Construct

by Luke Matthews

  Samuel turned back toward the road. “I hope you’re right. Good night, Kaleb.” It was apparent Kaleb had begun to earn Samuel’s trust. A certain amount of satisfaction came with that knowledge, but it was also unsettling.

  Kaleb finished his last bit of bread, tossed another small hunk of wood on the campfire, and curled up in his cloak.

  • • • • •

  As the morning light broke, a chill wind rustled the tops of the tall evergreens but did not penetrate to the lower branches. The forest huddled together like a group of refugees trudging ever northward. Shafts of light peeked through the trees from the roadside, filled and made solid by the low mist that lingered amongst the branches.

  Samuel peered through the trees at his new traveling partner, still curled up next to the embers of last night’s fire, burrowed into his cloak on a bed of evergreen needles and leaves on the forest floor. A thin wisp of smoke curled upward from the makeshift fire pit, dissipating into the morning fog. Movement in the branches above Kaleb caught Samuel’s eye, and he spotted a squirrel silently making its way across the branches, its long bushy tail and tufted ears twitching all the while.

  Kaleb’s sleep had been restless and it was clear his dreams were unpleasant. As the fire died down and moonlight took over, Samuel had spied a rise not too far from their camp, and took advantage of Kaleb’s dreaming to slip away into the forest. He sat against the stump of a long-dead ironwood tree on the back side of the rise, out of sight of his companion but able to keep a watchful eye.

  Samuel watched as Kaleb stirred. After several yawns and awkward stretches, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat upright, looking around between bleary blinks. His shoulders tensed. This was the moment for which Samuel had waited. How would his newfound acquaintance react to abandonment? Any number of scenarios had crossed Samuel’s mind as he watched Kaleb sleep that night.

  “Samuel?” he said without raising his voice. He tipped his hood onto his back and tilted his head, listening. When he didn’t hear anything, he looked around again and repeated “Samuel?” this time a bit louder.

  In that moment of realization, Kaleb’s shoulders slumped and he just sat, seeming to mull over his next action. For a long while he didn’t move, his crestfallen features alternating between confusion and frustration. His lips moved in silent discussion, evidently arguing with himself. A shake of the head, a conclusion, and then his eyes closed and he took a deep breath before standing and brushing off his cloak. He stamped out the last few embers of the fire and buried it, setting out on his way. Samuel continued to spy on him through the trees as he reached the road, and was surprised to see him locked in a moment of indecision before turning south—back the way they had come.

  Samuel had seen this moment a hundred times in his head, Kaleb’s reactions running the gamut from angry to scared to elated. The most common conclusion saw Kaleb tossing about in a fury, angry at his lost treasure. Kaleb’s actual reaction was the one Samuel was least prepared for: genuine disappointment. Kaleb’s dejected posture and silent contemplation had come as a surprise, but it came with the information Samuel needed: he wasn’t a treasure, or a hostage, or a pawn. Although he might not yet be able to take Kaleb at face value, Kaleb’s reaction meant he was acting out of trust, and perhaps his story of seeking adventure was somewhere close to the truth.

  Samuel rose from his perch and worked his way toward the road, a bit north of where Kaleb exited the forest. Once he reached the hardpack of the main road, he headed south at a good clip to catch up with his new traveling companion. He rounded a bend and saw Kaleb ahead, well on his way down the road, and called after him. “You’re going the wrong way, you know.”

  Kaleb stopped and looked over his shoulder, his brow raised in surprise and then creased with anger. He stood rooted to the road, staring at Samuel before speaking. “What was that, Samuel?” he yelled, storming back in Samuel’s direction. “I thought you just left me behind! What, exactly, were you thinking?”

  Samuel waited as Kaleb approached and stopped about ten feet away. “I had to know,” was all he said.

