It had been a very long time since I was able to sleep as soundly as I had. My sleep was like that of a dead man. No dreams or inspiration came to me that night, which was not unheard of for me and my father certainly. Images from dreams were not trusted in my household from a very young age. It was a pointless endeavor to chase such things after we had awoken. Dreams were not real. Just idle entertainment of the mind while we slept.
I arrived at my workshop and store front in good time. I looked up idly at the sign above the peeling pained windows. “Arkwright Timepieces and Repair” and under that sign was a newer placard that I had added to it after I took over the store from my father only a few years ago: “Tinkerer and Toy Maker; Walk-Ins Welcome.” There was one more sign on the building in the window of the door that read “Closed.”
I was the first to arrive that morning, which was not surprising. I felt a guilt like so many painful butterflies in my stomach for leaving my work unfinished last night. I was eager to return to it, even if I still had no clear vision.
Today was going to be a different day. I was well rested. My mind was clear. I was ready for anything that was bound to happen.
So I thought.
I opened the door to the shop. Everything was as I left it the last night. The clocks still ticking away calmly and accurately. Jeffy, the shop keeper and teller, would wind them when he arrived in that morning. I set the book of orders up on the counter for him then moved to the door to the work shop and unlocked it.
I hurried to light the lamp to illuminate the back of the room and moved in front of the automaton, still resting exactly where I left it the night before. I stopped dead in my tracks as I took in the state of the machine.
It was not as it was last night.
On the back panel of the open chest cavity of the automaton there had appeared a glyph. I had never seen anything like it. It looked nothing like any letter that I had ever seen from any alphabet. It had straight lines and splintered off into jagged shapes that turned down in itself. The entire symbol was about six inches tall and wide. But the symbol was not the strangest thing.
There was a pitch black liquid that appeared to be leaking out of the glyph. The liquid was running down the back of the metal, like a slow bleeding wound, and pooling at the bottom of the torso of the machine. It was very near the brim of the opening at this point.
I ran to pull the lamp off the wall and brought it over to the automaton. I pushed the light close to the dark liquid, trying to get a better few of this unexpected and completely unexplained phenomenon. The light did not reflect off the liquid; its darkness seeming to consume any of the light that touched it. I had never seen something so purely dark. A darkness that could not be penetrated. It swallowed up the light as if I wasn’t shining anything into it. The glyph was also of the same color as the liquid that seeped from it slowly.
I placed the lamp down next to me and hurried for my protective gloves, shoving them onto my hands. I could see they were shaking. What on earth had happened there last night?
I looked at the glove and rubbed my finger tips together idly. The glove was thick and air tight. I wanted to get a closer look at what exactly I was looking at. And, after minute of hesitation, I slowly reached my hand back into the machine, lowering my hand near the black liquid. With my other hand, I took up the light again, bringing it close so that I could observe any changes that my interaction may have on it.
I set my finger tips into the black liquid and it felt like I had plunged my hand into acid. The pain was unbelievable. It felt like my fingertips had been burned and was being peeled away.
I screamed out in agony and fell back, dropping the light as I landed onto the ground, gripping my right wrist with my other hand, holding it away from me in spite wanting to clutch my injury to my chest. I had to know what was happening. I had to see what had happened to me. There was no one else to help me.
I opened my eyes and forced myself to focus through the blur of pain. My teeth were grit tight and my breath came through in sharp gasps, trying to keep my panic and agony under control. I finally brought my right hand in front of my face. The finger tips of the gloves had been completely dissolved and I could see the cloth near it start to wither away, turning black and falling away slowly even as the thick cloth was still on my hand.
I let out some sort of strangled gasp and tore the glove off my hand, the jostling that that caused in my hands shot knives of pain up through my fingers and arm. I tossed the glove aside and looked at my fingers, dragging myself closer to the light that I had dropped. I still had all my fingers, but the skin that had dipped into the black liquid still had the liquid clinging in the cracks and creases of my finger tips, making my fingerprints stand out like a painting. But more alarming still, the lines seemed to be vanishing, burning and stabbing, as if the foreign liquid was forcing its way into my hand.
The panic that was battling with my pain won out and I felt a tightening in my chest. I had to get this off of me.
I forced myself to stand, ran to the washroom in the shop and turned on the water at full strength. I shoved my hand under the water and cried out again. The water felt like so many small razors slicing through my skin. But through will power alone, I held my hand there, watching through the tears that filled my eyes and ran down my rough unshaven cheeks. The black was not leaving my fingertips.
I reached for the cloth and the wall and started scrubbing at them, trying to get the black off, but all that did was make my legs buckle under me. The cloth felt like it was peeling back my nails from my hand.
My breath came in ragged. I looked at my hand and could only watch as the last remnants of the back liquid vanish from my fingers, none of it appeared to land in the sink. I didn’t have to strength to turn off the facet as I sank back down to the floor observing my hand.
The pain hadn’t stopped even though I could no longer see a speck of black on me. The stinging had moved up into the rest of my hand, it was a deep pain, like the bones in my hands were dissolving. But my hand kept its shape, so I could only assume that was not what was happening.
The color of the skin was the most alarming observation I could make about it. The skin on my hand white like a sheet, as if it was frozen, a blue tinge where the veins on my hands could be seen. There was no red or irritation, only this unnatural white. Even on the inside of my palms where I was accustomed to seeing browns and pinks were faded to stark white. Where the bone pain was, the white skin spread. The sensations moved up past my knuckles and blossomed over the back of my hand. All I could do was let the tears fall, moans escaping my lips unbidden, watching and waiting to see if the pain would stop before I blacked out from it first.
The spreading of this attack, for that was how this felt, seemed to be holding at the back of my hand. I had no concept of how long I was just sitting on the washroom floor, staring at my hand before the pain moved from a slicing agony to a deep bone ache.
I was just beginning to wonder if I was going to be feeling this agony for the rest of my life when I hear the sickening sound of a crack in from the workshop. I stood up, cradling my hand into my chest, and moved into the room where the sound had come from.
The black liquid had spilled over the edge of the of the automatons chest cavity and was now dripping onto the wooden table. A wooden table that was now hissing and popping like wood in a fire.
Another crack.
I was in motion before I realized that I had taken a step.
The automaton jerked forward as pieces of the table started breaking off. I made it to the back of the thing, holding it up by my good arm wrapped around the neck of the machine man, desperately trying to keep it from topping forward and spilling that unknown black substance all over my workshop.
The hissing grew worse and I peered over the shoulder of the automation and saw that a goodly amount of the liquid had sloshed out when I jerked it back and it was now eating away at the wooden floor boards. I could only hope that this wasn’t going to eat though the metal that was pressed against me as I fought to keep the machine in place.
The weight of the machine on my left arm was growing heavier by the second. I was already so exhausted from my fright and the pain in my other hand; I was not sure how long I was expecting to hold this thing in place before I dropped it all over myself.
It was just at that minute that I heard the shop bell ring as someone unlocked the front door.
“JEFFY!” I screamed out. “JEFFY! HELP ME!”
A moment later and the workshop door opened to see a very frightened and confused shopkeeper.
“Help me get this thing laying down!” I pleaded, the pain clear in my voice in spite by best effort to mask it for the other’s man’s sake.
“My god, boss! What on earth has happened in here?! What happened to the floor?!” Jeffy demanded, but did move over to my side and started to help me get a better grip on the automaton.
“I will explain it the best I can,” I started, then added quickly: “And for God’s sake, do not touch the black liquid!”
The soldier looked up at the voice and saw Lt. Griss staring back at him with a look on his face that told the younger military man that he was either about to start laughing or cringing depending on what the kid was going to do next.
The kid, Josh, shrugged noncommittally and looked back over to the muddy French landscape outside their makeshift bunker. The rain had stopped a while ago, but it still looked miserable out there. One would have to be in pretty desperate way to go out in that and leave the relative comfort of the tent.
“What are you talking about?” Josh asked, with a casual shrug.
“You can’t be seriously going out there.” Lt. Griss continued. “We finally get a moment to rest and you are going to use it to look at equipment?”
“What can I say, I’m curious.” Josh continued, this time with a smile that gave himself away.
“You are such a nut.” Griss muttered to himself. “But, hey, like I’m going to tell you what to do with your rest time. Go on.”
