The Clockwork God

by Jamie Sedgwick

“Exactly! I warned you that not only would crew members have different beliefs, but that we might encounter cultures that seemed strange or even repulsive.”

  “But you don’t understand,” Kale argued. “These people worship the dead.”

  “And a false god,” River added. “It’s a machine controlled by the Keeper. The whole thing is a sham. And these peasants are too ignorant and frightened to see through it. We had to do something.”

  “I have heard Micah’s stories of the dead,” Socrates said. “We will discuss this later. Tell me now about this god.”

  River and Kale began talking at once, tripping over each other to get the story out. By the time they finished fleshing out the details, Socrates had stopped pacing to stare distantly out the window, stroking his chin. River almost thought she heard the mechanicals inside his skull speed up as he focused his thoughts.

  “I’m not sure where it came from, but I do know that it’s a machine,” River said. “What we need to do is destroy the thing, so the whole town can see what their god really is.”

  “And what do you suppose that will accomplish?” said Socrates. “What do you think it would do to these people, who have spent their entire lives worshipping that piece of machinery?”

  River glanced at Kale. “At least they would know,” she said. “They have a right to know.”

  “So they do, but is it our place to do this? There’s no telling what these people might do when their leader is exposed. They might turn away from their beliefs, or instead they might turn on us. Our entire crew might be in danger. Unfortunately, it seems we have little choice at this point. Give me some time to work out a plan.”

  “Don’t take too much time,” Kale said. “I’d rather not become a pot roast.”

  “My advice would be to think before you jump into the kettle next time.” Socrates turned away from them and headed for the door.

  “You’re not going to get us out of here?” River said. “Socrates!”

  He paused in front of the door. “No, River. I am not.” The guard opened the door and Socrates entered the stairwell with the sound of River’s curses echoing in his ears. Kale settled down in his cell and shot her a vicious grin.

  “Now you know how it feels,” he said sarcastically. River fixed him with a menacing glare and Kale’s grin vanished.

  Chapter 14

  Socrates left the tower, ambling past the well on his way back to the Horse. With the excitement past, the women of the town had assembled around the square to finish their laundry and other chores. Socrates was among them before they even realized it, and suddenly they began to cry out and fall to their knees.

  “Stop!” he called out. “Do not subjugate yourselves to me. I am not a god.”

  “But lord,” one woman said cautiously, still bowing down low. “You are like our god, and you ride the rails, just as he once did.”

  “And your steed!” cried out another. “You ride a great powerful beast that breathes smoke and fire.”

  “My steed, as you call it, is a machine,” said Socrates. “It is a collection of moving parts, built by human hands, much like this well.” To demonstrate, he cranked the handle, lowering the bucket into the well. After it filled, he brought it back up and helped himself to a long drink.

  “You drink our water?” the first woman said. Slowly and uncertainly, she rose to her feet. “Then you are truly not a god?”

  “I am not.”

  “But your steed… your machine. Is it not like you?”

  Socrates scratched his head, considering how to best answer. It was impossible to deny, considering the machinery under his skin was clearly visible. Yet, how could he make the ignorant creature understand?

  “Yes, I am a machine, but I have consciousness, whereas most machines do not.”

  “Consciousness?”

  Socrates sighed. “I think. I reason and feel. A machine cannot do these things.”

  “But you are a machine.”

  “We are all machines, of a sort,” Socrates said impatiently. “We are made of moving parts. But if we have consciousness, then we are more than the sum of our parts.”

  “Then we are gods?”

  Socrates grimaced, wondering if it was better to let her believe that or not. Unfortunately, there was no easy way to communicate these abstract concepts to uneducated peasants. He might as well have been describing steam engines or static electricity. Apparently, they already believed these things were magical anyway.

  “It is not for me to tell you who or what god is,” he said at last. “These things you must decide for yourself. I for one, will not worship a creature made by human hands.”

  He left, before she could ask another question and send the conversation spinning even deeper into uncontrollable territory. Socrates climbed back aboard the Iron Horse and went to his laboratory, located in the upper half of a large two-story car about a quarter mile back. Along the way, he encountered numerous crew members. They all had questions, but he waved them off with the promise of an announcement to come shortly. His last order just before leaving the train had been for the entire crew to remain aboard. For now, he was satisfied to keep that order in place. Until he knew more about Blackstone, its people and its culture, it would be best to limit interactions.

  It was also best, he thought grimly, that the Keeper didn’t know just how small his crew actually was. The situation as it stood was more like a game of pawns than anything else. Socrates needed to understand the Keeper and his subjects in order to anticipate their next movements. If he succeeded at that, then he’d be able to think several steps ahead. The fact that the Iron Horse and her crew were a mystery gave him the upper hand. Better to keep it that way until the matter was settled. But first, he had a different mystery to solve.

  Socrates didn’t have the capacity to burn calories or store energy, but his maker had designed the simian automaton with the abilities to eat and drink superficially like a human. After securing the door in the lab, he removed the unprocessed well water from the copper storage vessel in his belly by urinating into a glass. Once that was done, Socrates fired up a burner and prepared several vials for testing.

