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Chapter 3 – Elegant the Crane...
“I do not care for this box,” grumbled the short man in the dark suit as he dropped the plastic cube onto the hall. “I do not like how everyone can see how short I am outside of the machine. As an administrator to the machine, I do not feel I should be so short.”
The short man's companion, a tall, slim man who also wore a crisp suit of black, chuckled. “Only children surround us, and I promise you that none of them are paying any attention to your stature deficiency. You should not care however you might be perceived in these halls. What is perceived outside of the machine is of no concern. As an administrator, you should know that.”
The short man growled. “I am a giant in the machine.”
“Of course you are,” agreed the taller associate.
The tall man still noticed his companion scowl as the shorter man stepped upon his platic cube in order to be afforded a view of Nigel Hightower's apartment door over the childrens' shoulders. Boys and girls flowed around his box and took no notice of either of the administrators' presence, though the company of the dark suits so often terrified the youth. The morning belonged to the replicant maker, who had promised each child a creature creation more splendid than the last. The children gathered with their imaginations on fire, and even dark-suited administrators needed to behave when the replicant maker held court outside his apartment door.
“Do you think we'll have to wait long?” The shorter administrator asked his colleague.
The taller man smiled. “I hope not. I wouldn't know what to do with so many children should the replicant maker disappoint them.”
The administrators had no experience regarding the organization of Mr. Hightower's creature presentations. They seldom spent time outside of the machine in the new city's dull, plastic and white halls. Neither ever imagined they would one morning be present to watch an eccentric and broken old man present foolish children with foolish imitations of the lost, old world's animals. Yet their duty asked them to attend such a show. Neither of the dark-suited administrators hesitated to do what the machine requested.
Learning of Mr. Hightower's next performance had not been easy. Time away from the machine made the taller and shorter administrators feel uncomfortable. It was a rare adult citizen of the new world who paid attention to anything in the dull, plastic and white halls, and thus none of the men or women who the administrators stopped to ask about a replicant maker held any information or advice. The administrators had to hurry to corner any child they noticed in the halls. Most retreated from the dark suits, and even handfuls of candy bars did little to motivate a child to stay and talk to the machine's administrators.
They had invested several shifts away from the machine before the shorter man noticed the white bulletins taped throughout the plastic halls. It was evident that someone had taken care to craft the square pieces of cardboard. Their borders had been cut into the shapes of waves. Silver and golden glitter sparkled around the edges. Careful calligraphy flowed across the heart of the bulletins, and not a single card betrayed a sign of blemished penmanship. Neither the tall nor the short administrator could read the bulletins' announcement, for reading was an old world practice that had faded in the new city. But the tall and short administrator suspected that the cardboard squares they collected from the walls had much to do with the man the children called replicant maker, for only the disconnected children would invest such care to create outside of the machine's dreams. It had taken a sack of lemon drops, and a box of chocolate peanuts, but finally, the administrators found a boy willing to decipher the bulletins' calligraphy that told of the replicant maker's newest presentation.
A surge passed through the crowd of children gathered at Mr. Hightower's apartment door.
A knock pounded from the inner side of the apartment door. Silence descended upon the children, who held their breath in the clean, plastic and white halls for the latest of the replicant maker's wonders. Wisps of thin, white hair peeked from the apartment as the door opened slowly. A pair of antique and round spectacles followed. The children erupted in applause. They laughed. They jumped up and down. They spun in tight circles. The tall man felt the mirth rise from the souls of his feet, and the shorter man wobbled atop his plastic cube. The children danced.
For an instant, the replicant maker's face disappeared back behind the door, but it returned as suddenly as it had retreated as Nigel Hightower pushed a wheeled table, another oddity salvaged from the old world, into the hall. Children whispered to one another, guessing what newest creation rested below the cloth draping the table's surface. The crowd flowed and cleared before the table's path. The replicant maker offered the dark-suited administrators a timid smile as he passed them, showing little signs of surprise or anxiety for their unexpected presence. Silence again fell and dominated the children, who fidgeted as they awaited the unveiling of the replicant maker's new creation.
Nighel Hightower stood in the middle of the children and prepared to speak. The children held their breath so they missed not a word.
“Such a crowd treats an old man too kindly,” the replicant maker's eyes sparkled through his spectacles. “I have a new animal to unveil to all of you. I hope it thrills you more than the glowing eels we last saw swimming in my large aquarium. But before I pull the cloth covering my table, I again need to ask for a volunteer's help.”
The children stretched their arms as high as their fingers could flex, teetering on their tip-toes while the replicant maker scanned the crowd.
“Ah, how about you, child?” The replicant maker pointed into the crowd's center. “Yes. You. The girl who has decorated her lapel with a wonderful, pink flamingo. You've deftly captured that bird's elegance with your effort, so I think you'll do well in introducing my new creation. Read you cardboard invitation to the assembly before I pull away the cloth. Make your voice strong in case there are those here who do not have a card to read for themselves.”
The girl wearing the pink flamingo upon her lapel walked confidently to the replicant maker's table while holding her cardboard invitation high. There, she turned to face the crowd and spoke with a clear, loud voice.
