Some say it may be the only thing capable of reversing the effects of the Great alarm amplification pattern through Fotemacus's domain. Many have sought it on perilous quest ultimately ending in sorrow as they felt the sore bruises from the clocky arms growing in their muscles. It's fabled spiraling gold arms are said to have no definitive location on the 13 hour face. Meditations on the tiny, clicking and churning sounds of the micro-cogs are rumored to temporally displace the listener. Odds are it has been discarded by previous madmen owners somewhere in the junk heaps of the scrapyards.