one loopy, defective year. Nothing else. Traveling back three hundred years, through two dimensions, was a lot harder on the body than a second hand stuck on nine. So this, repairing a micro-second affecting the world, is an easy fix. One I know many of my galaxy officials will grumble about.

Besides, the way I see it, Earth's soul may be old and out of date, but there's nothing wrong with it other than the humans that live on the surface. Their history is as bloody as a hungry Miyomir's mouth after devouring an entire star system. And that's the primary reason why a human can never be employed by the overlords; they're uneducated and violent.

Not that anyone should witness a Miyomir's rampage. They're just as violent and dumb. But ugly. I didn't think humans were unpleasant to look at.

Unlike the rest of the galaxies outside of Earth, I personally took a liking to humans. While they were a bit rambunctious and reckless, they're also amusing. I have met plenty of folk in my life and I'd say for a young Brigon, the numbers are pretty high. But they are a blur of fake smiles and introductions. Humans, on the other hand, have a lasting effect on my daily life. I enjoy them.

And that's why I pull my hand away from the machine, putting it back in my pocket. Humans can survive a few more days with a broken second hand, right?

In my ear, the tiny communication device given to every Cog chirps with a request. With a gentle sigh, I look up towards the machinery ceiling, taking in the sights of gold and brown. Just like the insides of an actual clock, gears are connected together, spinning and whirring as time is told. Tiny wires are placed beside them, shooting electricity into the soul of it all. The screws keeping them in place shimmer, glowing under the faux constellations that is Earth's heart.

A clockwork system inside any planet is just like the galaxies past the clouds. A mesmerizing enigma with puzzle pieces left untold. As a Cog, I only need to ensure the puzzle can be completed.

"I don't want to accept this communication," I mutter, tilting my head to watch a single star fly over my head. It's weaker than the others, barely visible against the clockwork machine around it. Lifting my hand, I try to touch it.

But my ear chirps again. Louder this time. Stings a little, too.

I widen my eyes. Focusing.

"Franklin Cog," the device in my ear says, "you have an incoming communications request from—"

"Yeah, yeah." Knowing the star above me is out of reach, I drop my hand and look back at the clock in front of me. Out of the million or so second hands running and powering every decade of planet Earth's history, the one for the beginning 2000s refused to move. Stuck in place. Occasionally it twerks, shifts, but doesn't progress. I frown at it.

"I accept communications," I finally say.

Before I can take in a nervous, annoyed breath, a voice practically screams in my ear, "Franklin, you've been on Earth for eleven days! Eleven days!"

He doesn't need to repeat it. I know.

Grimacing, I squeeze one eye shut and look at the floor. Another star is near my shoe, dimmer than the one hovering over my head. The light it emits is weaker than a candle's fading flame. "I'm aware, Leader Mikel," I say. "It's taking a little longer than I expected, that's all."

"A little longer? That's all?" Leader Mikel grumbles in my ear, following his question with an array of curses spoken in his native tongue. I never cared to learn Grimp, but I knew he called me something ugly.

"Yes." I look back at the clock. "The second hand is affecting more than just 2018, Sir. There's an entire decade here."

"And what is your point?" Another batch of curses. A second grumble of frustration. "Simply replace the hand and find your dimension transport. Do you know how much the galaxy pays to keep that portal open for you? It isn't cheap, Franklin."

Closing both of my eyes, I take a moment to listen to the broken clock. The struggling time reminds me of a heart seconds before dying. A sound I only knew because of Earth's television system. Amazing how many facts you can learn from movies and shows. I take the truths from them and ignore my following questions.

Like why do humans wander around dark hallways late at night when a killer is on the loose? Can't they hear the music playing?

"Franklin!"

I open my eyes, pulling myself out from my thoughts. "I understand, Sir." Turning, I face the blank wall separating me from the world outside. I can see the city streets filled with cars and buses, bordered by buildings of every size and height. A truck zooms by, splashing rainwater on an unsuspecting human. A woman. She screams at it, shaking her first. And I laugh because this happens all the time. Not just to her, but to anyone.

If only humans could see more than just their own two feet.

