FEAR OF FALLING

CHAPTER 1

I am stood in the sky. I am full of grief. At the horizon lie the environs, the confused hinterland of diminishing buildings, homes and tight green spaces that, shrouded in mists of the morning, camouflage themselves progressively into distance. Closer, the taller silhouettes of the city look vulnerable to the intimidation of mine the tallest tower. Between us, one tract of clean reflective water runs out of the city, bisecting it. That river turns and turns again, pure among the myriad of glowing glass walls that track to the East reflecting and cosseting it down the miles to where it meets the sandbanks, the flinted wrack-tides and the salt-beaches and where finally it dies in the sea.     I know that she is gone forever. Another sip of tea. So far below me I see the brick-vaulted riverside brew-houses and Victorian iron crosswalks, the alleys of jeweller's windows, fashion shops converted form artificers workshops and clockmakers establishments that suffered and died as the world changed about them. It is a City that is both historic and modern, always evolving. I don't know what will happen to me now without her. I suppose I will go on.The City is millions of people all teeming, all going somewhere, all doing something. They give me energy these people, even looking down on them from this height. Even now with me at this low ebb their vitality still infects me. The city has complexity, congestion, diversity and vast inefficiency, yet still we all flock to it. There are rules that are obvious, and others that are concealed and have to be learned over half a life time. The city is purposeful yet confused, messy and emotional  but I still love it, just as I love her. I must work. I am a Horologist, designing and making chronometers and watches of the highest quality. It is my obsession and my profession. It is without emotion, clean, simple, systematic and full of rules to do with arbours, wheels, pinions and spring escapements. I design and build unique timepieces for discerning clients. Occasionally I restore something.  People might think it cold, clinical. I work through the Committee. They market me and administrate my commissions. Today more than ever it must be my refuge from it all. I think today it will rain.

 She used to be my Agency my link with the Commissioning Committee, representing me to them and them to me. She is gone now. They sent a replacement, as if she could ever be replaced. It is clear that I won't ever see her again. She is as good as dead to me, abroad, can't be contacted, Australia or somewhere. I can remember vividly the first time I met Janet even though it must be a decade ago. I was captivated by her. She was always smiling even though as I came to know her I realised that was just shyness covering insecurity. I probably stared rather rudely at her that first time. She still came back the next day and the next and so many days since, until yesterday. This new one she came and left some papers at the desk downstairs to tell me about Janet leaving. Called up from the desk to explain who she was. I asked her to come up in the lift to speak to me so that I could understand this terrible thing, but she would not. She said she had other "urgent" things to do.

Afterwards I looked out over the city and didn't really see any point in anything anymore if I am honest. Now I wander into my work room and survey the clocks. They have always been my salvation, my security. Now as the top of the hour draws near and their clockwork motions begin to sound it out, I feel that they have in some ways betrayed me, held  my innocence for me while the days of my peace calmly expired. Still, the final assembly has to be completed today and the clock, a large Gothic thing, must be mounted on the wall and set running. I am already enumerating the list of steps and checks in my mind. It helps a little moving my thoughts to work, putting on some Vivaldi, but I already know that life will never be the same now.