What Went Wrong With Mrs Milliard's Mech?

by I H Laking

  * * * *

  Much to Ambrose’s surprise, the trapdoor led to a large, tall, well-lit kitchen below the bakery. It was so large that it probably went under the street outside and might even reach the other side of the road. Percy let out a low whistle “Impress-ive” he muttered. Ambrose, however, was more focused on the reason for their visit, which now towered over them: A two metre high brass Mech stood staring down at them.

  Now, every Mech is different, and Ambrose knew it was important to size this Mech up before going any further. This was also a chance for his partner to refresh his knowledge. Percy, however, was more interested in the array of various industrial cooking appliances. Ambrose decided he’d need to snap Percy out of it. “Detective!” Percy whirled around; he knew that title normally meant he was in trouble. “Can you talk me through this Mech’s design?” Ambrose quizzed him. Percy, keen for a chance to show off his knowledge in front of a lady, leapt at the chance.

  “Well, as we know, each Mech is made up of three core parts. The Heavy, the Holds, and the Head. This unit appears to have been built mid-century by a local Artisan, as indicated by the use of purely brass materials on the exterior, and the human-like shape of the body.” He looked smugly at Mrs Milliard, who didn’t seem particularly impressed, and rightly so – all this was common knowledge. Mechs had been around for centuries, created by humans to serve various tasks. In fact, entire subjects were dedicated to learning about Mechs at school, though most students found them dull compared to more exciting classes like chemistry, where you get the opportunity to blow things up and dissect frogs and the like. People tended to simply know the basics, as stated in Maslow’s Machinations & More:

  Mechs 101.

  A Mech has three core parts. First, the Heavy, which is the torso of the Mech, contains its cogs and copper, pipes and pedals. The Heavy can vary in size and shape quite significantly, and will normally be suited for purpose. Some Mechs will spend their lives lifting and fixing, manually moving things around, and will have a Heavy designed for this kind of pressure. Others will simply be used for function, to teach or recite, to guide or to guard – these Mechs would be more likely to have a slim Heavy, reflecting the less strenuous physical workload.

  The Holds are the peripheries of the Mech. They are the parts that enable most of a Mech’s functions. A typical Mech, perhaps designed to help in a library, might have very human Holds – two arms and two legs, purely for function. When Mechs were first introduced, Artisans built them with whatever Holds they felt were the most creative. But they soon found that people related best to human-like Mechs, and so a more standardised design was settled on. Industrial Mechs still come with more practical and unusual holds, including hooks, hammers and harpoons – the variety is endless!

  Finally, the third and most important part of the Mech is the Head, made up of the visualisers, receivers, and the grate. These, like the Holds, have been refined to become more human over time. Visualisers, however, have remained untouched. Big, black and bulbous, the eyes never blink, never close, and always shine a little from inside. The Head is also where Artisans express themselves, for an Artisan is more than a mechanic – he is an artist. It is not uncommon to see beautiful, varying lines carved around the Head in strange patterns, or beautiful messages carved in cursive text and sometimes encrusted with jewels. The markings of the Head are the signature of the Artisan, but inside the Mech is the most amazing aspect of all.

  If you were lucky enough to put your ear up close to a Mech, you would hear a whirring noise, humming from inside its metal case. And if you put your hands upon the Heavy, you would feel a gentle pulse. That is because inside every Mech resides a Life-Spark, the essence and mystery of every Mech. Life-Sparks were discovered centuries ago, around the time of the creation of the very first Mech. The origin of the Life-Spark has remained a source of constant rumour and suggestion. Some think that deep below the earth there is a giant Life-Spark, and that every Mech contains a piece of this larger whole. Some people view the Life-Spark as a creation of Mechs themselves, occurring due to chemical reactions of metal and glass and such. And there are even a few people who claim the Life-Spark doesn’t exist, and is simply a myth to make Mechs seem more human. Whatever the truth, one thing is clear: sometime between arriving at a house of The Order and receiving a blessing, something in a Mech comes to life, and from that moment on, they instinctively know their calling, their personality and their creator. This is the mystery and magic of the Life-Spark.

