hazilnut
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:07:48 GMT -8
We out here writing robots and rocks! Rating: PG-13 Content warnings for: possible swearing, semi-graphic violence, allusions to past injuries and trauma, more to be added upon additions/request
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hazilnut
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:09:33 GMT -8
General Worldbuilding we'll get stuff transferred here eventually
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hazilnut
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:10:37 GMT -8
Characters and Factoids we'll get stuff transferred here eventually
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hazilnut
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:11:23 GMT -8
00 - Starting Off with the Basics we'll get stuff transferred here eventually
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hazilnut
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:12:28 GMT -8
01 - Just Say No to Academia “Curly you can't do this! What would everyone say?"
"Mom stop," Ackerley groaned, equal parts protesting their mother's fretting and her use of an old, embarrassing nickname. They flopped inelegantly onto the couch before their mother could use it as an excuse to faint and end the conversation in her favor.
"Son, why don't you want to go on to higher education?" Ackerley's father's tone was as serious as ever and the pleading look in his brown eyes, the look that begged his son to explain so that he might understand, almost made them regret their decision. Almost, but not quite.
"Dad. Father. Papa. Have you seen my marks? What ever made you think I wanted to do even more schooling?" Ackerley watched their father's thin shoulders' valiant attempt not to shrug. The resulting effect made it appear as if he were dancing, or needed to use the water closet very badly. He probably did. It was doubtful he had done anything but pour over old manuscripts for the past day or so, and likely would have continued to do so had Ackerley not declared they were leaving. Too bad they hadn't inherited their father's academic nature. Even if he would never admit it outright, Ackerley's marks in school had been a constant disappointment to the renowned scholar Coulson. Woe be it that they had instead taken after some disgraced maternal cousin who had been blown up by one of her own inventions.
Sensing that the same line of thinking, that of Moreen's terrible fate, was running through their parents' minds, Ackerley attempted to change the subject. "The only reason for me to pursue higher education would be so people called me doctor instead of mister." Their father's expression grew even more concerned behind his scraggly beard.
"Is mister not okay anymore?" he asked worriedly, "What about son? Would you prefer child?"
"Dad. No. It was a joke. Mister is still fine," Ackerley had to reassure their father before he started sending out updated notices to friends and family. Already his fingers had been twitching for a pen. Internally Ackerley sighed. As much as they appreciated their parents' support of their gender identity, sometimes they wished the pair would show as much understanding when it came to what their son wanted to do. "Seriously, it's fine. I'd tell you if it wasn't."
"But you were going to leave without telling us," sniffled Ackerley's mother. She whipped out a handkerchief and began dabbing at her eyes morosely. Ackerley did not have a response to that.
"I, well, uh-" they stuttered, "I knew you'd make a big fuss about it. I'm a grown adult now, by any kingdom's standards. I should be able to do what I want to do."
"And what exactly is that?" asked their father, always the man of hard questions. Ackerley shrugged, fidgeting with the loose buttons on the couch backing.
"I don't know. Go to Pern maybe? Study with a Harper?" That last bit they added to placate their father. As expected his tone grew suddenly much more favorable.
"A Harper huh?" mused Ackerley's father, at the same moment when their mother cried out,
"Pern? But the dragons! Curly you absolutely cannot go there." Though their mother was now thoroughly scandalized, with their father on their side Ackerley was pretty sure of how the conversation would end.
As expected, their father placed a thin hand on his wife's shoulder and rubbed it gently. "Honey, the common tales are wildly exaggerated. Pernese dragons are completely pleasant. And to study under a Harper- this could be just the thing." Ackerley's parents exchanged a look, one which Ackerley was pretty sure meant something along the lines of 'if we let Ackerley take a gap year maybe they'll get better at school'.
"Fine," their mother consented, voice still tight with tears. She turned to her son and pulled them up into a hug with surprising strength. "If you die I will hunt down your ghosts and kill you again," she whispered though Ackerley's hair. She pulled away and clasped her son's face with her hands. "Do you understand?"
"Yes mom," they garbled through squished cheeks.
"Good." She pressed several wet kisses to Ackerley's cheeks before finally letting them go.
Ackerley's father pulled them aside and began patting himself down, grumbling as he tried to find whatever it was he looking for. Finally he pulled out a pouch of coins and began to count them out on the table. He pushed a gold handful back into the bag and handed that to Ackerley. "I'm giving you the money for transport and set up in a nice weyr in the south of Pern. Find a Harper to teach you and write us constantly." Ackerley nodded seriously, touched and a bit guilty at their father's gift, but even more so at his next words. "I'm proud of you son."
Despite their promise to find a Harper to study under in one of the southern weyrs, Ackerley had made a point to avoid any signs of civilization once they had arrived in southern Pern. Instead they had spent the remainder of their money on supplies in the hold they had finished their journey at and set off into the wilds. Coming across a suitably dense forest, which had the added benefit of moss-covered ruins for exploration, Ackerley took the next few weeks to construct themselves a home. It was little more than a sagging lean-to, but it was sturdy enough to store their belongings and any interesting scraps they found in the forest. Once the basics were accounted for, however, Ackerley was faced with the greatest challenge known to gap year students: how to spend one's time.
Loneliness was not a feeling Ackerley ever though they would experience. Their parents had been doting to the point of smothering, leaving their son relieved for the peace whenever both adults had to leave them alone. But the relief of freedom quickly morphed into hollow loneliness once the well of adrenaline had run dry, leaving Ackerley both yearning for companionship but too stubborn to rejoin civilization to find it. It was one late and lonely night that it occurred to Ackerley what they could do to remedy their situation. They uncovered their tools, collected the scraps of metal they had brought home over the weeks, and set to work. The only class they had been any good at was mechanics, but boy howdy had they been good at that.
