Celeste and the Machine: A Science Fiction Story

by Senese, Rebecca M.

  Celeste hummed to Dolly through her jacket. She’d opened the gate! She scurried inside, not worrying how loud her knees clattered and clicked.

  “Halt! Don’t move!”

  Celeste froze. Two men in silver and grey body armor swung laz guns toward her. A spotlight flared up, blinding her. She heard the thunder of footsteps racing toward her. She felt Dolly trembled against her.

  Celeste whimpered as they took her prisoner.

  * * *

  The guards marched her through a dizzying array of hallways, first white with white tiles, and then dark blue, then grey. All the colors swirled in her head. The smell of dust and the rich flavors from the street blurred away, replaced by staleness and stuffy air.

  Her heart pounded almost loud enough to drown out the clomp clomp of the guards as they herded her through a final door. It opened into a big auditorium. Rows of empty seats curved away in a huge circle. Steps led down to the floor, a carpeted section that glowed with the light of four floating glow orbs. And in the center of the floor...

  Sat Da’s Machine!

  The great cylinder white mouth pointed up at the ceiling that curved above their heads. Several men poked around at it, all of them with their sleeves rolled up, just like Da. But instead of his serene expression, they all looked annoyed, with crinkled brows and stern mouths. Several panels along the sides hung open, exposing wires and workings of the insides of the Machine. At the control panel, Celeste spotted the squat man, his fingers poking at the keys.

  He glanced up as the guards pushed her down the stairs. Her knees creaked as she stumbled forward. Her big feet stomped hard on the carpet.

  “What is that?” he said, staring at her.

  “We found it at the gate,” one of the guards said.

  “Inside the gate,” said another.

  The squat man’s bushy eye brows rose on his forehead. “Inside? How did it manage that?”

  The guards bowed their heads. Their laz guns turned away from her.

  Celeste hugged Dolly inside her jacket. Her knees clicked a little as they shook but at the sight of Da’s Machine, she felt her fear burn away into anger. She could see where they had pried on the metal to open the panels, leaving scratches on the paint. How dare they wreck Da’s Machine that way?

  She jerked her chin up.

  “Where is Da?” she said.

  Her voice seemed to crack through the auditorium. All the men clustered around the Machine paused. The squat man stepped forward. He frowned. His face crinkled in a way that was not dissimilar to Da.

  “You speak?” he said. “What kind of clockwork thing are you?”

  Dolly shook against her chest, or was her heart hammering so hard that it shook Dolly? She couldn’t tell. This squat man, even though shorter than Da, still towered over her.

  “I am Celeste,” she said. “You took my Da and you’re wrecking his Machine.” Her fear broke as she spotted a big scratch on the side of the Machine. “Look what you’ve done to it,” she cried.

  “Your da?” the squat man said then the frown cleared from his face. “You mean Nate.” He turned and waved at one of the men behind him. “You’d better bring him here.”

  Bring him? They were going to get Da! Her knees creaked again, this time shaking with joy. Could it be so simple that they would just give her Da for the asking? Maybe they were not such bad men after all. Maybe they were kind, like in the stories Da told her.

  A moment later, two men returned, escorting a third. The third man stumbled before righting himself. He lifted his head and in the glint from the glow orbs, she caught sight of Da’s face. The left side was puffy and discolored. Blood dotted the ends of his blond moustache. His blond hair hung stringy and flat on his head. He limped and held his right arm against his side. His eyes widened at the sight of her.

  “Celeste!”

  Her heart pounded to hear her name in his soft voice. Her vision blurred with tears.

  “Do you want to explain what this is, Nate?” said the squat man.

  “She’s my daughter,” Da said.

  That made her stop hunching her shoulders. Her back cracked as she straightened.

  “Your daughter’s dead, Nate,” said the squat man. “Has this what you’ve been doing out there all this time? Building clockwork surrogate daughters?”

  “Let her go, Brent. She has nothing you want. She’s just a child.”

  The squat man tilted his head as he studied her. “A clockwork child who broke our security with no trouble. Maybe she can get your machine working.”

  “I told you it won’t work,” Da said. “It won’t do what you want. It’s not a war machine. It’s just tinkering. I told you, I’m out of it.”

  The squat man waved his hand at Da. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard your excuses, Nate. So heartsick over your daughter’s death in that last raid, but don’t you understand that’s why we need you. To crush them.”

  “You launch another attack, take out one of their cities. They retaliate. When does it end, Brent?” Da said. “Negotiate now. Before it goes any farther.”

  “Negotiate? After all that's happened? Do you forget how they destroyed our land? Your own daughter died in the last four storm. How do we negotiate when we can't feed our cities?” The squat man shook his head.

  “Are they better off?” Da said. “We've bombed their fields, their cities.”

  “And they're on their last legs. We need to take advantage now. We can end this. With your help.”

  Da shook his head, his hair falling across his face. “It doesn’t end then. It never ends. They’ll regroup and strike. I won’t keep fighting your damn war for you no matter what you say. I won’t be the cause of death anymore.”

  “Maybe you won’t,” the squat man said, “but maybe she will, if only to keep you alive.”

