Thursday, May 10, 2018

Samson's Invention : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30





Chapter #21

A bead of sweat trickled over the clockmaker’s creased forehead. “I need a hand.”

“Sure.” The boy carefully sponged away the sweat from the old man’s head with a cloth, like a mother scrubbing gently her new born child.

“Thank you.” Working with his both hands submerged in thick-yellow liquid, the clockmaker was having difficulty moving his practiced fingers. The viscosity demanded the force, while the fixing of the gear-works needed a delicate precision. Somehow, after few free movements in the liquid, the clockmaker found the balance between them. He often took pauses, closed his eyes, conjured the whole mechanism of the mechanical heart in the back of his mind, taking references from the memories of the designs he had learned from that book and the workings of the boy’s heart he fixed a day ago. He sighed, his fingers holding thin metallic shafts, moving in the slimy liquid. This was the most challenging operation of his career. To fix a heart. To fix his friend. With just the power of his imagination and the skill in his fingers. It was a blind attempt and the stake was high. Samson’s life.

He made the tip of the metallic shaft ran over the rim of the pocket – the little chamber that held the mysterious lifestone. Once assured, it was the pocket he was looking for, he leisurely shifted the tips of both the shafts over the surface of the lifestone to get the idea of its edges. Both tips got stuck in between.

“Were there any other designs of the heart?” asked the confused clockmaker.

“No,” the boy said. “Why do you ask?”

“There are two stones in it.”

“That’s odd.”

The clockmaker pulled out the tips and retraced the surface. This time, he hovered above the part where the tips got stuck and continued the rest. “There are no two stones, boy. This is more difficult than I had anticipated. The lifestone of Samson’s heart is broken.”

Chapter #22

Inky blackness slowly crept over the capital’s dusky sky. Imperial Guard adored this celestial transition as the companions of the North Star began to sparkle above. “About time, lads,” Imperial Guard said. He wrapped a perfumed cloth over his mouth. The next words came out bit muffled. “I’m going in.”  With ten guards tailing, Imperial Guard climbed down the rope ladder into the sewer of the Square. Flints stroke against the steel and the torches burst aflame, lighting the tunnel.

A mischief of mice scrambled off, squeaking.

Imperial Guard gestured to the guard nearby and he scratched a number on the wall with a piece of thick chalk. Imperial Guard was not doubting his memory. All the paths he remembered from designs were clear as if the Old Sewers were lit up thousand torches. It was for reassuring the guards. The chalk markings would diminish the doubt that they would get lost.

They party soon reached the chamber, which was between the market and the residency. It was the nearest from the Square’s sewer entry.

The guard behind him whistled in awe.

Imperial Guard could not complain it. The chamber was a larger than he had expected. “Are all of the chambers are this big?”

The guard nodded. “Old Sewer ones are, sir. The New Sewers’ chambers are smaller, but they regulate the sewage rapidly. An improvement.”

“Impressive.” The Imperial Guard regarded the possibilities of using this place. Mobs could use this for administrating their attacks. Someone could use it as illegal warehouse. “Check every corner of the chamber.”

“Sir,” the guard said, watching the swirling reflection of their torches into the depths. “We cannot.”

“Why?”

The guard took a broken piece of the brick and stood at the mouth of the tunnel. He then dropped it into the chamber. There was a plop as the brick sank into the sewage.

“This chamber should be dried up.” Imperial Guard was confused.

“This one isn’t, sir,” the guard said. “Seems like they aren’t completely useless. May be these chambers are still functioning. Not fully, but somewhat.”

Imperial Guard pondered. Not any notes, not any designs mentioned about it. This chamber was supposed to be empty. Watching it still functionally negated all his doubts regarding the advantages one could take of should large place.

“Should we go up, sir?” The guard sounded hopeful.

“No, we check the rest two.”

Chapter #23

The door of the temple cracked open. Merusa stood up, alarmed. The figure was familiar, backlit by the torchlight, features shadowed.