  “Had to know what?” Kaleb’s hackles were still up, and his voice raised but not yelling. “What exactly did you need to know that you couldn’t just ask me, huh? I laid down on that ground on the trust you weren’t planning on sleeping, or at least that I wasn’t just exposed out there alone. Do you know what it feels like to wake up alone in the middle of the woods?” A pause. “No, of course you don’t. You’re only three days old. Well, what did your stupid stunt tell you?”

  “I was worried you might just be stealing me from Taeman.”

  “Worried? Samuel, you shouldn’t even be able to worry!” A further retort jangled behind his still-angry eyes, but nothing seemed to bounce close to his mouth. His jaw clenched and unclenched and his mouth opened and closed several times before he set off northward in a huff. He approached too close to Samuel with the clear intent to thump him with his shoulder. When he contacted Samuel’s metal frame he bounced sideways, knocking himself off balance in the process. He regained his balance and narrowed his eyes at Samuel before tromping northward with a low “Let’s go.”

  For the first time, Samuel lamented his inability to smirk.

  CHAPTER NINE

  * * *

  Kaleb maintained a healthy pace on their second day of walking, fueled by anger and a petulant need to stay in front of Samuel as long as possible. Samuel let him have his fury while it held out; the trick was ultimately harmless and, in Samuel’s mind, necessary. He hoped Kaleb would see that sooner rather than later, or this was going to be an even longer trip than it needed to be.

  Samuel observed the cold of the day in Kaleb’s misty breaths. In some way Samuel knew it was cold, but couldn’t identify the source of that knowledge. He had no nerves to sense the temperature, no hairs to stand on end, no skin on which to get goosebumps, and no breath to expel fog into the autumn chill. He was learning these things about himself faster than he’d expected, but realized even he wasn’t sure what his expectations should have been.

  Amidst all this new knowledge, though, something still felt odd to him, perhaps even wrong. He moved well in this metal body, which felt so familiar and at the same time alien. It was as though some part of him felt trapped in this shell rather than at home inside it, but that feeling was giving way to the wonder of discovery. As frightening as this experience was, a twinge of enjoyment was starting to dance around the edges of Samuel’s anxiety.

  Kaleb’s reactions told him the emotions he was feeling were out of place, if not outright impossible. To Samuel, though, every emotion felt genuine. There was no thought or calculation behind it, no imitation. His excitement simply happened and filled up everything inside him. Something in him expected the fear to be overwhelming—it almost paralyzed him as he was parting ways with Taeman—but even the excitement was staggering. The gamut of emotions he ran through on the previous night, reactions to nothing more than speculative inferences, had given him a bitter taste of the less palatable side of his feelings. When the time came for true anger or despair, would he be able to withstand it?

  Samuel pushed the question out of his mind. There were too many others that needed answering, and for the first time, he allowed himself a glimmer of hope. The artificer in Morrelton could handle his most pressing problem—his shoulder—but what other questions might this Atherton fellow be able to answer for him? Would he know how old Samuel was? Or perhaps even the artificer who’d made him? With Morrelton being so close to Winston, this man might even have insight on Samuel’s true owner, if one even existed. He adjusted his lame arm in the makeshift sling, which at once focused all of his desire on being made physically whole again.

  The shadows of the forest grew long as daylight faded into orange-grey twilight. Soon the suns would dip out of view and there would be no sky to keep the road lit for travel. Evergreen boughs leaned in over the forest road from both sides now as the northern forest grew older an
d taller. At times it felt as though they walked through a tunnel, a man-made corridor through the ancient trees and thinning underbrush. As the light faded the feeling of enclosure deepened, both ominous and sheltering. The twilight faded to a flat grey dark at the beginning of night. They would set up camp soon, and Samuel wondered if Kaleb had settled enough to even communicate that desire to him.

  As it turned out, Kaleb had something to say after all. “I don’t feel like trudging into the night for long,” he said, “but I think we’re close to a good spot I’ve used as a camp in the past.” He turned and kept walking without waiting for Samuel’s response, so Samuel kept pace and held his patience.

