I was there to fix the clicking, which was ironic as my body clicked and groaned as I manipulated it into the tight space. I had a look at the problem and whirred the handles, the clicking was loud and obtrusive.
“It didn’t used to do that.” said the man. “Used to be silent.”
I looked at him and nodded.
“They usually make a slight noise. Almost a heartbeat sound” I explain. “But you were right to call us out, it shouldn’t be clicking like that.”
He left the impossibly small space slowly, belatedly moving his weight, keen to stay and see what I would do.
I moved the handles again and the click with a definite rhythm. I watched the contact points and followed the handles round and around. The click ramped up and I felt my legs begin to melt, it was happening.
I felt the man hover again at the door, my upturned rear end greeting him as he passed. The waves subsided and I turned to face him.
“Aye, it’s needing changed.” I nod. There is no way he can see me through my equipment, my face could be completely contorted behind the mask, all he sees is my smiling eyes. “They should make a heartbeat sound, the ticker seems to have given out on this one.”
“Can you change it?” he asks. “Can you make it quiet again?”
“Aye. Should manage, I’ve got replacements here.” I gesture towards the enormous toolkit separating me from the door and his looming silhouette. “Shouldn’t take too long to do, should I just give you a shout when I’m done?”
It’s a loaded question.
“Aye, no bother mate. I’ll just be…” he pauses momentarily, wondering where he’ll be “in the next room.”
As he departs I lean over and lightly push the door to the ajar position.
I pull at the handles again and the click comes again, waves accompany it and my knees start to waver.
This is better, I think to myself. The waves move across the room and briefly kiss the wall art. I smile beneath the mask and look around the space with fresh appreciation. The clicking and the waves become hysterical and wash over me.
I feel his presence through the wall but don’t let it distract me, this is my space now, despite the wall art.
I stand to flex my melted knees and begin to move to the click. The fast breakbeat resembles a high hat and I start to sway and drum my fingers between pulls on the handle. I keep the tempo and my wrists start to bend and straighten to angles in time with the click. Soon my chest is pulsing and my brow is covered in a film of sweat. I move back and forward, pulling at the levers and oscilating. Dancing until eventually there is a high pitched wail from my toolbox and the click is replaced by a faint heartbeat and the waves subside. In the opposite room I sense movement, but it doesn’t bother me as I bask in an afterglow of sorts. A deep satisfaction bathes the room.
Finally the door cracks open and he sidles in again.
“Is everything OK?” he asks.
“Yeah, fine. Just finishing up actually.” I stand by the box triumphantly.
“I heard a bit of a… ”
“The crying sound, I wouldn’t worry about that. I was just adjusting the tension across your system.” I look down at him. “I managed to get it all back to normal.”
I pull the handle and the ticking begins as it should.
“That sound, it’s almost like a heartbeat sound. That’s what you should hear.”
“Great, great.” I sense his excitement and also his annoyance. “What did you do?”
“I had to recalibrate slightly, changed the energy. It should be ok now but it is a wear and tear item. I would expect it to go again down the line.”
He nods grimly.
“Hmmm,” he says ” it’s just, for the price you pay…”
I look at him again.
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to do with all that!” I say with a chuckle. “They take care of that.”
He nods again in acceptance.
“Well… I can’t thank you enough. You’re a life saver.”
“Not at all.” I stand erect above him, my toolbox now floating effortlessly by one side. “Not at all.”

When I reach the cockpit I look over the slides and figures I’ve been sent. All is well. They’ve made their deposit and he paid up swiftly. Kudos.
I groan again as I move into position to navigate. My joints and muscles ache from the work. Below my eyeline I feel my gut sway to and fro with the motion. More figures were sent through and I allowed myself to breathe. The transaction was complete and I could continue on to the next job. I walk to the next door and it opens on cue.
In a small space I whir the handle and it clicks repetitively.
“It didn’t used to do that.”
My face contorts beneath my mask.
“It’s the ticker…” I try to explain but words escape me. I hold my chest and move to the click as best I can.
“Well.” A voice says. ” I’ll just leave you to it, I’ve heard how it’s done, read up on it.”
My gasping dance falls short, there is nothing can be done.
“I’ll be in the next room, if you need me.”
I clench my chest and my hands reach for the handles, my ears search for the rhythmic click but it escapes me and so does the tick. I lie prostrate across the luscious carpet and falter.
“Oh no.” I hear behind me.
“Oh no…” again.
“It didn’t used to do that.”
I lie and my words are still, all of me is paralyzed bar a whirring in my head which I cannot understand. I listen and hear a click escape.
“It didn’t used to do that.”