Perhaps it was time to make their dream of becoming an inventor come true.
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hazilnut
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:18:37 GMT -8
02 - The Meaning of Words When the knight first stood up, Ackerley couldn't hold back their undignified squeal of excitement. It was just a test run of the motors, they had to remind themselves, there was no one inside the body yet. Welding together a walking suit of armor was tricky, yes, but it was child's play in comparison to crafting a working AI. Still, one step at a time. They couldn't very well create a being and not offer it a working body.
When the knight first thought, Ackerley nearly burst into tears. They had done it. They had made life. Nothing could possibly be more beautiful than the 'ᴬᶜᴷᴿᴸᵞ?' that flashed across the robot's faceplate. The simple acknowledgement of their name filled Ackerley with such delight that even their pathetic noodle arm induced failure to pull the knight to its feet could not dampen.
When the knight first spoke, Ackerley nearly cried for a an entirely different reason. The sound was excruciatingly painful.
"Your name is Amicus."
"Ameeeec-c-cus," tried the robot again, but despite their best efforts their rendition of their name still came out sounding like a screech of steam and a click click click of cogs turning. If Amicus had the means to look embarrassed they would likely be flushing a deeper scarlet than their faceplate. Alas, being built in the style of a suit of armor made reading Amicus very difficult and their inability to really speak didn't help matters either.
'ˢᴿᴿᵞ' flashed across Amicus's faceplate. 'ˢ'ᴺᴼᵀ ᵂᴿᴷᴺᴳ
"Let's try something else then." Ackerley swore the hiss of steam that Amicus let out at that was almost a sigh. "Can you say Amy?"
Another hiss of steam, but Amicus complied. "Ameee!" It wasn't a perfect rendition but it was significantly less grating. Ackerley couldn't hold back their smile.
"You did it!" They flung their arms around Amy's humming carapace, beaming from ear to ear as the knight awkwardly arranged their bulky arms around their creator's shoulders. A warmth burned in Ackerley's chest that they were pretty sure had little to do with Amy's steam-powered circuitry. Was it pride? No, it was something more than that. Contentment. Happiness. The joy of no longer being alone. Forehead pressed up against Amicus's warm chest, the cold lonely nights seemed like a distant dream.
"Iii ammm Ameee and you are C-c-curleee," Hummed Amy happily. Ackerley didn't even protest the nickname. Where it had once been an annoyance, now it was a memory of home.
In showing Amy around the little clearing Ackerley had made their home, they were finally able to utilize the name they had privately been calling the spot for the past several months. "I call it Mekhanikos," they informed Amicus happily as the pair sat under the shade of the tree Ackerley's workshop lean-to leant up against. Rather, Ackerley sat. Amicus stood stiffly, a perfect replica of the suit of armor in Ackerley's father's office. "It's latin-" The only other subject Ackerley was any good at in school. "-It means full of ingenuity." Amicus clicked thoughtfully. "Your name is latin too," Ackerley took the silence as invitation to say all in a rush, "It means friend. Because you're my friend."
"Freeeend," Amy agreed. "Will prot-t-tec-c-c-t-t-t."
Soon Amy had two new 'friends' to protect. A golem nearly as tall as the knight and the, in comparison, small cat ei toted. Ackerley had dragged the body of the golem, which had upon first glance seemed like a pile of useful clay and crystals, back to Mekhanikos one day on a sledge. A wildcat cub, already nearly as large as a domestic cat, curled up on the golem's chest.
"I needed clay to patch up the lean-to," Ackerley explained to the disconcerted Amy, "But there was this really weird force keeping everything together so I couldn't not bring it all back."
'ᴺ' ᵀᴴᴱ ᶜᴬᵀ?'
Ackerley shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "She wandered after me away from her pride. How could I deny her the adventure she sought?" Plus they just really liked cats. "I'm naming her Calpras," they continued. Amy let out another whistle of steam but did not object, what good would that do now? The cat already had a name.
But as it turned out, Calpras was not the name the wildcat would keep. Keiran, as the golem's name was revealed to be after ei had woken up during one of Ackerley and Amy's discussions over food and farming, had never managed to wrap eir head around why a cat named Calpras would be referred to as she. After all, golem pronouns were individual and derived from their names. They and them were known neutral pronouns, even to golems, but Calpras ended up being referred to as Sheherr often enough that she stopped responding to anything else.
There was no risk of Sheherr leaving Mekhanikos however. Though the wildcat resisted any attempts to really domesticate her, she was happy enough to always return to the little group at night and curl up to sleep next to Keiran. Sheherr's affection was readily returned by the young golem, whose touch-starved nature had been the only reason ei hadn't been whipped up into a frenzy after Ackerley awoke em as ei claimed other golems would be likely to have done had a human learned their activation word.
Thankfully Keiran was still young and more than a little desperate to find eir parents. Ackerley, ei mentioned, was the only one who could really help em. "It would be sacrilegious for a golem to try and guess another's activation word, but if a human were to do it-" Ei shrugged as well as ei could. "-I could turn a blind eye." Ackerley was too busy taking notes on how Keiran was able to create understandable words from the rasping of certain stones against one another to really be concerned with the danger eir plan might present.
Late on summer evening as the trio and cat sat around the fire, waiting for Ackerley's dinner to finish cooking, Amy asked a question that had been buzzing around their mind like the moth that had once gotten caught in their chest cavity. 'ᵂᴴᵀ'ˢ ᴬ ᴹᵀᴴᴿ?'