  A short time later Kaleb slowed and moved off into the trees, motioning for Samuel to follow. The ground dipped away from the road, and Samuel saw the camp Kaleb had described in the base of a hollow between two large trees. Flecks of an old fire pit dotted the forest floor beneath a newly fallen blanket of needles. A downed tree formed a barrier on the back side of the camp and served as an effective windbreak. Samuel could see why Kaleb would want to camp here, especially if the night proved to be as chilly as the evening air hinted. Kaleb dug out the old fire pit and re-collected the stones for its perimeter. Samuel moved off into the nearby forest to collect firewood and kindling without prompting, hoping a healthy load of firewood would engender some goodwill and make for friendlier travel tomorrow.

  In no time at all they had a nice campfire and were as sheltered from the elements as one could be without a tent or lean-to. Samuel sat, leaning against the fallen tree while Kaleb worked through part of his store of bread and cheese. The night breeze through the treetops gave their campsite the air of being planted among a crowd of whispering gossips. The chill stayed high with the breeze, never descending to disturb their little sanctuary.

  It was quite some time after they had stopped before Kaleb spoke. “It has been unfair of me to treat you as I have today.” He paused, seeming to wait for a response Samuel did not give. “In truth, I have little to be upset over. Your desire to understand my motives was justified, and I’d have likely done something similar in your place.”

  Samuel wasn’t sure how to respond. Telling Kaleb his reaction had been entertaining was likely the wrong path, but the desire was still there. “I went into it expecting your ire.” He said, looking at his own feet. “You have nothing to apologize for, unless you allow it to continue.”

  Kaleb smiled and shook his head. He tore off another small piece of bread crust and popped it into his mouth. “If I’m being honest,” he said between chews, “I think I was more upset because I didn’t know it was something you were capable of.”

  Samuel raised his head. “Another thing about me that’s not like other constructs, I take it?”

  Kaleb shook his head with a small chuckle, and broke off a small piece of cheese. “Samuel, nothing about you is what I’d expect of your kind.” He paired the cheese with another hunk of bread and ate it. “You’re more intelligent, more reasoned, and more…I don’t know, personable than any other construct. It’s more nuance than I’ve ever seen an artificer produce. It’s fascinating.”

  Samuel mulled this over. His own observations had led him down this path, but his experience was, of course, very limited. Hearing someone affirm his suppositions went a long way toward acceptance of his situation, if not understanding. “Maybe I’m not all construct,” he ventured.

  Kaleb’s brow crinkled. “What do you mean?”

  Pressing forward with the truth had worked out for Samuel so far, so he decided to try it again. “When I awoke, there was a body in the room with me. On top of me, basically. What if…” he trailed off, not sure how to continue.

  Kaleb laughed, which frustrated Samuel. Kaleb seemed to sense his irritation and cut it off. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s fanciful but not possible,” he said. “That engine of yours stores khet, not souls.” He wasn’t laughing anymore, but he was still smiling.

  “Maybe they’re one and the same,” Samuel retorted.

  Kaleb shifted, leaning back on his elbows. “I can’t believe I’m about to have a philosophical debate with a three-day-old.” He shook his head. “Khet is our living energy—the living energy of all things—and although it is a part of us, one’s soul is more than just energy. Our souls are the sum of our being, everything we are, from birth to death, and informed by everything we experience in life. A soul can’t be trapped or transferred or held; when the body dies the soul…well, that’s another debate entirely. Sorry, my friend, but constructs don’t have souls, regardless of who that soul might have originally belonged to.”

  “How else do you explain everything you see in me, then?”

  Kaleb seemed to ponder the question for quite some time. “Look, I don’t have a good answer for that, Samuel.” He shook his head, leaning forward onto his crossed legs. “Whatever’s going on with you is complex, that’s clear enough. I just can’t believe you’ve somehow got someone’s soul bouncing around in that metal casing of yours.”

  It was Samuel’s turn to ponder. He looked up through the evergreen boughs at the night sky but saw only darkness. The overcast day had faded to a starless night that would soon descend into fog. Another question surfaced in Samuel’s head and he decided not to be shy in the asking.

