No longer available from the author's site. "This story- which I had intended to be REALLY REALLY short and funny and quirky- eventually became a little longer. And a lot less funny. But this is it. And it will come down at midnight, Irish time, on the 22nd [December 2012]..." Somewhere in the distance, a train rattled on its tracks. Liam sat in his kitchen with the curtains drawn, the lamp on the table casting its searing eye over his handiwork. It was the size of a shoebox, and wooden. Heavy. Inside were things he did not, could not, understand. There were gears and levers and finely balanced cogs and symbols painstakingly etched into it all. He didn’t know what they meant, didn’t know what they were for, but he had seen them in his head for as long as he could remember. Transferring those symbols to metal and wood, after all these years, was... well, it was wonderful. It was a relief. It was like he’d been tense his whole life, every muscle knotted and his teeth gritted and his eyes screwed shut, and now suddenly he was relaxing, and a strange sort of euphoric calm spread through him.