The Bell That Waited for Noon

The workshop inside the clock tower smells of oil and warm metal. Fatou climbs the last spiral of stairs with a paper bag of lunch in one hand. The dial above her ticks like a very patient heart.

Bengkel di dalam menara jam itu berbau oli dan logam hangat. Fatou menaiki putaran tangga terakhir dengan sekantong kertas berisi makan siang di satu tangan. Piringan jam di atasnya berdetak seperti jantung yang sangat sabar.

Uri is waiting at the top, pacing between a workbench and a wall of hanging tools. He is sixteen, the same age as Fatou, and today he looks about twelve.

Uri menunggu di puncak, mondar-mandir di antara meja kerja dan dinding yang penuh perkakas gantung. Ia enam belas tahun, sama seperti Fatou, dan hari ini ia tampak sekitar dua belas.

"You came," he says. "Thank you. I did not think you would."

"Kamu datang," katanya. "Terima kasih. Aku tidak mengira kamu akan datang."

"You sent me four messages," Fatou says. "One of them was just a picture of a screwdriver."

"Kamu mengirim empat pesan," kata Fatou. "Salah satunya cuma foto obeng."

"I was nervous." He rubs his bare left hand with his right. "My mother is away at a repair job until tomorrow morning. She asked me to keep the tower running while she is gone. Then I lost my glove."

"Aku gugup." Ia mengusap tangan kirinya yang telanjang dengan tangan kanan. "Ibuku sedang bertugas memperbaiki sesuatu di luar sampai besok pagi. Ia memintaku menjaga menara ini tetap berjalan selama ia pergi. Lalu aku kehilangan sarung tanganku."

"Your glove? That is the whole emergency?"

"Sarung tanganmu? Itu seluruh keadaan daruratnya?"

"It is not just a glove. It is the thick leather one for the escapement, the part that makes the tick. Without it I cannot touch the mechanism while it is running." He lowers his voice, as if the clock might be listening. "And the inspector arrives at noon. If the clock is wrong, the town may take the contract away from my mother."

"Bukan sekadar sarung tangan. Itu yang dari kulit tebal untuk escapement, bagian yang membuat bunyi tik. Tanpanya aku tidak bisa menyentuh mekanismenya saat sedang berjalan." Ia merendahkan suaranya, seolah-olah jam itu bisa mendengarkan. "Dan inspektur datang tengah hari. Kalau jamnya salah, kota bisa mencabut kontrak ibuku."

Fatou puts down the lunch bag. She does not know much about clocks. She knows that Uri has helped her with mathematics for two years without once making her feel stupid, and she knows that she owes him.

Fatou meletakkan kantong makan siangnya. Ia tidak banyak tahu soal jam. Ia tahu bahwa Uri sudah membantunya belajar matematika selama dua tahun tanpa sekali pun membuatnya merasa bodoh, dan ia tahu bahwa ia berutang budi padanya.

"Then here is my promise," she says. "I will find the glove before noon. Whatever it takes."

"Kalau begitu ini janjiku," katanya. "Aku akan menemukan sarung tangan itu sebelum tengah hari. Apa pun caranya."

Uri looks at her for a long moment. "You do not have to say that."

Uri menatapnya lama. "Kamu tidak perlu mengatakan itu."

"I know. I am saying it anyway."

"Aku tahu. Aku tetap mengatakannya."

They begin by searching the workshop. They look under the bench, behind the paint tins, and inside every drawer. Fatou finds a dead beetle, three bent screws, and an old sandwich wrapped in paper that she decides not to investigate.

Mereka mulai dengan menggeledah bengkel. Mereka mencari di bawah meja kerja, di belakang kaleng-kaleng cat, dan di dalam setiap laci. Fatou menemukan seekor kumbang mati, tiga sekrup bengkok, dan sepotong roti isi tua terbungkus kertas yang ia putuskan untuk tidak diselidiki.

By ten o'clock the glove has still not appeared. By half past ten Uri has opened the same cupboard four times, hoping that it will have changed its mind.

Pukul sepuluh sarung tangan itu belum juga muncul. Pukul setengah sebelas Uri sudah membuka lemari yang sama empat kali, berharap lemari itu telah berubah pikiran.

"Maybe I left it at home," he says.

"Mungkin aku meninggalkannya di rumah," katanya.

"You told me you wore it yesterday afternoon, here, to oil the gears. So it was here after you finished."

"Kamu bilang kamu memakainya kemarin sore, di sini, untuk meminyaki roda gigi. Jadi benda itu masih di sini setelah kamu selesai."

"Unless the pigeons took it."

"Kecuali merpati-merpati itu mengambilnya."

"Pigeons do not steal gloves."

"Merpati tidak mencuri sarung tangan."

"These ones are unusual." He points through the small window at a gang of grey birds on the ledge, who look back at him with total innocence.

"Yang ini luar biasa." Ia menunjuk lewat jendela kecil ke sekawanan burung kelabu di ambang jendela, yang balik menatapnya dengan kepolosan penuh.