It took Ackerley a moment to piece together the question that hung on Amy's faceplate, illuminated by flickering embers, then a moment longer to come to a suitable answer. "A mother is a kind of parent. You know what a parent is right?"
Amicus nodded. Ackerley had filled their AI with basic words and definitions, but they supposed they had somehow neglected mother.
"Well a mother is a parent, usually one who uses she and her, like Sheherr." They neglected any biological bits about pregnancy since it was highly unlikely to mean anything to a robot or a golem, if Keiran were paying any mind to the conversation.
The knight turned this over thoughtfully, faceplate angled to watch as Keiran teased Sheherr with a bit of twine. 'ᴹᵀᴴᴿˢ ᴾᴿᴼᵀᶜᵀ?'
Ackerley thought of their own mother, who had so desperately wanted to keep her son safe. She really had loved them, even if her ways of showing it were a bit overbearing. "Yeah. Yeah they do protect."
"Iii will be mothhher to Mehk-k-kanik-k-kos." Amicus's clicks were final and definite. They would protect this town and the beings within it if it cost them their life.
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hazilnut
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:22:07 GMT -8
03 - The Problem of the Past "Ackerley, are you in here?" The familiar metallic buzz accompanied Cultor's words as they stepped into Ackerley's workplace. Though being primarily made from the most advanced circuitry known to man gifted Cultor with a voice box that worked far better than Amicus's, which still squeaked and groaned despite all attempts to fix it, they still possessed a static-like undertone. The other price of their advanced mechanics was a certain degree of prototype issues, which meant Cultor was a frequent visitor to Ackerley's office lean-to.
"Back here!" Ackerley waved an oily cloth to indicate their position in the very back of the cramped lean-to. Cultor found them pouring over prototype designs for a head chief. It was little secret Ackerley struggled with the day to day management of Mekhanikos, which had grown significantly in the two years since they had founded it. If Mekhanikos was going to keep on growing those duties to society, which Ackerley had hoped to escape in the first place, would keep piling up. Ackerley had set down the rag dangerously close to the open burner, the light of which they had been working by. Cultor made a point of moving the cloth elsewhere. "Anything wrong with your systems?"
"Nothing yet. But if Keiran and I are to begin gardening soon I worry about soil in my joints." Cultor proffered a wrist so Ackerley could examine the gap and make a note.
Ackerley motioned for Cutlor to sit down before beginning to rustle around their work space. "Keiran's formality is rubbing off on you," they teased as they pulled various bottles of chemicals and assortments of springs from different corners.
"Did you expect me to sound like him?"
"Huh?"
"Mr. Bentley. The groundskeeper from your old school," Cultor prompted easily.
"Oh." Ackerley was fiddling with a spring, sticking it through tubes of different sizes. They tapped the metal thoughtfully and then shook their head. "Not really. You and him are totally different people. Wait, how did you know I based you on him?"
"You talked about him a lot when you were finishing me up."
"You were aware during that?" Ackerley looked about ready to begin furiously scratching down notes, they were practically bouncing in their fraying boots. "How far back does your consciousness go?"
If Cultor could given a contemplating smile they would have, but their facial features were far from sophisticated enough for such complex mouth movement. "I am not sure. Aware would not be the word I use to describe my time before activation. Receptive perhaps? I can remember what you said as if it were something someone else had written down in a book that present-Cultor was reading."
"Absolutely fascinating," Ackerley murmured. Cultor supposed to them, as a mechanic and creator of life, it must be. But to a simple gatherer whose most advanced goal, as cobbled together from one year of living, was to see Keiran blossom into an accomplished adult, it was more of a fact worth a few moments' musing at most.
"I am glad you would not confuse us. For starters, I am far from a 'him'."
Ackerley laughed. "Aren't we all? No, you're absolutely your own person Cultor. Don't forget that."
"I never would. I only doubted you might, and I see I was incorrect in my judgement. You are a good person Ackerley, and a good mechanic."
"You're going to make me blush!" Ackerley accused Cultor, and indeed the inventor was a little red tinged in the cheeks. "Save calling me a good mechanic until I figure out how to safeguard your knees. Now the way I see it we have two options-"
"I only really have one option," Aoife tried to explain to Keiran, but the younger golem was far from letting eir old friend limit themselves as such. The pair had taken refuge from a summer shower in the awning of old ruin, which Keiran suspected to be the old school but couldn't say for certain. Keiran had been given leave by Cultor and Aoife, having just been awoken a few days ago, was still free and directionless. They had decided to explore the ruins of Caling and reflect on the past, but had instead somehow got on the topic of the future.
"Of course you have options!" Keiran grumbled, eir tone more muffled than normal due to the rain softening eir clay. "You do not have to be a hunter if you don't want to Phe."
Aoife's ferns rustled against feir stone, an almost sigh-like sound resulting. "You have a lot to say on the matter of pursuing one's dreams Kee, probably more than most. But right now I have been given a-" Feir voice skipped with the stumbling of a pebble. "- second chance. And situations are different now: we need to eat and we age far faster. I cannot sit back and make pots all day when everyone is starving."
"We won't starve," Keiran retorted, very clearly miffed at the notion that Aoife did not trust em to provide for the group when ei already had for the past year.
"I don't doubt your abilities," Aoife soothed feir friend, "I truly don't. But with Mekhanikos growing we will need pots, yes, but also more food. I don't mind learning to hunt. It is necessity now, and though others may not see it the same by choosing to be a hunter I can spare others from violating their beliefs."
Keiran rumbled noncommittally but did not speak. The two friends listened to the rain rap on the stones above them, their minds drifting in different directions in the silence. "Is this about Amy?" Ei asked suddenly.
