The Engine What Runs the World

by Quinn Buckland

  Penelope turned a corner and immediately backtracked. “There are three guys over there,” she whispered. “Come with me, I know what I have to do to get past them.”

  Smoke and Blue agreed and followed Penelope around the corner. “Hey,” she said without any hint of fear in her voice, “I’m so sorry, but I’m new here. I’m supposed to take a couple new officers to the underground so they can get me to the surface safely.”

  The two officers looked at one another. Smoke looked to both the officers’ breast plates which read ‘Officer Tomlinson’ and ‘Officer Cherkasy’. Officer Tomlinson was a tall man with slender features while Officer Cherkasy was a short muscular woman. “You hear anything about this?” Officer Cherkasy asked.

  “You kidding?” Officer Tomlinson said with amusement. “Those people don’t tell me anything.”

  “Why are you down here to begin with?” Officer Cherkasy asked.

  “I was visiting a friend of mine who had been recently captured. I wanted to see him before I left. He’s in the process of being recruited. I just went down to tell him he would be wise to join us,” Penelope spoke without missing a beat. The lines didn’t sound rehearsed or made up from the top of her head. The way she spoke made it sound like the truth. “There was an officer before, I can’t remember his name for the life of me, but he told us where to go to see him. But, on my way out I got turned around. These two are new and are having trouble finding their way out as well.”

  “Sound truthful to you?” Officer Cherkasy asked her partner.

  “To be honest, I don’t care,” said Officer Tomlinson. “I don’t get paid enough to give a rat’s fart what the other people of the engine do. I’m just here for security and they’re wearing uniforms. They look alright to me.”

  Officer Cherkasy shrugged as she pointed down the corridor. “Turn at your third right, then your second left. Go up the stairs straight ahead and turn at your first right. You’ll find the engine ahead and from there you’ll be able to find the lift that’ll take you to the underground.”

  Penelope smiled at the two officers and thanked them. The three of them made their way forward not speaking a word until they turned down the third right. “That was incredible,” Blue finally said, “even I believed it.”

  Smoke could see Penelope smile, “When you’re as old as I am you learn to lie convincingly at a moment’s notice. Those two were easy.”

  “How old are you?” Blue asked.

  “I’ll get into that once we’ve left this place,” Penelope said as her smile disappeared.

  The three continued on in silence as they followed the directions given by Officer Cherkasy. They walked with purpose and as if they had somewhere to be. Any officer they passed gave them a brief nod as they continued on their way. Smoke looked to Blue every once in a while to see how she was holding up. All in all she seemed to be dealing with the escape plan.

  Blue was quite the trooper. She had been beaten, tortured, stripped naked and starved. Still she managed to find the strength to continue on. She didn’t break despite all that had happened. Smoke didn’t think he’d have had her strength at her age. Bringing her home was what gave him the strength he needed, even if it was for nothing more than to rub his survival in their faces as he claimed the reward.

  Penelope perplexed him. He knew he had seen her die. He had felt her blood become sticky under his boots. He had smelt her blood and the gunpowder of the gun. He had heard Robert openly state to Portia that he had thrown her into the engine. How could she be alive? How could she have been there to help him escape? He didn’t think any possible explanation she could give him would be enough.

  The opening to the engine took Smoke’s breath away. The expansive machine was still a wonder that would be a part of the earth for thousands of years to come. If the engine stopped at that moment the gears and pulleys and boilers and sprockets would remain as a forgotten machine that had the ability to end the world as well as it ran it.

  The looks on Blue’s face was one of amazement. She had been feeling the same way Smoke felt. They both had seen the engine before. They had been given the speech on how it ran, why it ran and why it existed. It took some of the amazement away from the machine, though the view remained breathtaking.

  The look on Penelope’s face had been what Smoke imagined his face to be when he had first laid eyes on the engine. A look of sheer disbelief and wonder with an unwillingness to look away in case it was nothing more than an illusion that could disappear at any given moment. He slapped Penelope on the shoulder. “I know,” was all he said.