At ten forty the first problem arrives. Uri puts his ear against the great iron case in the centre of the room and frowns. The ticking has changed, he says. It sounds lazy, with a slight drag between every beat.

Pukul sepuluh empat puluh masalah pertama datang. Uri menempelkan telinganya pada kotak besi besar di tengah ruangan dan mengerutkan kening. Bunyi detaknya telah berubah, katanya. Terdengar malas, dengan sedikit seretan di antara setiap detak.

"What does that mean?" Fatou asks.

"Apa artinya itu?" tanya Fatou.

"Something is touching a gear that should be free." His face goes pale. "If it stays like this, the clock will lose a minute every ten minutes. By noon it will be wrong by eight minutes, and the inspector will see it from the square."

"Ada sesuatu yang menyentuh roda gigi yang seharusnya bebas." Wajahnya memucat. "Kalau terus begini, jam akan kehilangan satu menit setiap sepuluh menit. Menjelang tengah hari jam akan salah delapan menit, dan inspektur akan melihatnya dari alun-alun."

"Then we open the case."

"Kalau begitu kita buka kotaknya."

"Not without the glove. The teeth are slick with oil and they catch fingers, and my mother says never to use bare hands."

"Tidak tanpa sarung tangan. Gigi-giginya licin oleh oli dan bisa menjepit jari, dan ibuku selalu bilang jangan pernah memakai tangan kosong."

Fatou thinks. A promise is a strange thing, she realises, because it grows heavier the closer you come to the deadline. She looks at the shelf above the bench, at the tins of grease, the oily rags, and the single ragged hat that belongs to nobody.

Fatou berpikir. Janji itu aneh, ia menyadari, karena makin berat semakin dekat tenggat waktunya. Ia menatap rak di atas meja kerja, kaleng-kaleng gemuk, kain-kain berminyak, dan sebuah topi compang-camping yang bukan milik siapa pun.

"Wait. Does your mother keep spare gloves?"

"Tunggu. Apa ibumu menyimpan sarung tangan cadangan?"

"Only one pair, and she took it with her." Uri sits down heavily on a stool. "I am sorry. I should have kept my promise to her better than this."

"Hanya satu pasang, dan ia membawanya." Uri duduk berat di atas bangku. "Maaf. Seharusnya aku menepati janjiku pada ibu dengan lebih baik daripada ini."

"You have not broken it yet." Fatou picks up a long steel hook from the wall. "How dangerous is it?"

"Kamu belum mengingkarinya." Fatou mengambil sebuah pengait baja panjang dari dinding. "Seberapa berbahaya ini?"

"The teeth keep turning. They catch fingers, and they would pull in a sleeve."

"Gigi-giginya terus berputar. Mereka menjepit jari, dan akan menarik masuk lengan baju."

"Then I will not use fingers or sleeves."

"Kalau begitu aku tidak akan memakai jari atau lengan baju."

She pushes her sleeves above her elbows, and ties back her hair with the scarf from her neck. Then she wraps a rag around the end of the hook so it will not scratch the brass. Uri wants to argue, but the clock gives another lazy tick, and he stays silent. Together they unbolt the side panel and slide it aside, and a breath of warm, oily air comes out.

Ia menyingsingkan lengan bajunya sampai di atas siku, dan mengikat rambutnya dengan syal dari lehernya. Lalu ia melilitkan kain di ujung pengait itu agar tidak menggores kuningan. Uri ingin membantah, tetapi jam itu berdetak malas sekali lagi, dan ia terdiam. Bersama-sama mereka melepas baut panel samping dan menggesernya, dan seembus udara hangat berminyak keluar.

Inside, the great wheels turn slowly in their brass shadows. Fatou leans in with the hook, her cheek turned away from the warmth, and she searches the dark spaces between the gears one by one.

Di dalam, roda-roda besar berputar pelan dalam bayangan kuningan mereka. Fatou membungkuk dengan pengait itu, pipinya menjauh dari hawa panas, dan ia mencari ruang-ruang gelap di antara roda gigi satu per satu.

"There," Uri whispers suddenly. "Look near the bottom. Something brown."

"Di situ," bisik Uri tiba-tiba. "Lihat di dekat bawah. Ada yang cokelat."

She cannot reach it. The thing is wedged deep inside, between a wheel and the frame, and every time she stretches towards it the rag begins to slip. Ten fifty. Ten fifty-five. Sweat runs down the side of her neck.

Ia tidak bisa meraihnya. Benda itu terjepit dalam, di antara sebuah roda dan rangka, dan setiap kali ia merentang ke arahnya kain itu mulai tergelincir. Sepuluh lima puluh. Sepuluh lima puluh lima. Keringat mengalir di sisi lehernya.

"I cannot get it," she says. "I think it is your glove, and I think it is the reason the clock is slow. It is caught in the teeth."

"Aku tidak bisa meraihnya," katanya. "Kurasa itu sarung tanganmu, dan kurasa itulah sebab jamnya lambat. Ia tersangkut di gigi-giginya."