“Elegant the crane.
Balancing on watershine.
Graceful can he fly.”
The replicant maker pulled aside the cloth with a snap of his hand and a flourish. The children gaped as the mechanism shimmered in the hall's lighting. Even the eyes of the dark-suited administrators widened at the object colored in bronzes and golds that reflected so many wonder-struck childrens' faces.
A whirl of gears and a clicking of springs floated to the crowd's ears. The bronze and gold creature shifted and stirred. An eye opened as the long, slender neck rose to regard the boys and girls staring upon it. A pair of wide wings unfolded, created so deftly with the replicant maker's hands from a thin web of some sort of scavenged, old-world alloy that shimmered in the lighting. Several of the children could not resist clapping as the creature lifted its body upon a pair of long, slender legs. The creature's eyes winked and rolled as it judged the environment. Its wings stretched as thousands of articulated segments tested the narrow hallway's breezes. Children grabbed one another's arms as the replicant maker's creature stepped from one side of the table to the next, testing the boundaries of the precipice upon which it had been set.
The children thrilled at the marvel. Never before had the replicant maker assembled an animal with so many moving parts. Never before had the replicant maker crafted such an animal that considered its environment. The children feared to move, and they choked their glee's laughter, lest some spontaneous gesture might scare away the creature.
The mechanical animal raised its neck and spread its wings. Its slender legs bent and gathered force. Then, in the heartbeat it took for the mechanism's springs and gears to leap from the table, the replicant maker's newest, greatest, marvel took flight.
The robotic crane of bronze and gold floated through th
e hall. Its wide wings shimmered and beat rhythmically above the heads of the children who laughed, and jumped, and danced as the creature glided above them. It was more incredible than anything the replicant maker had previously presented. It moved with such agility. With a mind of its own, the collection of parts the replicant maker had magically welded, sewn and ratcheted into a crane turned before striking any of the new city's walls, elevated before scraping any of the childrens' heads, twisted as it floated from one end of the hall to the next.
Throughout its flight, the crane glimmered in reflected light. Cheers and applause filled that neighborhood of the new world's clean, white and plastic walls. The children smiled, none for an instant lamenting that they had not yet seen any of the machine's dream visions upon which the new world was founded. None of them lamented for a second that those dark glasses brought routinely before them showed them nothing more than darkness. None of the children desired for that embrace of the new world's machine.
“That is something,” the short man's balance teetered upon his plastic cube as his fleshy neck twisted and turned to follow the crane's flight.
The tall man could not resist the impulse to duck as the crane swooped past him. “I'm sure the machine could've easily shown me any flying bird, and so much more, should I ask for it. But who would've thought such could be realized outside of the machine? It is good that the children have Mr. Hightower's skill to help soother the pain of their separation from the machine before their minds grow well enough to know its embrace.”
“It's a comforting thought to realize the children are not as alone as we might've feared,” the shorter man agreed. “It's good that the young find comfort where they can. Thank goodness the new updates will finally bring the children to the machine. A mechanical, flying bird is a special thing in the new city's halls, but it is nothing compared to what the machine can offer their minds. The children deserve more.”
“Indeed,” the tall man's eyes followed the mechanical crane's flight. “The new updates represent a grand accomplishment. Perhaps we will also be able to bring Mr. Hightower back to the machine. He must suffer horribly in his isolation. His is a truly tragic case.”
The shorter man's eyes followed the flight a little longer before he dismissed the creature as a creation inferior to whatever the machine could summon. “That's what I appreciate about our job. That's why I sacrifice so much time away from the machine to wear this dark suit. It's good to bring happiness. It's what our new world is all about.”
A smile stretched across the taller man's face. “I share your sentiment, and it's exactly why I'm so excited about the updates.”
The shorter man grinned. “Still, I don't like spending any more time than we have to away from the machine. I expected to tell Mr. Hightower the good news regarding the updates before now. Should we wade through the crowd and tell him?”
The tall man softly shook his head. “I'm not positive we'd make it to him. Let's remember that Mr. Hightower's work, however it pales in comparison to what we might find in the machine, is wonderful in the new city's halls. We would be impolite to interrupt the celebration his efforts deserve. Give the replicant maker and his children their moment. Let them appreciate the mechanical bird's flight.”
For several moments more, the children danced and laughed as the wonderful, mechanical crane circled overhead. The replicant maker gave them an animal whose feathers and wings would fill the childrens' dreams with more splendor than the zoological band of monkeys and bears had before offered, with more marvel than the dancing cats had ever before given, with more pleasure than previously provided by the bounding dogs. The children gazed overhead and remained unaware that the dark-suited administrators would soon present them with the new world's salvation, with the updates and modifications that would, finally, connect the machine with the young mind. For one more time, the children rejoiced before the replicant maker's splendor.
“It's really something,” the shorter man repeated. “I think I might add something like it to my dreams in the machine.”
The tall man agreed. “I wonder why I had not thought of birds before in the machine. I wonder why I had never considered flight.”
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Butcher, Baker and Replicant Maker Page 3