"Is what about Amicus?" Aoife replied carefully, their every word meticulous.
The horns that Keiran sprouted glowed brightly in the golem equivalent of a grin. "This sudden need to protect everyone- are you trying to impress them?"
"I have no idea what you mean. I'm just a kind and thoughtful being by nature."
Keiran hummed knowingly. "Sure, sure. It definitely has nothing to do with the very sweet robot who saved you. I know they keep checking on you."
"They're the mom of Mekhanikos," Aoife huffed, but feir grinding had a mournful edge to it. "They say it so often you ought to remember."
"Poor, poor Phe. Hey I know- I can give you wooing advice! Follow my lead and they're sure to see you in a different light!"
"I'm not desperate enough to get courting tips from a golem as young as you."
Keiran's horns were nearly blinding with light. "You said yourself we're aging faster now. And frankly, you need all the help you can get."
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hazilnut
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:24:16 GMT -8
04 - Standing Guard Aoife found Amicus standing guard at the edge of Mekhanikos with statue-esque intensity, as they were like to do. Keenly aware of the sword that the robot held clasped in their folded hands, Aoife made sure to announce feir presence from a good distance away, so Amicus would not startle and cut them through. "Hello Amy," greeted Aoife cheerfully.
"Feee," keened Amicus in reply, tone still all too high and sharp. With Aoife close enough to face them head on, Amicus switched to the manner of communication they were most comfortable with. 'ᵞ ᴿ ᵁ ᴴᴱᴿᴱ?' asked the words that flashed across their now-exposed faceplate.
Aoife could only hope Amicus was still unused to the meaning behind a golem's flashing antlers, otherwise feir embarrassment would be, quite literally, blindingly obvious. "I simply wanted to check up on you, as friends do."
'ᵞᴱˢ, ᶠᴿᴺᴰˢ' replied the robot vaguely. They returned to watching the forest and Aoife joined in, the pair enjoying nature and each other's companionable presence.
A sudden breeze, cool and frost-tinged rather than the typical summer blusters, rattled the canopy above the pair, sending a half-dozen leaves spiraling through the air. One landed on Amicus's shoulder and they carefully removed and examined it. "Can you feel the chill?" asked Aoife.
'ᴺᴼ. ᴮᵁᵀ ᴵ ᴷᴺᵂ ᵀᴴᴱ ˢᴱˢᴺ'ˢ ˢᴴᶠᵀᴺᴳ. ᴵ ᶜᴺ ᶠᴱᴱᴸ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶜᴴᴺᴳ ᴵᴺ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴬᴵᴿ'
Aoife nodded in grave assent. It was not just seasons that were changing, everything else was too. Once feir two year stay in Mekhanikos would have been nothing, a thin ring on a large tree. Now two years meant something. Seasons meant something, determining the quality of catches and harvests. Days and moments that had once been blinks of the eye were now fleeting and precious. There was a constant air of impermanence and fragility; time could not be taken for granted.
"Amy I-" But Aoife ground to a halt. Fa couldn't do it. It was one thing to stand in watchful silence with Amicus, reflecting on the fleeting nature of life. It was another to embrace this new-world surge of action, to turn to Amicus and confess feir feelings, and Aoife couldn't do that yet.
'ᵞᴱˢ?"
"Nevermind. Look- dragonriders." Aoife pointed up at the sky, where two dragons, gold and green, soared overhead. How funny to watch from below a creature not even conceived of back in feir time. Amicus let out a whirr of interest as they tracked the dragons circling around the forest.
"Thaaay're c-c-closer"
"Maybe they'll land this time." But the dragonriders did not land. They circled once more and then flew away. The golem and robot watched in silence, contemplating change, until the dragons were out of sight, obscured by towering canopy and the unknowable future beyond.
"Ackerely," rumbled Princeps, "Can I help you?" The robot's voice was rough and near golem-like thanks to the technology that allowed them to speak: a series of independently controlled stones that cough be rubbed together to create different frequencies. As such speaking took a good measure of concentration, leading to the newly instated head chief to consider very carefully everything they said.
"Don't mind me!" Ackerley waved them off as they stumbled their way through the unfamiliar layout. Princeps couldn't help but cringe as the mechanic tripped over a table leg and almost took down several of Aoife's pots with them. "Just looking for some of my tools!"
Princeps was out from behind their desk and at Ackerley's side, leading them back towards the door before they could cause any more chaos by turning over their former workshop in an effort to find one wrench or another. "All your tools are by the entrance," informed Princeps as rushed as they were able to.
"Oh here they are!" cried Ackerley chipperly.
"Yes. Please take them, and check here first next time."
"Will do Prince!" The mechanic gave a salute as they turned on their heels out towards their current workshop. Princeps gave their departing figure a tight wave before letting out a deep exhale of steam and turning to examine the damage.
Only when Ackerley was safe inside their workshop did they let themselves relax, slumping on their desk and letting their tools join the rest of the cluttered mess. Their big sigh of self-pity gotten out of the way Ackerley picked their head off of the desk and instead rested it on their knuckle, blinking lazily at the inactive coal golem propped up in the corner. "Princeps is great and all yunno, but I feel like they're always judging me. S'not my fault I'm not organized or a good leader or- ugh!"
Ackerley slammed their head back down on their desk, sending springs and sprockets rattling, and when that failed to make them feel any better, pushed themselves towards the coal golem on their spinny chair. "I'm a mechanic! That's what I do. I don't lead or farm or hunt- I make things. And I bring you guys back to life because a kid asked me to. But now I can't even seem to do that."
