Sunstone: A Steampunk Reality

by Holly Barbo

  At the meeting this morning, Dylan had told them that M’nacht had been severely beaten in a home breakin. The old man had been taken to Paramount Hospital and given maximum care. The doctors stabilized him and felt that he would recover, but overnight M’nacht had disappeared from the facility. No one knew where he was. Kes was out of town on vacation and Quin had left on family business. The news rattled them. He wasn’t just their employer, but a good, decent man.

  With M’nacht and Kes missing, all they knew to do was continue the research path the old man had started them on. The work was important, and everyone just hoped that M’nacht would return and be able to use the information they were gathering. There was civil unrest building on Myrn. No one in the office wanted things to get ugly. Oshe and Ran were looking into the sources of the contributions to the members of the Council. It was tedious work, researching where every cent came from. M’nacht needed to know which of the elders were being financially influenced, and cross-check that against their voting record. Frea was trying to track down what company had projects using water from the Okamak. Mikla’s project was to investigate when this level of unrest had last happened and how it had been resolved.

  She put her hands over her eyes and took a calming breath. This was not the time to fall apart. Focusing on their assignments would help them to push back their worry. A moment later, Mikla was moving through the office, checking with everyone on her team. Each needed to comb the records for any useful information concerning their subject. Her lips thinned as she straightened her shoulders in determination. That’s exactly what she was going to do. They’d get the answers for M’nacht! She continued down the hallway. She figured she might as well begin with the archives in this building. They were extensive, and it was the logical place to start. A group would make the work go faster, and time was of supreme importance.

  Oshe, Ran and Frea were already at their desks. Boxes of files and bulging envelopes surrounded each as if they were building a fortress of financial information. Mikla was going to concentrate her search in the stacks where the older documents were. She put on her gloves, as some of the papers were old, fragile and the acids in her skin could damage them.

  She went to the back corner and started there. She would work forward toward the rest of her team. Flipping down the colored lenses that helped her read the faded print, she began. Hours later, she had gone through a quarter of the stacks and had found nothing that would be of help. She knew that the last time something close to this magnitude had happened was about a century earlier. The world had not been anywhere near as technologically advanced, and much of their clockwork machinery that they relied upon now had just begun to be invented. It was her theory that if there was any useful information to be found, it would be in the very old documents.

  As the hours went by, Mikla discovered that part of her working premise was correct. All of the less ancient printed material had nothing to do with any form of a tense situation building. But she didn’t feel that she could ignore any of the books and documents, regardless of their age. There may be a random fact that would lead them somewhere. The day drew to a close and, one by one, her team members said goodbye as they left for their homes to get some rest. In the morning they’d be back to start again. Everybody felt the pressing need to find some bit of useful data. There had to be a shred of information that would point them in an enlightening direction. Eventually, the building quieted and only the office robo-cleaner could be heard as it whirred back and forth in the rooms. Mikla decided she would finish her shelf then lock up and head home. She was beyond weary and felt filthy from handling the old documents.

  The last book was one of the oldest they had cataloged, and she opened it with a distinct level of exhausted hope. It appeared to have been written after the last crisis, all those decades ago. Mikla turned the pages and scanned for key words. There was a diagram of an ornamental sculpted glyph that she remembered seeing on an inner wall in an old astrophysical research facility. How odd that the book would contain an artistic diagram of wall art. She had turned three more pages before her brain registered seeing a phrase on the page with the drawing. She turned back and scanned the page for the phrase that had caught her eye then slowed down to read the section. The writer referred to the glyph as “the lock pad for the mechanism.” She would need to read this one more carefully, but right now her mind couldn’t absorb anymore. She had nearly missed this as it was. She carefully put the book back at the end of the shelf where she’d found it. Mikla stared at the book thoughtfully, then turned and walked to the door. She extinguished the aether lamps and left the room, carefully resetting the security gear locks.

  The Smallest Seed of Hope

  The next morning, Mikla’s team reassembled in the office. Before each started work, they had a brief meeting.

  “Have any of you found anything that looks like a lead or a direction that may show promise?” All shook their heads. Mikla nodded.

  “I may have something on my search topic but I need to reread it before I know for sure. Give me a few minutes.” Oshe raised his eyebrows but nodded, and all three turned back to their mountains of papers.

  Mikla went to the bookshelf she had been working on the night before and pulled the last book off the shelf. She flipped her glasses down and adjusted the lenses for best modality to read the old tome. Part of her skills as the head archivist was the ability to speed read, and she now applied that talent to the book before her. A while later, she reemerged from the stacks and approached her team with the book in hand.

  “This may not lead to anything, but I have found an odd item.” She set the book down and, removing her gloves, she stuffed her hair in a clasp as she spoke. “I want just one of you to look for key words that may relate. The other two need to continue in the search parameters M’nacht set for us. I can’t afford to distract us from our main searches if this hasn’t any importance.” Three pairs of eyes were giving her their full attention. She opened the book and showed them the diagram. “Who recognizes this?” They all studied it for a moment.