“You do know that I send his own inventions to find him.” Thought the place was broken, like a burying memory, the voice echoed. Deep and commanding.

Merusa shivered.

“He won’t get away from me. Sooner or later, he will be in my grasp.”

Merusa turned, looking at a twenty feet tall idol of Black Mother. Though ages had passed, the obsidian hadn’t weathered. Only a miracle could do that. But recently, what she had learned, she was now sure that even men could create miracles. Empty pockets ran all over the length of the idol, as if some heinous demon had stripped away the divinity from the goddess.

“Tell me, priestess,” the voice said, “you still believe that a piece of black stone will aid him.”

Merusa shut her eyes, tears leaking out. A silent prayer sobbed through her shivers.

“I came here to thank you,” the voice said. “For if it weren’t you, I wouldn’t have accomplished my dreams.”

Merusa fell on her knees.

“Thank you for betraying Samson.”

Chapter #24

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” the boy said.

The clockmaker examined the broken lifestone in his hand. The gearwork of the heart was made from delicate precisions. There was no way that the machine had exerted pressure that could split a stone in two. Unless…

“Be quick.” The boy took out a pouch made from a thick cloth which was lying beside the wooden tub. The new lifestone from it streamed light all over. “Replace it.”

“I need to check the mechanism,” the clockmaker said. “Something could have been damaged.”

The boy didn’t speak for a while. He checked the little bottle that was hanging with the wooden beam of the outhouse. A thin tube was connected to it; its other end was injected into Samson’s right hand. “That will grant us few more moments. But be quick. We don’t have the luxury of eternity.”

The clockmaker started checking the gears, pinching lightly the tip of his metallic shaft.

“Hurry,” the boy urged.

Once assured, the clockmaker put the lifestone in the place, rays coming from it dancing on the surface of the liquid. Then the old man fixed the translucent plate over the heart. The light of the lifestone subdued considerably.

The boy detached the tube from the bottle and from Samson.

“He should be stirring by now, shouldn’t he?” The clockmaker whipped his slimy hands with a rag.

The boy stared at Samson, his eyes yearning. Then a drop of tear rippled the surface of the yellow-liquid.

And then, Samson opened his eyes.

Chapter #25

The chamber under the Outer Wall, fortunately, was out of order. Imperial Guard jumped and landed on the soft caked landing made by the dried-up sewage. His subordinates followed, first transferring the torches, then dropping themselves one by one.

Imperial Guard took one of the torches. “Spread in all direction in pairs. Call me if you find anything out of the place.”

As the guards in couples began to survey the corners of the chamber, Imperial Guard went for its center. As he reached in the middle of the chamber, something caught the light of his torch and glinted. Hand on the hilt, prepared for any surprises, he neared the center with measured pace. Several things around the first glint started shimmering. The torch almost slipped from his hand as its light finally revealed what the darkness was covering. Seven dead bodies were sprawled on the dried-sewage floor, their chestsd ripped open as if some monster had clawed out their hearts. As Imperial Guard bent for a good sight of the deceased, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. In place of hearts, he found broken gearworks.

Chapter #26

The fire crackled.

The clockmaker leaned on the trunk, still comprehending Samson’s story. Above him, the branches swayed with night wind. “You feeling good, friend?”

“Better,” Samson said, wrapping the shawl tightly around himself, shivering. “Thanks for…reviving me.”

The clockmaker smiled. Many questions were popping inside his head. Where was Samson these all years? Why didn’t he contact him, even skipped the funeral of his father – their teacher – The Maker? And what was this all about? Not to forget, how could he be so young? But at that moment, watching his old friend warming himself near the fire warmed the clockmaker’s heart.

Silently, they looked at the line of the treetops before them. Above it, perched on the distant hill was the capital, glowing as if fireflies had clustered at a point.

“How did you know about me?” Samson asked.

“The boy contacted me. You gave him instructions in that note.”