"Well, are you going to fix it then? Today?" Leader Mikel wasn't a patient man. I'm surprised he continues to give me chances. I've heard of Cog missions being canceled under his watch when they weren't finished on time. And he wasn't nice with the termination record, either.

Looking back at Earth's old clockwork machine, I nod, unsure if Leader Mikel can see me. "I can," I say. "Can Sector Three send me a replacement second, possibly two, by chance?"

"A replacement second..." With the next set of colorful, angry words, I tell myself I must learn to speak Grimp or else he'll curse me to death. "Franklin, you're telling me the only reason you haven't fixed Earth's clock is because you don't have the broken piece?"

Nodding again, I say, "Yes, Sir."

"And Brigons are supposed to be superior..." as Leader Mikel complains about my species, I laugh.

Being a Brigon is the only reason why I am employed as a Cog. That and I scored high on the entrance exams.

"I'll request Sector Three to send a new second to replace the old one. But only one second, no more than that. When the part arrives, I'll send you the proper coordinates for pickup."

I straighten, eyeing the clock again. "Yes, Sir."

Leader Mikel sighs. "And please, get this done tonight. Earth will probably need another Cog within the next few minutes, and I can't have you taking up all their valuable time. You know it's a rotating system—"

"I know, Sir."

"—One Cog, then another, like a carousel. If you stay there, you'll break the planet more than that malfunctioning clock."

"Understood, Sir." Taking a step closer to the machine, I extend my hand and touch the old brass holding the clock's face together. It's hot under my fingertips, a clear sign it is overworked and struggling. It saddens me to know that the overlords refuse to let it go, even in this state.

But as I look back at the view behind me, at the father and mother pushing their children in strollers, I understand why they keep it. The planet is simple and beautiful, regardless of its tarnished history. And with another million or so years, it will be fine, we know it.

"Besides," Leader Mikel's voice grabs my attention again, "once you're done on Earth, we're sending you to Poms."

Oh, those furry, adorable rats.

Smiling, I say, "That will be amazing, Sir! Thank you."

"Don't mention it." I can hear the smile in his voice. "Just get this job done."

"Yes, Sir, thank you," I say as I hear the call connection end.

But as the mechanic sounds of Earth's clock fill my ear again, I look beside the gigantic machine. At a box. Inching towards it, I press the tip of my boot against it and push it out of the way.

Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.

Because in that box is the second hand I've been neglecting to add to the machine for over a week. I could have repaired Earth the moment I arrived. But no one told me how much I would see when I traveled here. Or who I could possibly meet.

Glancing back at the open street, I tell myself waiting for an additional part will give me a few more hours on Earth. Just enough time to get the world out of my system.

And as I reach into my back pocket for a cell phone I had learned to use days after I first arrived, I open my contact log to dial the only number saved to the device. Pressing it to my ear, I listen to the gentle rings before a voice emerges from the tiny speaker.

"Frank?" a female's voice, sweet and perfectly pitched, says my name.

Luz.

I smile.

"Frank, you know you can just text, right?"

Chuckling, I say, "I know." I pause, not stepping through my invisible barrier and out into the wet rain-filled street. I'm not sure if the barrier will disrupt the call. "I thought maybe we can have morning meals."

"Morning meals?" Luz giggles are so loud. I feel a heat hit my cheeks. "Boy, just say breakfast. You're so weird..."

"Apologies." The corner of my eye crinkles as I look back at the old clock. And I tell myself, again, Earth can make do for a few more hours.

"Pick a place and tell me where to meet you." My shoe passes through the invisible wall and stars erupt around my leg. The barrier does nothing to the phone signal. I smile, knowing I can continue. "I like pancakes."

"Got it," Luz says on the other line. "Don't be late, though. I got to work tonight and I need to nap later."

"I won't." I step out in the rain, looking up at the storm clouds as drops of water hit my face. "Not this time."

"Good," she chuckles. "I'll see you in a few. Bye, Frank."

She never lets me say goodbye in return. The calls end before I can. Looking down at the phone in my hands, I tell myself the extra time will give me that chance to finally say it.

I can't fix Earth and leave without telling her I'll never see her again.

*

First word count: 2043! I made it. <3 And I'm excited to keep going!
Good luck to everyone participating in ONC! We got this!