2.

     The teeth were bent. Again. Xan sighed and plucked the offending gear out with tweezers. He had to wrestle it off of its axle. The works were a mess. Insufferable, pompous Rothers. Thought they could make clockworks more flash if they built the parts out of rare metals. What the sods didn't seem to grasps was that gold, silver, copper, the current choice favorites, were all soft metals, liable to bend under the slightest pressure, especially when the moving parts were as thin and small as clockwork necessitated. Zinc, nickel, and alloys like brass were just as attractive in Xan's opinion and more elegant as they were appropriate to the task at hand, creating sturdy works which required little to maintenance.
     "Oi, Gearhead."
     Xan carefully laid the offending cog on his felt work top before looking up. His roommate's face, grossly magnified, obscured his field of vision. He had forgotten to remove his multi-lense-magnifying spectacles. Something green was stuck between Geoffrey's teeth, Xan couldn't help but notice. He winced. Geoff didn't eat vegetables.
     Xan quickly slid the specially crafted glass circles into their storage position on the frame and swung the locking mechanism into place. He pushed the specs up onto his forehead.
     "What Geoff?"
     "Come down to the pub with me."
     "I'm working, in case you hadn't noticed."
     "Well, stop working and come down for a drink."
     "You go on, Geoff. I'll meet you once I've put this back together." Xan gestured to the pocketwatch, which lay in pieces spread out atop the felt. Geoff snorted his skepticism, but left Xan to his goggles and gears.
     Xan took the little gold cog and put it into one of the many pigeon-hole drawers in his desk, from which several objects - all similarly colored and similarly deformed - glinted. Then he reached into another drawer and withdrew a seemingly identical cog, without the damage to the teeth. It, however, had been molded from an alloy comprised mainly of zinc and aluminum and was only coated in gold. Still it would fool the owner and be less likely to malfunction. Xan slid the gear down the bare axle shaft and pressed it neatly into position. After winding the watch to ensure that all cogs, springs, and sprockets were ticking away properly, he refitted the backing and gave it a bit of a polish. He put the watch in a waiting velvet lined case, in which his business card was already slotted into place.
     Sure that Geoff had already consumed half a cask of bitters, Xan grabbed his coat and headed out, stopping only to remove his glasses upon noticing them in the mirror that hung by the door. He walked downstairs and, after turning left in the hallway, into the Dog & Pony. Geoff was still at the bar, but he had already attracted the attentions of several girls.
     I bet he pays them, Xan thought. He caught Geoff's eye, gave him a perfunctory nod, and slid onto an empty barstool a few feet away.
     The Dog & Pony, aside from being conveniently located beneath the flat, boasted several attractions. Geoff could, and often did, recite the litany of 'The Wonders of the Dog & Pony,' which consisted mostly of young women of questionable moral integrity and good beer. Also, it was in a comfortable sort of state. A mixture of overstuffed armchairs and sturdy wooden barstools cluttered the narrow front of the establishment. The wider rear, past the bar, held clusters of tables set about with chairs generally oriented toward the small stage - barely more than a four by six wooden platform raised a few inches above the floor. Tucked away in a corner was the contraption that kept the back filled most evenings.
     The structure was as tall as a man and encased completely in glass so that all of the workings were visible. A complex system of weights, springs, levers, and sprockets sat in silent anticipation until approached by a person with a viertel note in hand. Several pull stops stuck out through a uniform matrix of bore-hole in the front glass pane, each labeled with a symbol. A corresponding list was hung on the wall next to the machine.
     When one of the knobs was pulled a small octagonal tray slid out at approximately waist height. The viertel was then placed inside and the tray fed back into the glass wall. After a short delay, the works whirred to life, initiating a complicated series of actions which eventually rolled a record onto the victrola, which sat in pride of place at the heart of the machine. A crank unfolded from a side of the box. Once wound and returned to its original position flush with the glass, the music began to play. Amplified by several internal horns, the sound filled the Dog & Pony with surprisingly little distortion. And if that were not wonderment enough, the crank also activated a magic lantern show. Several variations had been contrived, and while there were not as many as records in the Viertel, as the boys in the pub had taken to calling it. Still it certainly provided enough variety to entertain.
     Xan had built the device in an effort to compensate for his and Geoff's - mostly Geoff's - outstanding debts. The cost of construction had been considerable, they had owed far more. Xan had scavenged parts from his considerable collection as well as works in such disrepair that they were thought beyond salvageable by their owners. For the glass - a major expense apart from being the only actually purchased component, he had bartered his services to a window maker for six months.
