SLEEPING GIANTS: A Short Story (SteamPunk)

Simon Tate was somewhat discontent with the small moss covered cottage he shared with his father on the edge of town. The rooms were compact but the Tate's didn't have many belongings that would have overcrowded a space to begin with. They lived simply, as did many of the residents of their land. But it wasn't the cottage that bothered him so much as the location, and the utter lack of adventure that surrounded it.

Alleria, home to the land dwelling Allerian people, was a mostly flat and wooded place, rooted to the ground and surrounded on all sides with the water of the salty Vesparian Sea. Food was abundant, even though money was not. Their days were largely filled with work, which was mostly to do with creating and maintaining large steam turbines to provided power for the grandiose floating city of Gestalt.

Simon, being only twelve years old, did not fully understand his place in the world yet or what it meant. He knew only that he had a father that loved him, and dinner on the table at night, and that was more than enough for most people if not for Simon himself. So when the people of Alleria started to rally towards a resistance, Simon was utterly perplexed as to what they were fighting for. One night he decided to find out, by spying on one of his father's secret society meetings.

"I think you would all do well to keep in mind that the air-dwellers have technology that far surpasses anything we could imagine and that they will use it against us if they feel threatened. I'm speaking, of course, of the sleeping giant. I can't deny that I have spent many nights up late wondering if every noise I hear is the stir of the beast awakening."

It was Simon's own father, Silas, speaking to a small crowd gathered in the store room of McGurlick's Marketplace. Simon balanced himself on an unsteady pile of rocks, holding himself up against the window pane with his finger tips and sheer determination as he peered into the room from outside. Each time his father paced the floor and came closer to the window, Simon had to remember to duck down so he would not be seen.

"The sleeping giant was sent to us by the Gestalts for our protection! It will be used, if needed, in times of war when our enemies are upon us," shouted another man.

"Your ignorance is overwhelming," Silas said while taking out a white handkerchief from his vest pocket and blotting his forehead. The night was chilly but Silas was not used to public speaking and his nerves were getting the better of him. "What enemies do we have that we need protection from? And why does the beast suddenly wake just as we are discussing our relations with Gestalt?"

The room quieted because no one could argue that point. The sleeping giant had been showing signs of coming to life for the last few weeks. For short periods of time it would open its fiery red eyes, huff and puff grey clouds of smoke, maybe turn its enormous iron head this way and that way. So far it had not stood up, but that was not far off for sure.

Simon could take no more of their argument and speculation. He jumped down from his hiding place and picked up his lantern. When he was a safe distance from the store, he lit it and walked towards the dense forest. He had secrets of his own to check in on.

Deep in the forest, much further in than young children were allowed to go, was an abandoned cottage that Simon had taken over as his own. It was small, probably built for only one person. Everything was made of wood that was starting to rot and turn soft. It was where Simon worked on his "inventions."

There was very little that was typical about Simon. From an early age he showed wisdom and understanding beyond his years. He had a knack for understanding how machinery worked that outmatched that of every grown men in Alleria. In fact, just the week before, when one of the largest turbines was malfunctioning, it was Simon they called upon in the middle of the night for help. Grown men were uncomfortable speaking to him, knowing he possessed an intelligence they would never have themselves.

Shunned by most everyone save his own father, Simon was a boy filled with imagination and generally filled his long days making up detailed drawings and plans of all the glorious things he could invent if only he were a true Gestalt scientist.

Simon pushed open the lopsided door of the cottage, the musty odor of the place wafting into his face. He smiled at first, seeing his friend Gizmo sitting at the table. His smile quickly turned to concern though when he noticed the slump in his mate's shoulders and the tell-tale hanging of his head. Gizmo was depressed again.

A midsized human shaped robot, Gizmo was made of cloth, stuffing and GearWorks. He looked a bit like an oversized doll but he was special, he moved and completed tasks. He had thoughts and even feelings. Simon couldn't figure out how that was possible but assumed it had something to do with the small grey box he found in Gizmo's head that he could not get to open. Simon hadn't created Gizmo, he found him in the empty cottage. Most of his movable parts had rusted and he was stuck sitting in a chair not being able to move for who knows how long before being found. Simon spent many nights and weekends searching for replacement parts, fixing and tweaking the GearWorks he could not find or afford himself.