Ackerley spun bitterly in front of the golem which had denied their attempts at activation for nearly ten months now, a new record for failure. "Coal. Fire. Flames. Flicker. Open up damn it!" But the golem remained cold and indifferent. "Whatever." The mechanic pushed back to their desk and began haphazardly soldering a couple of wires to a metal plate. "Clearly not meant to be a Harper am I? With the talent for words I have, the entire concept of birthright would be shot through!"
But before the mechanic could continue their rant a great rumbling, like the sound of a rockslide, shook the lean-to. "What the- oh! Oh you're awake!" Ackerley jumped up from their chair and rushed towards the now awoken coal golem, frustration forgotten.
"You," rumbled the golem, "You awoke me?"
Laughing awkwardly, Ackerley ran their hands through their hair. "I guess? Took me ages th-" Dark black stones crashed into Ackerley's chest, knocking the words and wind out of their throat. The mechanic struggled for air but was met only with flying coal dust as the golem pressed harder and harder, antlers flashing with blinding fury. Ackerley tried to fend off the crushing blows but the stone was unyielding to their fists. They could feel their bones grinding under the pressure, their lungs burning for air. They were going to die; unless-
"Birthright! Get back!"
The cry had an almost tangible force behind it, sending the coal golem stumbling back from Ackerley. The mechanic quickly scrambled to their feet, clutching their aching ribs as they drew shaky breaths. The coal golem rumbled and paced but came no closer, as if an invisible wall kept it from approaching and finishing crushing the life out of Ackerley.
"Ackerley what's going on? We heard- oh!" Keiran and Cultor appeared in the entrance of the lean-to, followed shortly but Quaide.
Cultor took one look at the bloodied Ackerley and the pacing golem before informing their companions they were going to fetch Amicus and dashing on their way.
"Genaine what did you do?" Quaide's tone was barely a whisper, a feather-like brushing of stones.
Something akin to surprise had flashed through the coal golem's- Genaine's, horns at the arrival of the two golems. "Quaide I- I'm doing what is necessary. This human knows my Word."
"This human saved your life!" cried Keiran with surprising force. "And they'd never do anything with your Word- they've known mine for three years and been nothing but kind." At the young golem's words Genaine narrowed air eyes at Ackerley, looking them over.
"In my defense I wouldn't have done the wall thing if you hadn't tried to kill me," added Ackerley in what could be presumed to be an attempt at helping soothe the golem.
"Please Gen- Ackerley's only trying to help. They won't use your Word I promise."
"It's a new world out there," added Quaide carefully, "Aoife, Keiran, you and I are the only ones awake. We can't maintain our old way of life." There was something mournful to keir tone.
Genaine was a silent for a moment and then relaxed, boulders drifting closer together as air magic centered itself. "I suppose if the world has changed our beliefs must too. But don't-" Air eyes flicked to Ackerley and for a moment held all the intensity of before. "-ever use my Word again."
Ackerley let out a shaky laugh as they dropped the invisible barrier. "So long as you don't try to kill me again we have a deal."
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hazilnut
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:26:37 GMT -8
05 - Little Moments The air was crisp and the sky clear- perfect weather for an outdoor lesson. Or it would have been, had three furry distractions not conspired to ruin any potential lesson Cultor could hope to teach. “Keiran don’t let them get to the salt venison!” In Kieran’s defense, ei was valiantly trying to juggle two cats while lunging across the picnic table to grab at Hehimm, who was curiously nosing around a half-packed barrel. As ei scooped up the little wildcat with eir grey force, Calpras had already slid off eir back and was making a mad dash to the smoker, her sights clearly set on the salmon Cultor was cleaning. When Keiran whirled around to find eir mentor threatening the youngest cat with their cleaver ei spotted Sheherr in the background batting at the strings of dried apples.
“How did she- Cultor they’re ganging up on us!”
Cultor had abandoned the cleaver in favor of flipping Calpras off of the table with a barrel lid. With a cutting board full of salmon scraps in one hand they wobbled quickly towards the venison and slammed the lid down on the barrel of salt version with such force that half the salmon slid off the board and into the dirt. "Fudge," grumbled the farmer, coming all too close to letting out a string of words that wouldn't be appropriate for Keiran's ears. A muffled mew comes from the inside of the barrel and this time Cultor lets loose the real things. Keiran looks a mix between horrified and delighted.
"Maybe we should just give up?" ei suggest, brushing the dirt off of a few dried apple slices that were casualties of the battle. Ei ground a few between the boulders in eir chest region, the particles blinking and then vanishing into eir force.
Cultor shakes their head resolutely. "Never. While they're distracted you go grab the broom. The war is not yet over."
--
"The farms at the Black Rock Weyr were enormous, Teach! They could fit fifteen of our fields easily in one of theirs easily." Keiran's antlers glowed brightly in the shade of the old oak ei and eir mentor were resting under. Chasing out and keeping out the cats had been a tricky feat involving several brooms, a sacrifice of the rest of the salmon, and Lumina's aid. Cleaning up after them had only taken time, but quite a bit of it. Technically both golem and robot didn't need to rest, but it was still a nice treat to be able to sit down and catch up.
Despite the monotone Cultor should have been limited to mechanically, there's a smile in their voice. "Sounds as if you truly enjoyed yourself."
"I did. The weyr farms were growing many plants that I had never even heard of, and they live practically next door- imagine the varieties of fruits and grains a village across the sea might have!"
Cultor tipped their hat back out of their permanently-squinted eyes so they can look directly at their apprentice. "Would you be interested in learning from some of the weyr farmercrafters? Borrin might even have the connections to send you to study at a few other villages." The crystals on Keiran's body hummed dully, as was eir way when ei were thinking. Even after having lived in the modern world for a few years ei still weren't used to the faster pace of life.
