Clockwork Villains

by T. J. Lockwood

  The 12 Cities is a series of interconnected stories which are meant to be read in any order.

  Each book within the individual trilogies share the same timeline and depicts separate perspectives of the events occurring within.

  The book you are holding is the story of Piper Sloan and her journey through the digital bridge.

  Copyright © 2021 by T.J. Lockwood

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

  Cover Art by Celesta DeRoo

  Ebook Design by Ebooks Done Right

  First published in 2021

  E-BOOK EDITION • ISBN 978-1-9992672-7-8 • VERSION 1.0

  Also available in print (ISBN 978-1-9992672-8-5).

  Mecha Panda Publishing

  Vancouver, British Columbia

  mechapandapublishing.com

  For all the hedgehogs considering blue highlights. We say go for it.

  1

  THE CONDITIONS OF SURVIVAL

  WE ARE ALL BORN TO BECOME CITIZENS.

  The door is latched shut from the other side. I don’t know why I was expecting anything different. One by one,, each compartment lights up and I find myself ducking down to avoid being seen by one of the machines. The gears torque into place as the train starts moving. Rain crashes down against my visor. I quickly unravel the rope clipped to the back of my belt.

  “Piper, you need to find something to anchor yourself to.” My headset crackles just loud enough to be heard.

  I take a deep breath and start tying the end of the rope to one of the rail guides between the cars. “Always telling me the obvious.”

  There is a brief moment of static free silence before Robbie speaks again. “Faster, Piper. The train is cycling its tracks.”

  I can hear the doors to the caboose open behind me.

  Obvious or not, he’s right.

  One loud whistle echoes through the air as I brace myself for takeoff. I’ve only seen this thing fly; I’ve never been on it myself. The electricity surges through the rails as the train rolls forward, gradually building its speed.

  “Piper, are you secured?”

  I look down at my boots digging into the narrow metal platform.

  I hope so. I really do.

  Then the wind hits me.

  I should have attached another harness.

  My father used to tell me how the world looked different when it was seen through the reflection of a rear-view mirror. It was as if the growing distance distorted the path you had just come from, and made the sight of where you were going that much more appealing.

  Of all the ancient vehicles that have survived the harsh corrosion of time, this one is the most dangerous. This one demands its presence in the sky.

  “Piper—”

  The train jerks upwards and follows its rail into the sky. I hit the side of the car and watch as my visor plummets to the ground below. The rain mixes with the wind and stings as it hits me in the face.

  I just need to hold on.

  The storm will pass.

  Won’t it?

  Every citizen has a duty to contribute to the growth of their city.

  “We have just received word; the MagTrain will be arriving in MagHaven in one fortnight. Please prepare. The selection process has begun.” The council message echoed through the city speakers. There wasn’t a screen in MagHaven that didn’t talk about the train. This was, after all, the validation of every citizen’s worth. The announcement was enough to drive several people outside who were hoping to catch a glimpse of the rail tracks as they extended from RigMire. RigMire, the city built by our ancestors which loomed in the sky above MagHaven. Father said it was built to accommodate our growing population. Only those from MagHaven who proved their societal worth were eligible for a ticket on the train.

  “It’s coming. The train is coming. Can you see it?” The woman next to me screamed, gave me an impromptu hug, and then proceeded to wipe her tear stained cheeks on my shoulder. She mumbled she was happy; that this time it was her turn to leave.

  It wouldn’t be her turn.

  There were unspoken rules about who was eligible for a ticket.

  “I’m going to prepare. You should too.” As she disappeared down the street, I knew that her hope was misplaced. In a city of over a million, only a handful ever got tickets.

  Those odds didn’t look that great.

  Those who fulfill their duty are destined to be rewarded.

  I haven’t seen my father in twenty years; not since he boarded the MagTrain with his own ticket. We said our goodbyes and hugged, hoping that we would see each other again in the future. He was a young scientist who’d shown his value and earned his ticket before most. Everything is left up to the algorithm.

  “Piper, are you alright?” The headset crackles. Robbie’s voice is muffled amidst the weather.

  I swear the rain is cutting me, but then again it might just be the chill in the air. “I’ve been better.”

  The train jerks again and I find myself slipping off the platform. The angle is gradually becoming steep. I need to find a way inside. I reach down and pull a small blade from my boot. My hands are shaking. The cabin of the train lights up as I dig the edge of the knife into the locking valve. Nothing happens. This is pointless.

  “Robbie, I don’t know how to get inside.” The knife falls, and I find myself gripping the rope on my belt.

  When I think of the events which led me to this moment I can’t help but shake my head at how arrogant I was. To think that I could earn a ticket as early as my father had. They say MagHaven is a paradise. Everyone must earn their citizenship. I haven’t earned mine.

  Maybe I should have waited.

  Rewards are judged and recognized by the algorithm.

  “Are you sure about this, Piper? I can’t even begin to tell you how dangerous this idea is.” Always stating the obvious.

