by Jon Torres
It also bears mentioning that he hit something. that something was a boot. More importantly, there was someone attached to that something.
"Good morning, young bantam." The chicken was older than Poxner, and taller. Well, tall for a chicken, at least.
"Ouch-ouch. I wonder if there's a rib that I didn't break. Now that's interesting..."
"Er, do you need help getting up? That was a long fall for a hill-runner. Gods, it was a long fall for a competitive ski-jumper. Are you quite alright?"
"Boots."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I've never seen boots on a chicken before," said Poxner, finally getting himself upright, "I'm more of a sandal-fan myself."
"So I've noticed. But these have more grip when touring these hills at the edge of town."
"Perhaps I could design something as comfortable as a sandal," said Poxner, absently, "but more suited for the rough outdoors-- like your boot. Best of both worlds, as some would say."
"Design, design...Say, you don't happen to be a professional designer by any chance?"
"Inventor, more like. Poxner's the name, sir"
"Oh. I see. And am I right in guessing that satchel is full of your... inventions, Poxner?"
"Mostly sketches and ideas. Notebooks and schematics. Minus a bag of perfectly good fruit I was planning to have for lunch."
"You've lost your lunch?"
"It's a long story. No, wait. It's a short story, to be honest. But I think making sense of it would take me too long."
"I've had nights like that myself, believe you me. Say, since neither of us has had lunch, Mister Inventor Poxner, how about we get us a very expensive meal by my office?"
"How expensive?"
"What can you afford-- approximately?"
"Approximately...I haven't got any money."
"Perfect! I'm figuring it will only cost you some light labor in a manufacturing setting."
"You're offering me a job? Just like that?"
"Let's just say there's a dearth of open minds in Lower Kirkopolis for the time being. And there will be the odd test or two to pass first."
"What kind of test?"
"It's a three-step process, and I can't let you prepare. Ready?"
"Uh. Not really?"
"That's the spirit! Poxner: First is a fitness test: how well can you run?"
"Without being chased by an explosion? I don’t know, I haven't really t--"
"Let's GO!!"
With that, the odd pair took off. The taller chicken ran with the grace of a muscular, long-strided plains-beast, sweeping across the paths, instead of just mindlessly following them. Poxner flew alongside of him (I am sparing his feelings again. Poxner wouldn't want you to know that he caught his sandal-toe on a twisty old root and was launched for half a second before he continued his patent move of imitating a helpless wagon-wreck plummeting off a cliff. He was airborne, at any rate, so it could count as flying. Maybe.).
At the bottom of the hill, which was also the edge of town, the senior chicken did not stop running. He skidded around a corner, sprinted for a block, jumped a narrow ditch, vaulted over a low wall, and then hurried down some steps that led underground.
"Is (gasp)... he actually (gasp)... getting (wheeze)... faster?" growled Poxner, who barely had time to see the stranger disappear around yet another corner.
A few more corners and more stairs (Yup, you guessed it-- falling again. But only on the second short flight, and Poxner figured out he could slide down the metal guard-trails and spare his ribs the trouble of tackling all the bumpy landings) Poxner found himself on a very wide concrete platform with no one else in sight.
"Hey, Stranger? Are you still here?" He called out. "Did I fail the test?"
"Not in the slightest, young one! Flying colors, Poxner!" Came a call from overhead.
His new friend was perched on a narrow ledge, one foot resting on some sort of big switch mounted on the wall.
"Poxner, I would like to welcome you...to our factory floor!"
With a stomp on the ledge-button, and a huge grinding noise that told you there was some local geologic-grade jostling and repositioning going on in the background, the wall split open into massive wings to reveal a busy
hangar/laboratory/factory/office, covering an area that looked to Poxner almost as expansive as Lower Kirkopolis itself. Dozens of chickens were frantically building machines, fixing machines, programming computers, arguing over re-assembly plans, welding strange parts, looking over accounting sheets, and even exercising at a gymnasium.
In the midst of the technological bustle and business, some abnormally-muscular chickens were busy training to look even more muscular and intimidating. Some masked chickens climbed tall ropes, and some somersaulted and kicked at sand-filled dummies. Oblivious to the grunting and shouting, other chickens were occupied with peering at a large floating hologram of a vehicle of some sort, possibly a boat.
Poxner's mouth fell open, and he began to stammer.
"Sir...I've never been here in my life, but, but..."
"Feels a bit like home?"
"Yes!!"
"Then let us repair to my office for Part Two of your test. Let's see some of your plans."
They ended up in a cubicle with clean white walls and long work-tables.
"Roll out a few blueprints here, Poxner."
A few schematics were already laid out on one end. Poxner gathered up his nerve and reached into his satchel.
"Er. I've been interested in flight lately," he began as he dumped several scrolls onto the table, "um, but this doesn't seem to be the latest version...Funny, but I can't seem to find it right now..."