  “You mentioned my engine earlier,” Samuel said. “There are many things coming back to me as we walk, but there are still gaps I can’t seem to fill, and one of those gaps is knowledge of my own kind.” He let it hang without specifying a question.

  “Constructs all have a core,” Kaleb started, seeming to understand where Samuel was leading. “It’s referred to by any number of names, but I’ve always heard it called an engine or a core. It’s the thing that runs you, energizes you, and enlivens you. In most constructs it is nothing more than a polished stone or crystal, about this big.” He held up a fist. “An artificer will spend days energizing the stone, very carefully saturating it with gathered khet to shape it for its use. Some stones work better than others; some never work at all. Those copper work mules you saw back at Taeman’s camp were likely constructed with low-grade cores and may not even last very long.” There was another pause as Kaleb continued his evening meal.

  “The process is more of an art than anything else. I’ve seen an artificer spend a week saturating a core, only to have it remain nothing more than a stone. Or worse, have one break mid-process and explode. It’s very delicate work and requires a certain talent. That’s why even though there are many artificers who can build a construct, there are comparatively few people capable of creating a usable core.”

  Samuel was sure he knew the answer to his next question, but asked it anyway. “And what happens if a construct’s core is damaged, or destroyed?”

  Kaleb took a moment to respond, looking as though he was trying to work out a way to soften his next sentence. “Then the construct is destroyed. Irrevocably.” Apparently he hadn’t found a way. “Everything that construct was is gone—from the initial knowledge seeded by the artificer to every bit of experience the construct has ever known. Every piece of knowledge, information, and experience that makes up a construct resides in their core.”

  Samuel sat in silence, letting the words drift into the air amongst the sparks from the campfire. In an absentminded gesture his hand had risen to his chest, and he stared into the firelight, letting the weight and importance of Kaleb’s words sink in. His next question was quiet and sounded almost childlike. “Is it easy to do?”

  Kaleb raked his hair back from his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Destroying a core?”

  Samuel nodded.

  “As easy as breaking any other rock,” Kaleb said. “Infusing an engine doesn’t grant it any strength or hardness. By its very nature, khet is nothing more than an ephemeral force. Storing it in a rock just makes a very pretty and useful rock.”

  As Kaleb talked, Samuel felt a new feeling creeping into the corners of his mind: fear of his own mortality.
All someone would have to do is find his core and break it, and no more Samuel. The idea was as terrifying to him as death must be to any person but, if what Kaleb said about constructs having no souls were true, he couldn’t even comfort himself with the idea of an afterlife. Destroy his core and he would simply be…gone.

  It was as though Kaleb could sense his discomfort. “Hey, don’t go digging your own mind into a hole so soon out of the womb, okay? Most artificers understand the relative fragility of their cores and shield them inside the construct’s shell. Not doing so is more than just lazy, it’s irresponsible. Like I said before, cracking a core isn’t a pretty sight. When I was a kid, my uncle told me a story of a poorly built construct getting knocked over by a carriage in Venel and taking out half a block when his core broke.” Kaleb shook his head, as though realizing his tack wasn’t doing much to placate Samuel.

  “It just doesn’t happen. Even without shielding, a core is still a rock, and pretty damned durable. And if it makes you feel any better, your frame is an old one, and could probably take a dive off of a cliff without having to worry about your core.” Kaleb smirked, dropping his eyes and shaking his head. “Look at me—comforting a construct. Never in my life.”

  Samuel's entire world felt like a mass of uncertainty, amidst which the concept of his own death had never surfaced. Understanding his own mortality was nearly overwhelming. He was positive Kaleb’s mind might break at the idea of a construct contemplating the nature of his own existence, so he just let it drop.

  “Thank you, Kaleb,” Samuel said. “I’m sure that won’t be the last of my questions, but thank you for answering. You should get some sleep.”