Tin

by Padraig Kenny

  ‘Mortimer Reeves, senior officer from the Agency, responsible for the investigation and regulation of all authorized and unauthorized sentients.’

  He pocketed his ID before Absalom could say anything and issued orders to his companion.

  ‘Take the mechanicals outside for questioning. The girl too.’

  Reeves turned to Christopher, who still looked lost and broken. The agent gave a sudden smile, and Jack couldn’t help but notice how small and perfectly even his teeth were, and how cruel his smile was.

  ‘And him, of course. Take him.’

  Reeves stood with his hands in his pockets and regarded Absalom with a slightly amused expression. He motioned for him to take a seat at the table. Absalom sat and tried to avoid his gaze, but he couldn’t sit still. He shifted in his chair, his eyes darting back and forth as he looked at Reeves and away again. If Jack’s head had been attached to his body, his limbs would have been tensing.

  Reeves slowly and deliberately stepped away from Absalom, until he was standing under the mildewed portrait, his lips pursed.

  ‘Runcible, the first engineer,’ he said, nodding at the picture. ‘Do you know what made Runcible truly great? Shall I tell you?’

  Absalom stole a quick glance at Reeves, but Reeves didn’t even turn around.

  ‘Runcible systematized a series of magical glyphs which could confer sentient life on certain mechanical objects,’ Reeves continued, without waiting for an answer. ‘This method was referred to as . . . ?’

  He turned his head sideways and looked in Absalom’s direction. Absalom fiddled with his fingers in his lap. ‘Basic Propulsion,’ he said quietly.

  Reeves’s mouth twitched into a contemptuous smirk. ‘Very good, Mr Absalom. Very good.’ He turned back to the painting and sighed. ‘Alas, Mr Runcible’s first efforts were met with a certain amount of mistrust and fear. The First, as they called his original creation, was taken from him and burnt. Runcible, however, was not deterred. He created more so-called mechanicals and people began to realize their importance. They were used as labour and servants. Joshua Runcible changed Britain for ever.’

  Reeves straightened the portrait before taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently dabbing at the paint, so Runcible’s face could be seen more clearly.

  ‘Unfortunately, some were still afraid. Adult models were particularly reviled, for fear they might supplant us. But a compromise was reached where the smaller, yet still quite industrious and durable, child models could be used in civilized society without offending public sensibilities.’

  Reeves pocketed his handkerchief and turned and grinned. Jack didn’t like that grin. There was malice in it.

  ‘But of course, you know all of this, Mr Absalom, being, as you are, a member of an illustrious tradition.’

  Absalom swallowed.

  Jack watched Reeves with a kind of queasy fascination. The man moved with unsettling precision.

  Reeves removed his hat and placed it on the table. He then took off his jacket, folded it neatly and placed it over the back of a chair. His hair was black and shiny and obviously Brylcreemed to his head. Nevertheless, Reeves patted it into place, first with the heel of his right hand, making sure not to touch it with his fingers, and then with the heel of his left hand. Satisfied that his hair was in order, he took a small notebook and short pencil out of the inside pocket of his smart, charcoal-grey suit, pulled the chair from the table, and sat on it with great delicacy.

  ‘So, Mr Gregory Absalom of Absalom Mechanicals,’ Reeves smiled. Absalom didn’t appear to know how to respond. ‘Do you know what we do at the Agency?’

  Absalom nodded.

  Reeves continued as if he hadn’t responded. ‘We are responsible for the regulation of the creation and use of mechanicals. We see that they conform to the industry standards, we see that each model is given its appropriate serial number, and we see that the engineers who create them are registered and logged as official engineers.’

  Absalom looked at the table.

  ‘Were you trained and registered as an engineer, Mr Absalom?’

  Despite the tension in the room, or maybe because of it, Jack almost laughed. Absalom said nothing. Reeves leant forward, his voice quietly sympathetic.

  ‘Better to be upfront now. I can quite easily check our records back at the office, but if you co-operate then it might well stand you in good stead further down the line.’

  Absalom shook his head.

  ‘What’s that, Mr Absalom? I didn’t quite catch that. You’ll have to speak up.’