  He turned to Celeste and pointed a finger at her. “What do you say, clockwork girl? Do you want to keep him alive?”

  Not at all like the kind men in the stories, this man was a villain. Not only had he stolen away Da and his Machine, he had hurt Da and talking about war and killing. She bet he was even gonna kill Da! Surely the hero would swoop in to the rescue. She looked around the auditorium, at the flat, blank faces, at the shadows that darkened the seats above them.

  No hero anywhere.

  But it couldn’t be her, she was just a child. The child of Da’s pain and hope.

  How could she be the hero when she was still so scared?

  She couldn’t. No matter how many stories Da had told her, she could not be brave and strong like the stories. She couldn’t grow without Da helping her. She just couldn’t.

  She hugged Dolly hard. Her shoulders shook as she bowed her head. Tears rolled down her cheeks and dribbled into her mouth, tasting sour.

  “Step forward, clockwork girl,” the squat man said. “You should be able to sync with this Machine and get it working.”

  Sink? Yes, she was sinking. She felt heavier than ever. Her feet clomped on the carpeting as she moved, leaving heavy indentations. Her knees creaked and clicked. She passed Da and felt his gaze on her. He took a step, but the men on either side of him caught hold of his arms and held him back.

  She breathed deep in, the warm Da smell, with the iron tang of blood overlaying it.

  The stench of pain.

  Of war.

  The one Da had run from and the one they wanted her to fight.

  And if she refused, they would hurt Da.

  She would never wash the dishes. She would never be curl up on Da’s lap for a story.

  She stopped in front of the control panel. Shiny keys spread out before her. Dials and monitors lined the shelf beyond them and arching beyond that, the great white mouth of the Machine pointed upward, yawning up at the ceiling.

  “Stop this, Brent, she doesn’t know anything. She’s just a child,” Da said.

  “Not just a child,” the squat man said. “Make this work, girl, and I’ll see your Da stays safe.”

  Hi
s voice vibrated in her ears. Liar. He was a liar. He would also threaten Da, always use Da to control her. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Now her anger burned red along with her fear.

  Celeste stepped back from the machine. She hugged Dolly in front of her. She shook her head at the squat man.

  “I won't,” she said. “You lie.”

  “Oh I don't lie, clockwork girl,” he said. “I always tell the truth.”

  He pulled his hand from his pocket. His chubby fist held a thin metal stick. With a flick of his wrist, it telescoped out. The end flared red.

  He turned and struck at Da.

  The red tip sliced across Da's face. Da screamed, his hands flew up but the skin flapped open and blood sprayed out. It splashed on the floor and soaked into Da's fine suit.

  Da fell to his knees, holding his face.

  “Get to work, clockwork girl,” the squat man said. “Then I'll take care of your Da. I promise. And you know I tell the truth.”

  Celeste's heart wanted to burst from her chest. She felt her whole body shaking, even her bad knees.

  Da!

  She squeezed Dolly so tight Dolly wailed in her mind. If she could only grab the squat man that way...

  “The machine,” he said.

  He raised his thin, metal stick.

  Celeste stomped toward the machine.

  The open panel stretched out before her. The shiny keys glowed.

  Dolly started to whisper but then she heard creaking and clicking. Her knees? No, the Machine. It was waking up and she could hear... she could hear it talking to her. Telling her all she needed to know.

  She touched the shiny keys. They grew warm under her fingers, then they were her fingers, and she was stretching forward, with no creaks and no aches. Her shoulders straightened. Her mouth opened wide and she prepared to sing. She took in a deep breath of all the moisture in the air, sucking deep into her iron lungs. Then the Machine part of her took over, converting and building and increasing and purifying.

  Then she breathed out, singing white mist into the air.

  This was what Da had wanted. A way to bring water back to the ground. Big billowing clouds of rain, sweeping across the sky, drenching the earth with life-giving water.

  Enough for their people.

  Enough for the other people.

  Enough for all.

  Da’s dream. A way to stop the fighting.

  But it wouldn’t stop, not with men like the squat man and their thin, red tipped sticks. They would always find a reason to fight.

  No miracle of rain would stop them.

  So she would have to.

  She opened her mouth wide.

  Clouds poured out of her cylinder mouth and spread across the ceiling with white billowing fingers. Thunder roared in her ears, stomping along with the clomping of her feet. She rocked from side to side and gave an extra push. Bright light flashed, a lightning strike!

  She heard the men around her ooh and ahh. A few clapped. Even the squat man.

  She paid attention to where he stood.

  Just to her left and back a few paces.

  Far enough away from her Da.

  Good.

  Celeste shifted focus back to the Machine. It hummed under her fingers, ready and willing. In its wide cylinder mouth she heard the promise of rain showers.

  But not yet. She had something else in mind.

  Tucked under her arm, Dolly wiggled and whispered. Dolly didn’t like her idea. But Dolly didn’t understand.

  The Machine did.

  Celeste stabbed her hands down.

  The Machine rained fire.

  It exploded out of the cylinder mouth with a flare of heat and light. Firecracker sparks flared and burned hot, streaking toward the walls, the ceiling, the floors, the men. They smashed on impact, exploding into flame.