  Percy seemed to realise he wasn’t impressing anyone, so he quickly returned to scribbling notes. Ambrose rolled his eyes just a little, and proceeded to size up the Mech. Morris was tall, and had a human-like form: one Heavy, four Holds in the shape of arms and legs, and one Head. The Head was in a neo-classical shape, with a round front that tapered off at the back, leaving the Head looking like an egg balancing sideways on the Heavy. The Head had a solid grate which didn’t appear to move. Without speech, the case would be more difficult – but there were still good places to start. Ambrose stepped forward.

  “Hello Morris, my name is Inspector Ambrose. Would you mind kneeling for me, please?” he asked as he approached the brass Mech.

  Morris tilted his head slightly, as if thinking about the request. He shrugged his shoulders, and knelt down on one knee. Ambrose leaned in to inspect the body. Morris was clearly an old Mech. Scratches and dents seemed to cover the solid brass panels that formed his body. Ambrose placed a hand gently on the Heavy, and focused. After a while he recognised the faint throb of a life-spark beating inside the Mech. Nothing was irregular, as was normally the case for a stressed or unstable Mech. Curious. He moved his hands onto the Head.

  “What are you hoping to find?” quizzed Mrs Milliard.

  “Morris had been built at a time when Artisans were etching the names of their Mechs into their Heads as they built them.” Replied Ambrose, as he ran his hand under the grate on the Head, and around to the back, just above the Heavy. There he found what he looking for. He could make out letters very faintly, but the name had taken a battering over time – which seemed odd for a simple Mech that never left the kitchen. Ambrose traced the outline of the letters. O... R… I… S. Ambrose stepped back. “Thank you, Morris, feel free to stand again.” Morris once again tilted his head as if considering his options, and then stood up again.

  “Morris, are you happy?”

  The Mech nodded.

  “Do you remember the secret recipe you were taught?”

  The Mech nodded a little more enthusiastically.

  “Have you forgotten how to do your job?”

  The Mech shook his head.

  Ambrose was puzzled – this didn’t add up. A happy Mech, a stable Mech, and yet… a Mech that didn’t do its job. The only thing to do now was to look for a fault in the original design. “Who was this Mech’s Artisan?” he asked Mrs Milliard.

  “Archibald Aurelious”

  Percy stopped scribbling for a minute and looked up. “The Archibald Aurelious?”

  Mrs Milliard nodded.

  “Well at least we won’t have any trouble finding his workshop.” Ambrose muttered under his breath. He turned around to face Mrs Milliard. “Alright, we’ll go back to the source. Most likely something was missed in the planning stage. We will also talk with some other shop owners on the street to see if they saw anything suspicious. Give us enough time, and I’m sure we’ll figure this out. You may need to stay closed for a while, however.” Mrs Milliard’s face dropped. “So there is to be no fix tonight?” Ambrose shook his head. What was she not telling him? Mrs Milliard looked at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I simply cannot do that, Inspector.”

  “Why not?”

  She sighed. “You see, I had planned to sell this business – the paperwork is signed, the deal is done! I am due to hand over the keys to the new owner at midnight tonight. If I cannot provide the secret recipe, then the sale is worthless. Only Morris knows how to make the pies, I cannot do
it myself. And I have already taken on so much debt – I will be ruined and forced to sell this whole place for next to nothing!” And with that she burst into tears, the stress of the situation clearly taking its toll. Ambrose, once again confronted with far more emotion than he generally appreciated, weighed up the scenario silently. Percy stopped writing and went over to reassure Mrs Milliard.

  Things were now beginning to make sense to Ambrose. This was not an incident taking place out of the blue – no, someone must have changed something here to try and ruin Mrs Milliard. But what was the motive? Revenge? Money? All of these things could cause someone to do terrible things but… what exactly had someone done? All that was in front of Ambrose and Percy now was a happy Mech that had stopped doing his job correctly.

  Ambrose snapped into action. “Very well, we will move quickly. I am sure that someone is trying to ruin you, but how I cannot say. We will interview the other shop owners in the street, and visit Archibald Aurelious’ workshop.” He locked eyes with Mrs Milliard. “I believe we can solve this case, and solve it quickly. We will not rest until we uncover the truth. Come, Percy, let’s talk with some of the other shop owners.” With that he turned and left, with Percy following close behind.