In the days that followed, the people who lived there made the riverbed stronger by growing strong reeds to hold the soil in place and stacking sandbags. Ethan understood the truth, but a lot of people thought he was smart for thinking quickly. The sparrow was the only one who noticed the little shift that no one else did: the tremor under the surface. The computer didn't simply keep track of the time; it appeared to listen to it. It heard the whispers that most people didn't pay attention to, the soft cautions that the wind and waves sent.

People outside the town heard about the clockwork sparrow. People gathered to watch the shiny bird in the hopes of seeing it. Others offered money to buy it because they felt it was a one-of-a-kind piece of art that was worth a lot. Ethan politely told them no every time. The sparrow was a friend who had picked him just as much as he had picked it; it was not something to own. He felt this deeply, yet he couldn't put it into words. As the sky became pink and gold one evening, an elderly traveler walked up to Ethan next to the train station. The traveler had a leather bag with little tools and unfinished items in it.

His eyes became bigger as he noticed the sparrow sitting on Ethan's shoulder. He said his name was Rahim and that he made mechanical curiosities. Years before that, he had made a series of clockwork birds that were supposed to respond to tiny vibrations in their environment. They were made to alert people in settlements about changes in the earth that they couldn't see and to help farmers guess when storms would come. Most of the birds were hurt or killed, and the designs were turned down because they were not realistic. As Rahim looked at the sparrow, his voice shook as he remembered it. He made it clear that the birds could not only understand time but also measure it.