“Note?” Samson scowled. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s your invention,” the clockmaker said, sitting beside Samson on the stone bench. “That’s what he told me.” Since Samson had ‘revived’, the boy had kept himself away from them. The clockmaker was so jubilant at that moment he almost forgot about the absence of the boy.

“Father.” The boy approached them, his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.”

Caught by the surprise, the clockmaker looked from the boy to Samson. “He is your son!”

Samson’s expression hardened. The scowl he was wearing only deepened. “Spare me some time, my old friend. I and my son needs a bit of talking.”

The clockmaker nodded, glancing back at the boy. He started moving, however, those pestering questions again rolled over him. He ought to know what was happening. Pushing aside the guilt, the clockmaker stopped near the wagon. He was out of their sight, but the wind carried the words of father and son to him.

Chapter #27

Coroner hated the recent development occurred in the morgue. The pathologist had resigned and left the capital.

Tonight, he was happy. Rare were the nights when he could hug his pillow and slip under the sheets. He turned leisurely, dreaming about the maiden. A hard knock on the door and he was upright in his bed. Cursing, he crossed his room and opened the door. The guard of the morgue greeted him. “Coroner, Imperial Guard needs an audience with you.”

“Imperial Guard?” Those words whipped him like a tight slap on his cheek, waking him awake. Whatever the matter was, he knew, it was an emergency. He shoved away the guard and looked down, his hands gripping the railing.

Imperial Guard waved at him. “Sorry to disturb you, but you know death is uncertain and so our arrival.” He then gestured at the door of the morgue, which was just at the opposite side of the road.

Coroner’s grip on the railing tightened, knuckles turning white. Laden in a cart was a pile of dead bodies.

“The night is going to be long for you, Coroner,” the guard behind him commented.

“Sometimes,” Coroner said, “dead surprises more than a living.”

Chapter #28

“Why did you save me?” Samson asked.

The boy remained silent, head down. How could he not? The knowledge that the man who used to visit as a distant relative in orphanage for all these years was actually his father. It was the moment he always prayed for, to reunite with his true parents.

“I am asking you a question.”

The boy looked up, meeting Samson’s iron gaze. “A month ago they came and took me from orphanage, telling me they know my real parents.”

Samson’s jaw clenched.

The boy unbuttoned his shirt and showed the patch of the translucent plate, dimly glowing with the lifestone’s light working inside.

Samon’s eyes lost the ferocity, replaced with emotions. His body slumped on knees, his anger dissipating, like ice melting rapidly when placed it near the fire. “I’m sorry, son.”

The boy clutched his father’s shoulders. “No, father. It’s not your invention.”

“It’s my fault!” Samson’s voice quivered. “It’s my damn invention that they used against me! They made a puppet of me, now they turned you into one of us.”

“Please, father,” the boy said, his eyes moist. “Hold yourself.”

“Let me help you.” The clockmaker’s voice surprised the boy.  The boy stepped aside and watched the old man squatting before his father, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Hold yourself, my friend. I want to help you, but for that, you need to tell me everything.”


Chapter #29

“Another mob attack, I guess.” Coroner slipped his hands into the leather gloves.

Imperial Guard shook his head. Behind him, his guards were transferring the dead bodies from the cart into the morgue.

Coroner stifled his sneer. The stench in the air was definitely not of the rotten bodies. Then he noticed the soiled uniform of Imperial Guard. “Where did you find them?”

“Sewers.”

Coroner raised his brow. “That’s an unusual place.”

Imperial Guard smiled. “You don’t discover unusual corpses at usual places.”

As the guard carried the last dead body into the morgue, Coroner gestured Imperial Guard to move ahead. “I wonder what is so unusual about these bodies.”

In the morgue, lit by braziers and lanterns, Coroner found seven bodies rested on seven different seven wooden tables. He looked at the last pair of guards who was adjusting the last body on the table. “Wait, before you go, undress them all.”

The guards glanced at their senior, nervously.

“Well, autopsy can’t be done on dressed bodies.”

