Sunstone: A Steampunk Reality

by Holly Barbo

  “Granddaughter, this looks like another conversation. We need to leave. I’ll bet our drivers are chatting in the parking area. Go care for your beloved William. I’ll come by tomorrow and see you both.”

  When the light levels in the sky dropped, a myriad of sensors that were connected to a special hidden mechanism extended their antennae. Opticals scanned the sky, verifying the time of night, and a clockwork chronometer began a countdown. As the cogs of the clock clicked, gears moved, and at certain specific moments, a ratchet ticked against a switch, setting more things in motion. A large precision-crafted prism rose from a hidden floor panel in the attic of the old science building. As the clock ticked down, the ratchet triggered more and more pieces to assemble, all driven from the now pulsing energy whose source was the three small pressure plates hidden in the artist’s glyph.

  On the roof, clockwork cleaners were wound. They scurried around scouring years of debris from emerging mechanicals. Within a half hour, all of the pieces of an amazing apparatus were in place. The building cupola had sprouted a spire. Just beneath the new tower, in the windowless dome, mirrors focused a narrow light beam into the prism. Hankel had followed Ravarian’s instructions with pinpoint accuracy, and invisible to the human eye, a beam of ultraviolet light began broadcasting from the top of the spire. The vibrational energy was calibrated so tightly that the ultraviolet bandwidth did not deviate from the specific frequency. Ravarian had known it could be lethal if it did.

  The Four Corners area was home to all of the corporate, financial and political offices and headquarters, as well as a number of other buildings and wealthy homes. A wave of the unseen lavender-blue light bathed the entire area. Inside the quiet buildings, all seemed normal. Little copper-clad cleaning bots scoured corners and under furniture, picking up fallen bits of paper and sweeping the lint into the copper robo bellies. At the end of every corridor, their larger counterparts gathered together the trash that would be dumped into awaiting bags. When the floors were clean, the bags were sealed and disposed of in the outdoor bins for the trucks to take away on scheduled days.

  What was different this night was the behavior of the packet bots. These were the specialized cobalt-clad clockworks that gathered those waxed recordings of the private meetings that secretaries never attended. The expensive crab-like bots would grab the cylinders by their cobalt collars and carry them through a slot in the wall of a safe, where they were date-stamped and stored away. Only the president could open the safe, but few rarely did. The cylinders were records of secret meetings and information and were held as security. Tonight, the cobalt-clad bots vibrated with the ultraviolet frequency that bathed the night. Their clockwork programing reversed, and the crab-like creatures began to empty the shelves of the vault, dumping a growing pile of cylinders onto the floor outside of the narrow slot.

  Detecting the mess, the clockwork cleaners swept the waxed secrets into bags and took them to the cart-sized trash collectors. As the night wore on, the packet bots finished their vault emptying activity and settled back into their docks. The cleaning bots wound down too, and settled into their recharging stations. The robo trash carts trundled through the quiet buildings to empty their bounty into the bins in the alleys. As pre-dawn of the twi-day approached, the spire slid back into its housing and, piece by piece, the miraculous apparatus slipped into a myriad of hidden pockets built into the structure. By dawn, everything was as it had been at sunset.

  At the street level, the gleaners were busy. Jordan had told them that he would pay one kronot for every two cobalt-collared cylinders. They’d taken the challenge and, savvy to the routines of the business trash bots, they had raced against the growing light of dawn to find the coveted pieces and earn the bounty. Just after the whistle from the steam plant issued the call for first shift, the last sack had been tallied. Weary but happy, gleaners had trudged away with their unexpected bonus.

  Jordan built up pressure in the boiler and slipped the maintenance truck into gear. He had a four-hour trip in front of him, but he wasn’t tired. The excitement bubbled. This could be the break they’d needed. Only time would tell.