  Ozone stench pinched the air. To the right of the Machine, one of the sparks hit a man in the chest, flaring bright orange against his charcoal suit. He screamed then the woof of the explosion cut him off. He fell in pieces.

  Yelling and shouting almost drowned out the noise of the Machine’s hum. Running feet sounded behind her.

  They were going to try to pull her away from the Machine.

  With a single creak, the cylinder swung up and over. Fire sprayed out. The stomping feet stopped.

  And the screams began.

  Then over the crackle of flames, the anguished cries, and the flare of fire, she heard the squat man’s voice.

  “You lied, Nate, you said it wasn’t a weapon!”

  With the Machine, Celeste could hear every creak, every hiss of movement in the room. Now she heard the crackle of the thin, red-tipped stick and the way it vibrated the air as the squat man lifted it.

  Ready to strike her Da!

  No!

  She swung the cylinder mouth again.

  “It’s not a weapon,” Da said. “It wasn’t supposed to be. It’s supposed to make rain, not fire. Stop it, Celeste. Please stop.”

  She heard anguish in his voice, but not the anguish of being hit. The vibration of the stick still hummed far enough away that she could tell it hadn’t hit him.

  But the squat man was going to hit her Da. She knew it.

  “Celeste.”

  Da stood right behind her now. She could feel the heat of his body. It felt almost like when he held her on his lap to read her a story when she was little.

  But she wasn’t little any more. And he wouldn’t hold her on his lap like that again.

  She could never go back to how it was then.

  Just like they could never go back from here.

  The Machine was supposed to make rain but she had made fire and the squat man would want her to make fire again.

  He would do anything to win.

  So would she.

  And now with Da right behind her, she could.

  She sang into the cylinder and fire sprayed forth. The squat man’s yell vanished into the crackle of flame. Even Da’s cry drowned in the roar. She sang loud enough that the fire raced up the walls to the high domed ceiling. Soon big chunks rained down but the Machine sent lightning cracks to disintegrate them. Rubble scattered around them, leaving nothing but drifting smoke and ash and dust.

  She felt Da’s hands on her shoulders, digging his fingers in. His warm breath blew in her ear. He was talking to her but she couldn’t hear him over the thunder of fire.

  It rose up around them in red-orange walls, eager tongues licking at the air, ready to eat the other buildings around them, the rest of the city. She wanted to let them, let them all loose. All she had to do was sing again into the cylinder and let the fire rain down.

  Then the squat man would never hurt Da again.

  She felt Dolly wiggling under her arm, and she remembered. The squat man had died with the stick in his hand. Burned and buried under the rubble of the dome.

  He would never hurt Da now.

  So did she need to burn the city?

  If she did that, wouldn’t she be like him with his thin, red-tipped stick? Wouldn’t she be like the others, striking back and striking back?

  Was enough enough?

  She was too big to sit on Da’s lap to have him read a story to her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t sit beside him.

  And maybe she could read a story to him.

  What kind of story did she want to read?

  Oh yes, she had one.

  She opened her mouth and changed her tune. The Machine hummed a different key. The cylinder mouth raised up to the sky and poured white cloud mist into the air.

  Soon they covered the dark city, hiding the stars above. They spread farther and farther across the land, reaching across the parched, yellow ground and the empty, dusty fields, even so far as the cities in the other lands, many, many miles away.

  Then when the clouds had reached as far as they could go, Celeste let her tears fall.

  And the life-giving rain came down.

  The fires around the Machine died
in a hiss of smoke. Her stringy hair flattened to her scalp in the rain, revealing the seam that split along her skull. Then she felt Da’s arms around her, hugging her tight.

  He kissed her cheek.

  Celeste smiled in the rain.

  Da must like her ending after all.

  END

  If you enjoyed this story, please consider taking a moment to review it or to recommend it to your friends. Reviews help other readers decide if a book is for them. Sign up for the New Release Alerts so that you have first news on releases and sales:

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  About the Author

  Based in Toronto, Canada, I write horror, science fiction and mystery/crime, often all at once in the same story. Garnering an Honorable Mention in “The Year’s Best Science Fiction” and nominated for numerous Aurora Awards, my work has appeared in Tesseracts: 16: Parnassus Unbound, Ride the Moon, Tesseracts 15: A Case of Quite Curious Tales, TransVersions, Deadbolt Magazine, On Spec, The Vampire’s Crypt, Storyteller, Reflection’s Edge, Future Syndicate and Into the Darkness, amongst others.

  If you enjoyed this story, check out some of my other titles:

  Mind Hunt: A Science Fiction/Mystery Novel

  The Soul Within: A Science Fiction/Mystery Novel

  Beyond Control: A Science Fiction Novella (Prequel to the Beyond Saga)

  Beyond Reach: A Science Fiction Novella (Book 1 of the Beyond Saga)

  Beyond Bounds: A Science Fiction Novel (Book 2 of the Beyond Saga)

  Beyond Limits: A Science Fiction Novel (Book 3 of the Beyond Saga)

  Or my compilations:

  Future Visions: 5 Science Fiction Stories

  All the New Tomorrows: 5 Science Fiction Stories

  Visit me at: