by Waiting for the Machines to Fall Asleep- The Best New Science Fiction from Sweden (retail) (epub)
The young man went to the back end of his stall and returned with something that looked like a clothes drawer on wheels. At the base of the drawer was a grille which could be opened, and at the top edge was a toothed hole that looked like it could rotate.
"This is the steam-powered clockwork assistant. It runs on firewood, just like a stove, and when heat and steam have accumulated this thing here starts to spin." He pointed to the serrated hole. "This is called the operating port and you place it over the horse's wind-up key to save you the workload. In the future there will be customizable clockwork assistants that can be raised and lowered for different animals, but because you only have an unmodified automaton horse this will do fine."
"I don't know ..."
"And since you're such a good customer, almost like a friend, I'll give you a discount and a few bottles of ignition oil for the clockwork assistant. It increases ignition capacity by seventy percent in the winter, when it might be difficult to start a fire. If you look at the numbers it will be vastly cheaper than buying an old bio horse and isn't that what it's all about? Saving money to make life easier? You want to give your family a better and easier life, don't you?"
"Well, I guess so."
The younger man's smile grew wider and wider.
A few weeks passed. The rain had been pouring down for several days and the mud went up to the market visitors' knees. The metal rods on the rooftops had multiplied once again and they crackled in the wetness. The young man sat in his stall and counted his money when a familiar and soaking wet figure stepped inside.
"Welcome back. Lage, right? What can I interest you in this time?"
"The horse gets stuck in the mud. I had to ask a neighbor for a ride to get here today."
"Yes, it is an unfortunate deficiency in the older automaton horses. It's always difficult to test for all conditions, but it really isn't that bad. When the rain stops you just clean the horse off and continue as usual."
Lage took a menacing step forward, causing the younger man to almost trip over one of the mechanical cats that lay sleeping, half-drowned in the mud. He was pale and tired, for Lage was not the only one who had come to complain. The newly introduced automaton cats had also been a source of late nights and stomach ulcers – due to some punch card error they primarily ate other cats rather than mice.
"I suppose you are here to return the horse?"
Lage stopped short.
"No. It's back home, stuck in the mud. How was I to get it here? Besides, the children love it. I don't understand what they see in it, but they've made me promise never to return it."
The color returned to the young man's face.
"Really? Well, children truly are amazing."
Lage sat down on a box labelled "cerebro prototype". Under his weight, it too sank into the mud. He said nothing for a long time, and the only sounds were the never-ending rain and angry crackling of the rods. Every now and then a visitor came to the stall and the young man sold some automaton cats, at a discounted price of course.
After having handed out punch cards and received payment the young man looked at Lage. He gently pressed a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He had first intended to bring out the imported tea, but he knew that the people in the countryside preferred the strong, black brew of the beans instead.
You could see the heat spreading through Lage. "My neighbor, the one who drove me, said that there was some module that allowed the horse to handle mud."
"That's right. The spider's legs. They can be purchased at a low cost, and once they are installed, mud problems will be a thing of the past. They also increase the horse's top speed, but unfortunately, the wind-up takes slightly longer. But that is no problem for you, because you have an automatic clockwork assistant. The horse will be taller, but that can very easily be solved with a slight correction. At a discount, naturally."
At Lage's next visit, the number of weather balloons had multiplied. At certain times of day they blocked out the sun in such an unfortunate way that the entire market was in shadow, but this had been solved in an inventive way with mirrors that threw a stylistic artificial light over the stalls and their visitors.
"Ever since I installed the legs the horse goes too fast. I don't have time to stop and insert the new punch cards."
One of the automaton cats, whose head had been replaced with a tray where the young man kept his tools, was sitting on the table inside the stall. When the young man got up to greet Lage the cat rose too, but froze in mid-motion and stood motionless.
"Yes, that happens sometimes when you install the legs yourself. It would've been better if you'd paid extra for installation assistance. But I have some new punch cards I can give you that'll lower the horse's speed."
"You just give me new punch cards every time and I can't keep track of them anymore. I don't know that many Bible verses."
"Then I suggest you buy these punch card sets with pre-programmed obedience memories. You will need to unscrew a metal plate next to where you inserted the old cards, but I have tools for sale for that too."
* * *
Alvin hadn't been allowed to accompany his father to the market in Skrivsjö town very often. The journey had always been seen as a stress factor and something Lage rather avoided and to bring the children along as well would have been too big a hassle. However, Alvin had accompanied his father in secret a few times and, even though Skrivsjö seemed large and scary, he had thought it was beautiful at the same time. The metal rods on the roof tops reminded him of dragonflies and the balloons resembled exotic fruits.
Now Alvin was grown up and could go when he wanted to. But you never did want to in Småland, you only went when you had to.
It took quite a while for him to find the stall where his father had always gone. Alvin had only ever seen it at a distance and he went the wrong way at first. More and more people had started buying automaton horses and other beasts, and so the man who had sold the horse to Lage long ago was no longer alone in offering his goods.