Eventually, he was able to get the old robot working again. He wished the robot could talk, so he could explain how he came to be living the cottage all alone, who had made him and where his creator was now. Unfortunately, Gizmo had not been built with a mouth so he could communicate only by writing and drawing and so far Simon had not been able to convince him to tell his story in full.

It was growing late and the interior of the room was dark. Simon placed his lantern on the table and it lit up the center of the room with its subtle yellow light. Simon could see a drawing on the table. Gizmo looked up at him with his one patchwork and clog eye. The robot straightened up slightly, he did like the boy and enjoyed his company. Gizmo put one mechanical finger on the drawing he had been working on and pushed it towards Simon.

"I know, I know," sighed Simon, taking the paper in his hands and holding it up the light. "I wish I could get a hold of all these materials. I would build you up, I really would. I would make you into a grand thing indeed." Simon put the drawing down and put one hand on his one and only friend's padded shoulder. Gizmo was an unfinished robot, not living up to his full potential due to missing pieces and old rusted out parts.

From out of the desk drawer, Simon pulled a worn leather box. It had a complicated latching that needed to be turned this way and that way just so, in order to make it click open. Once the combination was entered, the box slowly opened. Inside were the hundreds of drawings and plans Simon had come up with over the last few years. His favorite was on top, he pulled it out to admire it.

The drawing was a schematic for a very large robot - human shaped but anonymous and covered in copper. It was as tall as a skyscraper and would take a small army of engineers and manufactures to create. Simon imagined building a moving staircase leading up to a platform he could rig to move up and down so that people could work on the robot as needed. The massive warehouse used to house the mammoth being would be the envy of all Gestalt who would set the robot at their gates as a sentinel, a symbol of strength and a resource if needed to aid their defenses.

Just once he had tried to explain the idea to a classmate, whose eyes filled with terror and just the idea. It was the last time anyone ever invited him to a conversation at school. He shoved the drawing back into the box along with the one Gizmo had made.

"Hey, do you want to help me fix the coordinate goggles? I think I finally figured out how to make them work." The robot, confronted with the possibility of meaningful work, sprang to life. Shaking off his own desires, he got down to work. The pair worked for hours on Simon's newest endeavor. He was creating a pair of goggles that captured and repeated coordinates on a map so pilots wouldn't have to keep looking down all the time to see where they were going.

Watching the robot work steadily by his side, Simon began to think about his father and what he overheard outside the shop that night. Working tirelessly to fulfill someone else's needs, neglecting your own desire; that was what it really boiled down to. Simon began to understand for the first time what might be very wrong with their society.

There were many things Simon would rather be doing than fixing steam turbines for the rest of his life that was for sure. For example, Simon wanted to fly so very badly, in one of the large airships or even in one of the smaller planes. Once, a few years before, his father had taken him to the Branded Mountains. It was a massive range of mountainous land covered in rich white snow caps and swirling fog. Hanging in the air above the blue waves of rock was the massive crystalline city of Gestalt that floated amongst the clouds; the only city of its kind in the world.

The Royal Family lived in Gestalt as well as all of the politicians, dignitaries, scientists and other important people. It was pristine and beautiful, miles away from the drudgery of work or the stench of the poverty. It took a considerable amount of power to make that city possible though, and that is where the rest of the Allerian people came in. They supplied the power in exchange for peace, protection and a small sampling of technologies and materials that made life a little easier.

In the foothills of the mountains were small townships and it was there that the GearWorks and airships were manufactured. The Brandies were a bit above the Allerians in social class, allowed more advancements and help from the Gestalt in exchange for their considerable services. GearWorks were packages of interlocking gears, clogs, springs and other useful bits of metals. They were, purposefully, very expensive.

While Silas visited with cousins and other relatives, Simon would slip away to watch the airships take off and land, their flight patterns causing white trails across the sky. He started to learn all he could about the ships and avionics from that point on, adding to his interest in robotics and engineering. He had already made several extremely useful inventions like the goggles, but he had no one to show them to. That didn't stop him from tinkering with them in all his free time though.