     In that half a year, he had repaired more works than he'd thought a glazer could possibly maintain. He'd even spent some of that time constructing pendulum-driven wall clocks made entirely of glass. Not very practical, but practicality seem to be inversely equated to cost these days. And they were certainly attractive, before the constant motion of the gears ground the teeth to powder.
     Still.
     Not only had what he and Geoff owed been forgiven, but the two of them now had an open line of credit at the kitchen and the taps, which was supplemented by a share of the proceeds from the device. Free food and drink was another allurement that saw them at the Dog & Pony almost every night.
     From over his shoulder the familiar pop of the Viertel signaled another profitable exchange. "My Darling Billie" this time, it was. Always a favorite. One of the better lantern shows he'd designed too.
     What people don't realize, Xan thought, is that the most impressive mechanics at work weren't the record fetching systems or the shadow play devices, but the workings which received, recognized, and stored payment. Now that was a good piece of machinery.
     It had yet to be fooled by any form of counterfeiting, and Xan was quite proud of it.
     People started applauding the end of the Viertel's routine. Xan smiled to himself and caught the barman's eye. Time to make good use of that arrangement.
     "A pint please, Charlie."
     "And I'll have one of the same," said a voice from behind him. Xan turned on his stool. A gentleman, too fine to patronize the likes of the Dog & Pony stood at his right shoulder. The stranger wouldn't have looked out of place at a private club, but here he was the subject of great curiosity. Sixty eyes banked unabashed stares off of every reflective surface.
     That topper had better watch his wallet, Xan thought, as the man took the seat next to Xan's with a false calm that belied his interest. Xan took a pull from his beer and waited. The gentleman fiddled with the brim of his hat, which he'd placed on the bar top in front of him.
     "Ah, thank you," he said as Charlie set down his glass. Xan still said nothing. The man had a sip of his pint, then cleared his throat, "Um. Am I correct in thinking that you are Alexander Murdock?"
     Xan was momentarily startled. No one had used his registered name since University days.
     "I am, sir."
     "And you claim to have designed that enterprising device?" the man gestured to the Viertel box. Xan grimaced. He said through gritted teeth, "I did design it, sir. And built it."
     "Ah. Yes. No offense meant."
     There was momentary silence as each man drank his beer. Xan hoped that the conversation would prove itself finished, but the topper opened his mouth again.
     "My name is Mr. Swift," he said it as though he hoped Xan would recognize it as a name of some importance. Xan made a noncommittal noise.
     "I have a job that might interest you."
     "Oh?"
     "Yes. Look, would it be alright if we discussed this somewhere a little more private?"
     "What sort of job?" Xan asked.
     "A really big one."
     "How much?"
     "Sir, I'd really prefer-"
     "How much?"
     "I am not at liberty to say, but I can assure that it would be a substantial amount."
     "Of?"
     "Coin, sir. A substantial amount of coin."
     "I'm afraid I'm not interested."
     "Oh, come now, sir. Surely-"
     "Swift was it? Unless your pocket-watch is in disrepair, I think you have the wrong man."
     "At least take my card. In case you change your mind." Swift reached for his wallet in the inside breast pocket of his coat, but it wasn't there. He patted his other pockets in a vain attempt to assure himself of its presence on his person. A foolish self-deception as he wasn't so imbecilic as to have forgotten which had held his purse. Swift cast a quick glance around the bar, running his fingers distractedly through his hair. Xan who had been watching his misfortune with undisguised amusement, started as he caught a momentary glimpse of Swift's registry ink. No, he thought, that man couldn't be -
     "That wretched girl," Swift murmured.
     "What?" asked Xan.
     "I seem to have temporarily misplaced my wallet. I don't suppose you'd be so kind as to..." Swift ended his sentence with an embarrassed half-shrug. Xan sighed and caught Charlie's eye. "Put it on my tab."
     "My thanks," said Swift, taking his hat in his hands and making his way toward the door. Under the soft glow of the recently turned up gaslight, his dark hair shone red. At the threshold he turned, donned his hat, and winked at Xan. Then he was gone.
     Xan drained his pint in a single swallow. He nodded at Charlie. "Same again."
     When the drink arrived, Xan leaned over the bar and hissed, "Spawnspit, Charlie. You've had a Taker in your bar."
     Unperturbed, Charlie said, "What do you suppose he wanted with you?"