Wednesday did not ease into the day.

  It accelerated.

  By mid-morning the city was already buzzing with something John had not felt since the cosmic casino days.

  Anticipation.

  Screens everywhere were playing the same broadcast.

  Store windows.

  Phones.

  A massive display mounted to the side of a bank building.

  UAC LIVE – FIRST MARTIAN GATE ACTIVATION

  John stood in front of a diner watching the footage with a handful of strangers.

  The camera showed a desert facility somewhere far away. Steel towers surrounded a circular structure the size of a stadium.

  The gate.

  Engineers walked around it like ants around a sleeping animal.

  A countdown clock hovered above the structure.

  00:07:11

  John crossed his arms.

  “Well.”

  The old man from the pawn shop stood beside him now, drinking coffee like this was just another Wednesday.

  “That’s the test.”

  John nodded toward the screen.

  “That thing open before?”

  “No.”

  “Ever?”

  “No.”

  John exhaled.

  “That’s comforting.”

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  On the broadcast a reporter stood in front of the massive ring.

  “After twenty years of research,” she said, “the United Aerospace Coalition will attempt humanity’s first stable interplanetary gate to Mars.”

  The camera zoomed in on the structure.

  The ring was lined with strange panels and glowing segments.

  Not gears.

  But something about the design made John uneasy.

  It looked…

  familiar.

  He squinted.

  “Tell me that doesn’t look like a clock.”

  The old man didn’t answer.

  Because it did.

  Not a normal clock.

  But the same strange geometry.

  Segments.

  Rotations.

  Intervals.

  The countdown dropped.

  00:04:52

  John rubbed the back of his neck.

  “You ever get the feeling you’ve already seen how something ends?”

  The old man sipped his coffee.

  “Constantly.”

  John kept watching the broadcast.

  Workers cleared the launch area.

  The facility alarms sounded.

  The gate began to glow.

  Segments around the ring rotated slowly.

  Not spinning.

  Aligning.

  Just like the gears of the Zybourne Clock.

  John felt the whisper again.

  Not in the pawn shop.

  In the air itself.

  …Wednesday begins very poorly…

  He glanced at the old man.

  “You hear that too, right?”

  The old man nodded.

  The countdown continued.

  00:02:13

  The reporter kept talking.

  “Once activated, the gate will create a stabilized quantum corridor between Earth and Mars…”

  John interrupted the screen.

  “…or something else.”

  The old man gave him a sideways look.

  “You think it’s not Mars?”

  John pointed at the rotating ring.

  “That’s not a door.”

  “What is it?”

  John watched the alignment pattern carefully.

  He had seen it before.

  In the pawn shop.

  Inside the Zybourne Clock.

  “That’s a hand.”

  The old man frowned.

  “A hand?”

  John nodded slowly.

  “Yeah.”

  He pointed at the screen again.

  “Second hand.”

  The countdown dropped.

  00:00:30

  The ring’s segments clicked into place one by one.

  Just like the clock gears had done at midnight.

  John sighed.

  “Yep.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the same move.”

  The old man looked at him.

  “The same move as what?”

  John didn’t answer immediately.

  He just watched the broadcast.

  The ring finished aligning.

  Energy flooded through the structure.

  The countdown reached zero.

  00:00:00

  The gate fired.

  Light exploded outward in a perfect circle.

  The camera feed shook violently.

  Then stabilized.

  At first the gate looked normal.

  A glowing corridor stretching through red Martian dust.

  The reporter gasped.

  “It worked!”

  People around John cheered.

  But John wasn’t cheering.

  Because something moved inside the gate.

  Not Mars.

  Something else.

  Something tall.

  Something mechanical.

  Something stepping slowly toward Earth.

  The whisper returned.

  Clearer than ever.

  …Wednesday begins very poorly…

  John rubbed his face.

  “Yeah.”

  He watched the figure step through the portal.

  “…that tracks.”

  Beside him, the old man quietly finished his coffee.

  “Looks like the clock found its minute hand.”

  John sighed.

  “And I’m guessing I’m supposed to stop it.”

  The old man folded the empty cup.

  “Dealer’s choice.”

  On the screen, the thing from the gate took its second step onto Earth.

  And the second hand of Wednesday moved again.