Tin.
When I was young I had very fine, handmade, mechanical toys. Small army men able to march around cities with working lamps and fairs with turning ferris wheels. I had fun with them, I suppose. I had more fun wrecking them than anything though, and the little men with their thin, kicking legs and exaggerated features used to keep me up nights, worried that they'd attack any part of me not bundled under the covers.
The constant sound of this age, of the clockwork, keeps me on edge. To this day the sound of gears winding down is one of the things that calms me the most.
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