Wildspark

by Vashti Hardy

  She carried the netting back to the shed, but as she shut the door and turned, something caught her eye past the orchard, a shadow darker than the rest. Someone or something was there. She strained her eyes to see – perhaps she was imagining it?

  “Hello?” she called.

  But whatever it was had disappeared back into the forest.

  BACK TO THE FARM

  Learning the mechanics of the voice boxes took every moment of the following days. As Prue worked on the tiny machines, she wondered if she would recognize Francis’s voice when he came back? Even though they didn’t know for certain if the personifates’ voices were the same as their previous lives, it was thought highly likely.

  Sometimes she couldn’t even picture his face, and it terrified her.

  Now she’d decided to distance herself from the others, Prue found herself feeling increasingly alone in her thoughts of Francis. She sneaked off to her memory lab at lunch and before tea, but the calculations were getting tricky, and she longed for Agapantha’s keen mathematical brain, and Edwin’s talent for creative solutions. Somewhere in her workings there was a missing piece that she just couldn’t seem to find.

  In the late afternoon after a day at the factorium, Prue took a detour to the messenger tower to see Luella.

  The pigeon was sitting on the open window looking a bit sorry for herself. “Oh, hello,” she said wearily.

  “Is everything all right?” Prue asked.

  Luella slowly outstretched a wing. “I think my mechanism is broken.”

  “Shall I take you to repairs?”

  “Oh no, dear, they’re very busy. I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “I can have a look if you like? I have my toolkit.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but honestly, you have enough to do.”

  “I insist.”

  Prue set to work. She was a little nervous, but was familiar with the workings of the wing from her time working on them in the labs.

  “Not long until the Sahwen celebration,” Luella said, while Prue carefully adjusted the mantle.

  “I quite forgot. It sounds wonderful.”

  “It is magical. And a big coming together of all the personifate workers at the factorium with the masters, craftsmen and apprentices. So much fun. I don’t expect you’ve had much fun since you lost your brother. It sounds like you two were very close.”

  “We were.”

  “Maybe he’ll come back as a personifate one day.”

  Prue swallowed. “I hope so.” She picked out her micro screwdriver and got to work.

  “Now, what was I going to update you on?” said Luella. “Oh yes, the apple harvest is bountiful, and they’ve sold lots at North Owlcot market. Your father has made about two-hundred jars of apple chutney from what I could see! Your mother says” – she stopped for a moment – “not to worry about the oiling of the mechanimals for winter, she’s taken care of it.”

  “You’ve spoken with Mum? Is she all right with you?”

  “She’s not as chatty as your dad, that’s for sure,” Luella chuckled. “But cordial enough. She said the mechanical plough needs fixing, and she can’t work out what it is.”

  “Probably the rotary belt again. Thanks, Luella. I feel better knowing you’re keeping an eye on things for me.”

  Luella blinked and smiled in the best way a pigeon can smile. “Now there was something else. The hoppity—”

  “Hoppity-wrench.”

  “Yes, it’s escaped again, but this time they can’t find it.”

  “Oh dear, it always did seem to have a mind of its own.”

  “They are rather desperate for you to visit, dear.”

  Prue stood up and retied her hair. She missed the farm more than ever. “I’m going to visit home this weekend.”

  “Good, I think they’ll like that.”

  “Me too.”

  After a while, Prue finished. “There. All fixed and good as new,” she said proudly. “How about a test flight?”

  Luella extended her wings, then Prue watched, her grin wide, as Luella flew out of the window and zoomed at twice her usual speed around the factorium grounds.

  “That was brilliant, thank you!” Luella said, flying back inside.

  They sat together in silence for a while, watching the sun disappear behind Medlock in the west. The east side of the buildings became shadowed, while the tops blazed with rosy light.

  “You should be getting back, dear. It’s a new moon and will be a dark evening and … bad things come out in the dark. There’s talk of strange things in the streets of Medlock.”

  “That’s just silly ASL rumours.”

  “Let’s … hope so.”

  It was as though Luella’s increasing blank moments were momentarily taking her out of the world. At least soon, Prue would have a machine ready to test, and she would hopefully help Luella remember everything.

  *

  It was strange putting her dungarees on again. They felt familiar to Prue yet somehow awkward, as though they weren’t a part of her any more. Prue said a quick goodbye to Agapantha and Cora, then let herself out of the front door and made her way to the main square and station. Outside, a retriever personifate had a tray on the ground in front of him.

  “Rights for Personifates, display your allegiance,” he called.

  Prue paused. His tray was full of badges with the symbol she’d seen before of the human hand with a paw in its centre.

  “I’ll take one, please,” she said, putting a coin in his pot. “What happened to your fur?” she asked, noticing bare patches on his body where you could see through to the synthetic skin.

  “I got brought back as a companion, for a lady in the north of the city. Turned out she was secretly ASL. Liked to lock me in a tiny cupboard for days on end – she said I needed to learn my place.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It near drove me mad being confined like that. I tried desperately to escape, of course, and nearly made it,” he said, glancing down at his skin. “Luckily the Chancellery got me out when they realized. They reassigned me, but now I use my spare time for the cause.”

  “You could get it repaired at the factorium, you know.”

  “I know. But the marks remind me it’s worth trying.”

  “Trying?”

  “For better.”

  She pinned the badge to her dungaree pocket and made a note to tell Craftsman Primrose on her return. He was sympathetic to personifate rights, and she wanted to make sure the awful person who had done this had been dealt with, so she took the address from the retriever personifate before carrying on her way.

  The Gigantrak was waiting for the first journey of the day. Prue bought a ticket from the kiosk, then presented it to the conductor and found a carriage. At Batterthwaite she found an available mechanicart, which was painfully slow after the Gigantrak and the pneumerator. The mechanicart dropped her in North Owlcot at midday, and she began the long walk up Lane’s End towards the farm. She paused on the path. Harvest bales now dotted the golden fields, and the leaves of the oaks were browning. She bent and picked up a fallen acorn and put it in her pocket; it was what she did every autumn when she saw the first, for luck. She had a feeling she might need it.

  Especially for when she would see Mum.

  Someone was in the top field riding on the mechanimal horse, but she couldn’t quite see if it was Mum or Dad. As she reached the path to the farm she paused, thinking of the moment she’d left and how in one way it felt like years ago and in another way just as if a few moments had passed.

  The door was unlocked, as always. Prue breathed in: island plum pie – she’d not smelt that in perhaps two years, when Dad had traded a whole casket of apples for twenty island plums. Mum had been mad at him for the whole week, but he had said it was worth it. Prue looked around at the kitchen – all the familiar objects were in their place: iron pans on shelves, baskets on hooks, utensils in painted jars, and on the table, a sky-blue ceramic saltcell
ar and mustard pot beside a neat pile of napkins delicately embroidered with a small oak tree in the corner. Suddenly she heard a clatter, and Mr Haywood’s great smiling face appeared around the corner.

  “Dad!” Prue dropped her bag and ran to embrace him. They broke their hug and looked at each other. She’d missed his warm grin, but it also brought Francis straight back to her.

  “Well, look at you! You’ve grown!”

  “Dad, I haven’t been gone that long.”

  “Then you’re walking taller, eh?”

  Prue glanced at the stove. “Is that island plum pie I smell?”

  He winked. “I met a trader passing through North Owlcot this week – I paid a fair sovereign or two, but don’t tell your mother. I may have distorted the cost just a little, between you and me.” He tapped his nose. “Our secret.”

  Prue noticed the note she’d left was still on the dresser, now pinned beneath a ceramic owl salt pot.

  “Better call your mother. She’s up in the top field. I’ll go and put the cart away and see you in a minute.”

  Prue went out of the back door and called. Mrs Haywood looked over then changed the mechanimal horse’s direction and began trotting down the hill. It looked so clunky and old-fashioned compared to the technology in Medlock. Prue’s mind raced with the improvements she could make, with all that she had learned at the Guild. Perhaps she could use synthetic muscles for greater power, and grapheme to make the joints stronger?

  Mrs Haywood switched off the horse, and jumped from it, her blonde hair neatly tied up as ever and her light blue blouse without a crease. Prue smiled awkwardly and Mrs Haywood embraced her.

  “I missed you,” Mrs Haywood said, taking a clip from her hair and pinning back one of Prue’s curls. “What were you thinking, disappearing like that?”

  “Mum, please.”

  Mrs Haywood held up her hands. “All right. I understand you’ve just got back, but things need to be said. In person.”

  They walked inside, and Prue sat at the table while Mrs Haywood put the kettle on the stove. Dad was still outside putting the cart away.

  “I think I know why you went, Prudence.” Mum only ever called her by her full name when she was cross. “You forget that I know how your mind works. I watched your first determined steps walking. You went from crawling to walking within days, just so you could chase your brother into the fields.”

  Prue fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket, not knowing what to say – trying not to think of Francis, trying not to fall to pieces.

  Mum clattered with cups at the sink. “You want to bring Francis back at that Guild, don’t you?”

  Prue opened her mouth to make some excuse, but Mum had always been able to read her thoughts.

  Her mother turned from the sink to face her. “What good do you think will come of it? Things should be left well alone. I don’t want to see him as some animal, some clickety-clackety monstrosity!”

  “You don’t understand what it’s like, what they’re like!”

  “I understand perfectly, Prue. Life is life and death is death. It’s tampering with things that shouldn’t be messed with. It can only end one way, and that’s badly.”

  “But if we thought like that about all technology, then we’d still be living in mud huts and caves! We use machinery on the farm to help us, don’t we?”

  Mrs Haywood sat opposite her. “Don’t be contrary, Prudence. You know very well that’s different. Machines are machines; mixing it with the other side is wrong.”

  “But they aren’t monstrosities. They’re brilliant, advanced, completely life-like machines that contain people. You’ve met Luella – she’s lovely!”

  “Well, of course I’m civil to her, she’s nice enough and it’s not her fault she’s been brought back.”

  “But—”

  “Prue, I don’t want to hear another word of it. Now, you can continue there, I shan’t stop you, but you let go of any thoughts of messing with Francis.”

  Prue screeched back in her chair and stood up. “You don’t understand!” she shouted. “We need this, we need Francis back.”

  She paced back and forward a couple of times before stopping at the dresser where a picture of the four of them together rested behind a small jug. Below, among a pile of paper, Prue caught sight of a flyer. The symbol of the ASL was on it and it simply stated ASL. For natural order.

  “You’re not falling for this nonsense, are you?” Prue snapped, snatching up the paper and throwing it on the table.

  Mrs Haywood looked at it. “My opinions are mine and I don’t need anyone else telling me.”

  “Everything all right?” said Mr Haywood walking into the room.

  They both fell quiet.

  “Perhaps it’s time for tea,” he said.

  *

  In the evening, Prue took a stroll to the shed to check on the mechanimal sheepdogs and horses. She had a quick look at the broken plough, but decided she’d mend it after a ride around the fields on one of the mechanimal horses. She stopped off at Haywood’s Oak and climbed into the branches, looking back at the farmhouse.

  Beneath the indigo-blue of night, the setting sun burned with apricot and vermillion fire, casting thick orange roads of light between the trees across the fields and blazing the tips of the branches around her. She couldn’t count the times she’d sat in this exact place with Francis beside her, him teasing that she hadn’t climbed up as quickly as him, watching the sunset together, arguing over the last oat cake, dreaming of faraway cities and what the future would be. It was good to be home, even if Mum was suspicious of her intentions and they’d argued, and supper had been tense. She could feel Francis all around her, and memories of the farm and this made her more determined than ever to complete her mission.

  *

  The morning came all too quickly, and Prue had to set off early in order to make it back.

  “Such a short visit. I wish you could stay longer. Here, take some island plum pie back for your friends,” said Mr Haywood, filling her bag with treats from the kitchen.

  Friends who probably thought she was anything but at the moment, Prue thought.

  Mr Haywood sighed. “I’m sorry, Mum went to the west field early. It might take her a while to come around.”

  Prue swallowed back her emotion and smiled. “It’s all right, Dad. I just have to show her. And I will.”

  “Mum always said, once you make up your mind, it’s like trying to tame a storm. You’re more like her than she knows.”

  Prue hugged her dad and picked up her bag. “I’ll write soon.”

  “Have a safe journey.”

  “Oh, I forgot to fix the mechanical plough while I was here!” Prue said hurriedly. “I had a quick look, and I’m sure you can do it – the gear box has seized. You just need to separate them and isolate first gear.”

  Mr Haywood held up his hand. “Slow down – do what?”

  Prue grabbed a piece of paper from the dresser. She sat at the table and drew a quick diagram. “Take out the reverse cog, then remove the second, that’s this one. Put the gear box back together. It will still move forward because you’ve isolated first gear and…” Prue paused mid-flow, her own words suddenly like the missing pieces she’d been looking for. Move forward … Isolate first gear… Prue’s mind began to race.

  “Prue? Are you all right?”

  She suddenly leapt from her chair with a cry. That was it! The key to adapting the GODAR. She’d been trying to interpret a signal with three parts. What she needed to do was separate them out; to cut off the other frequencies completely so that there was no interference then isolate the one she needed!

  “Dad, you’re a genius!”

  “What did I do?”

  “I’ve got to go back – I’ll visit again soon, I promise. Perhaps with great news!” And with that, she grabbed her bag and ran out the door, not stopping until North Owlcot.

  GODAR

  When Prue arrived back at the Guild house it was suppertime,
and everyone was sitting in the dining room chatting.

  “Prue, we missed you this weekend!” said Lavender, enveloping her in a warm hug. She hurried her into the dining room.

  Cora was sitting beside Agapantha. Seeing Prue, she hooked Agapantha’s arm. “I hope you had a lovely weekend back at the pig sty. I decided to stay here and keep Agapantha company. I think I might take her under my wing.”

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Agapantha said with pleading eyes for Prue to sit the other side of her.

  Prue smiled – she hated distancing herself from Agapantha, but she had taken a decision to keep her friends away from any trouble, and that was what she had to do. “I’m tired after the travel; do you mind if I go straight up?”

  “Of course not,” said Lavender.

  Prue peered into the parlour as she passed. Edwin was in conversation with Samir, his roommate. Samir was gesturing with his arms and Edwin laughed in response. Prue felt as though an invisible thread connected her with Edwin, and that it had suddenly been tugged, making her long to share all the thoughts bursting in her brain with him. She hurried along.

  The next morning, they continued working on the voice boxes until lunch, when Prue sneaked away to the memory lab. She started a new set of calculations in her journal and began re-wiring the GODAR, building in a high-pass filter and taking out unnecessary parts. It was now much smaller so she could transport it easily.

  By the following Saturday, Prue was ready to test the modified GODAR, which was perfect timing as the house was quiet. Cora had tried to drag poor Agapantha off to meet her parents, but Agapantha had managed to come up with an excuse of having promised to read the history of Medlock to Queen Adelaide (all five volumes), an excuse that Queen Adelaide obliged in going along with and had proceeded to make Agapantha do exactly that.

  “So many memories to relive,” she had said, sighing happily.

  “Honestly, I’m beginning to think I took the harder option,” Agapantha whispered at breakfast.

  Edwin seemed to be behaving a bit strangely towards Prue, which she couldn’t blame him for, what with her disappearing all the time.