Josh grinned at the other briefly and left the tent and went to the where the heavy machinery and equipment was being held. He had heard that they received some state of the art war machines from back home that morning. He had to see it.
He saluted at the men on guard and they returned it.
“All’s well, Private?” One of the men asked after he finished saluting.
“Yes, sir.” Josh replied.
“Can we help you with something then?” The other asked, raising a dark eyebrow at the younger soldier.
“Oh, no sir. I was just…” Josh started, a little hesitant, but the first one who spoke continued.
“You are one of the greens, right?”
“Y-yes sir, I hadn’t realized it was so obvious.”
“It’s not that.” The other guard said, chuckling a little to himself. “All the green horns want to see the ‘machine men’ after they hear about it. I’m telling you. Those things are weird. Off putting. You are better off without.”
“I’d still like to see it if I may?” Josh continued with a small shrug.
“I don’t see why not. Don’t touch anything and don’t cause a fuss and we won’t catch any hell about it. Clear?”
“Sir, yes sir!” Josh cheered with a salute, beaming.
The two guards waved him in and he walked into the area where all the tech was stored. There where more than a few car parts, many boxes of things that he would need a checklist and a five minutes to sort through.
Then, a sound caught his ear.
Radio static… radio whining… What the devil?
Josh jumped behind a heavy box next to him, listening to the sound, trying to find where it was coming from. He listened hard, slowly moving he head out from the cover he found to peer around in the low lighting of the shed.
There. In one of the colder corners of the shed. The source of the sound. There were two figured that were huddled in the corner around a radio. Josh felt his heart stop in his chest.
Spies?
He ducked down behind the box again, feeling for his small firearm at his side. He knew it was loaded and ready to be shot, but.. he had never shot anyone before. He could feel his hands growing damp as his heart raced.
He strained his ears, listening for any voices over the sounds of the radio and his own heart beat in his head. He couldn’t tell.
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He had to get help. He had protect the base.
Josh jumped out from the boxes and held his gun steady shouting: “FREEZE! PUT YOUR HANDS UP AND DON’T MOVE!”
The two men by the radio stopped still, not moving at all.
“I said put your hands up! NOW!” He commanded and then slowly the two placed their hand up and onto their heads, just at the two guards from outside arrived, eyes wide and hands on their rifles.
“The hell is going on in here?” The first guard spoke, his voice was loud and worried, looking at the two that were kneeling by the radio. “Who are you? Stand up slowly! Do not try anything or so help me I will shoot.”
“Please. Do not shoot.” Came a reply, it had an off sound to it and then the one nearest to the radio stood up and turned around. The light in the room glinted off a metallic face framed by an ill fitting military cap. The eyes of the machine man glowed with a red tint that set Josh back a few steps, but he kept his gun in his hand, watching the other soldiers for guidance.
“Hey! You stand up too!” The guard shouted gesturing to the other person that was still seated by the radio.
“Do as he says, Zim.” The metal faced person said and then the other stood as well. This one was much shorter than the first, who must have been an easy six feet and generous change. This one was about as tall as Josh, also with a metal face and glowing white eyes. This one kept its head low, looking up at the guards and Josh was a sort of apprehension that was clear to the young private.
The lead guard moved over to the machines, keeping his gun raised. He looked down at the radio then switched it off with a snap.
“What the hell you doing with that radio? Answer me, spook!” The guard demanded, shoving his gun forward threateningly.
“We were just looking for something to listen to. Honestly.” The tall machine man answered. “We had found a small French radio show back in Paris that we were trying to find again.”
The guard looked at them with dark suspicion, then dropped his gun to his side and took the radio up into his hands, looking it over. I could see from where I was standing that it was a receiver, there was no way for it to broadcast anything into the airways.
At length he stood up, radio still in his hands.
“You are not to touch anything here. I should not have to tell you this. If we find you tampering with anything in here again, I don’t care how much you cost, I will put you in the ground. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir.” The first said.
“But… the radio…” The second said and the first looked over sharply at the second.
“What about the radio?” the guard said, getting in close to the small machine.
“There was a woman on the radio… in Paris… She was singing such a beautiful song. If you are not using the radio, can’t we borrow it for a while? Please?” The machine asked.
The guard raised the butt of his gun and slammed it into the side of the machines head, causing it to fall backwards.
“Hey! He understands sir.” The first said, there was a change in the tone that gave the room a chill. “I do hope you will be patient as he adjusts to the new requirements of him here.”
“I shouldn’t have to be patient with our equipment.” The guard growled, still with the radio in hand and stalked back to where the other guard and Josh were waiting.
“Told you they were odd.” The other guard told Josh before following the other with the radio.
Josh stayed put, still watching.
The first machine man went the helped the other that was attacked to stand, straightening the other’s ill fitting civilian wear.
“Ow… I think I’m dented.” The smaller one whined, rubbing the spot where it was struck. the metal of its fingers gave small scraping sounds as it inspected itself for damages. It had a metal dome of a head that Josh could see plainly now that the things hat fell away.
“Let me see…” The taller one instructed and pulled the smaller hands away. “Ah, don’t be a baby, you are fine. Just a little paint got scratched. Nothing to worry about.”
Josh was completely entranced by the metallic creatures in front of him, he had never seen anything like them and all he could do was stare until they both started staring back at him. He then looked down, embarrassed.
“Is there something we can assist you with, private?” The taller one asked, tilting his head to the side and holding out a hand as if offering a help to a fallen person.
“I’m sorry” Josh started, not really sure where to start and feeling very awkward. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble back there. I just wanted to see you, to be honest.”
The taller one dropped its hands to its sides.
“You didn’t get us in trouble, private. We were the ones messing with the radio. Please, if you wanna closer look come on over, we won’t bite ya.”
The tone of the automaton was friendly if still a little strange sounding to Josh. The voice had a bit of an echo to it that he could hear now that he was standing closer to them and the static was no longer masking smaller sounds. It had a bit of a crackle to it like the gramophones that reminded Josh of his old family home back in Carolina. He wondered briefly how the things were able to speak and almost asked them. Almost.
He looked over at the smaller one and noted that there was a nasty scratch near the right temple of the things head. Josh found himself wincing in a sympathetic pain as the automaton shook its head. There was no rattle that sounded off from inside the things head, so he assumed it was fine. Again that was all he had to go on at this point.
“I’m Josh. Private Josh Kirkland.” Josh introduced himself, stopping when he was about a foot away from the tallest machine. At this closeness Josh predicted that the thing was an easy 6 foot and 3 inches. The clothing that it was wearing were clearly old civvies, but they hung off the creature as if it was being worn by a skeleton.
“Hello Private Kirkland. It is nice to have a name to go with the face. My name is Isaac.” The taller machine, Isaac explained, tapping one of its hands against its chest giving off something of a hallow sound. “And the little guy behind me is Zimran. You could call him my little brother, I suppose.”
The smaller automaton, Zimran, waved a hand, but didn’t say anything. It wore the some sort of clothing that the Isaac wore and Josh couldn’t help but wonder why they were wearing clothes of any sort.
“I knew we sort of got off to a rough start here. It’s nice to meet you.” Isaac continued and held out a hand to me as if asking for me to shake it.
Josh happily took it, careful not to grip too hard on the hand and risk damaging it. The metal was cold on his skin and the strength that he gave was mirrored perfectly, not gripping too tightly. He could feel small vibrations through the hand as it moved and adjusted the grip to give the hand a smart shake.
The machine let go and took a small step back, clearly waiting for Josh to do something next. He wasn’t sure what exactly he should do. Should he ask more questions? Should he try to see what was in the machines? Josh remembered that he was instructed not to mess around with anything in this room but did that count with the clearly self aware machines in front of him?
“What were you trying to do with the radio?” He asked instead.
Isaac let out a hiss of steam that seemed something like a sigh then turned back to look at Zimran.
“You can thank, ‘ol Zimmy over here for that one.” Isaac said, reaching up and giving the other a small push causing the smaller to adjust their sanding gait a little with another whine. “Someone fell in love with a voice over the air ways… again.”
“That is not true!” Zimran bit back, not looking at Josh. “I am not falling in love! I just thought her voice was pretty. I never asked you to find a radio for me! You were the one that wanted to see if you could hear from Ishmael.”
“Ishmael?” Josh asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to keep up with what was being said.
