Shards

by James Duvall

  Brian moved along the workbench, a light touch indicating each subsystem as he called it out.

  “My favorite part is the application of the wings. Obviously something like this isn't going to be flying anytime soon, it weighs as much as the two of us combined, but the aesthetic remains in these blades that echo a dragon's wings and serve as another line of defense. Now, I wouldn't be much of an inventor in my own right if I didn't innovate.”

  Brian grinned from ear to ear as he selected a screwdriver from the table. “You're going to like this,” he said, his tone taking on that conspiratorial 'don't tell Stacy about this part' quality. His attention turned to the dragon's neck as he slipped the screwdriver between one of the segmented armor plates and turned it. Then, reaching up beneath the jaw he triggered a switch. The dragon's jaw popped open. A gout of flame flared into the open air, forcing Joshua to take a step back from the heat. Smoke and ash lingered in the air as Brian whooped and laughed. Joshua found himself laughing as he rubbed stinging smoke from his eyes.

  “Stacy is going to kill you,” he said.

  “Not if she doesn't find out!” Brian said, chuckling a nervous chuckle.

  “So every inventor innovates a new addition to these?” Joshua asked.

  “Ah, yes, not that many people here in Ashcrest might try something like this. It was a bit of a pastime back in Calderr. Inventor's Society meetings have been working on that design for the better part of a decade now.”

  Joshua studied the dragon's face. The blast of fire had left soot stains on the jaws and the teeth, but the metal was already cooled. It's dark, lifeless eyes seemed fixed in an eternal glare across the creature's muzzle, from which several sharp-edged teeth protruded.

  “It looks angry,” Joshua commented. He reached up and lightly touched the dragon's side, finding the fire chamber cold and lifeless as a gravestone in winter.

  “They were meant to function as guardians,” Brian said. “Most of the innovations fall in that realm. I've seen variations that deploy slicks of oil, stunning electrical currents. Of course that's easier to do in Ashcrest, so it wouldn't have been nearly so great a challenge as that little bolt of fire.”

  “Does Caela still make upgrades on her own? She wouldn't want her design to be left behind I imagine, even if it is the original.”

  “Mm...” Brian said, looking distant, lost in his thoughts. “Yes, she came up with an innovation that no one has been able to replicate: Life.”

  “...life?” Joshua asked, looking from Brian back to the collection of cold brass gears, springs, pinions, and screws.

  “Be it steam, mainspring, or both, that creation of mine will walk around on a set path for some time. Switching it into a combative pattern is something else entirely. Marwick's...”

  Brian trailed off, running his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He let out a slow breath, shaking his head and offering a halfhearted shrug.

  “I haven't the slightest how it works, but the damn thing has so many modes... I have a theory, not a popular one. That's why I needed to go to the power shed.”

  Joshua found himself nodding along. He didn't completely understand the mechanical aspects of Brian's work but the outcome was nearly always fascinating. It was hard to believe the man hadn't gone crazy with the tedium of repairing watches and clocks all week.

  Smoke still leaked from the metal dragon's jaws, its face forever fixed in a scowl of fiery rage. Then again...

  “Wait, what does this have to do with the power shed?”

  In answer, Brian produced a small wooden box from beneath the table and popped the lid off. Wrapped partly in a scrap of newspaper, a red crystal pulsed faintly with dim ruby light.

  “Brian... What is that?”

  “Golem heartstone,” Brian said, his voice a bare whisper. “It was hard enough to get my hands on. Don't ask how, cause I won't be telling. I suspect this marvel of the other side is how Caela's guardian dragon acts so lifelike. It makes so much sense, considering her background. She went where the others wouldn't have dared. Why try to sense for dozens of modes mechanically when a golem heartstone can work as a calculation engine? It's genius, utter genius. It's the closest thing humanity has to artificial life, Joshua. It's a body one breath from life, a heart one spark from beating.”

  “Brian... Brian you can't have that here. If they caught you...”

  “They won't!” Brian assured. “My source is reliable. Aside from that I've only told you. Stacy... Stacy would worry. Let's keep it between us, ok?”

  Joshua cringed and sighed his exasperation. “I don't want to see you in trouble, Brian.”

  “I won't be,” Brian promised. “If I wasn't sure this would work, I never would have brought it here. Besides, its hardly the only artifact in town.”

  “Yeah?” Joshua asked, giving him a hard, skeptical look.

  “Well there's the power shed for one,” Brian said.

  “That's hardly comparable!”

  “Isn't it though?” Brian asked. “If you think an outsider seeing me with a heartstone is a problem, just imagine what would have happened last year when that scout troop thought it was river survey equipment and tried to take a peek. How do you think that would look eh?”