  As the burner warmed, Socrates placed a long coil of copper tubing on the table and attached it to several brass fittings and glass containers, creating primitive distillation and osmosis chambers. The entire process, if it worked, was intended to remove the impurities from the well water so he could analyze them. It was admittedly a shot in the dark, but not entirely uneducated. For the moment, Socrates simply wanted to prove a theory.

  A short while later, the steam-powered engineer gathered five crewmembers to join him for the feast. They were unarmed, which Socrates intended to be a show of confidence. The Keeper had already seen River’s boneshaker, as well as her revolver (which apparently he had in his possession, somewhere) and had also seen the Iron Horse in all her majestic glory. This left little room for doubt that Socrates and his crew were in possession of superior firepower and technology. Showing up to the feast completely unarmed would demonstrate to the Keeper as well as his subjects that Socrates and his crew had nothing to fear. Conversely, it would fuel speculation among the townsfolk that perhaps the Keeper wasn’t very powerful at all. If the Keeper of their god’s Word couldn’t strike fear into the heart of these strangers, then was he worthy of fear at all?

  Socrates saw these thoughts fleeting across the faces of the townsfolk as he walked past them and climbed the stairs into the keep that evening. He grinned inwardly and thought, The first seeds of doubt have been sown. Now to watch them grow…

  Socrates noted the strange rails on the floor as he entered the main hall, but said nothing as the Keeper hurried to welcome him. The rest of the room was brightly lit by dozens of candles and torches that illuminated a long heavily laden table in the center of the room. At the end of the room, Socrates saw the two curtains that hung down over the face of his host’s god.

  “My esteemed guests!” the Keeper said,
welcoming Socrates and his companions. “I am so pleased that you have joined us. Socrates, as my guest of honor, I insist that you take the seat at the head of table. Your men may sit alongside you, as you wish.”

  “You are most considerate,” Socrates replied. “But it would only be fitting for you, my kind host, to sit at my right hand.”

  “As you wish.”

  Socrates couldn’t help but note that the Keeper was going out of his way to show no fear of the ape and his men. He took a long look around the room as he settled into the chair facing the curtains. Socrates felt an overwhelming curiosity about the clockwork god hidden behind them, but couldn’t act on it for the moment. His attention fell to the ancient, handcrafted table and chairs. Socrates knew from the wear on their finish that all of the furnishings were older than anyone in the room, save perhaps for himself. It was equally probable that the art of building such fine furniture had been completely lost to previous generations.

  The table and chairs were ancient, but aging poorly. They hadn’t been properly maintained. The wood should have been cleaned, oiled, and polished regularly. The lack of proper maintenance was evident in the dry, crackled finish and the rather large cracks in the tabletop that the servants had attempted to conceal with tablecloths.

  He studied the shabbily dressed servants who brought food to the table, and even studied the food itself, a banquet of roast pheasant, freshly baked bread, and vegetables. Socrates learned something from every detail. Even from halfway across the table Socrates could see the vegetables were stunted and the pheasants were small and lacking in fat; most likely wild birds from the forest captured as they landed inside the city walls. This, sadly, was probably a better meal than most of the peasants ever had.

  The bread loaves were small and likely full of seeds and stones. Amateur cook that he was, this was a particular affront to the gorilla. The stunted growth of the pheasants and vegetables perhaps couldn’t be helped, but there was never any excuse for poorly made bread. If he accomplished nothing else during his stay, Socrates intended to educate the peasants on this matter.

  “Wine?” the Keeper said, displaying a bottle with a flourish. “I’m afraid the bad weather has depleted our supply, but I always keep a few bottles in reserve.”

  “Thank you,” said Socrates, holding up his glass.

  “I hope you find the food satisfactory. This was once a lush farmland, but for many generations we have suffered with too few crops and too many hungry bellies.”

  “The forest outside your wall seems fertile,” Socrates said.

  “Ah, perhaps, but it does not belong to us.”

  “So I have heard.”

  The Keeper leaned closer and lowered his voice.

  “Do not think less of us because we are ignorant. My people are simple, but I guide them gently, like a shepherd.”

  “No doubt you do. However, it has been my experience that the ignorant always hunger for knowledge, just as your people’s bellies hunger for food.”

  “Ah, but is that not the way of things?” The Keeper took a sip of his wine and smiled. “Alas, we have no control over the world, or we would solve all of these problems with a snap of our fingers.”

  “Would you?” Socrates said.

  “Of course! What sort of man would let his people starve unnecessarily?”

  “Indeed. In that case, it may interest you to know that I have analyzed the water in your city’s well and found it tainted.”

  The Keeper blinked. His mask of congeniality vanished for a moment and Socrates was sure the man was genuinely surprised.

  “My people have been drinking from that well for generations,” he said uncomfortably. “For a thousand years or more…”

  “The contamination is mild,” Socrates said. “It is not the sort of thing one would notice. However, the effect is cumulative.”

  “I see… I’m afraid you’ll have to explain this to me in greater detail. You have an understanding of things that, unfortunately, are beyond me.”

  Socrates glanced at his companions and found the other men greedily eating the portions on their plates. Several had finished their wine, and a servant began refilling their glasses.

