“Please, no more of the Miss, either. My name is Alel. I prefer for you to call me by my name.” She held up a hand. “And don’t say ‘whatever you wish,’ any longer, either. Yes or no will do if you have no other pertinent words in your vocabulary.”
She studied the girl with the ‘B’ on her cheek. Her face was quartered, and Alel could not tell how much was human and what was not. There were seams, as though she had been sewn together. What was below the surface of the skin Alel could not begin to guess. “Berylium,” the mechanical girl offered.
“Thank you.” Smiling at the response, Alel pondered the term. It also was too long for her liking. “Bery, then?”
“Yes, as you wish,” the girl replied dully.
C was easy. The girl was covered in copper, pieced together with long sections of wide bands similar to what her own leg looked like. “You shall be Copper.”
Turning to the first boy, Alel admitted out loud she knew no metal names beginning with D. He was a brilliant dark shade of painted blue metal and shaped like a human boy, but only a small section of his face was human in appearance. Both of his legs looked completely normal, but the rest of him was machine.
“Dysprosium,” he responded.
“Goodness, that’s quite the word, isn’t it? How about just ‘Dys?’” He nodded his acquiescence.
“I’ll need some help with E as well?”
The last boy surprised her by smiling as he offered “Europium.”
He was the shortest of them all. He looked more human than the others. The only mechanical influence she saw on him were his hands and his eyes. “Euro is much easier to pronounce.”
Nodding enthusiastically, he did a little dance and she noticed he did not have a backpack like the other boy. “I like having a name!”
“He was the last,” Alum stated. “Before you.”
Unsure what to say to the announcement, Alel looked around the large room again. “Do you not have beds to sleep in?”
“We don’t need them,” Alum answered, in the same defensive tone she had spoken of not being human in.
“I’m not sure it’s about need,” Alel pondered. She would not be able to convince herself they were not human, even Dys with his small bit of human parts. Thinking about them night after night, standing and waiting for something to happen unsettled her.
Walking to a roost where several owls were grouped, she reached out to trace the fake feathers around the eyes of one. She could not deny Sir Jax knew how to make beautiful things. The owl blinked at her and did not protest her touch.
Alel made her way around the room, examining the charges placed in her care, wondering why he kept all these locked away in a room. She had seen the others on shelves throughout the house. Why create so many things with no purpose?
“Whatever shall I do with all of you?” she finally said, gazing around the area at the magnitude of them all.
“Sir Jax has determined that for you,” Bery replied to her sorrowful question.
Alel had not expected an answer. “What do you mean?”
“He wants us on the streets,” Dys said.
A mechanical cat stretched and came to curl up at her feet. A mechanical monkey leaped, catching a rope hanging from the ceiling before dropping gently to her shoulder, startling her.
“For what purpose?” Alel could think of none. She could not imagine any of them on the Black Streets. They would be torn to pieces, the metal sold to pay for bread. The children would meet the same fate, as their human attributes would be feared.
It was Alum that answered her again. “So Sir Jax can know all in this town.”
Chapter 6
A Future to Dream Of
It was disturbing to be a part of someone’s plot. More so knowing you could do nothing about it. Alel considered defying Sir Jax and leaving the premises to return to the Black Streets, but she had nothing to go back to. By now, the neighbors would have noticed her absence and her humble home would be gone. There were always street crawlers waiting for open dwellings.
She wandered the room again after Alum’s declaration, trying to clear her head enough to concoct a plan. Sir Jax had stated she could do whatever she wished and have whatever she wanted, as long as she followed his dictates. She’d never been offered such an opportunity before and, as ideas came to her, Alel determined to test his promise.
Asking for things was not a skill Alel possessed. You paid for what you needed; you did not ask. She was curious about the children, but was unsure if questions would bother them. Still, if they had become her charges, knowing how to best care for them would require some knowledge of who, and what exactly, they were.
“So you do not need sleep?”
“We do, miss.”
Alel was not happy with the answer. So they slept, but Sir Jax had not provided for the need. Her walk around the room had showed no space indicating a person had claimed it as their own. She had thought by the answer of not having a need for a bed, it had been meant they had no need for sleep. How could she determine how human they were without an outright inquiry?
“Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes.” Bery was regarding her with frankness. “We are part human, miss, if that is what you are wondering. Each of us at a different level, but we have the same basic needs as most of humankind.”
“Then why do each of you not have your own space? I would consider that a basic need.”
“Sir Jax does not regard us as more than one of his other machines,” Euro piped up eagerly.
“Why? I do not wish to offend any of you, but why are you so different than I really?” Holding up her arm, Alel examined the plate replacing what she had lost. “This signifies we are the same. Each of us just seem to have been repaired in different ways. Or... is it because I do not need steam to function?”
Bery put her hands on her face, her fingers tracing the seams with familiar strokes. “The truth, Miss, is you lost none of your brain function during the procedures. Sir Jax repaired only what was needed and did not add any amplifications. He was frustrated, but you became unstable each time he tried to manipulate your abilities. We convinced him to leave you as whole as possible.”
“Is that what he’s done to each of you, then? Manipulated your abilities and added amplifications?”