“I guess we both had our reasons for wanting to mess around with the radio.” Isaac said, not paying any mind to Josh at that moment. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t check the frequency that I thought he would be usin’ out there. We are probably way too far out of range.”
“What is Ishmael?” Josh tried again, walking over to stand next to the machines.
“Ishmael’s my big brother.” Zimran said, finally looking at Josh. “He used to send us little messages though the radio when he was able. But now that he was sent out with another team we haven’t heard anything from him at all… I think Isaac is scared.”
“I am not scared at all, Zims!” Isaac correcting then turned to look at Josh. “Ish can take care of himself. He might not be as old as I am, but I am sure that he will be able to manage whatever those that… rented, I guess is the correct word, us want him to do. Just like we will be able to do the same when our time comes.”
“And what is it that you are going to be doing with us here?” Josh asked, honestly curious as to what the purpose of these strange machines were.
“We do not know.” Isaac said, giving the young soldier a small shrug. “I’m not sure anyone knows. They taught us to do all sorts of things before we were sent here. More then a few of those things I will be just as happy to go without using, to be completely honest.”
“I’ve learned how to be a medic!” Zimran added helpfully. “I would like to be able to help with those sorts of things. More healing. Less hurting.”
“You don’t want to talk about such things, Zims.” Isaac said, the voice of the machine softening slightly in a sort of concern that Josh wasn’t sure to take seriously or not, it was very hard to tell with the synthetic sound of the voice itself. “Remember what Ish told you.”
“Why do you call him your big brother? Are you sort of related?” Josh asked instead, trying to break up the awkwardness that was threatening come over them.
“We are all brothers! All made by our creator, Abraham Arkwright III.” Zimran chirped, straightening with a proud clink as he said so. “Isaac was built first, then Ishmael, then me.”
“Do you have a family back home, Private?” Isaac asked.
Josh let out a small sigh as his mind went unbidden back to his home. The memories of the old house with it’s strange creaks in the foul weather. The thing would likely be a symphony if it were build out here in the French country side.
“Yeah. I got a family back home.” Josh finally answered.
“Any brothers of your own?” Isaac asked.
“Or sisters?” Zimran continued.
“I have a little sister. Jill.” Josh reported. “Yeah, our parents went with Josh and Jill, how is that for naming conventions?”
“Those both seem like wonderful names to me.” Zimran said.
Josh couldn’t help the grin that came over his face as he watched the smaller of the machine men. Its tone was so genuine and friendly, the air it gave off was nothing like the other one. The taller seemed reserved and quiet, like it expected some sort of violent behavior to come at any second, but the smaller seemed so… trusting. He couldn’t help but warm up to it.
“What is your family like?” Josh asked, but as soon as the words left his mouth he questioned whether or not it was the right thing to say.
But the little machine jumped slightly and reached into one of its pockets, pulling out a photograph with very delicate movements.
“This is my family!” Zimran explained, holding out the picture to Josh in its metal palm. Being so close to the machine’s hand, he couldn’t help but marvel at how carefully crafted it was, delicate finger joints on all three of the long fingers and thumb. There were creased in the inside of the palm to help with gripping. Whoever designed them took great care to make them look as human as possible. Josh was so distracted he almost didn’t catch what was on the picture.
In the picture was a small family. There was a pale man in the center wearing gloves, next to him was a woman of about the same age with long light colored hair and standing next to them were two nearly identical young men. Behind them, were more machine men.
“That’s father there in the center.” Zimran explained, pointing to the man with the gloves.
“Abraham Arkwright III.” Isaac clarified. “He is the one who built us.”
“Yeah! And that’s our momma!” Zimran went on, pointing to the woman in the picture.
“Ruth Arkwright. Fath-Abraham Arkwright’s wife.” Isaac continued. “She didn’t have any direct influence of our creation. But she does look out for us like a mother would, I think.”
“And that’s Asher and Ashton.” Zimran pointed to the two other boys on either side of the couple in the center. “Those are our father’s sons. Those are the ones that he made with Mamma Ruth. They are not like us. They are more like father. He didn’t build them in a lab.”
“As far as we know.” Isaac added with a jaunty wink at me. Josh wasn’t sure what to make of that so he just let out a nervous laugh and hope that was the correct response to the situation. “Twins, I think is what they were called, created at the same time.”
“Isn’t momma Ruth something amazing?” Zimran went on. “Not even father can manage to make more than one of us at a time!”
“And what are those behind the family?” Josh asked.
“Ah! Those are the other sons!” Zimran cheered then started pointing to each. “That one is Isaac, standing the closest to Father. Then there is me to the right, and next to me is Joksha. And standing at the end near to Ashton is Ishmael. He is the one that we were trying to listen for on the radio.”
Josh could not miss the third automaton in the picture. He towered over the rest of the family. It was easily the largest and most intimidating built. Even in a still shot it looked like it could break a human in half.
“There are more than this, but they weren’t built yet when this picture was taken.” Zimran added.
“And, where is this Ishmael now?” Josh asked, looking back up to the machine that held out the picture for me to see.
“Like we said, we don’t know.” Isaac said, the voice that came from the other was quiet and pained sounding. “We were all sent out together, but they split us up. Didn’t tell us where they were taking him.”
“But then we heard him on the radio a few days ago!” Zimran added. Taking the picture and placing it carefully into his pocket again. “He had gotten on a radio in the new place that he arrived at. He wasn’t able to tell us any details of where he was, but he said that he was safe and he would try to radio us again as soon as he was able, so we would know that he was still safe.”
“Then there was a lady on the radio.” Isaac added, prodding Zimran slightly in good humor. “I’d say we were doomed the moment we turned on.”
“We were listening for word of my big brother!” Zimran defended shoving Isaac back but the other machine did not budge in the slightest. “This had nothing to do with the singer! You are embarrassing me for no reason at all! Do not be mean to me!”
Isaac made a sound that more resonated out of the chest then broadcast out of the mouth of the machine. Like a chuckle of a child that was hiding in a closet. You knew the sound came from somewhere but there was no clear location of where. It was a deep, mischievous and disconnected sound.
Josh laughed as well. These strange creatures reminded his painfully of his life back home. Teasing his little sister. Giving his pals at school a hard time for their crushes. Things that he assumed all people experienced.
“You have to obey me! I have given you a direct order!”
Ishmael stood stock still, staring at the man in front of him. The person suddenly seemed far more small then any other human he had ever seen. Face flushed, eyes glaring hard at the machine man standing in front of him; breath starting to come in hard as the emotion fueled outburst worked through him. Ishmael wondered idly what it must feel like to have the feeling of adrenaline. Suddenly having energy forced through you, heightening the fight or flight reflex born in all living beings.
It was always something of a hang up for his other brothers. If we did not have a fight or flight reflex, did that mean that we are not living? Ishmael did not have the answers to such complex questions, and he knew Isaac didn’t either, but unlike Isaac, Ishmael wasn’t one to make up facts when he didn’t know them. He didn’t think there was anything shameful in admitting that he didn’t know that answer to something. That was only a way for him to improve on himself and increase his knowledge of all things. Granted, his love for knowledge wasn’t as all consuming at it was for his other siblings, like Jokshaw, but curiosity was something all the sons of Abraham seemed to share with each other.
Curiosity. Wasn’t that a human trait? Did not the desire to learn and better ones self make them more human than a simple fight or flight reflex? Again, Ishmael wasn’t about to have the answers, but in that moment, he didn’t need the answer either. Not in the face of this strange adversary that had presented himself to the machine in such an aggressive and hostile way.
He moved his eyes over the target that he was assigned. There was a human, bound, laying on the ground, apparently unconscious. The clothing that he wore was stained from over long weir and too little replacements. He knew the symbols of the old German uniform, even from the position the other was in. The man was obviously no threat to anyone in the room. He was just laying there.
Ishmael looked back to the man who was still glaring at the tall automaton, his look of rage was mixed with a look of expectancy. He had the coat and the pin of the Scientific Society of Man proudly displayed.
There was still one more person in the room and Ishmael twisted to look at the silent form on Dr. Xerxes Strand. He stood with his arms crossed, no pen or note paper in his hands. A real sense of unease twisted in Ishmael’s dark element core. Xerxes was a man of many notes, the fact that he had none was more than alarming. Ishmael also didn’t like that there was no sign on Master Arkwright with them.