  Penelope sucked in her lips and pressed them together. “We got to get out of here,” she said as she stepped on the grated path. The nervousness of being on the narrow grated path hadn’t left Smoke. He could fall into the machine at any given moment and he’d never know anything again.

  Blue and Penelope looked to be having no difficulty with the grated path. It put him at ease a little. The nervousness had remained, though he knew he’d be free from it at any given moment. As the path ended and Smoke stepped on flat earth he resisted the urge to drop to his knees. He turned to look at the engine one last time. He could see the people working on the boilers, making sure they ran properly.

  Smoke almost felt bad for the men and women who ran the engine what runs the world. They weren’t bad; they were not villains by any definition. They were folk who the people who governed the engine felt would be acceptable to do the dirty work. The majority of them were probably beaten and tortured before they submitted to the engine’s will, or at least the engine’s government. When the engine finally died, they all would die along with it. It was a sad thought that Smoke didn’t like. He could try and save as many as he could, but that could mean his plan failing.

  This time it was Penelope who put her hand on his shoulder. “Tell me about it when we’re in the lift,” she said calmly.

  Smoke nodded and turned towards the doors to the lift. He saw a spin combination lock in the wall signifying a lift was there. He knew he had seen Robert spin the wheel, though through the discovery of the engine and the torture that quickly followed he couldn’t remember the numbers. He looked to Blue and Penelope, Blue gave him a worried glance while Penelope smiled, “It’s okay Smoke, I know the combination. I got a better view and trauma doesn’t cause memory loss for me anymore.”

  She spun the spin combination lock and almost immediately the doors to the lift opened wide. Smoke breathed a sigh of relief and entered the lift. Blue quickly followed with Penelope in the rear. He pressed the button reading ‘Close Door’ and watched as the door closed. All three took in a deep breath and let the air out. Smoke pressed the button with the arrow pointing up and they felt the lift lurch. The sound of steam filling the hydraulics echoed around the lift before it began moving upward.

  Smoke looked to the side of the lift and saw the red stain left over from Penelope’s blood and brains. “Alright,” Smoke said to Penelope, “tell me how you’re alive. Tell me how you managed to survive a shot to the head as well as being chewed up by the engine. There is no possible way anything could survive that.”

  Penelope hung her head and leaned on the wall next to her blood stain, “It’s the same reason I wasn’t afraid when you pulled your revolving pistol out on me. I can’t actually die. I’m a six thousand year old immortal. There have been other supposed immortals in the past, but one by one they all eventually die in a matter of speaking, typically from some accident or decision; gone from aliens, self-sacrifice, or banishment. Only I remain - the one true immortal.”

  “But how?” Smoke asked.

  “I’m lost,” Blue said as she gave both of them confused looks.

  “When I was on my way down to the engine Penelope came with me. The guy who found us shot her in the head. That red spot over there, that’s her blood. The guy then said he’d thrown her body into the machine. Now I’m trying to figure out just how she’s able to stand here much less help us escape.”


  Blue nodded in acceptance. “So how are you immortal?” she asked.

  “I don’t remember what happened anymore. It was six thousand years ago. You can’t reasonably expect me to remember everything that happened, shit two thousand years ago is pretty fuzzy these days. There’s a lot I do remember, parts of history that stick out, but there’s a lot I’ve forgotten over time.”

  Smoke thought for a moment and asked, “Were there really superhumans and supernatural creatures around two thousand years ago?”

  Penelope hadn’t expected such a question. She cocked her head to the side and soon gave Smoke an amused snort, “You’re face to face with a six thousand year old immortal and the first question is about the superhumans?”

  Smoke nodded.

