Steampunk Tales, Volume 1

by Ren Cummins

  “You should all be familiar with this diagram by now – representing, of course, our world of Aerthos, connected to the moons Grindel and Prama.” Pointing to the bottom pair of dashes and to the other two in clockwise order, he repeated Kari’s response, tapping once with the chalk with each word: “Air. Water. Soil. Correct! In the old language, Aertho, Aquos, Terrum. ‘Um Aertho respis, par aquos bespis, e dan terrum crescas’,” he quoted. Seeing the children’s blank stares, he translated: “Into us is the air breathed, the water is consumed and upon the land we grow.” Clearing his throat, he pointed behind himself to the center of the triangle. “And what powers the elements?”

  He called on the inexplicably round ten-year-old Timar, who self-consciously responded, “Fire?”

  “Also correct! And lastly, what are the three transforming states?” He tapped the chalk to the lower left intersection between Soil and Water – several children called out “Oil!” – pointing to the lower right circle between Soil and Air produced the verbal response “Steel!” And as he raised his hand towards the upper circle, Kari burst out “Steam!” causing the class to erupt in small amounts of laughter.

  Rom looked up from the small pile of chalk dust she’d been creating and stared blankly at the professor. All eyes were on her, but she resisted the sudden desire to hide beneath her desk or jump out the window. She was uncomfortable enough with all the annoyed expressions the other children turned on their table, but generally felt less awkward when it was Kari’s fault.

  She let out her remaining breath with a whoosh, which caused the chalk dust in front of her to puff up and cause another round of giggles from the class. She sunk lower behind the table and waited for the professor to continue.

  A few more children, emboldened by the collaborative energy increasing in the room, added their suggestions – “hammers,” “pipes,” “tools,” but were all silenced by Kari’s response of “the Machines.”

  Theremin nodded and took a took a moment before addressing the delicate subject. “Yes, class, even the Machines were made by steel – and not just steel, but other metals – wires, pipes and even more complex systems.” He turned his attention back to the large apparatus on the desk in front of him. “This device as well, was made by various types of metal, steel included. And…” he took a deep breath before continuing, “I know that many of you have strong feelings about the Machines, about their leaving and the life we have now as a result of it. But steel is only steel, no more and no less.” He paused another moment, and added, “You might be surprised to know that this engine here was designed after the technology used to create and operate the Machines themselves.”

  Most of the children responded with soft gasps, but none were as audible as Kari’s. Rom reached over and physically pulled Kari back into her chair.

  “Certainly,” he continued, “the Machines were designed centuries ago by the scientific artisans who lived in Aesirium, long before we were sent out here to live. We may not be able to match their skill or knowledge in Science, but even in the fragments left behind and abandoned by the Machines, we find clues to the mysteries which helped create this world we live in.”

  Rom’s already diminished attention was drawn to the row of windows facing the street. Something was happening outside; some kind of commotion caused by a lot of loud voices. A few moments later, the loud ringing of the entryway vesper sounded through the building’s halls, distracting the Professor’s pacing enough to stammer and flip through his notes nervously.

  As he struggled to regain his composure, one of the matrons stepped quickly into the opened doorway.

  “A moment, I beg pardon, Professor,” she held up a hand for the attention of the class. Her eyes darted across the confused expressions of the children, finally settling on two of the older ones. “Tierna – and you, Josue, please come with me immediately. One of the others will return to collect your supplies.”

  Tierna and Josue only seemed slightly more confused than the rest of the class. But Rom’s mind was already working it out. Josue had been spending much of his work time with the healers, and it was generally assumed he would be apprenticed off to one of the Health guilds. Tierna, however, worked in the temple behind the main building. She had already taken her acolyte oaths, and was only one year away from being fully anointed as a Matron. Rom considered the circumstances, and decided only one thing could cause the two other children to be summoned away.

  “Someone died,” she muttered just loud enough for Kari to hear. Seeing Kari’s shocked expression, she amended, “or they will soon.”

  Kari, her eyes wide with concern, whispered back. “Are you sure?”

  Rom shrugged. It was a feeling she had sometimes, as if she knew when bad things were going to happen. But not all bad things, only the most bad of them all.

  One of the children that sat ahead of them overheard and turned around. She didn’t bother to keep her voice low. “You’re just being weird. They don’t bring dead people here, they take them to the guilds.” Her name was Senaa, and Rom found her to be perfectly annoying. In her own way, she was worse than Milando – mostly because being a girl meant Senaa shared the same dormitory with her.

  Arching a single eyebrow, Rom shook her head. “They bring some dead people here.”

  Instantly, the other girl spun back around and raised her hand. “Professor, Rom’s talking about dead people again.”

  Theremin looked up at the class from over his thick distorting glasses, his thin dark brows furrowed together. “Rom, is there – did you have a question you wanted to ask?”

  Rom looked uncomfortably to her friend, who only nodded her head towards the Professor.

  She sighed. “I was just saying that’s why everyone’s running around, that’s all.” She looked back at the surface of the table and brushed off some of the chalk dust. “Just that someone must’ve died.”

  Senaa raised her hand again, but spoke before Theremin had a chance to speak or even point in her direction. “And I said that they don’t bring dead people here.” She half-turned her head back towards Rom, adding, “they take them to the healing guilds.”

  The professor tried to disguise his frustrated sigh by scratching his nose and chin. “I think it would be best if we just--” he began.

  “They bring dead people here when the monsters kill them!” Rom snapped, and instantly wished she hadn’t. A couple of the children stood up and ran from the room. Rom recognized them - both had ended up here precisely because of the random attacks by the powerful beasts that roamed in the wild past the fields. She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t think of a good apology; so she dropped her head to the table, covered herself with her arms and hands and wished she were anywhere else but there in that room.

  The stifling silence that followed was at last broken by Professor Theremin clearing his throat. “Perhaps we should continue that particular conversation at a… later time,” he said softly, the unusually tranquil tone of his voice managing to draw a degree of relaxation to the room. Gathering their collected attention, he smiled warmly. “There, that’s much better.”

  Glancing only briefly at his notes, he spoke again; his voice rose back to a more familiar level. “We were talking about the machines, and the things we can learn from them.”

  One of the other children raised their hand; Rom held her breath. “The Matrons tell us that the Machines were made by bad science. They say we’re better off without them.”

  Theremin bit his lower lip, his eyes briefly looking towards the empty doorway. He knew well enough about the philosophies taught by the Matrons’ order – “Science without Soul was an insidious disease of society” – and had been blamed for their ancestors being condemned to live a life without the security of the High Monarchy. There were some developing doubts that the truth of their history was as crystalline as their teachings suggested, but he was smart enough to know when some battles needed to be waged in their proper time and place.

  “I’m not
really suited to debates on philosophy, Nara,” he answered her. “But I can assure you that we have Artisans work alongside our Scientists in all actions, so that a portion of life always helps guide our minds and hands.”

  He gave the children a few moments to ponder this before continuing. “Now what about oil? What does it do?”

  Another child answered, “It feeds Fire.”

  Nodding, he redirected the answer: “And what do we call something that feeds Fire?”

  “Fuel,” came the reply.

  “Yes, it is a fuel. It serves only one purpose – to help Fire interact with the other elements. With enough fuel, Fire can turn Terrum and air into large amounts of Steel. And with enough fuel, Fire can turn water and air into….?”

  Kari and a few others answered in unison, “Steam.”

  The professor raised a second lever on the side of the device, which let out a louder hiss as a pocket of white vapor puffed from a vent attached to its top. A series of gears turned in the center of the pipeworks which in turn caused a set of pistons to begin firing. In a few moments, a tinny chorus of faint whistles and chirps emanated from the contraption, each accompanied by small wisps of steam that faded into the air.

  “This steamdrive,” he said, his voice shivering with excitement, “is just a small example of an engine, however: this would only provide enough resistance to power a mixer or a few street lights and is used primarily for short durations, such as on repairs or in emergencies. A larger engine could light up this entire building, or, larger still, an entire street.” He let the engine run for a few more moments before shutting it off. “This small engine can run for about two hours on this one compressed steam cell. Unfortunately, it took quite a bit of fuel in our compression engine to prepare the cell. But even now, we are working on finding ways to make the process more efficient.”

  Darvis raised his hand again. “Does every engine need fuel?”

  The professor nodded. “Good question. In addition to the risks associated with harnessing the heat and volatility of steam, the other main trouble with our steam engines, for example, is that it takes several gallons of fuel to produce enough pressure to make this cell, which in turn can provide enough pressure to make this engine run for only a few hours. If we can only find a source of heat or energy which does not require the processing energy and time that oil requires, we could power a steam engine cleanly, and, in theory, indefinitely.”

  Rom was only distantly aware of the rest of the conversation, still furious about Senaa’s attempts to get her into trouble. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t like these classes – the only thing that made them even remotely interesting was sitting next to Kari and thinking about how to tease her later about how much she loved this sort of thing.

  As she continued to spin the piece of chalk in her fingers, it snapped in half. She winced, looking up to see if Kari had noticed.

  She had.

  Rom held up the two new pieces of chalk and mouthed the word, “Four.”

  Shaking her head, Kari waited just long enough to get the Professor’s attention before asking, “What did the Machines use for fuel? No one ever talks about it. But they worked here for a long time, and there aren’t any big containers for anything they might have used.”

  “Now that is a very good question, Kari,” the professor said. “They used a variety of fuels to power their complex steam engines, but we believe the most common was a sort of compressed form of carbon. Carbon is a fairly simple food for heat – wood, coal, various oils and that sort of thing. We’ve managed to reproduce most of the physical systems in the Machines, but we haven’t yet uncovered the mystery of their source of energy. Our forms of creating the necessary levels of energy are far too destructive to be utilized in the Machines.”

  Resting his hands on the top of the device in front of him, the Professor’s words continued. “But even in our failed efforts to restore power to the few otherwise functional Machines we have, we have learned a good deal. For example, even this creation – a simple, elementary fabrication based on the lessons learned by studying the efficient inner workings of the Machines – is far from the sort employed in the Machines themselves. They worked on a principle which has been lost to time – the science of producing heat – and, thus, steam – without any combustion whatsoever. But if we could learn about how they did it…” his expression grew wistful; eager, but with a touch of sadness.