Dys nodded. “Sir Jax said he gave us each gifts.”
Copper crossed her arms, distress flaring in her brilliant topaz eyes, but she said nothing. Alel deduced the girl did not agree with Dys’s view of Sir Jax’s enhancements.
“This is all very difficult to understand,” she admitted to the group watching her. Alel was tired. Her body was beginning to ache. Looking around for a place to sit, she cleared a pile of metal things from a faded embroidered chair and sank gratefully into it, ignoring the fine mist of dust that rose.
“We don’t really need the backpacks,” Euro announced, hopping to stand in front of her and grinning. “He just thinks we do.”
“Hush, Euro,” Alum scolded, pulling him back away from Alel.
Dys shrugged. “Doesn’t matter none if she knows. We just look different, but our bodies work like a normal kid. I don’t think we can grow up, though.”
Whether they could or not she had no idea. Until that problem had to be dealt with, there were things she could do to make their lives more normal.
“Sir Jax has given me some freedoms. We will begin with this room, I think.” Alel planned as she scanned the room again. “Everything will need a place to belong, not just all of you.” She began to see it; wondrous possibilities crowding into her mind, stuff of dreams she would not have allowed herself to think of before.
If Sir Jax spoke the truth, could she make any of it happen? Thinking of ideas was one thing, turning them into reality was another. “You must have beds,” she stated. “And dividers, somehow. Drawers for clothing. A shelf for things you treasure.”
Alum touched the skirt of her dress, frowning at it. “We have no need of such things.
We have no other clothing.” There was a wistfulness in her words. “Nor anything to put upon a shelf.”
Dys bent to scoop up a patchy metal dog, cradling the small creature close. “Could I... could my dog have a place?”
There was emotion there, too. Alel blinked back a threat of tears. How had Sir Jax missed the raw vulnerability of his creatures? Or had he simply not cared? He was guilty of neglect, she thought with a surge of anger.
“Of course you can!” Smiling, Alel forced herself to rise, her leg beginning to throb in protest as she limped across the room to a corner area. “I think here. A bed tucked into the corner, with a small cushion at the foot for your dog. A dresser here.” She touched a section of wall, turning to assess the boy. “Are there other creatures in here you have taken on care for?”
Dys nodded. Gears creaked and squealed as mechanical parts were put into motion, and an assorted array of small dogs, foxes, monkeys and other creations came forward to gather at the boy’s feet.
A sprinkle of pain along her leg and hip had her pressing her hand to the worst of it. B33 rolled to her side. “It is time for you to rest, Miss. Come along.”
Alel did not argue. By the time she stepped through the doorway of her room, she was questioning her ability to take each step. B33 hovered at her side until she was in her bed and then he leaned over her, pressing a small round tablet into the center of one of the circles scrolling along her arm.
“What was that?” she asked tiredly.
“For your pain, miss.”
She could already feel it diminishing. Exhaustion clouded out her need for answers. Closing her eyes, Alel thought of the children. Did they get tired? Or did they sleep to pass the time?
Sleepily, she imagined billowy curtains draped over carved bedposts for the girls. Strong etched lines in the wood of the walls for the boys. Books and toys on the shelves for them. A place outside for them to play.
The room would require thought. Though it was large, it was far too crowded and cluttered. The animals needed a home, as well.
She pictured a large structure for the owls and birds, made of glass and rounded at the top, delicate gilded lines framing the sides. Perhaps there was an area on the grounds with trees it could be built over. A safe haven for the winged creatures to rest and belong.
The monkeys could have their own habitat, one also full of trees, with vines they could play upon. The cats a palace with tubes to run through, balls to chase, and plenty of places to curl up to sleep. The dogs a room to run and fetch.
Did mechanical animals care where they resided? She did. What point was there in perching them on shelves and shoving them into corners? There was so little beauty in the world.
As sleep began to claim her, she pictured herself walking in sunlight filtering through the tall windows, owls calling to her, and the colorful birds darting among the branches. Dogs rushing to greet her, wagging their metal tails. Cats winding among her legs. And the birds, singing to her as she passed by. All happy because they had been given somewhere to belong.
Her first idea, ventured hesitantly at supper, was met with enthusiastic praise from Sir Jax, and a hearty declaration she could have whatever she wished to bring it to life.
Alel hadn’t the slightest notion on how to begin such a momentous project as a giant birdcage.
“You must make sure it is completely covered, of course. We couldn’t have my majestic creatures departing and finding themselves lost to the Lower World.”
Sir Jax erupted from his seat, his fork still in his hand, his body pacing excitedly as he latched onto her suggestion. “Near the waterfall would be brilliant! Why, the Piellans would be transfixed with such beauty! To behold my creations in such a way!”
He pivoted to face her, all but trembling with fervor. “The birds are easy to control, you see, and so they flit about at will. The residents expound on their complexity thoroughly enough to please me, but I have found few ways to allow them to behold my other productions without fearing the loss of them.”
Sir Jax speared his fork toward her. “I knew you’d be brilliant, my dear!” Beaming, he opened a cabinet and took out a clear bottle filled with amber liquid. Removing a miniature goblet from another shelf, he topped it off and tossed it back.