  Penelope sighed, her face giving the impression of amusement. “Yes, there were superhumans and supernatural creatures. Hell, I’ve dated a few of both. Well, vampires anyway. Vampires didn’t like the taste of my blood; they’d always say it tasted wrong. Once I knew I wasn’t prey to them I began dating a few vampires. They don’t grow old and die, so it wasn’t a big deal for me. Then the purge started and now - well, I’m sure you know.”

  “What about the superhuman?” Blue asked. “I bet that was exciting.”

  “I think it was,” Penelope said. “I can’t remember his name, heh, how sad is that. But I do remember he had some sort of darkness power.”

  “Night Child?” Smoke asked.

  Penelope’s face lit up and she grinned, “Yes! That was him. He went by a different name when we dated. Did we get married? I can’t remember - anyway, we didn’t date long, at least by my standards. He was one of the first immortals to disappear. I’m sure I’ll eventually find out what happened to them, Writer willing.”

  “Again with your writer,” Smoke said with an amused tone.

  “Smoke, I know you don’t believe in The Writer, but with everything I’ve seen, the leaps in logic and the broken chains of cause and effect. Sure, when broken down and thought about they sometimes make sense, but I can’t help but think the world and history and our futures are all being designed around us. I can’t help but believe there is a writer. Besides, I’ve been in so many adventures I wanted nothing to do with I know I am not a person as far as this world is concerned.”

  “Don’t say that,” Smoke said almost immediately, “of course you’re a person.”

  “I’m human, sure,” Penelope said, “but it’s undeniable that I’m not a person, I’m a plot devise. I’m someone The Writer brings in if he doesn’t know what to do or where to go with a story. Sure, my life has been long and there are dull gaps in between adventures, but since I can’t die he can leave me out of many stories over the course of several thousand years and pick me back up as if nothing had happened. Gives me a bit of a dusting off and puts me back into the adventure.”

  “Would you want to die if you could?” Blue asked.

  “If I could die, I’d kill myself right here and now. I want nothing more than to finally be at peace. It’s rough watching everyone you’ve ever known grow up, grow old, die and still live long enough for them to fade from your memory. I remember Night Child and a few of my old vampire lovers because they’re in history books. Most of the people I’ve ever cared about died before Judaism was even a thing. Judaism was a religion that died off in the late twenty second century. It was the longest lived religion of all time - even The Writer religion is only a couple thousand years old.

  So yes, I want nothing more than to die, though I think I’m going to be alive to see my ten thousandth birthday before The Writer finally lets me die.”

  Smoke and Blue hung their heads. They were unsure what to say to Penelope on the subject. The rest of the lift ride was in silence. None of them wanted to break the silence and talk about what Penelope had said. Nobody wanted to be the one to bring it up. In a few short minutes the doors to the lift opened and the three of them stepped out into the ninth below.

  18

  “What do you mean the boomers didn’t go off?” Cobble asked Homer, “How do the boomers that we have spent so many years getting ready and placing not go off?”

  Homer put his hands in the air in surrender, “I don’t know. I’ve checked the readings several times, they didn’t go off. Maybe it was faulty wiring? Maybe somebody tampered with something. I don’t fucking know!”

  Constance watched as the two men argued about how the boomers had failed to bring down the underground. She had fought tooth and nail to get them to hold back the detonations until Smoke returned, but after a while even she had to agree they couldn’t wait any longer. If Smoke was still down there he was more than likely dead. She had cried the night they determined his fate. She hadn’t been sure as to why she spilled so many tears for him. He hadn’t exactly been a close friend. There was no romantic interest towards him, not that he’d ever feel that way for her anyway. He had Glass waiting for him.

  Not that any of it mattered, the boomers had failed, and if Smoke really was alive he’d have more than enough time to get back to the surface. If he really was alive he’d have figured to come to the surface by now, if he were alive he likely would be on the surface already. The last report she had gotten was from one of the lift drivers who had said he had gone down to the ninth below with one of the other lift drivers. That put her mind at ease for a little while. He’d have someone who could drive the lifts back to the surface.