The man who managed the stall was much older than Alvin and wore highly unusual clothes – fancy gentleman's clothes covered by work wear, which had become fancier and dirtier over the years, respectively. At first the older man didn't react when Alvin arrived, he was far away, staring at the other stalls with their more advanced creations.
"Oh, excuse me." The older man adjusted his overalls. "How can I be of service?"
"Hello, my name is Alvin. I'm the son of Lage who used to buy parts from you."
"Are you Lage's son? How nice to finally meet you. Shame that you don't have your old man with you, he's a very good customer."
"He won't be coming anymore. He passed away yesterday."
For a moment, the older man turned even older. Once again, he threw a glance at the other stalls. Then he put a hand on Alvin's shoulder.
"I'm sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man, and it means a lot to me that you came here to the market to inform me. Is it too much to ask how it happened?"
"He fell off our horse and broke his neck when he went riding to the neighbor's farm."
"He rode on an automaton horse with spider's legs installed?" The older man looked genuinely surprised.
They both stood silent for a while. Then the older man went and fetched them both a cup of tea.
"The reason why I am here is that we children never learned how to control the automaton horse."
Alvin fidgeted and looked uncomfortable while he drank his steaming tea. "I've been standing for hours trying to make heads or tails of the punch cards, but I can't."
"Yes, they can be challenging for the untrained."
"I came here to get help with the horse and I thought that maybe you could come with me to the farm and show me how to use it? I also would need to buy new punch cards because I think there are many that have been misplaced."
The older man sighed.
"I would love to accompany you and show you, but if it is as you say and some punch cards ar
e missing there isn't a lot I can do. Besides, the more recent automaton animals have switched over to smaller and more manageable cards, so I can't sell you any new ones that'll work with your horse."
Despite the fact that they were finished with their business Alvin did not get up to leave. The same thoughts that Lage had held were now floating around in his son's head and he wondered if it wouldn't be easier to just get an old horse made of flesh and blood. But such horses weren't sold here anymore. Besides, it felt as a big waste to just leave the old automaton horse standing there to rust – in Småland, you made use of what you had.
"When did you say your father passed away?"
"Yesterday."
"Wait here."
The older man came back with a big box out of which he began to pull saw-like tools. Lastly, he produced a glass container with a greenish-blue liquid inside. It was about as big as a man's head and its bottom was filled with rods, similar to those on Skrivsjö's rooftops.
"I think that I, thanks to your father, can give you a whole new control system that is far superior to the old punch cards. Normally this comes at a small cost, but I liked your father so much that this one is on me."
Since people from Småland never let anything go to waste Alvin agreed to let the older man accompany him back to the farm. Alvin's mother was against the entire procedure at first but, after a little persuasion, she came around. "God helps those who help themselves," she said.
The older man had brought a shovel out of sheer eagerness but it turned out to be unnecessary as Lage's body still lay under a blanket in one of the outbuildings. The older man asked if Alvin wanted to join in with the sawing but he declined.
Unfortunately, the new control device, which was placed between the automaton horse's ears, was not pretty to look at. Some of the younger children were afraid of it, so Alvin quickly made sure that it was always covered by a black piece of cloth.
But early in the morning, at the beginning of the work day, Alvin always left the glass container uncovered. He imagined that Lage would have wanted it that way. He had always loved sunrises, these majestic wonders of nature.
Translation by P-O Rehnberg
"The Philosopher's Stone" – Tora Greve
The row of horseless vehicles moved slowly along Kensington High Street. The green translucent leaves of Kensington Garden were colored red by the setting sun. The day had been unusually hot for this time of the year. Workers headed homewards now that the diminishing daylight no longer made it sensible to continue working.
The row of horseless vehicles had come to a standstill.
Dr. Isaac Barrow didn't curse the evening rush. He was on time for his appointment. Sir Robert Boyle had made a great discovery which he wanted to introduce to the most distinguished scientists of England.
Barrow repented that he had chosen the open vehicle for his trip to London. The smoke from the other vehicles was annoying and made him cough. His running eyes stared at the barrel at the back of the vehicle in front of him. He turned his head to look at something more pleasant.
Many female workers were hurrying home to take care of their families. Some of them had an appearance worth resting an eye on. Since queen Elizabeth had forced through women's equal rights with men, many women worked outside home and earned their own money.
One young woman didn't seem to be in a hurry. She walked slowly and confidently, looking like she owned the world.
Barrow leaned out of his vehicle: "Need a ride?"
She stared him up and down with peculiar green eyes and then turned away.
The row of vehicles suddenly moved forward some yards. It stood still again when the girl passed him once more. "Sure you're not changing your mind?"
"I will reach my destination faster by walking." When she spoke, he understood she was probably Scandinavian or German, although she didn't look like it. She had black curly hair and a tanned complexion. In addition, she wore long golden earrings. He would have guessed North African.
However, he didn't see her the next time the row of vehicles got into motion. Besides, he had reached his destination in Holland Park and turned up a quiet side street. He wondered whether his timid companion from Cambridge had found Sir Robert's address. The young man insisted on sightseeing alone that day.