Where was Master Arkwright?
“Where is Master Arkwright?” Ishmael asked, turning back to the other scientist in the room.
“That is unrelated to the command I have given you!” The man in front of him said again, pointing a finger at the bound man on the floor in the cold room. “Kill this man, at once!”
Ishmael could feel a rattle threaten to break out over his form that he refused to let out. His dark element only twisting faster and stormier inside of himself.
“Why do you want me to kill this man?” Ishmael asked, not moving at all.
“The only reason you need is because I commanded you to do so!” The man said, but before he could continue, Xerxes walked up beside the man.
“Ishmael, what orders did Abraham give you before you were sent to the lab here?” Dr. Strand asked, his tone was cool and in control, quite the counter to the other researcher in the room with them.
“Master Arkwright told me that you would be running some tests to see how well equipped I would be to help the United States of America in their efforts to aid our allies in Europe.” Ishmael recounted.
“And what did he tell you to do to help us?” Xerxes continued.
“To obey all orders and submit to any tests that would be done.” Ishmael answered, without hesitation. He had a perfect memory in all things.
“Well, then what is the problem here?” Xerxes asked, no smile lighting his features. “The test we are asking you to submit to is right in front of you. Your orders for this test are to kill this man.”
“But I do not wish to take the life of this man.” Ishmael countered. He could see that the command was given to him and he was technically disobeying Master Arkwright, but he didn’t want to take any life from anyone. It was a desire. Human’s had desires. Human’s had wants. Was this so hard for the others in the room to understand? They were also human as far as Ishmael could tell.
“Your ‘wishes’ are of no concern to me, nor are they the concern of the government. You will do as you are commanded.” The other scientist said again, the strain on his face was so worryingly powerful, Ishmael feared that he would rupture something serious if he kept on at his current rate of stress.
But Ishmaels vague disgust at witnessing the person in front of him injure himself did not outweigh his desire to keep the unnamed prisoner alive.
“They are your concern.” Ishmael said, still not moving in any way forward or in retreat. “I see no reason why this man should die. I see no reason why I should obey you in this way. As far as I am aware, this man has done nothing wrong.”
“Ah, wrong and right. How fascinating.” Dr. Strand said, walking up closer to Ishmael. “You feel that you are the arbiter for what I right and what is wrong? I am surprised you think you understand such matters.”
Ishmael was unsure how to respond to this.
“I do not claim to understand such matters.” Ishmael countered, but the dark matter did not stop twisting inside of his core. “But I know I do not wish to harm this person who had done nothing to me or to my family.”
“You need a reason to kill. That is what you are saying.” Xerxes said with a grin that made him look like he just found a hidden treasure on another man’s land.
Ishmael said nothing.
“Speechless, all of a sudden, I see.” Xerxes said, then walked towards the phone that was on the wall and dialed a number that Ishmael did not catch.
“It’s Xerxes. We need another machine sent down here if you are not in the middle of an experiment over by you… That should be fine with me… Yes, see that it is sent to us… We will be waiting. Thank you.”
Xerxes hung up the phone and returned to his place at the door. Both Ishmael and the other doctor looked at him with confusion in their expressions, though on the doctor it was easier to see the inquisitive look on his face then on the automaton’s. There was not much of an expression range on the steel face of the other.
Xerxes only looked unconcerned and just when Ishmael was beginning to think that their method was wait until boredom caused Ishmael to obey the strange an cruel order, there was a knock at the door and Xerxes opened it to reveal another doctor in a lab coat and Ishmael’s youngest sibling, Midian.
Midian brightened considerably when he saw his older brother, the small stress tremors that Ishmael could see in the others small form vanished almost completely and his back straightened with a confidence that he was lacking only moments ago. Ishmael felt a warm pride in his core as he watched his little brother walk into the room. But he stopped suddenly when he saw the man bound on the floor.
“Oh no!” The young automaton called out and started for the injured man. “Injured! Injured! Help! Will Help!”
“Stop at once!” Xerxes commanded and Midian halted so suddenly he toppled forward, landing on the hard ground with a loud metallic smash. A smash so violent that the bound man started and opened his eyes.
“But… Injured…” Midian started again, slowly starting to right himself.
Ishmael let out a hiss of built up steam as he watched his youngest brother work to write himself. He wasn’t as complicated as Ishmael was and he had developed some sort of speech impediment after Ishbak was disassembled so violently. But the little automaton had found his calling when it came to repairing and healing others.
But the hiss was cut out suddenly when the unnamed doctor retrieved a strange metallic device from the lab table and moved towards where the automaton was working to write itself. The doctor shoved the rod down onto the back on the machine and with a flick of a switch the thing came to life with electricity, shocking and burning electrical currents though the metal man that was on the ground.
The air was lit with electric snapping and a strange popping sounds and garbled cries that only barely reached above the sounds of the popping.
“STOP!” Ishmael commanded, taking a step forward, his heavy form stomping on the ground. The doctor pulled away and looked at him with a grim expression. “DO NOT DO THAT. IT DAMAGES HIM.”
“I am aware that it damages him.” Xerxes said coming to stand in front of Ishmael. “That is part of this exercise.”
“Why. Why do you want to hurt Midian?” Ishmael asked, his dark matter twisting faster. He could sense the black tendrils reaching up further in the back of his torso, demanding that he do something to protect his brother from this situation. His family was in danger.
“It is all part of the experiment.” Xerxes explained his tone was conversational and calm, like he was explaining something to a colleague. “You seem to need some sort of motivation to complete orders. A sort of reason that you can call back to when making choices. This is your motivation.”
With another nod from Xerxes, the other doctor kicked Midian over and shocked him with another bolt from the rod. The popping scream ripped from the smaller automaton again and Ishmael took another step forward.
“DO NOT DO THAT. STOP!” Ishmael said again, but this time the shocks did not stop.
“You want him to stop.” Xerxes said, stepping right in front of the machine man, gripping the front of his chest panel and pulling him down to look at him. “If you want him to stop, then do as we command. Kill that man and Midian will be saved.”
Ishmael looked at the man in the corner, now fully awake and his eyes were wide and terrified at the display in front of him. He couldn’t seem to look away. The machine man turned back to his little brother, prone of the floor, screaming in an agony that only Ishmael and his brothers could understand. The electricity would be snapping around the dark element core fastened on them, threatening to break and destroy them for good.
“Kill him and save your brother.” Xerxes cooed.
Ishmael looked back to the man and back to Midian, conflict was keeping him rooted in place. Midian would never forgive him, but they were killing him.
Taking a life would be heinous, but if it were to save one of his own? These were conflicts he could barely justify thinking let alone process. He wanted his master to be here at his side, helping him make the right choice.
Then the cries of his brother took on a different tone. A desperate and unearthly howl. Even Xerxes jumped at the clear and horrible sound that came from the little automaton writhing on the floor.
Ishmael knew that sound. It was the same sound the Ishbak made the night he was murdered by that ignorant mob of heartless humans.
Instantly he was back there. Trying to get to his brother as they tore him open and shattered his dark element chamber. Powerless to do anything to help him. Master Arkwright injured and crying out for him to stop. Begging for him to go back. Not to leave Ishbak behind. But he knew he had to get his master to safely. Protect his family. That was always his priory. Isaac didn’t speak to him for weeks after, as if his older brother could see some solution to save everyone that he just couldn’t fathom.
I was going to happen again.
It was never going to happen again.
Ishmael all but threw Xerxes across to room from where he was standing and in three strides, he had the other scientist by the throat.
The man gasped, completely taken off guard. He brought the socking stick against the arm of Ishmael and the pain signals blossomed over him, but the dark tinged rage was stronger than any electrical shocks and the doctor only screamed in pain as the electricity he tried to place on the machine was transferred to his fleshy neck.
The doctor dropped the stick instantly with a strangled cry and Ishmael held on. Watching as the man’s struggles weakened. Then stopped.
But it wasn’t enough. Not for what had almost happened his family. Again. What had almost happened to another of his brothers.
He smashed the doctor against the floor with such a force that he felt the bones in the man’s neck give away, as if he had broken a doll. And, indeed when he removed his hands from the flesh around his neck, the head lolled about bonelessly, the skin around where his hand was only moments ago was bruised black in a perfect impression of the machines three fingered hands.