  ‘No,’ whispered Absalom.

  Reeves took up his pen and scribbled in his notebook, frowning and pursing his lips. He put his pencil down and fixed his hair in the same careful manner as before.

  ‘Would you care to explain the rather large model outside?’

  Absalom looked confused. ‘Gripper? He does . . . he’s for heavy-duty lifting.’

  ‘I see.’

  Absalom became suddenly animated. ‘He conforms to industry guidelines, Mr Reeves, I assure you. For starters, he really doesn’t have the mental capacities to pass himself off as properly independent. Why, he’s more like a child. And as for his size, I think you’ll find in terms of physical appearance he is so far beyond the recognizable parameters for physical humanoid verisimilitude that he can in no way be mistaken for an adult human. In that respect, I do believe I have stuck well within the letter of the law.’

  Absalom had some of his old confidence back. He rapped his forefinger on the table to drive his point home, leant back in his chair and gave, if not a fully confident one, at least a tentative smile.

  ‘Ah, the Filby precedent. I see you’ve read up on certain aspects of law, Mr Absalom. What year was that again? Nineteen twenty . . .’

  ‘Twenty-four,’ said Absalom, licking his lips and clearing his throat. He crossed his legs and laced his hands together on a bony knee and tried to look Reeves straight in the eye. ‘Nineteen twenty-four.’ There was a gleam in Absalom’s eyes, as if he suddenly believed he might actually be able to talk his way out of his predicament. ‘So, you see Mr Ree—’

  ‘Tell me about the boy,’ interrupted Reeves.

  Absalom swallowed. ‘The boy?’

  ‘Yes, the boy. Forgive me, I use the term boy, but we both know that he is in fact mechanical in origin. Hence my appearance here today in my official capacity.’

  Absalom took a moment, then leant forwards and gave one of his oily smiles. ‘I think you’ll find, Mr Reeves, that the boy you are no doubt referring to falls well within industry guidelines.’

  Reeves looked at him. Absalom tried to sustain his smile, but something in Reeves’s gaze started to erode his confidence. His smile became rubbery and loose. Jack allowed his eyes to flit quickly between Absalom’s face and Reeves’s. Reeves wasn’t smiling.

  ‘Are you saying you made him?’ asked Reeves.

  ‘Yes, yes I am,’ said Absalom, and he tried to force his smile back on his face.

  ‘You’re saying you made the boy . . .’ He gestured with his pencil for Absalom to fill in the gaps.

  ‘Christopher,’ said Absalom.

  ‘You’re saying you made Christopher. That you constructed him.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ said Absalom, but this time there was a crack in his voice. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair.

  Reeves took a moment to look around him at the shelves and various bits of bric-a-brac on the shed floor. Jack could see the creeping disdain in his eyes, but the tone of his voice was still light and conversational.

  ‘You created him and the others from these raw materials?’

  ‘Y–yes,’ said Absalom.

  Reeves’s eyes fell on Jack’s head. For one terrifying moment, the urge to blink returned. It was almost overpowering. Jack tried to keep staring straight ahead. After what seemed like an eternity, Reeves finally turned back to face Absalom.

  ‘How is he animated?’

  Absalom looked confused.


  ‘How is the boy powered, Mr Absalom?’

  Absalom gave a nervous laugh. ‘Why, by Basic Propulsion, of course. I use Runcible’s standard glyphs for the conferral of sentience and animation.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Reeves, tapping his pencil against his chin and regarding Absalom. ‘You’re quite sure he’s not powered by another method?’

  Absalom barked with laughter at Reeves’ suggestion. ‘Nonsense. What other method could there possibly be?’

  ‘Tell me, Mr Absalom, are you familiar with the methods, principles and practices underlying the refined system?’

  Absalom’s head bobbled for a moment, as if he’d just been slapped. ‘What?’ he said.

  Reeves smile became that little bit colder. His voice was soft. ‘Are you, Mr Gregory Absalom of Absalom Mechanicals, familiar with the theory, systems and practical application of the principles of Refined Propulsion?’