Barrow had picked up young Isaac Newton when he failed to pass his first examination in mathematics and had to try again. The student had found Euclid "a dreary task". Newton was a shy and reserved boy from Lincolnshire having to pay for his tuition and board by being a servant to his teacher. When Barrow became his tutor, he soon discovered that young Newton did his duties as a servant without being asked. Barrow sometimes got the feeling that the boy was able to read his mind. Newton's ambition was to study history and chronology. But his interest in the subject was rather queer, Barrow thought. He had read Thomas Norton too thoroughly before he came to the university. Oh yes, he had read a lot, both sane and unhealthy literature. Unfortunately he was more inclined to the mystics. He firmly believed that pharao Sesostris the third had known the secret of the Philosopher's Stone, and kept on insisting that only the body of Sesostris had died. Isaac Barrow believed Newton might gain outstanding ability in geometry if he only learned the most fundamental theorems and definitions. Luckily he succeeded in turning his mind towards that subject instead. In addition, Newton absorbed the new geometry remarkably quickly. When Barrow had taught him all he knew of mathematics, he resigned his last lecturer's place to his pupil.
Barrow handed his card to Sir Robert's servant. It was so hot outside that he didn't have any coat. The servant showed him into the living room. "The others have arrived, sir."
"Dr. Newton too?"
"Yes, sir."
Barrow went inside. Six persons were present, sitting by the fireplace, which was lit, in spite of the heat outside. However, Sir Robert's living room was quite gloomy with its leaden windowpanes and heavy velvet curtains. One couldn't decide which season it was when sitting inside his house.
Sir Robert Boyle dominated the conversation. The subject was obviously alchemy. Officially the scientists didn't bother in regards to such ancient sorcery and scientific witch-craft. In private, though, several of them were attracted to the irrational element which called upon the mystic in them. Boyle was very eagerly talking, perhaps a little loud and breathless. His face had grown almost as red as his hair.
They all turned when Barrow arrived. He knew most of the faces. Robert Hooke was, of course, present. The irritable and cynical cripple who criticized everybody and insinuated that they had stolen the fruits of his labor was Sir Robert's assistant. John Locke, the philosopher, had placed himself in a chair near the fireplace, so that the fancy colors of his suit were revealed. He smoked a pipe and regarded the flames. Sometimes he nodded, confirming. "I admit that I'm an amateur in the natural sciences," he said and, chuckling, emptied his pipe into the fireplace. "I had to ask Dr. Hyugens whether the mathematics in Dr. Newton's Principia was sane before I would accept its philosophical parts." He cast a glance at the young man sitting beside him.
Newton sat as far away from Hooke as possible.
The two others Barrow had never met before.
Sir Robert rose, greeted him and led his new guest to a chair by the fireplace. Then Barrow was introduced to the two strangers. "Captain Edmond Halley, just come home from his travel to the southern hemisphere," Sir Robert said.
"Congratulations. I read about your discovery in the National Geographic," Barrow said. "Was it a common comet?"
A humorous hint to the unidentified flying objects was always welcome among the alchemists. The handsome face of Captain Halley stiffened. He probably had no sense of humor.
"Humanity will soon enough conquer the air, too," Sir Robert broke in. "I'm also expecting our impressive sailing ships to be replaced by ships driven by steam, like our horseless vehicles on the ground."
"God forbid," Captain Halley said and laughed.
"My consolations. I'm
sorry for your father's accident. A pity. We used to go out together," Barrow said.
Halley just murmured some polite remarks. Barrow thought he had changed for the better since he was a child. His red, curly hair had straightened and become almost black, and his freckled complexion now had a tanned, even color probably due to his visit in a warmer climate. Amazing that a person could alter his appearance that much only by growing up, Barrow thought.
The second stranger sat on a pillow in front of the fireplace. She wore long golden earrings like women from North Africa. Barrow recognized the girl he had tried to invite into his vehicle.
"Dr. Fredrika Wilhelmina von Leibniz, the famous German mathematician," Sir Robert said. "I guess you two have much in common."
Barrow didn't blush. During their correspondence he had never fallen upon the idea that Dr. F. W. von Leibniz might be a lady. Germany had not yet given women equal rights to men. However, she lived mostly in Paris. Barrow, who sat between her and Newton, lit his pipe. Newton had been annoyed when Leibniz invented a mathematical method similar to his own. Barrow bellowed out a big cloud of smoke which made Leibniz cough and turn away. He knew Leibniz was the elder child of a noble family in Germany, famous for its many scientists and philosophers. The present Dr. F. W. von Leibniz had a reputation for being a greater genius than any of the ancestors. Barrow had always admired Leibniz's abilities in mathematics, language and arts. But he had thought her to be a man and much older than she looked.
At dinner Barrow managed to sit beside her. Truly, she interested him even more than before. "You must come to Cambridge and give some lectures in your new mathematical method," he said. As a master of Trinity College he might invite whom he wanted as a guest lecturer, although the university still hadn't allowed any female students or tutors. It was a matter of housing, proctor used to say.
Her translucent green eyes met his. For a moment he felt being emptied of all thoughts below those eyes. "I accept," she finally said.