  It was morning at Tempest Point, and Jordan was asleep in a bedroom on the lower level. He’d been up for a full day-night cycle and was exhausted. Jordan had brought in the lumpy sacks and had deposited them around M’nacht’s chair. He relayed what Kes had told him: the identity of the host, images the Goddess had given him and the subsequent bounty of secure recordings. Jordan had also handed the old man a small bag which contained M’nacht’s Sunstone and a newspaper. With a yawn, he retired to get some sleep, leaving M’nacht to look over everything.

  Some time later, when Quin came out of the kitchen with their lunches, he found M’nacht clutching the newspaper and his cheeks moist. The tray of food was set down with a clatter. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  The old man handed the paper to his lifelong friend. In a choked voice, he said, “Mikla was murdered. She was going to archives all over the area looking for information for me. I might as well have killed that lovely woman myself! Quin, she was so smart… so young! She was beaten! For all I know it could have been the same men who paid me a visit!”

  The man servant collapsed into a chair. “Oh,” came the shuddered sigh. He unfolded the newspaper and read the short article. He set the paper aside and looked at the bulging bags as he mulled over the news. “M’nacht, you need to get more details from Dylan, but until then, don’t let her death be without meaning. Jordan has told you that the small newspaper, The City Voice, hasn’t been compromised. Start writing pieces under a pen name.” He gestured at the bags. “Listen to those. Find out what you can from what the Goddess has provided. I’ll go get you some paper. This is something you can do!”

  Tick-Tock

  When Jordan awoke, rested after five hours of sleep, he made his way to the upper level of the annex. M’nacht was in the study at the large work table. His thick mane of white hair was in disarray where he had shoved his fingers through it in repeated attempts to organize his thoughts. Beside him was a disorderly mountain of notes he had scrawled on paper. On the nearby desk, Quin had arranged rows of the recorded waxed cylinders, and on a chair in the corner, he sat painstakingly transcribing from the almost illegible paper beside him.

  The burly man went into the kitchen, grabbed a plate of sandwiches and returned to the hub of activity. “It looks like you two have worked non-stop while I slept. What have you come up with?” He offered a sandwich to each of the two older men, then sat down to get comfortable. This might be a long conversation.

  M’nacht ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to push it out of his face. “The recordings are very revealing.” He stopped and began again. “Some of the recordings, anyway. There are others that are just routine record-keeping, but I listened to them all.” He gathered the unruly piles of paper and began straightening them. “About a half dozen of these are pretty damning. I have a fairly complete picture of who did what, and it is ugly. While I listened, I kept wondering what to do with the information the Goddess has provided. If I just reveal the information, the reaction would be terrible. Riots would destroy. There would be murder, and innocent people would die as well as the guilty. I don’t want that on my conscience though it is tempting, in that I believe the powerful have created their own insulated world where they feel they are entitled. No.” The old man gestured to the orderly rows of recordings. “These can’t be used that way.”

  He sat back and took a bite of his sandwich. “Several years ago, I went to Navora’s shrine with that incredible energy gate. I’d just learned about the Sunstones, and all of a sudden the Goddess moved from myth to reality. The conversation I had with the caretaker was something that burned into my memory. He told me that the Goddess leans toward self-determination and free will for us, her people, yet she is sensitive to things being in balance. He said that she had built-in systems that the Sunstones could activate in a crisis. Beyond that, she wouldn�
�t go. If we, her people, couldn’t or wouldn’t correct the dangerous pattern and permanent damage that occurred to us and her world…” He shrugged but his expression was very serious. “She would mourn our loss. Perhaps she would consider starting again another time, stirring life into being on a planet somewhere else. But we would be gone and Myrn lifeless.

  “I don’t think I can stop the riots, but perhaps I can interject a voice of reason… urge lawful ways of expressing their righteous anger. I’ve written a couple of articles for The City Voice to publish. They are numbered. I don’t want to put you at risk, so I don’t want you to deliver them. Perhaps mail them? Anyway, they are all written by ‘The People’s Herald.’ Quin is transcribing them because my handwriting is illegible to many.”

  He took another bite. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d eaten. “One of the pieces of boring information I found in a few recordings is the inside dash-key security codes for several key people. I can send messages from here, as they would be anonymous. The recipients will think the message is from someone inside their organization as it is a private code.”