Alel knew well enough what such liquids were. The men of the Black Streets ruined their lives with their love for it. More precious, it seemed, than the water required for life, the flasks they carried to hold the brew were the trophies of status. Signifying importance, victory, favor, or lack thereof, the embellishment on flasks portrayed to others upon the black stone how to treat each other.
Many were denied bread for the simple misfortune of having nothing but a plain flask at their side. Many had been murdered for the glint of a stone or a jewel adorning theirs. Many had died at the hands of those deeming it their right to have what they wished because their flask bore the marks of the more fortunate on the Black Streets.
Shivering, Alel got to her feet. “What do you mean, ‘lost to the Lower World?’ You fear the owls flying away?”
Sir Jax gave her a considering look. “My dear, you have been taught little of the realities of this world. We, the White and Black streets, reside on the upper levels of our continent, the Higher World.”
Rounding the slab table the stools were staggered around, he grasped her shoulders. “My dear, our continent floats! Have you heard naught of the legends of where the Relic came from? You are from the Lower World! It is why you are feared!”
Chapter 7
The Earth to Alel
Alel had known nothing of what Sir Jax spoke of. His words stayed with her as she retired to bed for the night. She could not remember her mother ever speaking of such things in the tales she had told. She supposed her lack of proper schooling had much to do with her ignorance of such things. A floating continent! She could scarcely imagine such a thing.
The earth to her, was flat. A stretch of land that went on indefinitely until it fell away into nothing. What other possibility could be considered? Alel could not deny as a child of the Black Streets, and one hidden, that she did not hold the intelligence of someone of similar age and status.
She had been taught to hide, and to survive. Surviving did not require knowing history or truth, or possessing any specific skill to make one’s place in the world. Her entire existence had been to find food and water, to sleep, and then to repeat the process each day.
Finding out there was more, so much more, was intriguing and frightening.
Sir Jax greeted her as she entered the kitchen for breakfast, rushing forward to take her hand to guide her into the room. “I have a wonderful surprise for you this morning, my dear!”
Beaming, he herded her forward until she stood before a man standing quietly and observing her with a frankness that made her uncomfortable. She did not think he meant to; rather, it was more of a curious assessment than one with the ill intent she had often seen in the eyes of men who looked upon the women of the Black Streets.
He was tall, with dark features and hair hanging to his shoulders, and a scar running horizontally from the outer edges of his eyebrows down at least two inches on both sides of his face. He was impeccably dressed, in fine, fitted clothing. Every button was secured, every seam aligned, and his cravat perfectly knotted. He removed his top hat at her approach and bowed slightly. He was quite fascinating to look at. The scars did nothing to detract from his physical appeal.
“This is Sir Javon,” Sir Jax introduced. “He is an associate of mine.”
Sir Javon held out his hand. Alel stared at it.
“She is from the Black Streets,” Sir Jax explained as he grabbed her hand and lifted it, placing it into the mans. “He means you no harm, my dear. This is how we say hello in this part of the world.”
Sir Javon grasped her fingers lightly and bent to place his lips against the top before straightening and letting go. Alel had never seen such a practice and found it both alarming and pleasant.
“Please, sit,” Sir Jax requested, waving at seats. He bustled to make and serve tea. Alel did her best to relax but found the presence of the man beside her disconcerting, both because getting so close to a man on the Black Streets could mean you lost what freedom you had, and because she did not quite trust Sir Jax and was unsure what the appearance of Sir Javon meant for her.
Sir Javon himself was staring openly at her. Her left cheek faced him and she assumed his gaze was caught on the metal there that had become part of her face.
“My dear, Sir Javon may prove to be quite useful to you in your endeavors to bring your imagination to life. He is quite the artist and has the ability to procure many things you will not find in our markets or with our vendors.” He plunked a teacup and saucer down in front of each of them and settled across the counter.
Her cup was heavy, the alloy embedded with wires twisting and twining over the sides around insets of nuts and bolts in oddly soft swirls. Could the man do nothing without adding his craft to it in some way?
“What is it you are creating?” the man beside her inquired.
Alel was hesitant to answer. Speaking to men was still unfamiliar to her. Sir Jax answered for her, his movements exaggerated as he loosely explained her concept and the shape she desired. “Brilliant, isn’t it?” Sir Jax finished. “I’ve plenty of grounds for her to see the magic one’s mind can create! I’m quite eager to see it come to pass!”
“This is for your mechanical birds?”
“All of the winged creatures,” Alel said softly. “They deserve a home.”
“She sees them as though they have life.” Sir Jax leaned forward as he made his statement, his one eye glistening with mischief and tolerance. “Quite peculiar. I believe she was quite appalled at the children.”
“Children?” Sir Javon pressed with a frown, his head swinging to seek her eyes.
“More of his creations.” Alel heard the faint linger of disgust in her words and felt her defiance while she gazed at Sir Jax as she said it. She did not care how he reacted. He did not even see them as human, when it was obvious they had not lost what had once made them no different than any other wandering the earth.
Mechanical Angel Page 3
