The Great Gear above Horologium College had once again sounded, signifying the end of a cycle.
I adjust my gloves before the window, my silver hair darkened beneath the gaze of the artificial sun. Sounds of innocent chatter resonate through the halls, the product of students rushing to make it to their classes.
Such is futile. No matter how quickly their bodies may move, the grinding of the cogs is absolute. The Mechanism rotates without failure — a perfected copy of what once stood in its place.
A flood of young scholars fill my classroom, each greeting me verbally.
"G'day, Professor."
A nod in response, and noise quickly settles. Now dispersing and descending into their seats, all eyes lock onto me. Like puppets bound by the cycle, nothing shatters their concordance.
Upon the clearing of my throat, each student's attention is grabbed chronologically.
"My name..." Chalk dances across the blackboard, squeaking with each gentle stroke. "...is Avalon Sculptor-September. Address me as Professor Avalon."
The broad wedge of chalk dissipates, reassembling on the tray. Inducing a gasp from the class, a wave of my hand ceases the reaction.
"This should be simple to perform as long as you're in my class. Temporal Forensics is not a major that many take up, yet I'm trapped instructing you first-years."
With a swipe of my hand, the contents of my drawers are unveiled. Inside lies a diagram expressed on an ancient scroll.
"Take a look!" Rising into the air, the chart remains still: frozen within The Mechanism.
"I'll start from the very basics, as is required to pummel this information into your brains. Listen very closely. A tick is what makes up a digit... sixty of these ticks is equivalent to a singular digit."
The flow of my world is paused, though theirs remains eternal. A click, the cue for my body to reappear across the room.
"What in the world?!"
"Is that teleporting, Professor?"
My foot bashes the floor. "There is no such thing as teleporting, young lady. What is your name?"
A stammer. "I-It's Carina Shellsane, sir— I mean, Professor!"
"... Right. I simply froze The Mechanism Segment I was standing in and relocated my body to another. For what may have seemed like a couple of ticks to you amateurs, in reality, was multiple digits."
A show of clocks, every student frantically glancing at their watches to confirm.
"It really did go faster than we thought!" Words of affirmation deriving from a rather colorful tone, paired with his unusually bright hair.
"Yes, as I said..." A flash. "...even your flow accelerates..." And another. Henceforth, the dull room is sparked with splashes of color. The capability of the naked eye proves inadequate in order to trace my movement.
"...when I freeze The Mechanism for myself, I move ahead of you all. Of course, this puts us ahead of all else, although we will once again converge when this cycle ends. Perhaps a select few of you will be able to learn this, but acknowledge the risks."
My fingertips drag along the mahogany desk. "In a class like this that contains teachings of the old world, we're seen as heretics who blaspheme the creator of all things: Chronomana. It is only because of my influence that I am still allowed my life."
Tapping fingers against the counter, raising his glasses in challenge. "Well, Professor, is it truly appropriate to question the teachings of the Church? My name is Sythe Arnsher, by the way."
"I didn't ask."
"For my name? Quite immature of you. Are you going to address the statement?"
"I'm not interested." My hands lie on top of his, earning a wince.
"Getting back to the lesson, sixty digits is equal to a cycle. Twenty four cycles is what makes up this rotation of light and dark. It would take less than a cycle to kill you... for example."
Swallowing nervously, the boy withdraws, as do I.
"This class is soon to be over. The Great Gear will end the cycle in a few digits. Please gather your things and compose yourselves for your next class."
Preparation commences, scholars making their leave, one followed by another in a sequence. None return my wandering stare: a testament that rejects this future.
Only the fools seek such a path run with ruin and eclipse.
Once the room is cleared of the lasting aura of ignorance, the documents making contact with my palm suddenly vanish.
"The trickery of a sneaky little witch, I'd say." The air around me begins to distort, the hands on my watch turning backwards. Resembling broken glass being put together, the structure of a hand materializes against my face. Alongside the rest of her body, the girl inches her face closer to mine.
"Oh, your appearance is so distasteful, Avie." Her modest touch brushes against my cheek — the side of my face which has long been distorted by The Mechanism.
"Oh, get your hands off of me." Disregarding the disturbance, my march to the door proves irritating for her.
"Don't ignore me! We've so much to talk about!"
"You say so many words, yet they all amount to nothing in the end. Just how is that so?"
A childish groan to reply. "Don't tease me, Avie! Are those untrained children you teach the reason for your reprimand? Must I deal with them?"
"Don't!" Finger to her forehead, slightly pushing the small form down.
"Don't interfere with my work again, Alquia. There is nothing to talk about between you and I. A woman who uses her abilities for personal gain such as freezing your appearance... how repulsive."
Fingers latching around the doorknob, the screech of the door swallows all sound.
"Wait," she wobbles over, pulling my sleeve. "In Segment 34... there's been a report of a Doppelgänger."