  The colour drained from Absalom’s face. ‘I. . . I . . . please . . .’ His voice was hoarse with fear. ‘Why are you asking me that?’

  Reeves interlaced his fingers and lowered his eyes. He looked up again at Absalom, and his voice was still low and soft, but there was something dark in his eyes.

  ‘Let me put it to you another way, Mr Absalom. Is this boy animated by the principles and practical methods of Refined Propulsion?’

  Jack felt a sudden hot jolt when he realized the significance of this statement. It could only mean one thing. His mind started to spin as he thought about the possibility.

  Absalom shook his head. His eyes were wide and terrified.

  Reeves sighed gently. ‘Tell me, Mr Absalom, how is the refined system animated?’

  ‘Buh . . . buh . . . by . . .’ Absalom stammered.

  Reeves nodded for him to go on. Jack’s eyes were widening in disbelief.

  ‘Buh . . . by the melding of a soul with the mechanical system.’

  A stunned Jack was barely able to take in what was being said.

  ‘You don’t think . . . do you think . . . ?’ Absalom stuttered.

  Reeves ignored him. He took a brisk breath in through his nose and turned back to his notebook.

  ‘Where did you find him, Mr Absalom?’

  Absalom snorted and grinned, perhaps glad of the change of subject. His grin disappeared when Reeves looked at him again.

  ‘Where did you find him?’

  ‘I didn’t find . . . I didn’t. I made . . .’ When he suddenly realized what he might be admitting to, he panicked. ‘I mean made him, but not in the refined sense . . . I wouldn’t . . .’

  ‘Where did you find the boy?’

  Reeves stared across the table at Absalom. Absalom tried to speak, but he could only make a strangulated sound in the back of his throat that Jack recognized as him trying to formulate an excuse. The engineer wriggled and squirmed in his chair as Reeves continued to look at him with his dark, piercing eyes.

  There was a knock on the door that almost made Absalom fall from his chair in fright.

  ‘Enter,’ said Reeves.

  The other agent walked in and handed Reeves a scrap of paper. Reeves looked at it and nodded at him. ‘Very good.’

  The man left, and Reeves put the paper on the table and turned back to his notebook.

  ‘Tell me about Proper Edward.’

  It was as if Absalom had been punched. Jack fully expected him to fly backwards off his chair.

  ‘Prop . . . prop . . . pop . . .’ he stammered.

  ‘Proper Edward,’ said Reeves, giving a gentle, encouraging smile.

  Absalom was wheezing now. ‘I can explain . . . it was an accident.’

  ‘What was an accident, Mr Absalom?’

  Absalom stared at the scrap of paper. ‘Please . . .’ he gasped.

  Reeves placed his palms on the table. ‘Section one of His Majesty’s code governing the creation and automation of mechanicals, sub-section three, paragraph five, states that it is an offence to knowingly or unknowingly confer sentience upon any raw material, which, when built, conforms to the standard agreed dimensions of an adult human being. The committing of such an offence carries the minimum sentence of fifteen years in prison.’

  Absalom was gasping even more now, and his shoulders were heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

  ‘An accident . . . I swear . . .’

  Reeves leant forward and spoke quietly. ‘Knowingly or unknowingly, Mr Absalom. You know why it’s not permitted to make adults, don’t you?’

  Absalom nodded. ‘It’s wrong, it’s not proper. People are offended by ‘em.’

  Reeves leant further forward. ‘And I am offended by you, sir!’ he roared.

  Reeves was suddenly a snarling, raging devil, his eyes black with hate. Even Jack felt the full force of his outburst. ‘You, sir, are a charlatan and a liar! You make a mockery of His Majesty’s laws and of the good name of Britain. Shame on you for your criminality! Shame on you for your lies, your deceit! You disgust me, sir. You disgust me!’

  Reeves was shaking with rage now, the breath was heaving in and out of him so hard it made his nostrils flare like those of an angry bull. He started to calm himself steadily and slowly, taking deep breaths in and out. Eventually he was breathing normally. He straightened his shoulders and pulled prissily at the hem of his jacket. Then he patted his hair in his usual manner, the heel of his right hand, followed by the heel of his left. He gave a short, sharp satisfied ‘Ah’ and shot Absalom a dazzling smile as if nothing had happened.

