Anders: A Misadventure - Ch. 3 The Aeronaut
Anders did find it strange that in all of the stories he ever heard about robotics, Mal1 was proving himself to be more and more of the dysfunctional and malfunctioning kind. Maybe that’s what mal means, he thought to himself while he followed the metal man to his creator.
“No, it’s this way, I’m sure of it!” Mal shouted to the road, he tapped the hollow of his face, and the metal on metal echoed.
The area around them looked like it had once been used as grounds for farming, maybe a forest at one point. Few trees had survived and they looked strange in the open field. They were most similar to oak trees, their branches more twisted and out reaching to get the most light they could. The road itself was old and worn, it was missing a few chunks here and there but for the most part it looked stable. Anders didn’t want to test it for any longer then he had to, so he followed closely behind the lost Mal1.
“Mal-One,” Anders asked as he spotted an abandoned house.
Mal1 stopped for a moment and turned back to Anders, he looked at him hopefully.
“Yes Mr. D-d-d-Delacroix?”
A click followed as it tried to retime Mal1’s voice box. It slightly threw off Anders, but he was still wondering. He moved closer to the automaton that began walking beside him, the click was getting softer, slowing down.
“Why are you named A.M. Mal-One?”
“I...inquery not found, sorry sir, I don’t know. I do know that I am the only A.M. Mal-One the doctor ever made, and I am the last one he’ll ever make. This is why we need to get back to him!”
“I thought we were going to show him the lap-“
“That t-t-too. But we must get there sooner than later.”
“Do even you know where we’re going?”
Mal1 stops again. They had just reached the summit of a small hill and from Anders’ view he could see the spidery layout of the street. It came to a three way intersection, without signs, and then continued on until it hit another intersection. The sound of the motor in the automaton’s head whirled faster and faster until it stopped. Anders sighed; the metal man was hopelessly lost, and probably broken beyond repair.
He got to the side of Mal1 and his hand ready to clasp the metal man’s clothed shoulder. They both looked over the hill when a plume of purple smoke attracted Anders’ attention. From what he could see it looked like someone was down the road a way, and possibly they might be of some help. The writer tapped the bot’s shoulder and shouted to where the smoke had come from. Plausibly in some mundane attempt to grasp the personages attention, but more than likely to get some better knowledge as to where they are, and even more on where they’re heading.
“Hey, hi, sorry to bother you I was-“Anders’ shouted down the road.
“Mr. Delacroix, I don’t believe-“started Mal1 who followed behind him.
“Hush hush, they’re probably a weary traveler and might know more than us.”
As they rushed up the road towards the haze, they could see in better detail the old rust bucket of a vehicle that haphazardly sat along the edge of the street. From in front of the car stepped out a gentleman in dirty white button down shirt and brown suspenders, the gruff tan slacks around his hips spotted with oil and grease. His face was bearded but in an organized mess way. Anders waved to the gentleman, a smile spread across his face; there was no response from the other.
They drew closer and closer, though the man in with the vehicle didn’t seem to really respond to their incoming except to go to the car door and reach inside. When they were finally within speaking distance the gentleman was still partially in the vehicle.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but my name is Anders Delacroix, and I and my friend here are in some need of assistance.” Anders gestured at the two of them accordingly.
Mal’s brain ticked as he went over the gentleman’s appearance and the disarray of the vehicle.
“Help huh? How might I be of assistance to,” the gentleman spoke, his voice not as gruff as he looked, it was low but sweet, as he pulled out of the vehicle with a small hand pistol pointed directly at Anders. “A couple of scavengers?”
Anders flinched on sight of the gun; he’d never seen one in real life only in movies and pictures. Yet here was one pointing directly at him. He moved his hands out in front so that the man could see that he wasn’t armed like they did in the movies.
“We’re not scavengers; I’m just trying to get my friend home to Queen’s Isle.” He slightly gestured towards Mal1 who was still busily looking over the car.
“Queens Isle, what would a scavenger like you want out there?”
“Mr. Delacroix, I know this car.” Mal1 piped in, he moved towards the vehicle, the gentleman followed his every move with the gun. “I know where we are!”
“What are you talking about Mal-One?”
Mal1 began to feel over the body of the car, a knowing nod of his head at every bump and rust spot he found. The gentleman lowered his guard, the gun drooped a little and Anders exhaled. He didn’t know how long he’d been holding his breath but it fell like ages.
“Impossible I acquired this rust bucket from the waste.” The gentleman chuckles as the gun slowly finding its way to a holster on his side.
“THE WASTE! That’s how I know it! It’s from the waste, and if we continue forward we leave the waste.” Mal1 said a slight bit of pride in his mechanical voice.
“That’s what you’ve been saying the whole time.” Anders stated gruffly, he put his hands down and looked over to the automaton who continued his inspection of the car.
“Never take directions from an Alpha series; they’re notorious for getting lost and never finding their way back.” The gentleman stepped forward with his hand out to Anders. “The name’s Marcus Captaine. Sorry too many scavengers out here in the waste, they’d sooner kill you then look at you.”
Anders took his hand; his eyes follow A.M. as he found himself inside the hood of the vehicle. A sharp light burst from the front, followed by an excited whirl from the automaton. Marcus smiled as he followed Anders gaze.
“It’s no use, Alpha,” the Captain stated, he crossed his arms across his broad chest. Every point where his hands hit against the shirt left brown smudge marks. “The old rust-bucket won’t budge an inch, been stuck out here for two nights now.”
“How far do you think we’re from the city? Maybe someone there could take a look at-“
“We’re too far out; no one comes out on the old roads with the trains and airships doing their rounds. Though guessing by the flight patterns, I’d say about a day’s journey by foot.”
“About six hours by drive Mr. Captaine.” Mal1 chirped as he continued to mess around under the hood.
Another flash of light came out, and a cheerful putt of an engine trying to start echoed out into the group. Captaine, confused by the sounds the car was making stepped over near the front and spotted the changes A.M. had made.
“You sealed the air vent?”
“Yes, it was leaking something horrendous and with a few slight adjustments,” Mal1 tinkered with a small part of one of the inner fans and it slowly began to spin again, the car sputtering to life at his touch. “There, suitable transport.”
The captain stood in awe as he watched the old rust bucket hum cheerfully, instead of the coughing fit it had given him all the way up the road. He didn’t know what to say to the automaton that had of course began to trying to fix the one flickering headlight.
“I see the old rust bucket is running again, could it be plausible for us to hitch a ride with you?” Anders asked his voice cutting through the sounds of the automobile.
“It’s the least I could do, where did you pick this Alpha series up at?”
“Well we have time until we get to Queen’s Isle.”
The Captain opened the car door and stepped into the vehicle, in the process moving what little junk that was inside either to the floor or into the far back. Anders wasn’t far behind him, and pushed himself into the front seat. With a whistle, A.M. found himself in the back seat, rifling with bits of a small metal gear he had found sticking out of the body of the car.
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