"Here you go, Pox," said Omeek.
"Hey, thanks Om— GAAAAAAAAKKKK!!!!"
"GAAAAAAKKKK!!!"
"Do you two boys know each other," asked the older chicken, while he unrolled the dropped schematic, "or does Poxner here just frighten very easily?"
"A little bit of both, Captain Seijin," replied Omeek.
"How did you find me here, Omeek," demanded Poxner, "I could barely follow him!"
"I followed you."
"And how did you know the captain's name?"
"The nameplate says it on his desk. Look." Omeek rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Some genius you are."
"Now hold on, em-- Omeek. That's your name, right?"
"Yessir. Known Poxner since the orphanage, sir."
"Then you've seen these impressive charts. Has he built any of them?"
"Most of them. Except for big projects like this one."
"A floating gondola with a giant balloon? Very original. What means of propulsion, Poxner?"
"Actually, sir..." began Poxner, "this is only Version Mark Two. Omeek,can you find the next one I made?"
Yet another blueprint unrolled itself on top of the previous one.
"Well, that was fast. Thanks, Omeek."
"But Poxner, I didn't--"
"Oh, my Engineer did that. Poxner, Omeek? Meet Woo-Hah."
"Nice to meet you," said Omeek.
"Nice to meet you," said Poxner.
"Thanks for your help, Woo-Hah," said Seijin.
"BREUUWW-HAAAAAWWWK!"
Poxner jumped back. "AAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHH! That was YOU in the hills?"
Turning nervously to the source of the too-familiar voice, he saw a small chicken, a little smaller than himself, looking straight at him without blinking. Not very menacing at all. But a bit unnerving.
"Poxner, meet Engineer Woo-Hah. Doesn't speak much as far as I can tell, but can build anything from a schematic. If you want to see genius, you could do worse than watch Woo-hah at work."
"Hello...Wurrhah? Uh, we may have already met. I'm not sure."
"Poppox?"
Omeek pointed to something hovering above and behind the engineer. "Poxner, look!"
Near the ceiling, there was a tiny floating, boat-shaped vessel fastened to a balloon shaped like a bloated lakaya-fruit, but with little metal ribs along the skin.
"Captain," started Poxner, "those nacelles under the gondola assembly. I just drew those in the other day. And the hull shape, it's just off by a fraction of …"
"BRRRRRRWWWWEEPP!"
"And the small maneuvering thrusters on the underside, I didn't draw them in until later."
"Look closer at your schematic, Poxner," said Omeek.
Instead of just Poxner's regular blue or black lines, there were also numerous tiny critical marks in red and green. One thruster was moved forward a bit, and another pair was X'ed out. Parts of the ribbed hull were made a bit smoother and more aerodynamic.
"Woo-Hah?"
"Yuppup?"
"Did you do these?"
"Yippip!"
"But hardly anybody ever understands my drawings!"
"See, young bantams?" Beamed the captain, "With Woo-Hah's builder-magic and your design talents, you are bound to do incredible things."
"And I," rejoined Omeek, all too eager to make a contribution, "can test pilot anything ...as long as it's remote. Watch me fly that thing." Omeek grabbed the controls before Poxner could stop him.
"My favorite is this classic maneuver is called the Pickelmon, you may have heard of it," lectured Omeek proudly, "It's tactically formidable, but it's also glorious to wa--"
"Omeek, I really need to point out--"
"Not NOW, Poxner!"
Poxner huddled behind the office chair and gestured to Seijin and Woo-Hah to crouch with him him, to the Captain's bewilderment. The strange engineer, sensing something wrong, ran around the desk and jumped on top of it.
The little balloon-boat did a bizarre jump of its own, to Omeek's great surprise. Instead of climbing into a half-loop and impressively un-inverting itself at a higher altitude, the craft hurled itself into a loud nose-dive, trailing small fiery contrails as it spiraled towards Omeek's audience of three worried, open-beaked chickens.
Explosions are a funny thing. One second you're making small talk about design detail with a captain you're hoping to impress, and the next second you find yourself violently wrestling with his fancy medal-sash in order to pull him behind a small coffee table. Then the world goes black for a long quiet slice of forever.
"Poxner! Poxner! Wake up!"
"Ngggnghhh-- ?"
"Your miniature boat blew up and knocked you out."
"Nghhhhh... Oh. Is that all?"
"Yes, that was all. Wait. Are you implying that this is going to happen a lot to you?"
"Well, I could instead just admit that only yesterday, Omeek and I found ourselves suddenly covered in wox--"
"OMEEK! Gods be merciful, we forgot about him. Poxner, help me find your friend."
The two swiveled their heads towards one of the office's smaller walls, and found themselves staring at the empty blackness of space.
"Captain," said Poxner breathlessly, "Are we...where I think we are?"
"Where do you think we are?"