Ishmael pulled back and looked at his hands as if he wasn’t sure what they may do next, untrusting of his own form. He could feel the dark element fading back into the case where it was housed. Perhaps that is what the feeling of adrenaline was for humans? A fight or flight response?
Except there was no flight. There was no desire to escape the situation, only to end it in whatever way necessary. And the fastest way to go about that was to destroy the object that was causing the pain. Destroy the human that was hurting Midian. Destroy a human.
The thought disturbed him.
Ishmael caught a small movement and looked down to see Midian had crawled over to his side and moved toward the recently deceased doctor.
“No… hurt… help… Help me, Ishmael…”
Ishmael reached down and helped his little brother to stand, even though he didn’t look away from the dead body resting motionless at their feet. Ishmael could see that his brother was badly injured, one of his arms wasn’t moving and he could only hope that the core wasn’t compromised in any way. He would have to get him back to Master Arkwright to know for certain.
“Now… don’t I have an interesting problem on my hands. All of a sudden.” Xerxes muttered, walking over to stand buy the dead doctor as well.
Ishmael pulled his brother further away from the man and took a defensive position in front of him. He wasn’t about to take any chances with Xerxes, who was more and more plainly being labeled as the threat every passing second.
“I did find what would be deemed worthy of killing, to your machine sensibilities. But you didn’t kill the correct target. You did not see following orders as the preferred way to remove yourself from the unpleasant situation. Instead you went right for the object that was causing the harm. I suppose that is a very evolved way of processing a problem I was unaware that you had a ability to choose. I know that the experiments with the newer models were inconclusive.”
Ishmael didn’t say anything; just watched the man. Wanting to be ready for anything but in reality he knew that he had to keep Midian safe, who was now trembling and he could hear a whine from a loose gasket inside the mechanics of his younger brother. He would need help and repairs, quickly.
“You should take your brother out of here now.” Xerxes said. “I can see as well as you he will need repairs. I do hope in the future we can count on your cooperation so that we won’t need to use such motivating factors. But who knows.”
Ishmael didn’t say anything, but instead lifted his little brother up into his arms and carried him out of the room. He was about four steps away when he heard a gunshot go off and echo down the hall. Ishmael did not slow his pace. His family was the most important thing. Get Midian to safety, all other matters were secondary.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered today to pay our final tribute of respect to that which was mortal of our deceased loved one and friend, Abraham Arkwright.”
The reverend paused for the minute in front of the large gathered crowd of mourners at the otherwise quiet church yard. I looked up from where I had bowed my head when the man started the funeral service and allowed myself a minute to glance at the people around me. My mother sat next to me on my left, a handkerchief in her hands, dabbing her eyes, but there was too much pride in her aging eyes to look sad. To my right was my wife, but her eyes were filled with tears of sorrow, my children were sitting next to her sad and subdued at the service for their grandfather. On the other side of my mother was my twin brother Ashton, his eyes were hard and angry, but that was hardly a new expression on his face since our pa passed away. His wife was on the other side of him and his kids. I couldn’t tell what state they were in, but I could only assume it mirrored his own face.
Ashton was still so bitter over the whole thing. I didn’t know how he had the energy to keep so angry in the midst of everything else.
“To you members of the family who mourn your loss, we especially offer our deep and sincere sympathy.” The reverend continued, looking down at the podium where a large black bible rested for him to recite from. “May we share with you the comfort afforded by God's Word for such a time as this:
“‘Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.’ Such is written in the gospel of John chapter 14 verses1-”
The Reveren’s southern accented voice trailed off, and I looked up again at the man in front of the gathered. The man seemed shocked for a beat, staring out at the back of the church. He cleared his throat and then continued:
“...verses 1-3”
I looked behind to see what had caught the attention of the reverend.
The crowd that came to remember my Pa suprised me. I saw members of his science organization that I had never met. I saw old friends of his from Chicago that I knew only from old photographs. I saw old house keepers and household staff that I recognised from my childhood.
But all those people were not what caused the Reverend to pause.
At the very back of the room, peering in from the front door, was Isaac and Ishmael, my Pa’s first and second Automatons.
I chanced a glance at my brother and groaned as I saw him stand up from his chair and start to march to the back of the church. I looked at my wife briefly with an apologetic smile, that she returned with watery eyes and nodded. I was up in a moment and started after my brother.
“Ashton… hold on there, don’t make a scene over this…” I called gently, but in truth I should have just shouted it, Everyone in the church was already staring at my brother and I. Even the Reverend stopped speaking to watch how our family drama would continue to play out, even after the death of our father.
The door closed as the metal men pulled away from it, but Ashton all but kicked the door open when he reached it. I took off running to catch up with him before he did something even more stupid.
The room outside the chapel was deserted of human life, but there were seven metal human shapes in various states of distress. Pa’s automatons.
“You freaks got a lot of nerve showing yourselves here.” Ashton spat, pacing back and forth, looking at all the machine’s in turn.
“Ashton! I think you have made a fool enough of yourself for one day!” I reprimanded and grabbed my brother by his arm. But he span around and threw himself in my face, his normally pale complexion was livid red.
“Let me go, Asher!” He shouted at me. “These things have no place here! On Pa’s funeral!”
I heard several vents of steam and glanced at the automatons. Shuah and Midian had hidden themselves behind Ishmael, who was easily the tallest thing in the room. Those two were the youngest of the bunch after the destruction of Ishbak many years before. The two had obvious stress tremors running through them that told me of a boiler burning too quickly, a common quirk of all them when situations around them become more than they could process.
Medan and Jokshaw gripped each other, as usual. Those two were never far apart in any situation and this was no different. Isaac stood in front with Zimran at his side. Zimran looked so much smaller than he was when he stood next to Isaac, but he didn’t flinch at the scene unfolding in front of them.
“We do have a right to be here, Master Ashton.” Isaac started, walking forward with his knees bent to appear smaller and less imposing to my twin. “Father made us. Father gave us life. We all want to remember him like you do.”
“Don’t you dare call him that!” Ashton said again, his voice was low and he got up in Isaac’s face, turning away from me and shrugging out of my grip. “I will not stand here and listen to this disrespect on the day of my Pa’s funeral!”
“We do not come with disrespectful intentions.” Isaac continued, not backing down. “We wanted to say goodbye to father together with all the others.”
“Stop. Calling. Him. That. You were never his children!” Ashton screamed out, his words cut through me like a knife. “You were just a mistake he kept on making. I am his son! Not you! You are just his things! Things got got him laughed out of any respectable end he might have had! If any of you monsters had a soul I curse you all to the devil himself!”
The silence in the air chilled my to my core.
“I can only hope Pa left some of you to me in his will.” Ashton seethed through eyes filling with rage and grief fueled tears. “So that I can disassemble you piece by piece!”
Without waiting for a response, Ashton turned on his heel and stormed back into the sanctuary, all eyes were on him and I. I watched him return to his seat and I saw my mother lean over to him. I can only imagine what she was saying to her other son.
Instead of following him I turned back to Isaac and Ishmael, all the other’s had gathered around the two eldest, looking for some sort of comfort or protecting from all of this around them.
“I… I am sorry about all that.” I said at length, my voice was quiet and controlled and seemed like a whisper compared to my brothers blustering. “Everyone grieves differently, I suppose.”
“That is what we want.” Ishmael said at last, while his faceplates were set in with stoicism, but the expressive eyes that were my pa’s pride and joy showed exactly how much pain and hurting the words of my brother placed on him. “We only beg to have time to grieve the loss of Master Arkwright. We did not mean to cause such strife.”
I nodded my understanding and placed a hand on the arm of the tall Automaton and reached out to take hold of Isaac as well. The other’s surrounded me and came close beside me. I could feel the radiating head off the younger automatons that had yet to be properly insulated.
Here they all were, my father’s true legacy. They still needed so much work and looking after.
“Pa loved you all like sons.” I said, emotion thickening my throat. “And you will have your time to grieve. All of you. Come inside with me.”
“But… Master Ashton…?” Isaac said, looking unsure and worried. His voice box crackling.
“You leave my idiot brother to me.” I promised. “If I’m going to be looking after you now, I might as well start.”
“Ya mean we can go inside with the others?” Zimran asked, looking up at me with an expression I could only describe as hopeful.