  Jordan began to grin with the possibilities that brought up.

  “Along that line of thinking… there was an interesting couple of recordings that Dan’l, son of Raj’t, made concerning lists he was compiling as Chemedco sought to maximize things going their way. One was a list of people they wanted to influence. It went further by itemizing how their targets were susceptible and what they had achieved. The other list was of people they deemed to be influential and incorruptible. There he notated plans to nullify or tarnish them. It is all very cold-blooded and incredibly sad.”

  M’nacht reached in his vest pocket and pulled out the small bag that Kes had handed to Jordan just the day before. “One of the small benefits of these little gifts is that I have a more refined sense of who to trust. Couple that blessing with these lists… well, it will make my clandestine dash-key messages more interesting. I’ll do some of those this evening, so the messages will be at their desk when they begin work tomorrow. Meanwhile,” he glanced over at Quin and received a nod from his friend, “you can leave with the articles for The City Voice. One of the dash-key items I will send is a directive to the editor from the owner to print the pieces written by the People’s Herald.

  “I want to limit my contacts to Dylan. I don’t know how closely he is being watched. They killed Mikla. I don’t want any more people to die for me. Jordan, could you deliver a package to him and find out everything you can about Mikla’s death? I have a feeling it was the same people who came after me. From their recordings, it doesn’t appear that they have discovered you. Is it possible for you to access a dash-key in the building where we stayed? That way you wouldn’t need to drive out here unless you were doing a supply run.”

  Jordan nodded. “That shouldn’t be a problem, and I’ll find a way to get your articles to the paper. I’m concerned with you out here all alone. From where she was found, I think Mikla was coming here next.”

  Quin and M’nacht looked at each other, but it was Quin who broke the silence. “I think we’re fairly safe. The lock is the best science has devised. Unless they have the numerical code, they can’t unlock it. Dylan had the codes and he gave them to Mikla. It is possible they could get them if they suspected we were here, but the place is built like a fort. I can throw the iron bar through the lock wheel and catch it in the latch teeth and no one could get in! I will do that from now on. Use the rhythmic knock when you come. I have one more thing. I found a small spy-port from where I can see who is here. We should be safe. You and Kes are out there walking among them. That’s danger! M’nacht will work behind the scenes here.”

  Jordan slapped his knees and got up. “Okay, then. I’d better get moving. I’ll be careful and will report in daily.”

  Sh’ar was up before dawn. William was worse. His breathing was labored and he wheezed irregularly. Nothing they had tried had been any help at all. She was so afraid he would die and leave her life empty. Going to her desk, she looked at the two petri dishes. The red splotchy culture of The Blight was nearly all gone. The marine compound was the best hope she had.

  She took the syringe she had stolen from the doctor’s medical bag and paused. She had no idea of the dosage. She was a chemist, not a physician! Wringing her hands, she worried. He could be permanently impaired if she gave him too much! The young woman looked at her husband in anguish. Shaking her head, she muttered to herself, “He’s so weak it shouldn’t take a massive dose. I’m just going to have to trust the Goddess to guide my hand.”

  Diluting the concentrate with water she had distilled months ago, she mixed half a vial, rubbed his arm with alcohol, jammed the needle in and pushed down the plunger. It was done! Collapsing to her knees, the young woman gave into sobs.

  That was how Ver’in found her. Not wanting to disturb her granddaughter in her grief, the old woman walked quietly over to William and touched his cheek in goodbye. He stirred and she jerked her hand back in surprise. The sound of her gasp brought Sh’ar back to herself.

  “Oh, Grandmother, I don’t know what I will do if he dies!”

  “You will carry on and help me avenge his death. But I don’t think he will die today. He stirred when I touched him a minute ago.”

  “He did? He has had no reaction to anyone in days!” The young woman quickly rose to her feet. As she did so, the syringe which had slid out of her hand as she wept rolled across the floor.

  Ver’in reached down and picked it up. “What’s this? What have you done?”