"Pull gently," says Uri. "If you tear it, the pieces will jam the whole machine."

"Tarik pelan-pelan," kata Uri. "Kalau kamu merobeknya, serpihannya akan menyumbat seluruh mesin."

"If I do not pull, the inspector will find a slow clock."

"Kalau aku tidak menarik, inspektur akan menemukan jam yang lambat."

On the next attempt the hook slips. Her wrist brushes a turning wheel, and she gasps and pulls back. The rag falls into the case. Uri grabs her arm and holds her hand under the tap in the corner of the workshop. For a minute neither of them speaks.

Pada percobaan berikutnya pengait itu tergelincir. Pergelangan tangannya menyentuh roda yang berputar, dan ia tersentak lalu menarik diri. Kain itu jatuh ke dalam kotak. Uri menangkap lengannya dan memegangi tangannya di bawah keran di sudut bengkel. Selama satu menit tak satu pun dari mereka bicara.

"It is not bad," Fatou says finally, looking at the pink line across her skin. "Only a small mark."

"Tidak parah," kata Fatou akhirnya, menatap garis merah muda di kulitnya. "Hanya bekas kecil."

"You promised to find the glove. You did not promise to be hurt."

"Kamu berjanji menemukan sarung tangannya. Kamu tidak berjanji untuk terluka."

"I am not giving up."

"Aku tidak menyerah."

The dial outside shows twenty to twelve. Uri stares at the tower stairs, and then, to her surprise, at the old brass bell hanging in the roof above them.

Piringan jam di luar menunjukkan pukul dua belas kurang dua puluh. Uri menatap tangga menara, lalu, yang mengejutkannya, menatap bel kuningan tua yang tergantung di atap di atas mereka.

"Fatou, listen. There is another way. The bell has a rope for emergencies, and the hands have a setting key. If the clock cannot be fixed in time, I push the hands forward to the right minute, and we ring the bell ourselves at noon. The inspector will see and hear the right time. And the clock can be repaired properly tonight, with the case open and the machine stopped."

"Fatou, dengar. Ada cara lain. Bel itu punya tali untuk keadaan darurat, dan jarum-jarumnya punya kunci pengatur. Kalau jam tidak bisa diperbaiki tepat waktu, aku mendorong jarumnya maju ke menit yang benar, dan kita sendiri yang membunyikan bel pada tengah hari. Inspektur akan melihat dan mendengar waktu yang benar. Dan jam bisa diperbaiki dengan benar malam ini, dengan kotak terbuka dan mesin berhenti."

"That is cheating."

"Itu curang."

"It is not. It is what the rope and the key are for. My mother did it once, in a winter power cut." He grins at her, and for a moment he looks sixteen again. "And you still keep your promise, in a way. You found out where the glove is. That is what you said you would do."

"Bukan. Itulah gunanya tali dan kunci itu. Ibuku pernah melakukannya sekali, saat listrik padam di musim dingin." Ia menyeringai kepadanya, dan sejenak ia tampak enam belas tahun lagi. "Dan kamu tetap menepati janjimu, dalam arti tertentu. Kamu sudah tahu di mana sarung tangan itu. Itu yang kamu bilang akan kamu lakukan."

She considers this. It is not the ending she imagined, but it has an odd, stubborn kind of honesty. She leaves the glove, wedged and silent, in the dark.

Ia mempertimbangkannya. Ini bukan akhir yang ia bayangkan, tetapi ada semacam kejujuran yang aneh dan keras kepala di dalamnya. Ia membiarkan sarung tangan itu, terjepit dan membisu, di dalam kegelapan.

At five to twelve Uri turns the setting key and pushes the long hand forward until the dial agrees with his own watch. Then they climb the narrow ladder into the bell room. The brass is huge and green with age, and the rope hangs down like a long, thin finger. Uri holds the watch in his palm and counts the seconds aloud.

Lima menit menjelang pukul dua belas Uri memutar kunci pengatur dan mendorong jarum panjang maju sampai piringan itu sesuai dengan arlojinya sendiri. Lalu mereka menaiki tangga sempit ke ruang bel. Kuningannya sangat besar dan hijau karena usia, dan tali itu menjuntai seperti jari panjang yang kurus. Uri memegang arloji di telapak tangannya dan menghitung detik dengan suara keras.

"Ten," he says. "Nine. Eight."

"Sepuluh," katanya. "Sembilan. Delapan."

Fatou takes the rope in both hands, her scraped wrist protesting, and pulls with everything she has.

Fatou memegang tali dengan kedua tangan, pergelangan tangannya yang tergores memprotes, dan menariknya dengan segenap tenaga.

The bell swings, and the whole tower hums with it. Far below in the square, a man in a grey coat looks up at the dial. Then he checks his watch and slowly puts his notebook away.

Bel itu berayun, dan seluruh menara bergetar bersamanya. Jauh di bawah di alun-alun, seorang pria bermantel kelabu mendongak menatap piringan jam. Lalu ia memeriksa arlojinya dan pelan-pelan menyimpan buku catatannya.