  ‘As a senior Agency operative I have the power to sentence you.’

  Absalom’s head was lowered now, and his shoulders were shaking. It was clear that he was crying. Jack felt an odd mixture of contempt and pity for him.

  ‘If you’re truthful about the origins of how the boy came to be in your possession then I can assure you I will be merciful with my sentencing.’

  ‘Found ‘im,’ snivelled Absalom. ‘Found him in a ditch two years ago. He wasn’t moving. I could see straightaway what he was. He was dormant, but I took him back here and managed to wake him.’

  ‘Where was this ditch, Mr Absalom?’

  ‘‘Bout five miles from here, just outside Chippington,’ said Absalom, wiping his nose with his hand.

  Reeves sat back in his chair. ‘Well now,’ he said quietly to himself. He leant forward again. ‘And did he have any memory of how he came into being?’

  ‘Nothing, just snatches of stuff that made no sense.’

  ‘But he’s always thought he’s a proper boy?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How did you convince him of this?’

  Absalom looked furtive again. ‘I patched him.’

  ‘You patched him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A man of your shoddy skills? You patched him?’ Reeves shook his head in amazement.

  Absalom lowered his head again.

  ‘Where did you get the patches?’

  ‘Black market.’ Absalom looked up, he seemed dazed. ‘I can give you the name of—’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  Reeves seemed to be considering what he’d just been told. Then, with one swift elegant movement, he was up from his chair and in the process of putting his coat back on. He paused for a moment and looked down at Absalom. ‘My sentencing will be lenient. There will be no punishment for the potential harbouring of a refined mechanical unit, but only if you promise never to tell another soul about what happened here today.’ He leant down towards Absalom and spoke in an icy whisper. ‘No one must know, do you understand?’

  Absalom looked up. His eyes were cloudy and his head was bobbling again. He somehow managed a nod.

  Reeves straightened up and snapped the collar of his coat up around his neck. ‘Thank you, Mr Absalom. You’ve been very helpful. I will reflect that in my sentencing.’

  He gave a quick bow and placed his hat back on his head. ‘When you feel sufficiently able, perhaps you could follow me outside.’

  Once Reev
es had left, Absalom sat and stared into space. After a while he gave a low moan and buried his face in his hands.

  From where he was, Jack could see movement in the darkness outside the window.

  ‘Mr Absalom, I need some help,’ he said.

  Absalom spun around so hard that he had to grab the table for support.

  ‘Jack? But you . . .’

  ‘Please, Mr Absalom, hurry.’

  Absalom stumbled over to where Jack’s head was, and after some fumbling and directions from Jack he found the rest of him. He placed Jack’s head back on his body and grabbed his shoulders.

  ‘You didn’t hear anything,’ he pleaded.

  Jack shook his head sorrowfully. ‘I heard everything, Mr Absalom.’

  He started towards the door, but Absalom jumped in front of him.

  ‘I didn’t know, I swear. I was trying my best is all.’

  Jack looked at him accusingly. ‘You knew he wasn’t proper, Mr Absalom, and you never told anyone.’

  Absalom tried to say something else, but Jack just pushed past him.

  He opened the door and stepped outside. The glare from the van’s headlights temporarily blinded him, and he held his arm up to his eyes.

  ‘There’s another one, sir,’ said Reeves’s partner, pointing at Jack.

  Reeves raised his head from his notebook, gave Jack a dismissive look and waved the man away.

  Manda and Round Rob came over to Jack, both looking frightened. Estelle was a few feet away, and a hunched Christopher was standing near the van. Gripper was by the shed, swinging his arms, watching everything and looking bewildered.

  ‘He asked us questions, Jack,’ said Manda. ‘Rob told him everything.’

  ‘I did not!’ said Rob. Jack could see the guilty look on his face. He smiled at him to let him know everything was all right.

  ‘Don’t worry, Rob,’ he said.

  Absalom came out, leaning against the door jamb, his long fingers trembling. Jack looked over at Christopher, who still hadn’t moved.