"Eventually yes," Keiran finally rumbled, "but for now I want to keep learning from you. And I want to be here to settle my parents, or at least help them Let Go." At the mention of eir parents, Keiran's antlers dimmed a tinge. Whirring comfortingly, Cultor plucked their hat from their head and settled it precariously between Keiran's antlers. Eir crystal's hummed vibrantly: a laugh of sorts. "Thanks, Teach."
"Anytime."
--
"You know, you won't be able to mother this village with only one arm. You've got to be more careful Amy." The same fingers that had brought metal to life now probed the new weld between Amicus's arm and shoulder plate. Against the perfectly smooth line of melded iron, Ackerley's crooked left index finger looked particularly bent. Honestly, they were just glad that the digit was still intact- it was a lot trickier to craft new human limbs than it was to craft robotic limbs.
Amicus flexed their newly reattached joint in a manner that was likely only coincidentally similar to a shrug. "Soreee," keened the robot, not sounding particularly sorry at all.
"I mean it."
"ᴵ ᴷᴺᵂ ᵁ'ᴸᴸ ᶠˣ ᴹᴱ"
Trying and failing to keep a stern face, Ackerly finally gave up with a soft laugh. They ran their hands through their hair, now longer and shaggier than they had ever worn it before. They kind of liked it. "Yeah, I will," they conceded. "But-" a gleam of dangerous determination, like a spark from a welding torch, flashed through Ackerly's eyes "-I'd rather build you such great joints that your arm never falls off again. Then you can lift all the boulders you want."
--
Quaide found Genaine sitting in the ruins of one of Caling's old temples. Quaide could tell exactly which one this had been, down to the last service it had performed and what color flowers always bloomed outside. Now the wind and rhythmic scraping of flint on coal were the only hymns the earthen halls would hear and scraggly wildflowers had overtaken carefully maintained landscaping.
"Hello." Quaide greeted Genaine with keir typical softness as kai slipped inside the wreckage to settle near the other golem. "Have you come to try and sing the buildings back into shape? I haven't had luck but maybe with the both of us-" Genaine struck the head of air spear against one of air smaller boulders with such venom that Quaide lost keir words for a moment. "Must you do that?" kai sputtered, wince evident in keir voice.
"I don't sharpen my spear, I don't catch anything. I don't catch anything, we don't eat. We don't eat, we starve. Any hope of rebuilding Caling dies with us." Despite the hostility in Genaine's tone, Quaide began to nod along frantically.
"That was what I wished to speak with you about: rebuilding Caling. I know the world has changed drastically but it is vitally important we keep our culture alive. This whole hunting business-" This time Genaine slammed the butt of air spear into the ground and rose, air antlers pulsing darkly as ai leered over Quaide. Unconsciously the limestone golem scooted back against the wall of the old temple.
"If all you are willing to do is sit and blubber about ideals when our population is down to four and a human knows your Word, then you should have Let Go when you first awoke." And with that Genaine turned and walked away, leaving Genaine trembling in the hollow shell of an ancient empire.
--
The wind whistled through the chinks in the lean-to that Princeps made their office in and despite possessing only crude temperature sensors the robot shivered, pulling their technically unnecessary cloak tighter around their body. Putting their pen back in its inkwell Princeps got up to shove another rag, Ackerley had left a life's supply behind when they moved to their new workshop, in the gap between the door and earthen ground. Something behind them rustled, but when they turned around to investigate the only thing out of order was a checklist that had drifted to the floor.
"Hello?" Princeps called out tentatively. They received no reply, but the feeling of being watched didn't go away even as the head chief picked up the fallen piece of paper and returned to their desk. For a moment Princepts could have sworn they saw a blue flash in the corner of their visual sensors, but when they looked again all was as it should be. Readjusting the position of their glasses, Princeps turned back to their desk and the work at hand.
There, resting atop a pile of trade deals where it certainly hadn't been before, sat a bundle of half a dozen letters addressed to Ackerly in the same neat script. With a long-suffering sigh of hot steam Princeps shifted the correspondence to a drawer labeled 'Ackerley's things to collect'. "Ackerley I am not your secretary," puffed Princeps to the empty air, "Write your own letters home!"
--
Once again did Aoife find Amicus standing solo guard duty where the slowly expanding farmland met the path to Mehankios proper, which was growing more well worn each day. The armored robot was gazing across the newly tilled furrows to where newly turned earth met ancient underbrush, optical sensors fixed on Keiran and Cultor as the pair rummaged around for firewood.
"I come bearing drinks," called Aoife as fa approached the stoic sentry. Fa gently shook two rough-hewn mugs of a steaming beverage fo Amicus to see. Though they kept one hand rested on the pommel of their sword, Amicus took a proffered mug from Aoife with the other and examined its contents
"ᵂᴴᵀ'ˢ ᵀᴴˢ"
"Cider- Ackerly made it. They've been going on about making it since the apples started to turn. This is the first batch." Not in a way that could be described as graceful, Aoife poured a small volume of the cider into feir force. Fa still hadn't gotten the hang of drinking yet and quite frankly doubted fa ever would, but the almost-tingly warmth of the drink made up for the awkwardness of drinking.
Amicus's faceplate glowed a little brighter. "ᴵᶠ ᶜᴿᴸᵞ ᴹᴰᴱ ᴵᵀ ᴵᵀ'ˢ ᴳᴰ 'ᴺᴼᴳᴴ ᶠᴿ ᴹᴱ" Aoife watched carefully as Amicus opened a hatch in their chest plate and poured in the drink.