I found that my words did not come then, tears swelling in my eyes, so I just nodded and after a time made out the once syllable: “Yeah…”
Only then did I return to the chapel, leading a procession of metal men. All needed to grieve as much as any human at the loss of their parent. Regardless of my brothers callous comments, these seven usual creatures behind me were also my brothers and I meant to look after them as such.
I sat back with a content sigh from my work for a moment. I had been at this project for several days but I could could make out that this new automaton was almost complete.
This new one, whom I had already named ‘Zimran,’ would stand at 5 feet and 8 inches, closer to my own height then the first two that I had made. While I thought that making these mechanical men to be very tall would be more beneficial to their everyday use, the automatons would be able to reach places that normal sized people would not be able to, it was rather alarming when the things you have created stood taller than yourself.
Zimran was made mostly of a zinc compound. I wanted to try using a different material on this one from the first two. I had already proven that steel, copper and brass worked well for my machines, I wanted to try something else. It would certainly look different from the others, being a white-blue cast to the metal that made up most of it’s construction. Hopefully with a zinc compound, this machine wouldn’t overheat as easily as the others.
The face plates were still far cruder than I wanted them to be, but I was a scientist who did not have much talent for art. There were places for the ocular lights to be placed and two small holes on the each side of the head where I was currently experimenting with auditory receptors. I had found a way for my machines to have a sort of hearing. They could ‘feel’ vibrations that made sound and then they would look to where the sound came from. I wasn’t sure if they could understand words or if they were still primarily reading lips, but I believed that I wouldn’t know the real answer to that until I devised a way to give them a way of communication.
I had the chassi of the newest machine open, working on attaching the glass bowl where the black element would come from. After the deadly mess that the first one had made, I attached the bowl first. Luckily, with the second machine, the symbol appears in the relative same spot on the back of the casing. I did not like to handle the black element more than was absolutely necessary.
I glanced down at my hands for a moment. The very tips of my fingers were permanently black and very small and thin vein like lines had begun to appear near them and I wasn’t sure what the implications of that could mean. I tended to wear gloves every time I handled the unknown element, or the stranger’s pocket watch, since the appearance of the discoloration.
I heard some heavy steps to my right and was not surprised to see Ishmael standing there. Ishmael was the second automaton I built and was the tallest I had created so far. It was made mostly of steel and was the heaviest so far. I did not plan to make any others like Ishmael, it was too much trouble to move when it couldn’t move itself.
I smiled at the mechanical man. Both Ishmael and the first automaton I built had their quirks, like personalities. Ishmael seemed to be the most curious of the two about it’s creation and origins. It would always be at my side when I worked, watching what I did and helping me in my workshop. Ishmael also seemed the most eager for changes and new workings to be place inside of it.
Ishmael had been around me almost constantly every time I went to work on Zimran.
“I was wondering when you would be here.” I said. “Are you and your brother settling into the new house here?”
Ishmael nodded slowly.
After the second automaton was built, I decided that it was time to move them into my home, rather than keeping them hidden away in my curiosities shop. Ruth was pestering me constantly to know what I was up to and it didn’t feel right to leave my fiancee out of this… whatever it might lead us too.
I could tell that Ishmael missed the old workshop, or maybe it was just nervous around Ruth and the household staff. God knew that the household staff were nervous enough around Ishmael. More than one had given me their resignation only a day after I had brought the two of them home.
“I’m surprised Isaac isn’t with you.” I went on. “The two of you seem locked together since we arrived.”
Ishmael looked at the door to the lab, then back at me. But the motions seemed to be under stress. Something was off.
I stood up from the chair and started for the door, but Ishmael moved ever so slightly to block my way. I took a step back, looking hard at the other.
“Ishmael. Let me past.” I said, my tone was firm, but my mind raced with what this sort of behavior ment. “I need to see what is happening out there. Stand down at once.”
Ishmael moved out of my way instantly, looking over at Zimran and glancing down, as if in embarrassment.
“I’ll be back soon, Ishmael.” I promised, having the other a small smile. I believed that the metal creature with me was disappointed that we weren’t going to work together at that very instant. “You have to learn to be patient.”
Ishmael looked back up at me, but didn’t make any other motions.
I left the laboratory and walked though the large house, trying to find what was the cause of Ishmael’s stress. I passed a few of the house staff, going about their business as if nothing was wrong.
Then I heard the familiar voice of my beloved Ruth.
“There you go! Well done! Just like that.”
I hurried into the library where I heard the voice coming from, all my worries and fears gone as soon as I heard her. I rounded the corner and was a little surprised at what I saw.
Isaac was with Ruth in the library. My original mechanical man shone in bright brass and copper in the good lighting inside. Without a doubt, Isaac was the most visually appealing of the automaton’s I had created thus far. It still stood taller than myself, being about six feet and two inches and it was the most expressive of the two, even without moving faceplates. It was far more expressive than Ishmael and, while wasn’t as curious, Isaac was certainly more social.
And next to my machine was my true love. Ruth always found a way to steal my breath when I saw her. I had no idea what I had done to deserve her favor. I was a man of books and dark labs, I was a miserable failure at events and awkward around the fairer sex. Yet Ruth, for reasons I could only wonder at, took a liking to me.
I walked into the room and Ruth saw me. She smiled brightly and waved me over to her side, her large dress and petticoats fluffing around her as she did so.
“Abe! Come here! Look at this!”
Isaac did not look up as I approached, it was so intent on it’s task. In the mechanical arms was a china doll. The dolls delicate body was cradled in the arms of Isaac like a newborn baby. The doll looked very expensive.
I rushed to the sitting chairs and pulled the pillows and cushions off of it, laying them down around the feet of my automaton.
“That is quite some trust you are putting into my machine here, Ruth!” I exclaimed as I adjusted the cushions around. “What if Isaac were to drop the doll?”
“Aww, he won’t drop it. Look how careful he is.” Ruth encouraged. “Besides, it’s one of my old toys from when I was little. I think I will survive if an accident happens.”
Isaac was indeed holding the doll as if it were a precious child. It’s form was perfect, rocking gently back and forth as if comforting a child.
“Did you teach it to do that?” I asked, surprised at the smooth motion from the otherwise rather jittery machine.
“Yes, it was easy as lying.” Ruth said with a wink. She always had the oddest expressions.
Isaac finally looked up at me briefly, as if making sure that I was seeing what it was doing, then looking back down at the doll in it’s arms.
“Why are you teaching my automaton to hold a baby?” I had to ask. My fiancee just brought a child doll with her from her own home. This wasn’t an accident.
“Well, I thought he would have to learn sometime, might as well start early.” Ruth answered with a brilliant smile. “And you see? He is a natural. He must get it from his father.”
“Master Ashton, it is too dangerous. Do not go outside.”
I ignored the warning and kept forward, heading for the door of the house where my family had made a place for ourselves out here in the texan country. My pa kept promising that this was the land of opportunity, that as long as we dug in our heels we would survive and thrive out here, out here where my old friends from school back in Chicago called it, ‘the west.’ I wasn’t even sure they knew what they were talking about. No one ever was when they started to go on about heading ‘west.’ Reaching for some mythical place where ‘opportunity’ lay. Not sure what opportunities they all talk about. There is nothing much out here that I could tell. Nothing but desert and desperate men. Desperate men like my father was coming out here all those years ago, my ma told me the story enough times to know it by heart.
Pa’s miraculous machines. Pa loosing it all in the war. Leaving Chicago with his inventions to find a place where he could provide for ma and my brother Asher and I while we were still waiting to be born. Pa heading west. Trying to get investors in his inventions.
Pa would never sell his inventions.
“Master, you must not leave the house after dark. It is too dangerous.”
I had no idea why.
I felt something take hold of my arm and stop my forward march to the front door, I was going at such a place that the sudden stop pulled my shoulder painfully and I spun around, furious, coming face to face with the thing that stopped me.
It was over six foot six inches and stood on two feet like a man would. In a silhouette, it indeed looked like a man, as did all the inventions of my father, but once you got them into the light, there was no denying there was nothing human about them. Automatons. Mechanical men. All gears, wires, coils, springs and steam where a human would have flesh and bone. Ticking and gurgling, with their glass covered cores swirling with that unknown black substance that my father only called ‘The Black Element.’