  The first few days back on the surface were cathartic for Constance. She met back with her former employer who agreed to give her job back once everything with the underground was done. He’d need her to keep the peace with everyone from the underground drinking and getting rowdy. She had met back with a good number of her friends and had slept in her own bed for a change.

  She found she had gotten closer with Cobble than she’d originally thought she would. They had spent the majority of their time together, they drank together, they ate together and on a few occasions they slept together. When Constance had believed Smoke to be dead Cobble had been there for her in an attempt to comfort her. The next day she handed control of the Cartel to Cobble.

  The attack on the tower had been fruitless. The soldiers of the tower prevented anyone from getting to the first below, and with the town of Tower’s Shadow being in a danger zone, boomers couldn’t be used to take them down. Many had tried to weaken the structure to force it to fall a certain way, though none had been able to make so much as a dent in the tower’s outer wall.

  The doors to the tower had been broken, though barricades around the tower’s entrance prevented anyone from getting close. Constance could almost picture the people in the tower’s faces. Some would be frightened at the prospect of people making it in the tower. Others would scoff at the struggles and try to throw more tower soldiers at the people. They’d have no fear; they were too big to fail. It was seeming so to those from the underground as well. The only real advancement they had made in their lines had been brought on by those from the ninth below. They were all dead now, died in the line of duty.

  Constance wanted nothing more than to bring the tower down. The information Blaze had given her had been helpful. He had told her not to kill the man who had killed her parents. He’d done nothing more than the job he had been payed to do; if he hadn’t fulfilled his duty he’d have a difficult time finding more jobs and would ultimately starve to death, - if he hadn’t been killed outright by the other assassins. Blaze had refused to give her the killer’s name, though he was very forthcoming with the name of the family who hired him.

  The Rocka family from the third above were supposedly the people who hired the killer. Constance knew the name, though she’d never met them before or had any idea as to why they’d want her family dead. The open accusation towards someone in the tower seemed suspicious. Though she didn’t have any real reason to distrust what Blaze had told her, she couldn’t find any reason to trust him either. He had been a slave trader. He had been a man of ill-repute, at leas
t to anyone who disagreed with slavery. She knew she’d have to do some her own investigation to get to the bottom of it all.

  One of the members of the Worms approached Homer and Cobble as Constance watched. “Sir,” the boy said. “We’ve just got reports from the neighboring areas. Their boomers didn’t explode either. Their plans were a failure and they are going to go back down soon to check it out.”

  Homer nodded, “We are going to have to do the same,” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair and scratching his head. “We’re probably going to have to leave someone down there to make sure things go right.”

  “Let’s not base anything on assumptions just yet,” Cobble said with a wave of his hand. “It could be something to do with the wiring. Maybe we will have to boom the lower floors while a few floors up in the underground. Let’s not jump to any conclusions until we’ve investigated. Has anyone else in the other areas investigated? That you know of?”

  The messenger shook his head, “No sir. At least not as far as I know.”

  Cobble raised his chin and said, “Alright, You’re dismissed. Keep me updated if anything new happens.”

  The messenger nodded and scampered away. Homer watched the messenger leave before turning back towards Cobble, “So, How would you like to proceed?”

  Cobble scratched his chin, the stubble that had grown in the time since coming to the surface gave him a primal attractiveness that Constance liked. “Get three of your men ready. I’ll bring three of my own and we’ll go down and make sure things work properly.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Homer said with a grin, “But how are we going to get down? The lift drivers made sure to use some mechanism to bring the lifts down slowly so Smoke could get back up. They don’t have a mechanism to bring a lift back up.”

  “Fuck,” Cobble said, “How much wire rope do we have?”

  “Not near enough,” Homer said with a worried look, “I’ll talk to the towns folk to see if they have any ideas, but I think we’re fucked. Someone from another area might have to come into our area.”