  Oshe and Frea responded first. Oshe said, “That’s a glyph on a wall in one of our older buildings! Where is it?”

  Frea finished the thought. “It’s that science research building. Really old place. South of here. You know the place, Ran. The area the old families call the ‘Four Corners.’”

  Mikla nodded. “That’s the one. This was written about fifty years after the last major unrest. The book doesn’t say much. I read the whole thing, to be sure. All it says is that this glyph,” she pointed to the high relief, “is a locked key pad for a mechanism. Three specific keys that fit some subtle impressions are needed to activate an automated device. It’s one of those examples when the writer assumes we have information that we don’t have. What does the mechanism do? What and where are the three keys? I’m going to continue to look through the stacks.” She gestured behind her. “Which one of you wants to research on this tangent for a while?”

  In one fluid motion, Oshe shoved his multi-lensed glasses to the top of his head and raised both of his arms, waving them above his head with a big grin. “I’ll do it! Maybe we’ll get lucky!”

  Mikla smiled. “All right. Back to work. If anyone finds anything in their research zone, let me know. I’ll do the same. Though we have to be careful outside of this room, due to the volatility of this, we need to trust each other on this team. Agreed?” She watched each face with an intent seriousness as they nodded, then turned back to the litter of paper.

  The day proved long and tedious in the stacks. Mikla didn’t find a glimmer of anything more and her team hadn’t either. It was very late in the afternoon when she finished her area and came out to sit down with her team.

  “Tomorrow I’m going to start on the documents stored at our other facilities. Do any of you have any better ideas for avenues of research for me?”

  Oshe shook his head. “I’m scanning all of this,” he gestured to his mountainous piles, �
��for the words: glyph, keys, mechanism. I’ve found images of the glyph and am pursuing when it was made, by whom and why. So far, it is curious that I’m getting nothing. I can trace older artifacts than this one and get plenty of information, but not this one. I have to wonder why.”

  Ran spoke up. “I’m going through areas that Dylan suggested. So far, nothing new. If I find anything, I’ll contact you through your personal code signal, so dock your message bot with a dash-key as often as you remember.”

  Frea nodded.

  “Let’s call it for today then. If I don’t hear from anyone, I’ll message Oshe or Dylan about this time every day and we’ll compare notes.”

  They all transferred their documents to carts and wheeled them into the secured closet. Ran turned the large gear knob until the lock clicked, then secured it with the key. Mikla snuffed the aether lamps before locking the doors to the research room. Before she left the building, she detoured up to Dylan’s office. Pausing in the doorway, she studied the man at the desk. He was looking like he had the weight of Myrn on his shoulders. His grey-streaked hair was messed where he had been running his hands through it. The lines of fatigue and worry were stamped deeply in his face. Sensing her presence, he looked up. “What is it, Mikla? Did you find anything that can help us?”

  She cocked her head and paused before she answered. “Not really. An anomaly, but nothing to hang your hopes on. There is a reference to a glyph and a mechanism. I have Oshe running through his papers. The rest of the team is still researching what M’nacht asked for. I’m assuming each question is as important as the other. It may be nothing, but it’s sending vibrations through my curiosity antenna. I want to look into it a little more. I’m going to be out of the building tomorrow, visiting archives in some of our other installations.”

  He nodded and gave her a tired smile. “I can’t help but hope, and I wish Navora to bless your endeavors. Whichever way it goes, let me know what you find.”

  Mikla nodded and started to turn away, then stopped. “Have you heard from M’nacht?”

  He shook his shaggy head. “I haven’t heard from Quin or Kes either.”

  She stood straight and a determined look crossed her face. “If there is anything to find, I’ll find it, Chief!”

  Pieces With More Questions

  The gloom of the twi-day didn’t dampen the hope that Mikla felt as she got off the chugging trolley near the old granite-clad astrophysics research building in the Four Corners. The steam puffed around the departing passengers, shrouding them in obscurity. This search for a mechanism that nobody knew about and that did something unknown was still an intriguing line to investigate. She didn’t know how it related historically to the last period Myrn had experienced turmoil, but there seemed to be a connection. She chose to be optimistic until circumstances proved her wrong. She stopped at the side entry and arranged number cubes on a slotted tray. If the weight wasn’t correct in each slot, the pressure plate wouldn’t turn a sprocket. Behind the door, she could hear the chain and pulley system unlatching the door. When she closed the solid metal gate, she knew the number cubes would tumble into a box awaiting the next person. As she walked down the corridor to the ground-floor mezzanine, she pulled her hair back and fastened it behind her head, and slipped the multi-lensed glasses from her pocket.