  He sighed, seeing no alternative but to cap this particular direction in the conversation by returning to philosophy. “This is one of the things we as Atmologists must bear in mind: it is good to create energy, but the dream is to do so and not destroy life in the process. Life,” he paused for effect, “is the most important thing.”

  Rom watched Kari scribble that on her slate: Life = most important thing. She sighed. She already wished it was time to go outside. Her mind again wandered from rooftop to rooftop, and the Professor thankfully declined to call on her again. It was just like so many of her classes, she thought distantly. They all seemed the same. That was the answer to her mystery, she decided. They all felt the same because they all were the same.

  Chapter 5: In the Shadow

  Rom yawned, stretching her arms above her head as they left the morning classroom. The other children had already flooded the stairwells down to the main floor and the tantalizing combination of fresh air and sunlight beckoned from beyond the double doors facing the interior courtyard. She deliberately restrained the urge to jump over the banister and race them all, instead remaining apace with Kari. She hated getting out to the yard late – by the time they’d get out there, the other children would likely already have paired up into whatever games they were all in the mood for. She thought that if there really was a place they all went when they died, it had better have enough space for her to run and jump.

  Firm believers in the idea that shaping the soul started with exercising the body, the Matrons ushered the children each day to a relatively unsupervised period of calisthenics in the courtyard which separated the dormitory area of the Orphanage proper with the chapel to the east. Rom could see the statues which lined the yard gleaming brilliantly in the near-noon sunlight, as well as off the large patch of grass that somehow managed to grow here.

  The buildings nearest the Wall were the tallest and generally the most elaborate, and always reminded Rom of Milando and some of his friends – bigger than the rest of the children and using that difference in size to both intimidate the younger and smaller children, as well as attempt to endear themselves to the Matrons, who towered above them all. But because of their height, the buildings left most of the area around them in additional shadow; as if they selfishly stole what little sunlight made its way past the Wall as the sun crossed the sky from all the buildings that might have otherwise wanted it.

  Rom looked beside her, suddenly noticing that Kari had paused on the midpoint landing above her. Shaking her head, she walked back up and nudged her friend.

  “What? Oh, sorry, Rom,” Kari said, her eyes still dancing with intellectual excitement. “It just feels like I’m never going to turn fourteen. If only they’d let me apply to the College early.”

  Sighing, Rom nodded. “I know, I know. And they’d accept you, we both know it. But whenever they let you apply, they’ll love you and you’ll be the best Steamsmith ever.”

  Kari elbowed her. “Stop teasing. I just…” her voice trailed off. She sighed, shaking her head.

  “It’ll happen,” Rom assured her, her smile for the moment absent. “Just don’t worry about it.”

  “Can’t help it.”

  Rom rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well, it’s not gonna happen today, so stop fussing.”

  Kari sighed. “You know, maybe you wouldn’t find class so boring if you listened once in a while.”

  “It’s only boring when I listen,” Rom grinned.

  “Well, whatever, but I’m not going to give you any more chalk if you just keep breaking it.”

&
nbsp; “It’s not my fault, my other two pieces needed a partner.”

  Stopping on the last stair, Kari scrunched her face up in confusion. “A partner?”

  Rom laughed. “A dance partner,” she explained.

  “You’re weird.”

  “You’re weirder,” Rom called back over her shoulder. “Come on, it’s time to play.”

  Patting the book in her satchel, Kari shook her head. “You go on, I’m going to read.”

  Rom stopped and turned back to her friend, arching one pale eyebrow. “You don’t have to play or anything, but at least come outside. I always get into trouble when you’re not around.”

  “You get in trouble when I am around, too.”

  “But not as much!”

  Kari sighed dramatically. “If I come out, do you promise not to get in a fight with anyone?”

  She was about to answer when Rom heard raised voices from through the briefly-opened doors that led to the courtyard. Discarding several promises she was fairly sure she wouldn’t be able to keep, she simply said, “I promise not to start any fights. Is that okay?”

  Shaking her head slightly, Kari re-latched the buckle on her satchel. The pleasant thought of pouring over the pages of her book seemed an unlikely event today, after all, judging by her friend’s mood. Resigned, she followed Rom out into the courtyard.

  The brightness of the sun reflecting off the twenty-some statues that formed an inner perimeter of the courtyard dazzled them. Combined with the laughter and noises of the children playing over the grass and around the outer pathway that ran along the walls of the orphanage and the chapel, it made a fairly potent impact on their senses. The statues were said to have been brought with the first settlers to Oldtown; left to the elements, their faces were worn and mostly featureless. Most of them held partially-opened hands in inexplicable positions. Rom thought they looked like they were fighting with each other, but Kari didn’t think the Matrons would allow statues of warriors to be in their temple. Regardless of their nature or origin, they added a feeling of serenity to the otherwise mostly cold courtyard. The sun only shone directly overhead for a couple hours, but while it did, this area was the warmest and brightest place in the entire structure.