  Joshua opened his mouth to protest but couldn't coax words to his tongue. No idea came with any strong conviction. It had been nearly a disaster. While he had not personally seen the inside of the power shed, it was apparently strange enough that Solomon's Watch was constantly concerned about keeping it under wraps.

  “Do you think this town would continue to exist as it does without the power shed?” Brian challenged.

  Joshua shook his head slowly. No, no he did not.

  Chapter 2

  The Deliveries

  Ashcrest, Colorado

  Ashcrest Township Ordinance 415.1 establishes Casual Fridays. Under this ordinance, perimeter barriers will be placed on heightened settings and the gateway portal will be closed. Status will persist from 2 PM local time to Saturday morning 4 AM. During this period, Public Face laws established in the town charter are suspended.

  ~taken from Ashcrest Township Ordinances and Municipal Code

  It started on 3rd street, as best as Joshua could tell. His own first involvement came with a heavy thud on his doorstep in the early morning hours. At first he mistook it for a drift of snow sliding off the roof and landing on the walk in front of his apartment. Then he looked out the window and saw a trio of his neighbors standing on the walk on the opposite side of the parking lot. They were watching something, exchanging anxious looks and pointing toward Joshua's building. Curious, he poked his head out into the cold winter air.

  A delivery van rolled lazily through the parking lot with a young boy running back and forth from apartments to the van's open back. It was then that Joshua noticed the phonebook sitting on his own front step.

  But how did...

  Across the parking lot Ms. Holander in unit 202 called her children inside with some degree of urgency, her voice quiet but frantic, her posture stooped as she huddled in the doorway and reached for them as they came. The door shut quickly behind her. Soon after the blinds were closed and the porch light shut off. The trio of onlookers from the next few apartments seemed to see the wisdom in her actions and made quick retreats into their own doors.

  No one spoke to the boy or the man driving the delivery van. Joshua zipped up his coat and followed after them from a respectable distance as they turned out of the parking lot and began their slow crawl up Fourth street. In much the same fashion as the apartments, children playing in the snow were quickly called inside and the street found any number of excuses to become suddenly as vacant as the old mine overlooking the little town. The only exception was the far end of the street where Joshua and a few of the more adventures denizens of Ashcrest grew to a small congregation. They watched the delivery van's slow procession in a stoic silence, as though it were not a simple delivery van but a funeral procession and the van w
ere the hearse at the forefront of the convoy.

  On fifth street the procession collected a few more gawkers, including Brian and his wife, Stacy. They fell into step beside Joshua. By then there were almost two dozen and the delivery van had slowly but surely become aware of the oddity of the gathering crowd. The man put the van into park, the brake lights flashing as the door swung open with an old metallic creak.

  “...is there a problem?” the man asked, trudging back through the snow to the small gathering.

  “Ehm, well, we were just surprised to see you is all. We don't get a lot of deliveries out here,” Joshua explained. “Particularly not on a Saturday with three foot of snow on the ground.”

  “We're with the US Postal Service,” the man said, motioning to the van. When no one responded with any sign of open understanding he frowned. “Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night?”

  “Of course,” Brian chimed in. He extended a hand, which the man took and shook firmly. Brian had a knack for defusing situations like these and Joshua found tension flowing out of his shoulders simply for the fact that Brian had gotten involved.

  “Thank you for your service,” Brian continued. “I don't suppose you've got a brother at a pizzeria around here? Getting one of those around here is murder and I hear they're fantastic.”

  The postman shook his head and grinned. “Fraid not. I ain't surprised though. You lot are a way out here. I must've driven by here a hundred times and never seen the place. Town council put up a new sign or something?”

  “Or something,” Brian said, chuckling ruefully. “Alright, I think we've taken enough of the man's time. We'll let you be. Thank you again for coming by.”

  At Brian's urging the crowd dispersed, everyone trudging back home, suspicious eyes stopping to glance back at the mail van. Eventually only Brian and Stacy remained on the corner with Joshua.

  “Well,” Joshua said. “There's bound to be a town hall about that.”

  Brian chuckled. “Bound to be indeed.”

  “Tell me the two of you have nothing to do with this,” Stacy said, her casual tone suggesting that she didn't really believe they did.

  Brian flashed her a mischievous smile. “I intend to get that pizza.”

  Stacy rolled her eyes. “Phone books are a step toward pizza?”

  “Of course, now that we've got their numbers we can keep calling until they give in and agree to deliver out here.”

  “And the barriers?” Stacy asked.

  Brian frowned. “I hadn't thought of that.”

  “Well, that's the end of that pipe dream I hope?”

