Pentober 2026 - Day 7: Clock

Ok so, what is Pentober? Promptober? It's a writing tradition that's been around the web for a while where you write up a short story every day in October based on prompts. Some go for pen and paper, some digital; everyone has their own style. I'll be posting here, and I'll be using the prompts from https://www.topinfiction.com/p/pentober-2026 

House rules are that I vomit-write the story; no planning, just taka taka taka on the keys. I get ONE edit at the end of the draft, then we post it. House rules also say that I get to play catch up and do multiple days separately on one day or combined if work gets wild and I can't write. Get it? Got it? Good! Here we go.

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"You have to obey the clock. That's the most important part of this job."

"A clock? But, it's just responding to requests for information to be freed."

"Yes, but there is a clock. Every team here obeys the clock. Time is the master of us all, here. That is your clock over there," Administrator Malenpila pointed over to the far side of Ryan's small office within the Bureau of Pre-Quadimensional Reality Integration Services. An approximately four foot tall mechanical clock in an old Germanic style walked out from behind a small divider and reached out to shake Ryan's hand.

Gears in its box whirred and then trilled out a song, "Ryan, it's nice to meet you."

Ryan looked at Administrator Malenpila; before Ryan could ask, the Administrator answered, "It's can't think. It's pre-programmed from the start. It knows what to say. I'll leave you to the role."

"But I don't know what the role is!" Malenpila was gone, vanished behind some door Ryan could not find in the now sineostio, door-lacking, room.

The clock whirred and sang, "There is a request for information at point D3-40688948-J-Q-R-337693768494-A-Z-!!&*$-5-U. Please be seated."

Ryan sat. A tube dropped from a pneumatic tube above to his right, hit the aluminum desk with a loud PANG that echoed, popped open upon impact, and unfurled into a paper scroll of inscrutable lines, whorls, and markings.

The clock whirred and sang, "You have twenty days to properly respond to this request and return it to the receptacle on the left. Your time starts now." Its eyes shut and its clockface displayed a new red hand marking the start of time. The clock was counting down the days to completion.

Ryan looked at the scroll, looked at the receptacle, and looked back at the clock. He looked around the room for guidance, regulation posters, or a number to call. He looked for a phone. He looked for a pen. He looked through the drawers. He found nothing and sat back down.

Ryan looked at the clock. Time was passing. "Uhm, Mr. Clock...how am I supposed to respond to the request properly? There's no information on what to do. There's not even a way to mark the request." The clock was silent. "Mr. Clock, is there a door out so I can go find some help? Or a bathroom? Or...where is here? How did I get here? Where...why...." The clock was silent. It didn't sing or whir. It just ticked, ticked, ticked, down the seconds.

Ryan looked to the left of the desk. There was an open tube there. He put his hand over it and found light suction. He rolled up the request and shoved it out. The clock screamed out in a tinny, bell-alarm, and croaked, "Request not complete! Reject! Reject! SOP VIOLATED!" the alarm continued as the suction reversed and spit the request back out. Ryan grabbed it, tore it into several pieces, and shoved it back down into the tube. The clock calmed down, it whirred and sang, "Request complete. A plague will be visited on the nation of the individual requesting, and they will bare witness to unexplainable phenomena, but will have record crop yields. Many of them will die fat. New request incoming!"

The clock went silent again. Its eyes shut. A new tube dropped down onto the desk, unfurled, and started to warp in shape. This one was metallic. It seemed impossible to tear. The timer had begun. Ryan would have to figure out how to respond to this request, and it would take much more time than the previous.