  She strode briskly across the open area to the stairs that would take her to the archival level. It was a very old building, and there’d been some retrofitting over the years. She hoped that the glyph or something related to it hadn’t been irrevocably changed. Rounding the corner, she saw ahead of her that there were workmen with rock cutters and crowbars in the hall where she remembered the glyph to be, and her heart started to pound. As she approached, she heard that they were trying to decide how to cut out the block that the wall art was on so they could replace it with the newly commissioned piece. Mikla stepped into their conversation and, putting on her best department-head tone, demanded to know what they were talking about.

  “What do you mean you want to move the glyph? On whose authority?” she demanded.

  The head workman handed her his paperwork. “Chief, the orders were signed by Elder Rune himself! His niece has sculpted a new piece to replace it.”

  She looked at the proffered papers and, after perusing them, shook her head. “Elder Rune is a very important man, but he hasn’t the authority to alter or remove an important historical artifact in a scientific research facility. I am glad to have caught you in time. This would have been a serious breach in protocol, and you could have been fined.”

  “Chief, we have our orders. We can’t just take your word for it!” the workman said, blustering uncomfortably.

  She nodded. “I understand. Here.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out some coins. “Go take a break on the first level. Have a cup of kris. Let me make some contacts. Okay? You will only be behind a little while if I can’t get your orders corrected.”

  Their grumbling lessened with the thought of getting time for a break without getting their pay cut.

  As soon as they were around the corner, Mikla ran to the dash-key in the archival room and tapped in a message to Dylan. As she was waiting for his answer, she stepped into the hallway. She’d be able to hear the beep when there was an answer. Approaching the glyph, she studied it closely, running her fingers over the impressions lightly.

  As soon as she heard the beep, she ran back to the dash-key. Since she was on a public dash-key she couldn’t hear his real voice, but her message bot recorded the message and converted it to synthesized speech. On the dash-key she typed, “Chief. I’m at the old research building in the Four Corners. Historically, it was one of the first built and dates back centuries. I’m following a bit of information concerning an old wall glyph that was designed into the building over a hundred years ago as they were expanding the second level. When I got here, I found workers with equipment preparing to remove the old art. They had signed work orders from Elder Rune and a new sculpture by Marova, his niece, ready to install in its place. Chief, it may be nothing, but I must complete this research, and that glyph cannot be tampered with in any way until I know. Is there any way you can stall this for a couple of weeks, minimum?”

  There was silence and a rush of clicks from the dash-key before she heard his response from his bot. “Mikla, I’ll give you the time. Find out what you must as quickly as you can. Elder Rune has a lot of power, but it’s outside of his jurisdiction to change anything in one of our buildings. I’ll contact his office immediately after I talk to the maintenance department. The workmen will find other things to do if I have to make them up myself. Get busy. Now!”

  She smiled and her fingers rapidly tapped a response. “Thank you, Chief. I will. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have any answers. One thing I can tell you. I’ve examined this glyph while I was waiting for your response. I see subtle indications that, at three points, there are pressure pads in it as if to receive specific items. I’m looking into it. Off.”

  Mikla flipped the colored lenses down over her glasses, then paused and opened the door and left it ajar so she would hear if the workmen came back if, for some reason, Dylan had not been successful in stopping their work here. The hall remained quiet and she worked as quickly as she could. Because time was of the essence, she bypassed all documents but the very oldest. Hours went by as she quickly read through the dusty tomes. It was midafternoon when she found a document that mentioned the glyph. She quickly scanned it, then sat back and whispered to herself in awe, “A safeguard for the safety of Myrn exists!” Mikla then carefully read it over more slowly.

  The glyph was designed as a camouflaged keypad to the mechanism. It was necessary to safeguard the device in obscurity due to the civil unrest. There are three small passkeys that, if brought together and placed correctly in the glyph, will activate the release of information no matter what the newest innovation. These pieces are vital and no substitute will be accepted.

  Mikla quickly clos
ed the door and, running to the dash-key, typed in Dylan’s personal number. The rapid response told her he had been waiting.

  His synth-voice almost snapped from her message bot. “What’d you find?”

  She typed in the passage, then continued, “This is good news, but there is a lot of information missing. Where and what are the three special items? They haven’t been used, or needed, in centuries. The existence of the passkeys has been a closely guarded secret as a precautionary measure. It’s my concern that they were spread apart to balance the safety of their existence by using obscurity. How are we going to find them? I’m going to continue to look through the oldest documents. And whatever I find, there is one certainty: that glyph can’t be touched.”

  Her little bot made a noise. “I’ll handle it even if I have to arrange a security team. Keep digging. My childhood friend is the head of the archeological department. His name is Tuft. I’m going to have him come by and make an impression of the glyph. Show him the areas that you think are the key hollows. We need to get ideas on what they are so we can locate them. Good work, Mikla!”

  She went back to search the dusty shelves of the archives with a lighter heart. With the door to the hallway open, she heard the lift arrive and the gears crank back the mesh gate. Steps approached her area of the floor. Mikla leaned out into the hall and was spotted by a man about Dylan’s age. He was carrying a satchel.