  “He was dying. His breathing was so congested he could barely wheeze.” She walked over to her desk. “Look at my test samples! I had to try!”

  The old woman studied the contents of the petri dishes before glancing back at William. “Come. Let’s sit by William and observe how the medicine is working. I believe you have things to share with me.”

  Sh’ar sat, uncomfortable with the coming conversation. Taking a deep breath, she chose her words with care. “I love you, Grandmother, but there are people who would be in danger if I spoke.”

  “Fair enough.” The old woman got up and locked the door. “Let me begin, then. I heard from M’nacht last night. He’s been a friend for years and his wife was my best friend, years ago. She died very young.” She smiled at the sweet memory. “He’s in hiding because some people want to get their hands on a sacred artifact and they think he knows where it is. One of his researchers was just beaten and left for dead on a remote road. The young woman died two days ago in the hospital. He and Kes are very concerned about what’s happening both with the new illness and the general deterioration of our society. Unfortunately, Chemedco and your father have played a role with that. If you, in any way, repeat or indicate any knowledge of what I just told you, several lives are forfeit.”

  Sh’ar’s eyes were round with surprise as she listened. “Oh. So we both have secrets! I saw Kes and we spoke briefly.” She went on to explain what Mitch had told her about how his scientists had made the compound against recent regulations. “He said that it’s an enzyme that tells the body to target and kill fast growing invasive cells. From what I read in the lab notes, the disease cells grow quickly and tend to mutate a little as they multiply. Our body’s natural defense mechanisms can’t keep up. So I have hope that this may work. Our labs aren’t finding the answer!” She gazed at her grandmother. “I assume Father and his team influenced the Council to pass those exclusivity and protective laws so the Chemedco monopoly and profit would be assured. Well, that maneuver certainly hasn’t benefited the people of Myrn!”

  She looked at William. His color was a little better and he was cooler. “I guessed at the dosage, but this is the best he’s been since the day following the holiday.”

  Ver’in leaned forward and grasped her granddaughter’s hand. “I believe Raj’t planned the illness to make more money. He started contaminating the water with the pathogen and had our people working on the cu
re. Unfortunately, his planning was flawed. The illness manifested quicker than the progress for the cure. To think he wouldn’t care how many sickened or died. It’s unbelievable to me that he has no feelings about what he’s done! It was just a grand scheme to make money. It wasn’t personal!” She shook off the black thoughts and continued. “No. He hasn’t confessed, but I read the notes you found. I think it’s very possible that Ben and a couple of our lab guys know. I don’t know how they couldn’t. They’re panicked and aren’t thinking clearly or they wouldn’t have let you near that pile of papers. I made photographs of what you found, then smuggled the originals back into the office. I didn’t want them to suspect you.

  “I need to talk to your father. It’s quite possible that Dan’l is part of this, too. I will get to the bottom of this. Right now, I don’t want you to say anything about that wonderful medicine. Give me just a bit more time. I know we are putting sick people in jeopardy, but without proof that this works… we just can’t. Stay with William. Let me know how he reacts to the medicine.”

  Ver’in stood. “I must go. Trust me, Sh’ar. Don’t speak of any of this to anyone. I’ll be back when I can.” The young woman hugged her grandmother tightly before unlocking the door.

  Ripples of Confrontation

  Leaving her granddaughter’s home, the matriarch stopped to talk to the doctors at Paramount and Mercy hospitals before turning back to Chemedco. Ver’in fanned herself. It was a warm day, and maybe that was all there was to it, but she hoped she hadn’t caught The Blight. Ever since her last conversation with Raj’t, she hadn’t drunk any water. Wine and fruity ale were all she’d allowed herself. The old woman shook her head at her musings. She had no idea if that helped, but it was the only theory she had.

  The car pulled up to the family business. The matriarch got out and, with a slight tug on her corset, strode past the doorman and up to her son’s office. Coming to the closed door, she entered without knocking. Dan’l turned from the window in surprise, almost spilling his glass of chilled wine. Raj’t raised an eyebrow.