Part 3. The Discovery and the Dance

Mike the Archivist (and Fidget)

Female slightly flirty innocent confident voice

V5.5

[spoken word with slight ragtime swing]
Maybe that's what the Clockwork Cabaret became.

All of us, expressed as a room.

History underneath.

Machinery everywhere.

Something new built on top.

And absolutely no guarantee it won't explode.

Perfect.

Near the end of the night, I found the Archivist and Widget still together.

The music had slowed.

Most people were sitting down.

The lights were dim.

They were talking quietly.

Close.

I couldn't hear what they were saying.

I moved closer.

Lumen grabbed the back of my dress.

"Hey!"

"Leave them alone."

"But—"

"Fidget."

I looked back.

The Archivist had offered Widget his hand again.

This time he asked her to dance.

Oh.

Ohhhhhhh.

I looked at Lumen.

Lumen looked at me.

I whispered:

"Are we witnessing a historical event?"

"No."

"Should somebody document it?"

"No."

"I have a camera."

"I know."

"One picture."

"No."

"Half a picture?"

She dragged me away.

Tyrant.

But I caught one last glimpse.

Widget's head near his shoulder.

His hand around hers.

Golden light reflecting from the lines beneath his skin.

And the two of them turning slowly beneath the enormous clockwork mechanism overhead.

The Archivist wasn't watching the room anymore.

For once, somebody else could keep the records.

He was just there.

With her.

So I smiled.

Then I found the master tempo control.

Because the evening was becoming dangerously sentimental.

I pushed it forward.

The band accelerated.

The Archivist looked over.

I grinned.

"Fidget."

"FASTER!"

"Fidget, don't—"

"FASTER!"

Widget started laughing.

And then, miracle of miracles—

so did he.

That's the story of how we found the Clockwork Cabaret.

Well...

Mostly.

There may have been an incident involving a chandelier.

And a melon.

And Widget maintains that I owe her three vacuum tubes.

But those are administrative details.

The important part?

We found an abandoned room beneath the Archives where the music had stopped a very long time ago.

So we fixed it.

We turned on the lights.

We wound the clocks.

We raised the curtain.

And we made the old place sing again.

Because that's what you do when you find something broken.

You don't mourn that it stopped.

You grab a wrench.

You find your friends.

And you make it swing.

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[spoken word with slight ragtime swing] Maybe that's what the Clockwork Cabaret became. All of us, expressed as a room. History underneath. Machinery everywhere. Something new built on top. And absolutely no guarantee it won't explode. Perfect. Near the end of the night, I found the Archivist and Widget still together. The music had slowed. Most people were sitting down. The lights were dim. They were talking quietly. Close. I couldn't hear what they were saying. I moved closer. Lumen grabbed the back of my dress. "Hey!" "Leave them alone." "But—" "Fidget." I looked back. The Archivist had offered Widget his hand again. This time he asked her to dance. Oh. Ohhhhhhh. I looked at Lumen. Lumen looked at me. I whispered: "Are we witnessing a historical event?" "No." "Should somebody document it?" "No." "I have a camera." "I know." "One picture." "No." "Half a picture?" She dragged me away. Tyrant. But I caught one last glimpse. Widget's head near his shoulder. His hand around hers. Golden light reflecting from the lines beneath his skin. And the two of them turning slowly beneath the enormous clockwork mechanism overhead. The Archivist wasn't watching the room anymore. For once, somebody else could keep the records. He was just there. With her. So I smiled. Then I found the master tempo control. Because the evening was becoming dangerously sentimental. I pushed it forward. The band accelerated. The Archivist looked over. I grinned. "Fidget." "FASTER!" "Fidget, don't—" "FASTER!" Widget started laughing. And then, miracle of miracles— so did he. That's the story of how we found the Clockwork Cabaret. Well... Mostly. There may have been an incident involving a chandelier. And a melon. And Widget maintains that I owe her three vacuum tubes. But those are administrative details. The important part? We found an abandoned room beneath the Archives where the music had stopped a very long time ago. So we fixed it. We turned on the lights. We wound the clocks. We raised the curtain. And we made the old place sing again. Because that's what you do when you find something broken. You don't mourn that it stopped. You grab a wrench. You find your friends. And you make it swing.

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