The things face was hardly expressive, it had a mouth and two eyes that gave off a white light. It’s face place was constantly being improved, like the other creatures that my father had made, trying to make them look more human and and friendly as quickly as possible. But the inhuman steel that made the body and face of the creature left much to be desired. It was dressed in ill fitting human clothes and it’s dome head was covered with a old fashioned ‘John Bull’ style hat.
“That hurt, Ishmael! Do not touch me!” I shouted at the automaton, pulling out of the things grip.
The mechanical man, Ishmael, let go instantly and gripped the hand that took hold of me with the other long, steel, three fingered hand as if scolding it for hurting me. It’s eyes flicked down slightly, the only expression of hesitation that the limited features of the creature could manage.
“It is too dangerous to to out at this hour, Master Ashton.”
Ishmael’s voice was always a little off putting if you had never heard it before. It was a deep baritone, that echoed slightly as it broadcasted the words out through a music box like voice box. I had no idea how it worked, and I never bothered to have my pa explain it to me, I wasn’t my brother who was willing to humor the old man. Sometimes I even believed that he was actually interested in those weird things pa had made.
“What do you want me to do? Just sit here and wait? Pa needs help now!”
Ishmael hesitated again, clearly wanting to stop me from going outside but also not wanting to contradict my command.
“It is forbidden to go outside after dark. It is not safe.” Ishmael continued, following me as I approached the door again. “It is not safe.”
“I don’t care if it’s safe! Pa is hurt and I’m not jus’ gonna sit here and do nothing!”
“Ashton! Where are you?” I hear the call of Ma from down the hall and before long see her. Where only moments ago she was stiff with worry and fear, she now seemed in control and ready to take command while her husband was in peril. Her clothes were quite a spattered in red, probably from where she was trying to take care of Pa.
He was working in his lab, as he usually did when he was in the house, working on some new machine or trying to better the ones he already had made. Everything seemed normal, he had the automaton he called Zimran with him in the lab and he was working on more delicate hands or something when suddenly the silence house was rocked by an explosion. The lab was full of smoke and when my brother and I went to investigate what had happened, we found our Pa face down on the floor, glass buried in his side, blood on the ground, and the useless mechanical creature hovering over him uselessly.
They were all very good at acting like they cared about my pa.
“This bag of gears is tryin’a to keep me from gettin’ the doctor!” I recounted to my Ma, throwing an accusing gesture at the steel automaton between my mother and me.
My Ma looked at Ishmael who ticked noisily at the look.
“Please, Mistress. It is to dangerous for the young master to go outside.” Ishmael started repeating what he had told me as if it was stuck in a loop. But my Ma walked forward and placed one of her hands on the metal man’s arm, silence his ticking and words as she did so. It was a gentle touch, like the touch she gives my brother and I when we are frightened.
It bothered me when she did that.
“Ishmael, I know the rules, but your father is in trouble right now. Abraham needs a doctor, and fast. I need you to let Ashton go and get help.” My mother’s tone was gentle but serious. Something that both people and machines listened to with rapt attention.
“But, Mistress-!” Ishmael started, but my Ma placed her hand over it’s metallic mouth to shush it, standing on her tiptoes to reach.
“Ishmael, what did I tell you about calling me that? Just Ruth will be fine with me.” My ma continued. “You gotta let him go.”
Ishmael looked at me for a moment then turned back around to my mother and pulled himself up to his full height, squared his shoulders and straightened his hat on top of his head. “Mistre-Miss Ruth. With the master incapacitated, I request permission to accompany Master Ashton.”
I open my mouth to protest, but my Ma speaks before I can get a syllable out.
“Permissions granted. Find the doctor and you both stay safe out there. Watch out for bad men.”
Ishmael gave my Ma a polite nod then it walked outside without a hesitation, looking back at me as it raised its right hand and the brightness in the creature’s eyes grew in the dark night. Waiting for me to follow.
I didn’t look back as I raced out of the house and started for where the horses were stabled. Ishmael was far too heavy to be able to be borne by a steed but it was quite fast and could easily match pace with a horse. Within seconds I was saddled up and both Ishmael and took off for the closest proper town in the Texas countryside.
–
The way was clear of all travelers, hardly surprising on the road from the Arkwright home at any time during the day given our… unpopularity with the other locals, but at night it seemed even more deserted and empty then I was used to.
The pounding of the horse’s hooves as she ran through the semi even ground was accompanied by the loud whir of Ishmael’s servos as it raced to keep up with the horse. i was pleased that Gala wasn’t nervous at the automaton, not many of our other horses were so calm when running next to the inhuman thing.
We didn’t slow our pace until we reached the post office in the slap dash of a town. If my memory serves me, Doc Hertiage lived over the general store with the family that ran it and it wouldn’t do any good to wake the whole town with the noise of the two of us thundering into town in the dead of night. It was so still and quiet there, I wondered if people had heard the explosion in my Pa’s lab a few miles away.
There were spots of light that moves around the sleeping town as Ishmael took in everything around him, the lights from his eyes casting bright spots wherever it decided to move it’s head. The lights landed on the general store and I almost stopped my fast pace on the door. to the right of the door were a few signs, which was not unusual. But there had been an additional notice posted since the last time I had been there.
“Please, leave your firearm at the door”
“No Confederate State Dollar accepted here”
And the new addition:
“No Mechanical Men allowed”
I looked back at Ishmael, whose eyes had stopped on the sign, staring at the letters on it.
I was not completely surprised at this new posting, it was no secret that the people of the city, if one could call it that, thought very poorly of my pa’s inventions and my pa himself. They thought the machines he built were ‘unnatural’ and that my Pa himself had worked evil to do the things that he had. I didn’t know where the hostility had come from and either Ma or Pa ever gave me a straight answer, but since the last time that Pa brought five of his ‘marvels’ into town to use the railroad to take them to an exhibition back in new york… and came home early with only four not even a full day later, none of the automatons nor my brother and I were allowed to leave the house after dark. During the day, I didn’t leave the house unless it was to take care of the horses that didn’t like the machines. I stayed away from the town as much as possible, even before the rule came down.
Pa was different after that day. He didn’t try to go to any more exhibitions.
I was considering how to get the attention of the doctor without waking up everyone in the house when I saw it, out of the corner of my eye. In front of the office of the sherif, a few houses down from where I was standing, some sort of display was set up. I had… heard about it and I tried to look away before Ishmael noticed my paling and disgusted face.
I was too late.
The tall mechanical man turned to where I was looking and the white light fell on it.
It was a large sharpened railroad spike that was sticking up out of ground like a over large nail that someone had dropped, waiting to find it’s way into an unsuspecting person’s foot. On the spike, impaled through the bent and broken metaltic chassi and sicking up through the shoulder, was one of my Pa’s inventions.
Ishbak.
It’s sightless eyes were wide open, looking out at the crowd that was no longer there, it’s mouth hanging open in one last cry of pain before it was frozen forever as this horrible monument next to the office of the sheriff himself. It was much smaller than Ishmael and probably only stood five foot three inches before it was suspended in the air. The clothing that it had been wearing was all gone, but whether Pa was the one that retrieved it or if were now some sick trophy from when an angry mob killed an innocent automaton, I could only guess at.
Around the spike sticking out the ground, the dirt had rotten away as the Black Element had leaked out of the machines cracked and shattered crystal core. While I didn’t know much about these automatons, I did know that if the black element is compromised, it ever ends well for the mechanical man it came from, or the people around it.
Ishmael was not moving, I could just see stress tremors in the things chassi.
I was about to tell it not to worry about that thing right now, to focus on getting the Doc up, when a light in one of the front windows turned on and the curtains parted.
Someone had seen us.
A loud whoop went out into the air, followed by:
“We got ourselves another tin-man lookin’ to be decoration!”
More lights turned on and I rushed to Ishmael’s side and stood next to it protectivly. We had to get into that house as soon as possible. I was not about to lose another one of the my pa’s inventions by myself, and certainly not when he was injured.
“We will see what they got, Ish.” I muttered darkly, looking up the metalic man.
Ishmael’s, nervous eyes hardened into determination and understanding for what was to come.
If it is a fight they want to give me before I get into the Doctor’s house, then it is a fight that they will get!
The cart rumbled to screeching halt as Abraham Arkwright lept from the carriage ignoring the calls of the driver for him to return to the cab. That this was none of his business. To call on the police. But he was having none of that in the slightest. Abraham was never one to walk by.
