There was a hum in the gears today - not the usual grind of brass against brass, but something subtler. A resonance. The kind of thing most would ignore. But not him. Not now.

The Harmonic Mechanic sat in his chair, sipping on a freshly brewed cup of coffee, the sleeve of his jacket rolled just high enough to expose the ink-stained map of notes winding down his forearm. He slid the cup across the polished cogwheel coaster, took a sip, and stared into the amber swirl. Bitter, hot, alive. He could almost hear the coffee speaking to him.

Behind him, the workshop was stirring. Rivet clicked down from a coiled spring perch, landing with a hollow ping. The little mechanical frog cocked his head, his eyes blinking slowly, then twice in quicker succession. It was almost as if he knew something ancient had finally presented itself.

Jynx, ever elegant in her disorder, emerged from the shadows near the copper bookshelf, tail twitching with amusement. Her white coat looked silver in the filtered sunlight, and her goggles slid up like a crown upon which her charming steampunk hat caught the overhead glow. She padded silently to the Harmonic Mechanic’s lap and curled up for an afternoon nap.

The Harmonic Mechanic leaned back, petting his feline companion, in almost complete fulfillment. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of oil, leather, wood, and espresso.

Suddenly, Jynx’s ears began to twitch. She propped her head up and looked around the room, her gaze locking onto the window. Rivet, sitting on the opposite side of the room, simply watched. Then he chirped, soft and irregular, like a hesitant bassline trying to find the groove. Jynx blinked slowly.

As the Harmonic Mechanic took another sip, this was the moment. He didn’t know what it meant, but something in the rhythm of the city had shifted. Time felt... folded. Not backwards. Not forwards. Mirrored.

"That's new," the Mechanic whispered. The tone wasn’t audible in the traditional sense. It struck his chest like a pulse. Like it had always been there, waiting for the mirror to reflect it back.

Standing from his chair, he noticed Jynx and Rivet gazing upon the window. Faint lightwaves pierced through the panes of glass. Light vibrations pulsed throughout the workshop. As he looked around the room, he noticed his clocks appearing odd and ever-changing. It was as if the hour and minute hands were reflecting one another. “Hmm… that’s new, as well,” he murmured.

Walking through the workshop, the Harmonic Mechanic started to feel a sense of purpose, though he didn’t quite understand what he should do. At his workbench, he pulled out a few books, loose pages falling to the floor. He found himself reviewing old, handwritten notes. Then he reached for his notebook - a thing of bound leather and metal clasps, filled with sketches and near-poetry. He scribbled without thinking:

Never odd or even. Mirrors time. Time begins again.

It wasn’t a lyric. It wasn’t anything. But it felt right.

The afternoon wore into twilight, and the workshop took on its usual golden hue. Street lamps outside blinked into life, their gears resetting for the night. Still, he worked, trying to understand what he should do next. Jynx curled atop a crate of broken metronomes. Rivet had taken to hopping near the worktable, every so often pressing his tiny limb to one of the brass plates as if syncing with the pulse that the Harmonic Mechanic was feeling.

Every once in a while, the unidentified Tone would return. Brief. Elusive. Like a memory.

The Mechanic brewed a second pot. This one, richer - a Sumatran blend he’d traded for at the Market. He poured it slowly, watching the steam spiral into a Rorschach pattern.

He thought of time differently now. Not as a river, not as a line, but as two paths meeting in a reflection. The Tone was the surface tension. Break it, and the past touches the future.

Jynx stirred.

"Should we follow it?" he asked.

Rivet jumped onto the workbench and looked at him. Then Rivet croaked.

The Harmonic Mechanic laughed under his breath. "Of course."

He sat back at his workbench, drawing in a frenzy. Before long, dozens of sketches began to resemble something more - a frame, limbs, a core. It looked like a robot. Within the workshop, it was no surprise that the Harmonic Mechanic was up to the task to design and build such a contraption.

Rivet, still sitting on the bench, croaked again, as if to agree with the direction he was going. Jynx, ever mischievous, batted at the coffee cup nearby. She found her paw soaked in the java elixir and began to shake it vigorously. The coffee ran across the table, soaking the drawings just completed. But no matter - the Harmonic Mechanic chuckled and continued with his ideas.

Within that chaos, something emerged: one design stood out. The lines were cleaner. The proportions, elegant. The eyes - not eyes, but lenses. A soul not yet born, but ready.

Echo.

Jynx and Rivet watched as the Harmonic Mechanic worked in a trance, perfecting every detail until finally, he stepped away. He grabbed another cup of coffee, sat back down, and let the aroma wrap around him like a warm fog. Jynx found herself, once again, upon his lap, content and feeling proud of herself for her design contribution.

The Harmonic Mechanic reflected upon what he must do next. As he continued to drink his coffee, the feeling returned - the mirrored light, the mirrored Tones, the elusive...

Mirrored Time.

And so, with the final sip, the spark inside him ignited into certainty. He would build Echo. He would follow the Tone. Because in that reflection, he didn’t just see a future - he saw who he was meant to become.