"I know you can't taste, but can you enjoy the warmth of the drink?" asked Aoife hesitantly, feir antlers pulsing softly.
Amicus seemed to think for a moment. "ᴺᴼᵀ ˢᴼ ᴹᶜᴴ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴾᴴˢᶜᴸ ᵂᴿᴹᵀᴴ ᴬˢ ᵀᴴᴱ ᶠᴸᴺᴳ 'ᶠ ᴵᵀ" They poured the rest of the drink into their hatch before closing it up and handing the mug back to Aoife. "ᴵ ᴸᴷᴰ ᴵᵀ ᵀᴴᴺᴷ ᵁ" Aoife's horns flashed as brightly as fall-paled sun.
"Really you should be thanking Ack-"
"Feee! Beeeehiiind-d-d!" In an instant, the robot had stepped between Aoife and whatever had spurned them into action, one arm splayed protectively across the golem's chest region and the other brandishing their weapon at the branches of a tree. "Show yourself!" they demanded of the leaves, sword tip following movement that Aoife could not make out. Suddenly there came a distinct rustle as a familiar glowing face popped out from amidst the gold and orange leaves.
"You got me!" the blue and brown robot buzzed, a little too cheerful at being threatened by an armed robot twice their size.
"Lumina!" cried Aoife with relief. Besides fem Amicus slowly sheathed their sword and relaxed their stance. "Are you trying to lose your head?"
Lumina just shrugged easily. "Ackerley would patch me up. Catch you love bugs later!" And with that the little scout vanished back into the branches, the only indication of where they went the slight shaking of neighboring treetops.
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hazilnut
Junior Member
Eager for our new journey
Posts: 52
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Post by hazilnut on Nov 7, 2019 18:28:16 GMT -8
06 - Spring of Progress The warm spring air wafted through the propped-open windows of Princep's office, luxurious and inviting. If they listened closely, Princeps could just make out the red-breasted robins singing for their mates among the budding branches and the soft burbling of the newly dug irrigation channels. Less pleasantly, the head chief could clearly hear the tell-tale crashes of Keiran's battle cry as ei and Cultor waged war on the crows that thought their newly sowed seed to be a snack mingling with the cacophony of metal on metal that heralded Amicus and Aoife's recent practice of sparring. If Princeps could have scowled they would, it was hard enough for them to find the time for a break and now that they had, resting was impossible.
Well, as long as they were awake Princeps might as well start drafting rough plans for the ground-water well they wished to install in the center of the village. Ackerley was in one of those moods that made it impossible to predict when they'd be available or willing to work on the project- they were a robot engineer not a civil one they insisted on reminding Princeps, despite doing a perfectly good job on the irrigation system- so actual work was stymied on that front, but that didn't mean Princeps couldn't plan ahead. They were just pulling out a large sheet of drafting parchment when the man of the hour themselves bounced in, excitement clear in every step.
"Hello Ackerley," greeted the head chief cautiously, suddenly sitting up perfectly straight and glancing around the room at the various breakables endangered by the mechanic's very presence. "How can I help you?"
"I was just looking for- oh thank you!" Ackerley leaned rather riskily across the desk to grab the small pouch of nuts and bolts Princeps had retrieved for them.
Sliding the drawer shut, Princeps let out a puff of steam as Ackerley pawed through the bag's contents. "You moved out three years ago, how do I still keep finding your things in here?" they asked, the clink of pebbles that created their voice light with mirth.
Ackerley grew a shade flushed and looked down at the drawstrings they were twisting with their fingers. "I'll come in sometimes when you're out, to try and recreate the conditions I first thought things up in."
"So that's who's been rearranging my papers. I thought Lumina was messing with me."
"Oh no," Ackerley shook their head emphatically, "they definitely are. The papers were probably me though, sorry. I get into a weird headspace when I design and, well, I'm trying to do better but it's really hard to think about anything else! I know you do loads for Mekhanikos though and you like your things just so, so..." They trailed off with a nervous laugh. "Sorry again."
Physically, Princep's face couldn't soften, but their tone was gentle. "Don't fret- I know you're trying your best. It's not as if I'm particularly aware of my surroundings when working either, and that's practically all the time. I appreciate that you respect what I do. I didn't know if you did."
Ackerley laughed again, their death grip on the bag of tools loosened. "Appreciate? Princep's you're basically the one keeping this whole place running. If it wasn't for you I'd have to go back to my parents and everyone else, well I don't know where they'd go. You do great work."
"I do, don't I," Princeps mused, and this time the chuckle that Ackerley let out was free of tension.
"By the way, I'm not completely clueless. Lumina let me know these huge crates arrived last night and those have got to have something to do with you."
Princeps was up and out of their seat as fast as their slow moving mechanisms would let them. They strode to the door with purpose, beckoning for Ackerley to follow them. "The outcome of a few masterful trade deals. Come see."
"Maybe in a bit. Right now me and these tools have a job to finish up. You get that."
Princeps nodded; they very much did. So the head chief waved the mechanic off as they skipped over to their workshop before turning and heading off to finish their job. There was no rest for the wicked.
---
"Do you remember?" began Quaide, voice all muffled violets. "This used to be the old temple, and that the school- I think." The golem could not frown but the glow of keir antlers dimmed as uncertainty entered their rumble.
Aoife glanced around the moss-covered ruins, eyes brushing over one pile of rubble and the next all the same. "I suppose?" Fa watched as feir composure slowly meandered through the crumbled frameworks, brushing each one with just the lightest touch of keir force.