  Brian shook his head. “No, I'm sure I'll think of some – Ah ha! I'll meet them at the road.”

  Stacy sighed. “The council will go nuts,” she predicted.

  “Not if they're still dealing with this,” Joshua said, nodding in the direction of the delivery van. The postal crew kept delivering the phone books to each doorstep they passed, the heavy books driving the citizens behind locked doors like personalized death threats delivered to their door in the night.

  Brian checked the trio of watches lining his right arm. “Town meeting in probably... an hour, I'd guess. Half the town's already seeing them go around. I'm sure a runner will be by any minute now.”

  “I'll make breakfast,” Stacy announced. “Joshua, why don't you come on over to our place and eat with us?”

  “That would be great, thanks.”

  ***

  By midday the delivery van had left, but like a furious storm signs of its passing were everywhere. The streets of Ashcrest were filled with people, each street a tributary dumping into the teeming river of hats bobbing down main street until pooling in town square. Joshua and the Ketch's joined the procession, following a snowy sidewalk full of people flowing toward main street as though it were simply another of the more popular festival weekends. At least, it felt that way in the fleeting moments as they first joined the march, but the tone was all wrong. There was still laughter, yes, but only from children too young to understand the gravity of the morning's events. It punctured the grim silence like gunshots, each isolated sound only further serving to emphasize its absence this morning.

  Up the sidewalks Joshua could see where the heavy directories had been left in place, untouched. Footprints in the snow carefully skirted many of them, as though some dark power lingered within these tomes.

  Reaching main street Joshua's group found the walk up to town hall so thronged with humanity that any hope of finding a seat inside was quickly eliminated. Mayor Weslin appeared soon after from a second story window, announcing that the meeting would instead convene in the town square. She emerged from the crowded doors a few minutes later. She was flanked by the assistant mayor, the sheriff, and one of his deputies. A reporter from the Ashcrest Gazette followed along at a frantic pace, but was not allowed into the formation. Instead he scrambled through the crowd, holding his camera high over his head and thrusting a tape recorder toward Mayor Weslin as he shoved, prodded, and was himself heaved about.

  A few men brushed the snow from a picnic table and helped Weslin up on top of it. There had been no time to erect a proper platform for her to speak from.

  “Good morning,” Mayor Weslin called, using a megaphone to speak over and silence the crowd. “Thank you for turning out this morning. I know it is cold so I will get directly to the point. Yes, a delivery van did pass through our perimeter this morning and made deliveries to nearly every residence in Ashcrest.”

  Someone Joshua couldn't see handed one of the phonebooks up to her. She held it up over her head and shook it.

  “The town council and Solomon's Watch are taking these very seriously. Sheriff McClatch has a few words to say in regards to the perimeter barrier.”

  Several people from the crowd helped the sheriff up on the stone table beside the mayor, whom handed over the megaphone.

  “Good morning,” McClatch said, taking on a clinical tone. “The barrier is still in place. Deputies approached from both directions on snowmobiles and in a police cruiser without nullifiers and verified the barrier is still in place.”

  “Then how did that van get in?” a voice near the front demanded angrily.

  McClatch nodded quietly. He flipped through a notebook before speaking again. “Ehm, yes, they did get through that route. The barrier is still in place but for some reason allowed deputies to pass through without a nullifier three times in ten. It is still in place.”

  Mayor Weslin took the megaphone back. “Thank you for that report, sheriff.”

  For a moment the mayor looked out over the crowd, lifting her notes to her forehead to shield her eyes from the bright morning sun.

  “I know that many of you are worried,” she said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “While Solomon's Watch works to repair the barrier we will be taking measures to ensure everyone's safety while the barrier's reliability remains in question. To that end...”

  The mayor trailed off, her confident tone wavering. She consulted her notes, buying herself a few seconds.

  “Festivals involving non-native celebrations will be postponed while the danger remains. Unfortunately this will include this spring's Foods of Fendiss festival.”

  This news was met with a chorus of groans and a few loud protests.

  “Alternatives are being examined,” Weslin interjected, but it did little to quiet the discontented grumbling.

  It seemed incongruous to Joshua. Many of those groaning were the same wringing their hands in anxiety over one accidental ingress by something so innocuous as the US Postal Service. Post arrived every few days, it just usually came in a bag in the back of a deputy's police cruiser, fetched whenever they had business in Northwood.

  Weslin bleeped the megaphone, silencing the crowd again. Everyone knew what was coming next.

  “Knowing the profound effect this will have on many of our friends and neighbors, I unfortunately, must also announce that until these issues are resolved, Casual Fridays will be suspe
nded.”