The evening sun shines off the bronze steam stack connecting to a building.  There is a rainbow in the mist of the steam.  The sound of an engine pumping and grinding of gears could be heard.  The air smells of smoke and grime.  Two men covered in soot and grease walking out of the building, which houses the most important machine on the sky-island. 
Sky-islands aren’t a mystery.  They float just where planes fly for supplies so the people on the islands don’t die or run out of resources.  The islands all have something to keep them afloat, and this island had its crucial island afloat in that building.  The Lift. 
The Lift is what keeps the island afloat and from crashing to the earth down below.  It is there because overpopulation is becoming a real problem down on earth.  Islands like these aren’t uncommon, but it is unusual to have ones as small as this still in operation.
“Wow.  Today was a workload,” says the first man, covered in grease and wearing overalls.  He wipes off some sweat from his eyebrow, smiling.  “At least it’s over now!”
“I suppose…  My back still hurts from lifting that gear,” says the second man, reaching around to stretch and rub his back.  He is dressed like the first, in tan overalls and a black jumpsuit underneath that, soot and grease covered.  They wear masks that covere their nose and mouths, and goggles over their eyes.  Hoods covere their necks and foreheads.  The first man takes off his goggles and says, “Aw, c’mon, Raymond.  It wasn’t that bad!” 
“Yes, yes it was, Ezikiel.  I felt like I was going to break my back!  It’s easy for someone like you who can lift a lot of weight with no effort.” 
Raymond began to remove his goggles and facemask and reveals a mustache that is small, but long.  He was missing his right eye and where it would have been was a camera-looking device, bronze like every other contraption.  His left eye was blue.  His skin that was covered was a slightly tan, but not as dark as the uncovered areas.  Ezikiel’s mask came off, revealing a stubble-coated face.  He has tanned skin, and his eyes are brown. 
“I suppose for you, especially since I can’t even feel any pain when lifting.”  He pulls up his sleeve.  His action reveals a mechanical arm with gears and a small engine, all of it a polished bronze color.  He pulls his sleeve back down, and the grinding of gears could be faintly heard from underneath the sleeve. 
“Well, unlike you, I didn’t do something ridiculous to earn myself this, ‘trophy’.  I chose to get it implanted for seeing purposes, and to actually do decent work.  Mind saying again why you lost yours, being so arrogant about it and all?”
“Uh, I’d rather not.  You know how I have a stress disorder because of it.”
“Stop being such a big baby, retell the incident.”
Ezikiel mumbled, “I…  I got my arm caught…”
“Caught in what?”  Replied Raymond mockingly.
“In the gears of the engine keeping the clock moving…”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to fix the clock!”  roars Ezikiel, causing stares from pedestrians around.  “Why is it such a big deal?  Lots of people would have gotten their arm caught in that same situation.”
“But they wouldn’t have jumped into the clock to try to stop it.”  He wipes some of Ezikiel’s spit off his face.  “Use some common sense my friend.  There was a switch across the bridge.  And don’t say you were new to the job, it was in the instruction manual which was a required read before even applying for the job.”
Ezikiel looks down shamefully, thinking about how he could have prevented the accident.  Raymond grabs his shoulder.
“Don’t dwell in the past my friend!  It’s over, and now you have a replacement, eh?”
“I suppose… I’d much rather have gotten a large sum of money, to pick out my own replacement.  This needs so much oil, it costs me nearly all of my pay.  And only mechanics hire people with such old model arm replacements anymore.”
“Well, doesn’t your wife have a job?  Why don’t you save up for a newer model so that way you’re accepted into other jobs?  I bet you’ll like it better in any other job than this one.  No constant reminder of your accident.  What do you think, eh Zeek?”
“I suppose… But we were saving up for a vacation to the mainland, and-”
Raymond quiets Ezikiel.  “Quiet, do you hear that?  It sounds like engine failure, a really big one at that.”
“You’re right, what do you think it is?”
“Oh no…  I think it’s the engine for the Lift!”
The rumbling continues. 
“We better fix it then!  Let’s go Ray!”  yells Ezikiel.  They run to the Lift and found that a gear had fallen out of place and oily footprints, leading up and around the backside of the building.  Ezikiel says, “I’ll lift the gear back into place, you go after the guy who pushed it out!”
“Sure thing, you hurry up and fix that before we plummet down.”
Ezikiel grunts as he lifts the gear, pulling nearly half a ton in weight.  His arm began to make popping noises, smoke began to rise up and out of it.  His shirt-sleeve where the arm is covered began to smolder, ashes rising off his sleeve.  Raymond, in the meantime, was chasing down the fiend who knocked the gear out of place.  He could see his black trench coat, and hear the sound of his boots stomping upon the cobble bridge.  He was gaining, and then the man took a sharp right turn, causing him to fall off the narrow bridge, making Raymond believe he had died.  Unbeknownst to him, he had grabbed the underside of the bridge with a claw and swung up to the underside the bridge, hiding there. 
Raymond runs back to Ezikiel, to find his right arm engulfed in flame while lifting the gear.  He grabs a nearby fire extinguisher and uses it on his arm.  He ran up and began to help lift.  His eye examined the correct placement and he guided Ezikiel into the right spot.  There is a loud clunk as it slides into place.  Ezikiel collapses onto the ground and sits panting.  Raymond ran to the power switch and pulled it so it resumes activity.  There was a steady grinding of gears as the power began to flow again.  He looked over to Ezikiel and sees him sitting there, head slung over his body.  His right arm is twitching and the rest of his body limp.  Raymond ran up to him and he was still breathing.   He sighs in relief and sits next to him.  He hears the sound of metal on metal, getting closer.  He looked up, hoping it was the police. 
It was the man in the cloak.  He stared down at them, and begins to whisper, almost spitting his words out.  “I was so close.  I was so close to bringing this city down, and you ruined it.  Do you have any comprehension, of what you’ve doomed us all to?”  He spits out those last words like they were fire, speaking in a hoarse manner.  “We are going to become cyborgs forever!  We are not going to remember what it’s like to be human!  We wi-” He looks down at the hand wrapped around his midsection.
“I’m sick of your words.”  Ezikiel says as he crushes his midsection.  The sound of metal and gears crunching could be heard.  From underneath the hood fell a speaker.  It began to repeat what the thing had been saying.  He pulls off the hood to reveal an automaton made completely out of metal. 
“What is this thing?”  he laughs.  “Oh well, just scrap metal now.  That could have been disastrous.  I’m going to turn in this thing to the police, so they can identify who made it.  Want to come with me?”
“Sure.  You think you’ll get a reward?”  replies Raymond. 
“Ha-ha.  Maybe, enough for a new arm replacement,” jokes Ezikiel sarcastically.
As they walk away they laugh, outshining a cackle in the distance.  “That’s only the beginning,” says the same voice as heard from the android.