  I sat at the table with a plate of untouched food getting colder and colder with each passing second. “I am. I want to do it.”

  Everything in that house was white, spotless, and in its perfect place. My father was a meticulous man whose life goal was to change the world. So general, so unoriginal, and yet if there was anyone in RigMire who could have done it, it was him.

  “But should you?”

  Robbie was my father’s greatest creation, an evolving mainframe integrated into our family’s home. The ultimate caregiver. Without him I would have been alone. As I sat, barely poking my perfectly cooked eggs, Robbie sent thought waves through the circuitry embedded in the walls. The washing machine kicks in just as the dishwasher stops.

  “You need to show some patience. The contribution requirement obviously hasn’t been met if you haven’t been offered a ticket.” The screen in front of me activated and a thin soundwave appeared, mimicking Robbie’s voice. “Your time will come.”

  One of the egg yolks broke from the pressure of my fork. It was odd to me how one small puncture could compromise the integrity of an entire structure. “I’m not an inventor like Dad was. No contribution I’ll ever make will be good enough.”

  I was an artist.

  Changing the world was the last thing on my mind.

  The algorithm gives recognition to those who are willing to make a difference.

  “Piper, you’re at the outskirts of my sensor range. Say something.”

  There is no more rain.

  I open my eyes only to be met with a light brighter than anything I had seen before. “I think I can see the sun.”

  My lower back aches as I struggle to sit upright agai
nst the train as the vehicle begins to level off. A loud bang echoes from one of the front cars, then another, and another. Each bang carries onward like a chain reaction. I cover my ears as the bang erupts from the compartment I’m tied to and then carries onward to the caboose.

  “Robbie, do you know what’s happening?” Silence. “Robbie?”

  I look up only to see that the train has stopped. For a long moment there is nothing. Then the banging cycles through each car again. I hold on and wait for the loud noise, but there isn’t one. Instead, however, there is a scream. It is faint and muffled, but it is there. I look through the porthole as the bang continues.

  Why was there a delay?

  The door to the car unlatches and swings open without warning. I take a deep breath, unhook the rope, and pull myself inside. Gravity slowly pulls the door shut behind me.

  To make a difference one needs ambition.

  “We all exist to strive for greatness. Look past yourself and see the bigger picture. The steps we take forward should grow not just ourselves, but our entire city as well.” My father was a charismatic man. When he spoke, people listened. “That is why today I have but one thing to show you all. This invention will change the world. I call it the synthesizer. This is the first step to eliminating any threat of food shortage.” A machine that could rearrange atoms to change the properties of one thing and turn it into another. Corn was the easiest to manipulate at the genetic level. Almost all the city’s meat came from corn after that.

  Every year I watched his recorded presentation preserved on Robbie’s hard drive. It was the moment the algorithm was satisfied and he earned his ticket. I mean no one knew for sure, but it must have been. Robbie said that the invention didn’t really solve any food shortages. After all, it only changed one thing into something else.

  It is impossible to create something from nothing.

  But what was created was something that the world had never seen before. I remember sitting at the table, hands covered in paint and charcoal, when my father came home and told me. He was to leave with all the others. I didn’t understand what was happening then, but Robbie eventually explained it to me.

  Ambition is the fuel which drives innovation.

  I take a moment to gather myself before taking in my surroundings. The door opened, but there isn’t anyone here on the other side. I walk forward into a compartment of tables and fancy chairs. The smell of pot roast fills the air. At each setting sits plates of half mutilated vegetables, meat coated in gravy and silverware resting haphazardly on the tables. Some are overturned, staining the cream coloured table cloths while others sit perfectly untouched.

  Where is everyone?

  “Robbie, please tell me you can hear me.” Still, there is only silence. “There isn’t anyone here.”

  The cabin lights up as soon as I touch one of the chairs.

  “Good evening, passengers. MagTrain Delta is set to dock in approximately fifteen minutes. Please take this time to finish your meal and then take your seat in the rear cabin vault. Remember, each seat is designated by ticket number. If you have not already done so, please sign the required consent forms. This document is necessary to enter the city of MagHaven.” The voice is loud and clearly computer generated.

  At the very back of the cabin is a large metal door slightly ajar from its frame. Something doesn’t feel right. I look back where I came and see nothing but sunlight through the porthole of the door. Who let me in here?

  “Welcome aboard, may I please see your ticket?”

  I turn back and see a man, dressed in red, with a whistle around his neck. His image fluctuates and adopts a faint blue hue. “A hologram?”

  He bows. “At your service, ma’am.”

  The rules are simple; to be a citizen one must earn their ticket.

  I don’t have one.

  “There must be some mistake.” I clear my throat. “I’ve already presented my ticket.”

  “This vessel’s log shows otherwise.”

  A loud bang echoes from one of the cars ahead of this one.

  The hologram doesn’t move.

