Chereads / Gears of time / Chapter 2 - Secrets of the gear

Chapter 2 - Secrets of the gear

Brady and the man moved cautiously through the ruins, the air still and oppressive. Eventually, they found refuge in a small, crumbling workshop nestled between collapsed buildings. Inside, tools and fragments of machinery were scattered across workbenches, hinting at the former life of its occupant.

The man, now more relaxed, introduced himself. "Name's Caleb," he said, his voice raspy but steady. "Used to be a tech-blacksmith before all this."

Brady raised an eyebrow. "Tech-blacksmith?"

Caleb nodded, gesturing around the workshop. "Yeah, I built and repaired tech-artifacts. You know, those things people relied on for everything before the Periclusapiens wiped us out. Weapons, shields, utility gadgets—you name it."

---

Brady feigned mild interest, though his heart raced. The glowing gear locket hidden beneath his shirt felt heavier now.

"What kind of artifacts did you work on?" Brady asked, keeping his tone casual.

Caleb chuckled lightly. "Mostly low-rank stuff—Rank 1 to 3, sometimes a 4 if I got lucky. Supply types were my specialty. People loved their fancy gadgets that could conjure water or purify air. But I've worked on all five types at some point."

---

Brady tilted his head. "Five types?"

"Yeah," Caleb said, sitting on an overturned crate. "Supply, Offense, Defense, Action, and Expendable. Supply artifacts provide essentials—water, food, medicine. Offense and Defense, you can guess—guns, shields, armor, that sort of thing. Action types are for specialized tasks—mining, farming, cooking, calculations. And Expendable…well, those are single-use. Like grenades or emergency escape pods."

Brady nodded, committing the information to memory. "And the ranks?"

---

"Ranks are how we measure power and efficiency," Caleb explained. "Rank 1's the weakest, basic stuff. Rank 10 is god-tier—artifacts so rare and powerful, most people only hear rumors about them. Even the Periclusapiens don't seem to have many of those."

Brady hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "What would you say about a…gear-like artifact? Hypothetically."

Caleb leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Depends. What does it do?"

---

Brady shrugged, feigning indifference. "I've seen one that could…reverse time, I think."

Caleb's eyes widened. "Time reversal? You're joking."

"Just a theory," Brady replied, his tone guarded. "But if it existed, where would you rank it?"

Caleb leaned back, stroking his chin. "Action type, obviously. Rank 7, maybe higher, depending on its range and limitations. But something like that…it'd be worth more than all the tech in this workshop combined. People would kill for it."

---

Brady's grip on the locket tightened beneath his shirt. He forced a laugh. "Good thing it's just a theory, huh?"

Caleb nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful. "If it's real, whoever owns it better be smart. Artifacts like that make you a target. Not just for people, but for the Periclusapiens too."

Brady changed the subject, asking Caleb about his life before the invasion. As they talked, Brady's mind raced, weighing the risks of traveling with someone who could easily turn on him.

---

Later that night, as Caleb tinkered with a broken artifact, Brady stepped outside. The cool night air was a welcome relief, but the distant hum of Periclusapiens' patrols kept him on edge.

The workshop's location wasn't ideal. It was exposed, with too many entry points. Brady knew they couldn't stay long. He had to figure out his next move—and fast.

---

The next morning, Brady packed his supplies and prepared to leave. Caleb looked up from his work, frowning. "You're heading out already?"

Brady nodded. "Can't stay in one place too long. You know that."

Caleb sighed, setting down his tools. "Fair enough. Just…be careful out there. And if you find anything interesting, bring it back. I might be able to fix it."

Brady offered a small smile but said nothing. He didn't plan on coming back.

---

As Brady ventured deeper into the wasteland, the silence was oppressive. The once-thriving cities now lay in ruins, their advanced technology useless against the Periclusapiens' overwhelming power.

He kept to the shadows, avoiding open areas where he might be spotted. The weight of the locket around his neck was both comforting and nerve-wracking. It was his only lifeline, but it also marked him as a target.

---

Hours passed as Brady navigated the desolate streets. He scavenged what little he could—half-empty water bottles, a few cans of food, a rusted multitool. Survival meant taking whatever he could find.

At one point, he stumbled across a shattered drone, its sleek design reminiscent of humanity's technological peak. Brady inspected it briefly, salvaging a small power cell that might come in handy later.

---

The further he went, the more he noticed signs of recent activity. Burned-out vehicles, scattered debris, and occasional bloodstains told the story of skirmishes between survivors and the Periclusapiens.

Brady's grip tightened on his metal pipe. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not even for a second.

---

As the sun began to set, Brady found himself at the edge of a large open square. In the center stood a towering statue of a human figure, a relic of the world that once was.

The square was eerily quiet, the shadows growing longer with each passing moment. Brady hesitated, debating whether to cross or find another route.

A faint noise broke the silence—a mechanical hum, growing louder by the second. Brady's heart raced as he ducked behind a crumbling wall, peeking out cautiously.

A Periclusapiens patrol unit entered the square, its movements smooth and deliberate. The alien's armor gleamed in the fading light, its weapon humming with energy.

---

Brady's pulse quickened as he clutched the gear locket beneath his shirt. The memory of rewinding time flashed in his mind, and he saw an opportunity to avoid the danger altogether.

"I can just go back," he whispered to himself, gripping the artifact tightly. His fingers pressed the center of the gear. Nothing happened.

Frowning, Brady pressed it again, harder this time. Still, the gear remained inert. Panic crept into his thoughts as he flipped the artifact over in his hand, examining it closely.

That's when he noticed the faint, glowing markings on the back. A circular pattern was partially illuminated, the glow slowly expanding. He realized the artifact needed time to recharge.

---

"Figures," Brady muttered under his breath. The markings seemed to indicate how long was left before the artifact could be used again. Judging by the faint glow, it would be hours before it was functional.

With no way to turn back time, Brady's only option was to stay hidden. He pressed himself against the wall, willing his breathing to quiet as the patrol approached.

---

The alien unit scanned the square with mechanical precision, its glowing visor moving slowly across the area. Brady remained motionless, his fingers still gripping the useless artifact.

Each second felt like an eternity as the patrol lingered, its sharp gaze dissecting every shadow. Finally, after what felt like hours, the alien moved on, disappearing into the ruins.

Brady exhaled, his body trembling slightly. He tucked the gear back under his shirt, its weight a mix of comfort and frustration. He had underestimated its limitations, and that mistake nearly cost him his life.

"That was way too close," he muttered, forcing himself to stand. The world wasn't going to let him rely on the artifact alone. If he wanted to survive, he needed to rely on more than just luck