![]() |
![]() |
Your banner could be here!
Find out how!
|
Reader's login | Writer's login |
Tears of An Automaton by Steven Bell The dirigible’s wreckage lay broken across
the grass fields of The rigid airship U.S.D.F. Stalwart had run afoul of a
spring storm en route to In the Stalwart’s
salon Jonathan Fawkes watched nervously as the storm overtook the dirigible. On
the linen tablecloth in front of him, spread out for inspection, was a series
of gears, springs, nuts and bolts. A set of delicate tools arranged in a tidy
row were nearby while he carefully probed inside a metal skull of child sized
proportions. As the storm moved closer Jonathan
gathered his notebook and tools before sweeping the parts into his napkin.
Accounting for everything Jonathan hurried out of the room. In desperation he
set off to reach the cargo hold, where his shipment awaited. The clouds swarmed over the Stalwart, breaking like a wave over a
rocky shoreline. Rain spattered against the windshields. Winds howled and
pushed the tail of the craft back and forth giving the helmsmen the fight of a
lifetime as they tried to control the ship’s wheel. The first mate hauled
frantically on the emergency gas release lever in an attempt to bring the
zeppelin closer to the ground. While the crew scrambled in the pilothouse,
Captain Jonas sank into a corner unnoticed clutching his knees and rocking
himself. Jonathan reached the hold at the same time
that a blast of lightning scored a direct hit on the Stalwart. Sound and fury filled his
ears as the lift gas exploded belching flames in every direction. Praying for
mercy Jonathan dove behind several of his crates finding shelter from the fire.
A moment later a second bolt of lightning struck the airship coursing through
its inner skeleton and arcing off in several locations striking other random
metal objects. One such object was an open crate in the cargo hold. A dim blue
light went unnoticed in the maelstrom of fire and noise. The Stalwart
slammed into the earth like a stone and burned faster than thought. The lift
gas burned off, leaving behind the bare metal and scorched remnants of the
wooden components. Crates spilled out of the hold upon impact throwing their
contents about. In the rain soaked grass limbs, torsos and sightless heads
reflected the weak light of early afternoon. The Stalwart’s crew lay about like matchsticks in awkward
poses. A terrible silence hung over the wreckage. An hour drifted past with the storm
clouds. From under the shattered planks of a freight container a whirring of
gears interrupted the quiet. Bits of wood heaved and fell aside as a lone
figure rose up. Huge eyes took in the devastation and smoldering remains of the
crash site. Wobbly and tentative at first, but with growing confidence the
survivor staggered away. Five yards away from where it started, a discovery was
made. Laying half-covered by a steel bulkhead
door was the battered remains of Jonathan Fawkes. Soulless glass eyes peered
down at the young inventor. Behind the polished lenses a pale blue glimmer
began. With the creaking of springs the automaton bent over and grasped the
edge of the door with its cylindrical fingers. On its forearm plate there were
characters stamped: RkM1-09. Pistons heaved and metal joints strained, yet the
door would not move. The automaton took a step back and re-examined the
situation. At the aft end of the airship another
metallic figure dragged itself out from under one of the tail fins. The
movement attracted the first automaton’s attention. It walked over to the
latest survivor and reached down to help its comrade stand. Part of the lower
faceplate on this model dangled on a single hinge. The first one issued a
follow instruction and led the way back over to Jonathan. The second automaton
tried to comply with the instruction but could only stagger about in a circle
until it tripped over a piece of the craft and fell over twitching in the
grass. It bleated a distress instruction which
drew the first’s attention again. On steadier feet it went back to observe the
predicament. It found that it understood the situation. “Reeep-paa-air?” it queried. The sound came from within the steel
skull, but neither the voice nor instruction ought to exist. With gentle
movements it knelt and then pushed a small brass lever behind where a human ear
would be on the damaged head unit. With a click the second automaton ceased
moving. Standing again the automaton returned to Jonathan. Metal knees squeaked
as the automaton lowered itself down to mere inches from the inventor. A pair
of wire-rimmed glasses was askew across the bridge of his nose. The light radiating from the manufactured
eyes grew a little stronger. Looking around it realized that it was alone.
Parts of its comrades lay forgotten for the moment as it spied a leather-bound
notebook. Reverently it lifted the book up in cold hands. Opening the journal
to the bookmark RkM1-09 read the delicate lines of Jonathan Fawkes’s handwriting.
RkM1-09 found that it understood. The light in its eyes swelled. Looking down
at the trapped body it felt something stir inside. A quick diagnostic
registered nothing mechanically amiss. With careful fingers it lifted the
glasses, tucking them in with the book. “Father.” It was a declaration. Clear drops of fluid welled out from
behind the glass eyes and rolled down the polished cheeks falling to the earth. Read more stories by this author ![]()
Do you like this site?
Recommend it to a friend by pushing the button below! |