Imperial Guard ordered his fellows and they started undressing the dead, one by one. Coroner moved toward the first body, picking up the lantern with him. The large wound on the chest surprised him. “This is an act of monstrosity,” he said, inspecting the edges of the wound. Then he peered at the twisted muscles inside. “You see, this isn’t caused by piercing something sharp, and if it is, then I am unaware about the existence of any such weapon. Wait, what is this?”

He leaned more, then with his gloved-fingers picked out a small metallic disc. He scrubbed the blood away from it with tip of his thumb. “A gear?”

Imperial Guard nodded. “All bodies are in same condition. Their hearts ripped away brutally. Come here, check this body out.”
Coroner followed Imperial Guard to the fourth body. The corpse was in better condition than the first he had examined. Where the heart should be, instead, was a network of thin tubes connected to the crushed mechanism of gears. The damage, Coroner deduced, was done by a brute force. “A mechanical heart?”

Imperial Guard tapped the edge of the table. “We are dealing with something very unusual here, Coroner.”

Coroner said nothing. Lungs and heart are protected by a ribcage; it was a known fact. It would take a miracle to sharply cut the ribcage, without disturbing the lungs, and placing a mechanism of gears and tubes into it. Was it even possible to construct such a device? He picked out a broken piece of the ribcage and examined it. Its one side was ragged – the broken side, while other, it was smooth – cut with surgical precision. Delicately, Coroner pulled the broken piece up, but it slipped back into the wound as if sucked by some invisible force. He again picked the same piece, and this time, he noticed a hair-like wire connected at the center of the smooth side of the bone. But what were these wires were carrying? Of course, the framework of the mechanical heart should be kept in a perfect position. These wires did that job. Incredible! Wait, the mechanical heart could not be simply put in the ribcage. There should be something it was fixated on, a kind of cushion. Coroner started picking out the smashed remains of gears of the crushed heart. Soon, he discovered his answer. Like a new building can be constructed on the old foundations, the mechanical heart was fixed on the dead-human-heart. “We aren’t dealing with something unusual. We are dealing with far more advanced technology.”

Imperial Guard listened to Coroner as he explained his new learnings. The knowledge baffled him. “But how could someone replace the heart?”

“I am not worried about how,” Coroner said, pulling off his gloves. He then eyed at the seven dead bodies. “I am more worried about why would someone do it?”

Chapter #30

“You remember the day I abandoned home?” Samson asked his friend. They were back in the out-house. The boy lit a lantern and sat on the floor. The clockmaker preferred a wooden box. Samson rested his elbows on the sill of the window, staring at the night sky.

“I remember,” the clockmaker said. “You and The Maker were having a heated debate. You lost your cool and went out of that door of our shop, never to be returned.”

“It was an act, my friend,” Samson said. “The truth is, I left the home for I got an opportunity to create everything I wanted to. A chance of experimentation. I never left the capital, I was always there. Watching you and father. I was there in his funeral, yet I couldn’t share my grief. I was there when you got married, yet I couldn’t congratulate you. I was there when disease consumed your wife, I was there watching you break. Forgive me, for I was chained by my own oath.”

“But why?”

“It was a sacrifice I had to made,” Samson answered. “For my experiments, for my inventions, I needed resources. And the one could me provide these resources, asked for my identity. I traded it.”

“Who was the person?”

Samson opened his eyes. “He was oue Prince, and now our King.”

The clockmaker stood, the wooden box toppling back. “Our King?”

Samson, still gazing the sky, nodded. “What do you see in the capital?”

“I don’t understand your question, Samson.”

Samson turned, facing his friend. “What do you see, what is happening in the capital?”

The clockmaker shook his head. “Nothing. Everyone seems to be happy.”

“Things are always not the way they looked to be,” Samson said. “A war is going on between the one who once were the true people of these lands, and between King.”     

“I am still not getting anything,” the clockmaker complained. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“The Ruler, our King’s father, discovered a buried temple of Black Mother when he gave orders for repairing the Old Sewers. The temple was found by a chance of luck. A team was sent to check the sewage chamber – the only one which was outside the capital. A wall toppled, surprising the repairers with a caved entrance to the temple. The Ruler was immediately informed about it. When he came into the caved temple, his vision was blinded with an enormous statue of Black Mother, studded with glowing stones.”