A loud clanging mechanical noise from the woods outside drew Simon from his thoughts. It was the sound of metal scraping against metal and of clogs and springs grinding together. Simon gathered up his lantern which was running low on fuel, and went to the window. He could see nothing but a wall of black night in front of him.

"The sleeping giant is restless tonight," he said to no one in particular. "Let's have a look, shall we?"

Gizmo silently shook his head and backed away. The dust on the floor flew up and resettled at his feet. Simon laughed and went to unlatch the door.

"Are you coming, or not?" With that, he stepped out of the cottage and walked towards the noises in the forest. Gizmo peeked out the door and watched the boy traveling and the small light flickering until the fog swallowed them up. The unsteady robot lurched and tottered across the threshold and followed, reluctantly.

"I think it's over this way," Simon whispered when they got close. Indeed it was, as they could see clouds of smoke hanging in the air above a clearing to their North. The clearing was surrounded by a ring of grand old oak trees whose gnarled branches twisted around the area protectively. Without hesitation, Simon ducked beneath a fat branch and entered the clearing. If it was adventure he sought, there was no time like the present.

The beast was lying down, resting its massive head on its out stretched arms. Every now and then it would slightly move its head or tail, causing the loud metallic sounds Simon had heard from the cottage. As the pair approached, the sleeping giant opened one tin eye, revealing a bright red light inside. The light followed Simon, tracking his movements, but the giant lay still.

"It's a dragon," Simon muttered. He felt excitement coursing through his body sending tiny shivers down his arms and legs. "A real-life dragon." Simon had only seen dragons in story books and certainly the beast was meant to strike fear upon its enemy but Simon did not consider himself an enemy. He approached it.

The boy reached out and touched the dragon's metal body, holding up his lantern and taking a good look at the mechanics of the thing. The body was warm, not cold like Simon would have suspected it to be. It had smokestack horns on top of its head, which puffed little clouds of white as it lay there idle. It looked as large as the city of Gestalt itself.

"Hello there," Simon said in his most grown up and matter-of-fact voice. "I said, hello there . . . dragon?"

The eye closed. Simon was disappointed. The dragon did not react to him at all. He expected it would leap to life, try to eat him or the like. But no, it just lay there. Simon grew angry and kicked at one of the oversized claws, resulting in Simon yelping in pain and the giant not budging one inch.

"Stupid drone," Simon yelled. "Worthless junk heap!"

This was the mighty sleeping giant everyone in the village either feared or idolized? The great weapon of the Gestalt? What good was it doing just sitting about waiting for instructions?

"Wasted, simply wasted," Simon said aloud even though no one was around to share his disgust. Tears stung his eyes. For someone to create such a magnificent robotic animal and just leave it here to decay until they willed it to action seemed unfathomable to him. All of that strength just restrained and useless. It was exactly the way the boy felt about his own talents.

"I'm useless as well. Can't even string together enough parts to fix you up, buddy," Simon said to Gizmo who just looked at the ground and shrugged his shoulders in agreement. "And I could create a million useful things, but no one cares, no one will ever even know I exist." Simon yelled his frustrations into the forest, giving it all he had.

Exhausted, Simon slumped against one of the sturdy oak trees. "A fine lot we are, each as depressing as the next," he added. The mighty dragon opened its fiery eyes once more, but still sat still and uncaring. Gizmo picked at some burrs that had attached themselves to his burlap arm.

That's when Simon had a flash of brilliance, not uncommon but certainly unexpected at the moment when he was feeling at his lowest. He thought about the little box wired up inside Gizmo's head; the mysterious box that seemed to be the source of his thoughts and emotions. What if he could figure out a way to transfer the box to the body of the stoic monster, give it the life it deserved?

"You want to help me fix this old rust bucket?"

Gizmo's attention was perked. The fact that he seemed intent on helping Simon and was eager for his commands was central to the boy's plan. "I'm just going to need something from you, don't worry, this won't hurt you." Simon put his arm around the robot and squeezed reassuringly while taking out a pair of pliers from his back pocket.

Soon the whole village would know that Simon wasn't so small and useless after all. Maybe if he could stop the revolt and restore order, the Gestalt would invite him to come live with them. He could finally make his drawings and plans a reality.

It wouldn't be long now, if this worked, it wouldn't be long at all.