  It stares at me like a dog would its master.

  Innovation is impossible without sacrifice.

  I’d watched as people boarded the train a couple times before. There are always at least a couple hundred of them. This time, the moment the final whistle blew and the wheels started rolling, I started running. As I ran, I thought of my father. Maybe he would be disappointed.

  It didn’t matter.

  I didn’t care.

  “You sure this is going to hold?” I held up the rope in front of Robbie’s screen and waved it back and forth for emphasis. “It seems a little flimsy.”

  He sighed. “Unless you’ve gained about four hundred pounds, it should be fine. It’s not going to be comfortable, though.”

  I nodded. “It’s fine. This is just for the worst-case scenario anyway. I’ll find a way inside.”

  “Be prepared if you don’t. You’ll be exposed to the elements.”

  I took a deep breath and looked out the window. “A little cold never hurt anyone.”

  One of my biggest faults is that sometimes I believe I am invincible.

  Sacrifice is the mark of a true citizen.

  When the bang erupts from this compartment, the entire vault at the back of the car lights up faster than anything I have ever seen before. I don’t know why, but instead of running away from it, I run towards it. The hologram turns and watches as I pull open the massive door and see approximately twenty empty seats with safety harnesses clicked into place and a whole bunch of circuitry lining the walls. In front of each seat is a screen with a document and a lot of writing.

  It smells like burnt toast.

  I turn to the hologram. “Where are the passengers?”

  “They have all given their consent to become citizens.”

  A piercing whistle travels from the engine, along with the squeal of the train’s brakes being engaged. The compartment jerks to a stop and I find myself falling into one of the screens. The heading of the document catches my attention: Terms and Conditions.

  I scroll down and read everything carefully.

  “Ma’am, I am still in need of your ticket.” The hologram speaks, and for the first time since stepping foot inside, I want desperately to leave.

  I stumble back out of the vault as I realize where I am standing. “Where are they? Where did they go?”

  The hologram continues to look on as if nothing is amiss. “The other passengers have given their consent and have been granted citizenship. Their upload to MagHaven begins when we are fully docked.”

  The train comes to a complete stop.

  “But their bodies—”

  “RigMire is a digital city. There is no need for a physical body.”

  I shake my head. “But you can’t do that.”

  The hologram doesn’t move. “This is why citizenship requires consent.”

  I run through him and force open the door I had climbed through earlier. The air is brisk and cold. I jump down and onto a metal platform unlike the one back in RigMire. I walk forward, and quickly realize that there is nothing to go towards.

  There are dozens of trains around docked into a straight platform. The circuitry on the rails is unlike anything I have ever seen before. This isn’t a paradise. There isn’t anything here. I run towards the center of the platform, and see several towers lining a giant spire.

  Everything looks like it’s automated in the trains.

  I take a step back as the train lights up and a beam of electricity surges towards the nearest tower. A shrill of voices carry through the air. It sounds like a hundred conversations are happening all at once.

  That is when I understand.

  The city of RigMire—the city of knowledge and innovation—is nothing more than a giant hard drive.

  I think of my father.

  “Ma’am, you cannot be here without having a ticket and giving consent.” />
  I turn to see not one hologram, but many.

  All men, all dressed in red, with whistles around their necks.

  “I don’t have a ticket, and I have no intention of giving consent.”

  Their hues shift from blue to orange. “Then you are an alien trespassing on foreign soil.”

  There is a bang, louder than all the others, and I feel instant and intense heat. My skin peels back layers of scorched tissue. I watch as the flesh melts away and the bone is seen only for a moment before it too starts to crumble. There is a gargling scream and then one by one each of the holograms disappear. I feel myself falling, but there is no impact.

  There is simply nothing.

  2

  THE PLAIN BETWEEN WORLDS

  THE FEELING OF NOTHINGNESS IS HARD TO DESCRIBE. One second the air is hitting your face and the next it’s not. No transition, no pause, it’s just instantaneous absence.

  There is nothing in this room, no pictures or windows; it’s as if I’m standing inside a small white cube. It’s bright but I don’t see any light fixtures anywhere.

  “Please state your name, occupation, and ticket number.” The voice is electronic, and I’m not quite sure where it’s coming from.

  I go to take a step forward, but stop and look down at my hands. My skin looks as if it has a subtle green hue to it. “Where am I? What is this place?”

  For a moment there is silence. I can’t even hear the sound of my breathing. I place one hand on my chest and realize that I can’t even feel my own heartbeat.

  Did I die?

  Is that what happened?

  “Your physiology has been transferred to the station awaiting inquiry.”

  I start walking forward. The walls seem to expand with each step I take. “What kind of inquiry?”

  “Immigration.” The voice is much clearer, distinctly coming from behind me.

  I turn in time to see the hologram from the train—the man dressed in red with the whistle around his neck. I jump back slightly; the bang from before still echoes in the back of my mind. “Get away from me.”