  “The contamination is a rare element known in my country as Starfall. The source of it appears to have been extraterrestrial… a meteor that struck our planet a thousand years ago, and in the process scattered this toxic element far and wide.”

  The Keeper laughed loudly. “A poison that fell from the sky? Is that what you’d have us believe?”

  “I didn’t say it was a poison, though I assure you it can kill. It can also have other unfortunate side-effects.”

  “Aha! So you say our well is contaminated with some thing that fell from the heavens and now does what? Makes us grow old, perhaps?” The Keeper laughed at his own cleverness, deliberately mocking Socrates. The ape, being far too intelligent to be insulted, simply stared at him.

  “Starfall is an energizing agent of some sort,” he explained patiently. “It can burn like coal for months, or even years. It can alter the structural behavior of iron and copper. It can even alter living things.”

  “Now that is quite a fairy tale,” the Keeper said, raising his glass. “A toast to our guest, the esteemed traveler and storyteller.”

  The rest of the guests raised their glasses, shouting, “Hear, hear!”

  Once the room had quieted, Socrates fixed the Keeper with a serious gaze.

  “How long have you known?”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “This is not the time for flowery speech, Keeper. I know what you have behind the curtains. I also know what causes your dead to walk. You know these things as well, do you not?”

  The Keeper’s smiled faded and his eyes grew dark.

  “Believe me when I tell you machine, that your only option is to get back on that ‘Iron Horse’ of yours and leave my town.”

  “I won’t be the last,” Socrates said. “We are the first of many who will come. If you drive us away, you might protect your city for another year, possibly even five, but eventually they will come, and they will overwhelm you. They will seek Starfall at first, as I do, but others will come seeking wealth and glory. They will come to discover and document, and to conquer. They will marry your daughters and entice your sons away, and if you are not prepared, your city will fade into obscurity.”

  “I think not!” the Keeper shouted. He lifted the dagger next to his plate and stabbed it into the table menacingly. The room around them went silent.

  “I see an entirely different future,” he snarled. “I’ll arrest you and your crew, and I’ll put you to work serving my kinsmen. Then I’ll bury your vehicle and dismantle those tracks. You will disappear and no one will ever know what became of you. The Ancients will protect us, and stories of them will spread to kingdoms far and wide. Fear and respect will keep trespassers out of my forest for another thousand years!”

  He was shouting by the time he finished, and several guards had approached the table with their swords drawn. Socrates glanced at his companions just in time to see one of them drop forward onto his plate, unconsciousness.

  “Move, you fools!” he shouted, leaping from his chair. “You’ve been drugged!”

  One of the other crewmen tried to rise, but instead knocked over his glass and fell out of his chair. The others seemed to have fallen asleep. The guards rushed at Socrates but he spun, twisting away from a drawn sword, and closed his grip around the guard’s hand. He squeezed, and the guard screamed as the bones in his hand snapped like twigs. The guard fell to his knees.

  Socrates was on his feet. He caught the edge of the table and used it to balance his weight as he threw his legs in the air, kicking at his next attacker. His feet hammered the guard’s chest and threw him backwards across the room. Another soldier closed in brandishing a rusted old rapier. Socrates lifted the disabled attacker from the floor and used his opponent’s body as a shield. In his haste, the soldier thrust his sword
right through the poor man’s chest.

  After that, they closed in around him. Socrates lost count as he spun around, kicking and punching with his long simian limbs. He was a machine, a tireless fighter, but the numbers of his enemy were simply overwhelming. It was only a matter of time.

  Eventually, they managed to tackle him from behind and drive him to the ground. After that, Socrates had no leverage to continue the fight. The guards shackled him, and for good measure, locked a collar around his throat. Then, when they were satisfied that he couldn’t escape, the Keeper ordered Socrates locked in the tower with his companions.

  As the guards dragged Socrates from the room, he heard the Keeper’s voice shouting “To the train!”

  Chapter 15

  The guards took Socrates and his companions to the tower and locked them up with the others. They placed the unconscious crewmen in a single cell, and left them to sleep off their stupor. Socrates they caged alone, with his wrists shackled behind his back and his ankles chained to the floor. One of the men touched the patch of bare metal and gears on Socrates’ head curiously, and Socrates roared and lunged against the chains. The man fell over backwards in his scramble to get away. After that, the guards hurriedly locked the cages and left the room.

  “You should have known better than to trust the Keeper,” River said, watching Socrates test his bonds.

  “I did what I must,” Socrates replied. “I was morally obligated to give the Keeper every opportunity to do the right thing. Now that I have told him the truth and seen his response, I no longer owe him anything.”

  “That sense of honor won’t save you from the pyre, strange one,” Thane said. “The Keeper and his ancestors have held this village trapped in superstitious fear for centuries. That is power he won’t give up easily.”

  Socrates moved slowly, pulling at his chains, testing their strength.

  “Can you break free?” River said. Instead of answering, Socrates braced his legs apart as far as the chains would allow. Then he roared and threw his arms out to his sides, giving a massive heave against the chains. As the chain that bound his wrists went taught, the shackles on his wrists burst open and fell to the floor. Shayla gasped, and Thane stepped forward, eyes wide.