"It looks like...deep space..."
"I don't think so. This facility is underground."
"I thought..." said Poxner, barely whispering, "well...you could almost touch it and fall right through..."
"I wouldn't recommend that, Poxner."
Before Poxner could take a step into the jagged portal to the infinite, a piece of outer space peeled itself from the blackened wall and fell to the floor.
That section of space went, "PLOP!" Poxner wasn't sure if that's what space does.
It left a chicken-shaped patch of white spackle where Omeek had been plastered to that side of the office.
"Omeek! Omeek, wake up!"
The sooty shadow on the floor answered with a cough.
"Yes, wake up!" shouted Seinin. "What have you got to say for yourself, o master helmsman of disaster?"
"(Cough! Cough!) Guys! (Cough!)"
"Yes, Omeek?"
"Would you classify that as a launch problem, or a design problem?"
"I would classify that as a demolished-my-office problem, Omeek!"
"Omeek, this would be a spatial interface misalignment issue."
"Say again, Poxner?"
"You were holding the control pad backwards, Omeek. I tried to tell you."
"Oh well."
"Oh well?" Roared Captain Seijin, "One side of my office is charred worse than the inside of a blacksmith's nostril, and the other end has just become the world's largest pet door-- if I owned giant prehistoric proto-birds from the Noa-Szambrian era. And where's my engineer? You may have to scrape out all this burnt muck to find out."
"Sir, the last thing I knew was that Woo-Hah leaped to block the explosion and save me. But the jump was too high and the mini-blimp was already swooping too low..."
"So where is --"
"BREEEOOO...WEEEE...?"
Another shadowy shape peeled off from the blackened surface and plopped onto the debris-strewn floor.
"Poxner? Did my body go 'plop' like Woo-Hah's when I hit the floor or was it just m--"
"Engineer! Front and center! Report, please."
"KREWWWWIPP. GA-BOONG. CLANGCLANG. WHIZZYUPP. HEEEE."
"Gods, why did I bother to ask? I can't even..."
"Sir," proffered Poxner, "it sounded like Woo-Hah is reporting that the escaping gas could have been better contained by a more rigid superstructure, using lightweight metal ribs to further brace the balloon-lattice."
"LOOOOMINOOMINUMI...HWEEEEP!"
"Poxner, you can understand all that?"
"I thought everybody could. How did you deal with it before today?"
"Trial and error, Poxner. Mostly error."
Even Omeek was amazed. "Pox, not even I could understand that. Maybe the explo--"
"(Ahem) Speaking of explosions, boys..."
"Yessir?"
"Yessir?"
"Which of you is going to pay for all this damage?"
"What? You mean you're not insured in case of accidents?"
"Only when the damage is caused by employees."
"You only lost some office supplies," Poxner pointed out, "I can find you, say, a cheap replacement desk..."
"That rare, pre-extinction palaika-wood desk was a graduation gift from my late grandfather. It was an antique. Last of thirty on the planet. And now," Seijin adds with a big sigh, "only twenty-nine."
"Ah. Not so cheap. Or replaceable, then. Well... you still have two good legs on this table...one and a half, if you look hard enough. Just have to knock off the soot with a stick. With any luck..."
Poxner barely had to kick at the desk when the remaining table leg disintegrated into an ashy cloud, and blew away into the hole in the wall, coating the shiny metal fixtures and equipment in the gymnasium, infuriating the poor janitor polishing the machines.
"You boys have some damage to pay for, or we'll all be in big trouble. "
"All of us, sir?"
"Yes, Omeek. Without a complete and proper work environment, there will be a lot of delays around here, and we've already gotten plenty behind."
"Perhaps, ventured Omeek, we can work something out?"
"Yes, that's a great idea. I have just the thing in mind. "
Leaning his head out the door, Seijin called out to a passing technician who was pushing a cart full of metal gadgets.
"Ah, Azambi! Just the tech I was looking for. Come in here, I need your muscle to to escort these two, right after I'm done with them." Azambi was towering, muscular type. The type that relaxes by piking fights with boulders. And wins.
"(Gulp!) Where...um...exactly are we..."
"To the Academy, Poxner. For young chickens just like yourself."
"Is...is that like, um... (Gulp)... prison?" It was Omeek's turn to gulp. But Poxner was also gulping-- mentally, as it were. Chickens don't generally thrive and flower in a prison setting.
Seijin stared at the two for a few seconds. And Azambi kept on towering and glaring. Just for dramatic effect.
"Perhaps. It's a vocational institute, on the ground level. Just on the other end of this compo
und. Free meals and living quarters."
"Doesn't sound so bad after all then, eh, Poxner?" Omeek seemed to brighten up a bit.
"Omeek, you forget: we don't have so much as a corn-sandwich between the two of us, much less money for tuition to some Academy. AND we still have to pay for the precious antique desk."