"Look- the foundations remain. Not all has changed."
Privately Aoife disagreed. but responded placatingly, "The creek we used to gather clay from is still there- where you and Elisedd taught me how to throw."
Horns glinting, Quiade looked directly at keir child for the first time in the pair's conversation. "Do you still make earthenware?"
"When the occasion presents itself."
"Perhaps we could throw together sometime," keir tone grew fond, "I miss hearing you sing."
Aoife glanced away to watch a pair of fire lizards skittering over one of the fallen buildings- school, temple, home fa didn't know. "Singing pots into shape is harder now; the magic is trickier to grasp and control. Hunting takes up most of my time anyways."
"Ah yes, hunting." Aoife didn't have to turn around to see Quaide's glow of disapproval. Fa didn't respond to feir composer's pointed statement. Aoife had become a hunter to spare others the need to, but fa didn't expect kem to understand that. Eventually Quaide broke the silence with an awkward rumble. "Oh Phe what happened to your antlers?" Aoife could feel the gentle brush of Quaide's force against the broken tip of one of feir horns and shifted uncomfortably under the touch.
"It broke off when I was sparring with Amy, er, Amicus."
"Sparring, Phe?"
Aoife couldn't keep the cross crash out of feir response. "We have to know how to protect ourselves!" To feir surprise, instead of objecting, Quaide just glanced thoughtfully off into the distance and made no reply.
—-
Keiran was gradually becoming more sure in wielding farming tools with eir force. At first ei had been unused to the abnormal distribution of weight of hoe and rake but after several weeks of tilling soil ei were proficient enough to brandish the tools threateningly at any crow which dared to consider making seeds their lunch.
“Seems as if the cats are finally pulling their weight,” remarked Cultor as they leaned on their hoe, watching Hehimm and Calpras circling the seedlings the crows had been all over a few hours ago. After being, somewhat unsuccessfully, stalked through the furrows by a pair of wild cats the pests had eventually decided to try for an easier meal. Calpras seemed especially disappointed by the loss of her entertainment and meowed pitifully for the birds, who had settled on a nearby tree, to return. The disgruntled squawks inspired a series of amused humming from Keiran.
“They’ve always pulled their weight,” ei rumbled cheekily, “they’ve just also pulled a number of other things, like tablecloths from under drying herbs. Hey- let me help you with that.” The golem glided over to Cultor, who had been picking gravel out of the joint guard on their leg. With practiced ease, Keiran scooped up the loose stones with eir force and tossed them back out onto the ground. “It’s too bad Ackerley’s so caught up in a big project right now. It’d be nice if they could take a look at your guards.”
“What would be really nice is if it would rain. No better for my inner workings but at least we’d be dealing with less dust afterwards, and the seeds could do with a good soaking.”
Keiran glanced up at the cloud-streaked sky and concentrated on the wind for a moment. “The sky was red this morning but the wind’s coming in from the east. We probably have a few more days before any rain.”
“Very good,” Cultor praised, and Keiran‘s antlers flashed. Shaking their head they glanced first across the land they had just planted and then back to their apprentice. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. You’ve grown so much since I had to teach you the difference between holly and currants. I honestly think you’re ready to be a farmer in your own right.”
The hoe Keiran had been carrying dropped to the ground. “Really? But I’ve still got so much still to learn!”
“No one said you were done learning,” Cultor laughed. They grabbed the brim of Keiran’s sunhat and pulled it down into eir eyes. “I’m certainly not done learning. We’d just be teaching each other.” Grabbing Keiran’s dropped hoe they offered the handle out to em. Horns flashing brilliantly, Keiran took it.
—-
Ackerley hadn’t been this consumed by a project for a while. Sure they had worked hard on Lumina and Princep’s voice box had been a feat, but this was something else entirely. Building Custos felt like building Amicus all over again, though this time with less malnourishment since Keiran or Amy or Princeps would show up with food a couple times a day and make sure they ate. Late nights, as tonight, were still a constant.
“You’re going to be revolutionary,” they told the currently empty body that would eventually house Custos. The framework itself was probably more daring than any Ackerley had made before; hundreds of hand-pounded metal feathers, wires and electricity powering the entire thing, thousands upon thousands of tiny specialty parts. If fixing Cultor was tricky, repairing Custos was liable to be downright impossible. By all logic Ackerley was a fool for building them. But Custos wasn’t going to run on logic.
Ackerley took out a pair of forceps and used them to grab a softly pulsing crystal. As they pulled the crystal from its case a sudden rumbling very nearly led Ackerley to drop it. The mechanic set done their tools and turned around to see what had caused the noise, but all they could make out were a dull red and blue glow and a lulling hum, all familiar sights with how many projects Ackerley had laying around.
Now that their heart had stopped racing Ackerley began to very carefully transfer the core into Custos’s chest cavity. As the mechanic soldered wires to crystal intermittent rumbles would occasionally shake the table they were working on, but each time Ackerley would turn to investigate they found nothing. Eventually they fell back into the rhythm of work and thought no more of the strange noises.
It was only when pale sunshine and soft bird song had begun to leak through the cracks in Ackerley’s workshop that the mechanic realized they had stayed up all night fine tuning Custos’s body. They didn’t feel at all tired as they watched the AI they had set up earlier distill into the body they had labored over for months, only excited. Now came the moment of truth. The soft pulse of Custos’s core grew stronger and brighter as the inner mechanisms began to whirr. One feather began to twitch, and then another, and slowly the robot’s eyes began to light up and come alive
Ackerley couldn’t keep the squeal out of their voice as Custos turned to look at them. “Welcome to Mekhanikos!”
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