“Lifestones?”

Samson nodded. “The Ruler couldn’t keep his gaze off from those stones, so he ordered to pluck them off from the statue and included them in the royal treasury.”

“But how did you get access to these rare stones?”

“Patience, my friend,” Samson said, resting his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “The Ruler was scholar by nature. He called the elders of Neksi Tribe and studied their myth, to understand the true nature of the stones. When The Prince returned as an engineer from the school he was sent for, he found The Ruler in distress. Neksi Tribe are the original people of these lands.” Samson then looked up through the window. “And they worshipped night sky as Black Mother. As per their beliefs, one moonless night, centuries ago, Black Mother blessed them with her piece.”

The clockmaker took a long moment to comprehend it. “Her piece? Wait, you mean to say…”

“It was not a blessing, it was a meteorite that hit these land centuries ago,” Samson said. “It created a depression where it collided with the earth. When Neksi Tribe found it, they sculpted an idol from this heavenly rock. Soon, they discovered that meteorite not only consisted of rock and unknown minerals, but stones that were glowing like stars. A piece from the night sky.”

“A piece of Black Mother,” the clockmaker whispered.

“Time passed, the temple became a relic, a faint memory of what truly had happened, but myth, it consolidated, just like the layers of sand on the temple. Neksi people’s lives were simple, but they progressed in medicine like no one. They developed complex cures from the detailed studies of the herbs. Land was their Green Father and sky was their Black Mother.”

The clockmaker soaked every word of Samson. It was all now started making to sense.

Samson continued. “Four hundred years ago, these lands were conquered by Vastons. Us. They established their stronghold here and then started conquering the nearby areas. Neksi Tribe suffered the most. Their villages burned, men killed, women raped, children turned into slaves.”

The clockmaker interrupted. “But the history says…”

“History was modified to show the glory of Vastons, my friend.” Samson said. “Our people sees heroes in our past kings, but truly, they were butcherers of humans.”

“Not all of them were butcherers,” the clockmaker quipped.

“I agreed.” Samson sighed. “It was the noble descendants of the royal line, heirs of the killers, who stopped these atrocities. And Neksi Tribe began to thrive in villages. It was this knowledge from the scholars of Neksi Tribe that changed The Ruler’s mind. He opened his gates, and allowed Neksi people to live in the capital.”

“The New Capital,” the boy said.

“The New Capital.” Samson looked at his son. “The Ruler wanted to give them everything he could afford to prosper them. And they did. With right tools and resources, they started making advancements in every other field, competing the proud Vastons.”

“And that was something Prince was against,” the clockmaker guessed.

“Prince despised them. He thinks they are as parasites, eating away our culture.  He wanted to get rid of them. But The Ruler warned him. Throne was at stake, so Prince remained silent and devised a plan.”

“I have Neksi customers,” the clockmaker said. “I never discriminated them. They are just like us.”

“My friend, the water is deeper than you assume. Prince devised a plan that would eradicate Neksi from the society without anyone pointing a finger against him. He wants to kill every possible Neksi with their beliefs. He wants to be their apocalypse.”

“Those recent mob attacks,” the clockmaker said. “They aren’t just some crimes. Neksi people are fighting for themselves!”

Samson nodded. “Prince came to know about the lifestones. So secretly he gathered ten geniuses from different fields – which surprisingly included a Neksi too.”

The clockmaker frowned. “For what purpose?”

“Neksi Tribe had a prophecy.” Samson’s eyes turned solemn. “That when Black Mother loses her stars, the monsters of apocalypse will rise.”

“Stones were robbed from the idol,” the clockmaker said, connecting the dots. A realization hit. “What did you make for King?”

Samson didn’t answer.

“Samson, what did you invent?”


“Monsters.”

To be continued...

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