He ran up the collapsed form on the side of the road, it was evening and many were hurrying to their homes from long days in the factories of Chicago, many seeing the fallen person and crossing the street to avoid any contact they might have with them.
“Are you alright? Sir? Madame? Are you hurt?” Abraham called as he knelt down beside the person and gently moved them, checking for injuries. “You do not have to worry. I am a doctor.”
He didn’t bother mentioning that his study was engineering and mechanics, but that was not important at the moment. Very slowly and carefully he turned the person to him and almost dropped them in surprise and awe when his eyes took in their face.
Abraham had never seen anyone who looked like this person. Their skin was black like the void itself. It took him a moment to notice it was a face in the dark hood that they wore low over their face. Their features he could make out in the evening sunlight were long and elegant. But what caught his attention, was the stranger’s eyes. They blinked in pain and opened them, he wasn’t sure if it was just the contrast from their skin but they seemed glow with an inner light, like star light, and larger than any he had seen. He feared this person blind, as there was no pupils that he could make out in the stranger.
“Ah-Are you alright?” was all he could say.
The stranger blinked, as if confused for a moment, then looked up at Abraham's face. He felt a strange tingling at the back of his neck and shivered, still keeping hold of the strange person in his arms.
“I had fallen.” The other spoke, in a voice that seemed to come more from inside his own mind then the air around him. “You come to see if I was hurt.”
“Yes. That is correct.” Abraham answered though there was no question. “Are you hurt?”
“Yes. But I am better now.”
Abraham shivered again despite himself, he was feeling quite a bit colder than he had in the carriage. The stranger’s eyes glowed a little brighter.
“I am better now. Thanks to you. Abraham Arkwright.”
“I… how did you know my name?” Abraham asked, his teeth were chattering at this point and he found that he was hugging the stranger closer to himself to keep warm, but the person in his arms was like ice.
“I know much about you now, kindly stranger. There is much we can do for eachother now.”
Abraham’s head hurt like he had eaten snow. The eyes of the stranger kept growing brighter and sharper. He tried to turn away, to drop this strange person, to call out for help. Anything! Oh god! He was freezing to death! Help me!
-
I jumped up from where I had fallen asleep at my writing desk, looking around in alarm for moment as the dream faded into reality around me. I let out a breath he hadn’t realized I was holding as my heart slowed his pounding pace. I looked around at the night darkened surroundings of my workshop in Chicago. Everything was fine.
That dream again.
The dream of the stranger.
I was having that dream more and more frequently since the day that I met that… person? That creature? That being from another world? I really could only guess and question my own memory of the event. I thought myself a rational man, a man of science in an age of opportunity, and meeting a being like I believe I had was definitely not something a rational mind would ever admit to have experiencing.
I would have reasoned it all away to some bad food or bootleg whiskey, were it not for the dreams.
The dreams and…
My musing cut off like it was sliced with a knife as I scrambled for a light in the dark room. I could hear the ticking of the clock, but even with the light of the moon weakly casting a blue glow into the room, the most I could see were black silhouettes of the objects with me in the shop. The lamp I had been using for light had gone out, which could mean that I had been asleep for hours, or something had turned it off.
I fumbled for the lantern that I kept near my desk and struck a match from my pocket and lit the wick hurriedly, almost singling my fingers in my haste to light the room. I spun around, the light flashing of the many metal and glass objects in the room as I swung it around me and I stopped still when my eyes found… it.
Sitting near the door to the workshop, was the automaton.
Well, I say automaton, but to be honest, I had no idea what it was. I had seen automatons other inventors had made. Curiosities and toys to delight children, this thing that I had made was… different.
The things copper and brass head moved slightly, looking up at me. Watching me through the light receptors that were the entire object of the project in the first place, just to see if these ocular mirrors and light could track motion. The eyes reflected the candlelight that fell on it with a faint red glow that gave the thing a rather terrifying appearance in the dark room that we were both in. I couldn’t bring myself to be happy that the light receptors seemed to be working correctly, even in low light. This experiment had gone much further than simple motion and light tracking. It had become far more then that the second I accepted that gift from the stranger.
It followed my movements as I crossed back over to my desk, not taking my eyes off the thing. I reached out blindly and found the desk lamp and jostled it slightly, I heard the faint sloshing of oil in the lamp over the ticking of the clock as I did so.
“Did you turn the lamp off?” I asked the automaton, I could hear the taunt nervous tone of my voice and cleared my throat and spoke again, more commanding this time. “Did you turn off this lamp after I fell alseep?”
The machine creature just tilted its head slightly to the side, like a dog that is confused by a command given by it’s master.
I pointed to the unlit lamp.
“The lamp. Did you turn it off?”
The creature leaned forward and with a symphony of metallic clicks and hissing of steam being released into the air, the creature stood up on it’s two human like legs, also crafted from copper and bronze, and took a step closer to me.
“Do. Not. Move.” I commanded. Holding out my hand in front of myself, signaling it to stop.
It stopped.
I let out a shaky breath and looked down at the notebook on the table that I had been in the middle of working through when I had my unexpected rest. I scanned the page it was still opened too. Half ideas and theories over the device and the automaton were scribbled down on the page in cheap black ink. Math equations and observed facts littered the page in every free space. To an outside observer, the page would look to be nothing more than scribbles and ranting of a math crazed mind, but to it all made perfect sense to me.
Well, as much sense as this entire situation would allow for, which was very little.
My eyes found the facts and observations on the automaton since it’s encounter with the strangers pocket watch (as I was calling it now)
Observations:
Unknown (alien?) writing/symbol appeared on the inside of the machine. aprox 14 min after exposure to the pocket watch. NOTE: see sketch of symbol in appendix
A puddle of black liquid had formed in the base of the chassis of the automaton. Liquid is black unlike any black I have ever seen. Like the skin of the stranger, light vanishes completely. No reflection. Seems to be leaking from the symbol. NOTE: VERY painful to touch, must find a way to keep liquid inside of the automaton. NOTE: Still no change other wise
Welded a brass and glass container for the black liquid. It is not leaking any more. Collected the rest of the black liquid and have storied it for further tests. Still no change.
Automaton is moving on its own. It is watching me. Copying my movements. It is consuming four times as much coal and water as it was before, running very hot. Needs to be wound less, approx every 3 hours.
Automaton does not seem able to speak but it can obey simple commands. It seems to have a limited range of understanding. Will test further too see how much of english it understands The Automaton is currently deaf without audio receptors. It understand every command given in tests, it reads lips.
Automaton is moving on it’s own without commands. I turn around and it has moved from where it was previously. It is very loud when it moves. It will not be able to sneak up on me. Sentiance??
I moved the lantern up towards my face, giving the machine a clear view of the no doubt exhausted and much in need of a shave face that it was in that instant.
“Did you turn off the lamp?”
The automaton nodded once.
I wanted to ask it why, but I knew that would be a pointless exercise in frustration as it could not communicate back to me in anything more then head gestures. I had not built the faceplate on the thing to be expressive in the slightest.
“Step back and return to standing at the wall.”
The automaton stepped back and clanked against the wall noisily. I turned it’s head to look at the wall it had run into then turned back, it’s head was hanging down slightly, as if embarrassed.
“Just stay there and do not move until I command you. I need to keep working.” I explained and sat back down at my desk to resume my contemplation and notes. Adding the following to the observations list:
Appears highly-self aware. Moved on it’s own, in spite of command to stay in place to turn off reading lap. unsure of the reason for this. Perhaps sensitive to light?
I moved my chair forward to adjust my position and a noticed that it was not moving. I looked down and saw my lap quilt from my reading chair by the window was wrapped around the leg of the chair, as if it had fallen from my shoulders when I was sleeping.
But I didn’t take the quilt with me when I went to work. How did it…
I looked back at the automaton, standing there, with it’s eyes down at its heavy metal feet.
I tossed one of my pens over to where the machine was standing and it looked up at me quickly.
“Would you like to stand over here with me while I work?” I asked, with a hesitant smile. This was the first time I had asked it if it had preferences.
The machine nodded twice, but did not move towards me.
“Then come stand over here with me.”
The automaton walked over to my side quickly, if I didn’t know any better it almost had a spring to its steps.
