The Machine - a photo on Flickriver

The Machine

The next installment of my wandering skies story. Be sure to read the first four parts here!
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After a long and arduous journey, in the late days of summer George found the place of legend. Low on provisions, and having seen no sight of an island for over a week, discouragement had begun to set in. But still, his hope, his strong hope, carried him forward.
Then he saw it. A massive island, nearly the size of his own. And on the pinnacle of this island sat a large, round tower, starting to decay, but looking as though it had been built for a god. Its tall windows pointed toward the heavens, and its spire pierced the clouds. Yet it looked as though the structure had never been completed. Part of the roof was in shambles and rotting wood lay around the structure.
Indeed, all of the structures on the island appeared to be abandoned. Belongings of a long gone civilization lay in the streets, covered in growth and decay. It seemed as though something had caused the inhabitants of this place to leave in a hurry. The land was slowly reclaiming what had once been claimed by humankind, erasing the traces of a once-great civilization. George had read the legends of course, but nothing could have prepared him for this.
Setting his jaw with determination, he aimed his small craft toward a rocky ledge below this great temple structure.
That was when he saw it. Moored beside the temple around to one side floated a massive airship, loaded with cargo. The first sign of life he had seen in many weeks. Silently, he eased his craft down, wary of the large ship. Whether friend or foe he had yet to find out. Who could know if it was a greedy treasure hunter or a surviving native?
As the sun set and the moon arose, George made his way up the mountainside, lit only by the light of the moon. He reached the top and crept through the large arch that marked the entry. He looked around, seeing piles and piles of crates and boxes, looking as though they had recently been stacked there. Cautiously, he crept forward. The moon shining through the windows showed carvings across the walls, depicting the lives of this long gone empire. Below was chronicled the history of the civilization, carved into the stone.
It seemed that it had started much like his own land. But as technology developed, the evils of mankind were revealed. Powerful weapons, able to kill from afar destroyed lives. And then, worst of all, these humans had created a machine that could think, think for itself. The legendary machine decided that it had the right to rule the people, and so it corrupted them.
As they came to it with questions, it grew more and more ignoble, eventually demanding that a temple be built for it. At this point the people were dependent on the machine, and they began to serve its wishes. They forsook what they had learned all their lives, and followed the machine.
The machine grew even more wicked, delighting in human suffering and pain, demanding more and more until finally, one human had the strength to stand up against it. He attempted to sabotage the twisted mind of a machine that it had become, but it was too strong.
But the machine vowed that it would never happen again. It began sending the humans to their deaths, sowing seeds of distrust and fear among them.
Then another hero arose, this one succeeding in his task. He ruined the machine beyond the knowledge of repair, leaving a tangle of destruction. The people didn’t know what to do without their leader, and fled the island, scared and distraught. And so collapsed the civilization.
Only a few brave men and women remained, those who stood firm in truth through the reign of terror. But eventually they too left the island, unable to bear the memories of horror, and ready to begin a new life.
George finished reading, a slight fear coming upon him. By now it was almost dawn, and the sun began to rise. George hurried onward, apprehensive and hopeful.
The hall culminated in a large chamber, the one he had seen outside. In the center, on a pedestal of gold and stone, lay the machine. It was a mass of wires, tubes, and pipes, looking somewhat like a massive brain. The room was filled with machinery, likely that which once powered the machine. And around the room lay boxes and crates of parts and tools, as though someone was trying to repair and reawaken this ancient evil.
As the sunlight began to stream through the window, George heard footsteps. He quickly hid himself among the boxes, waiting to see who would enter.
Two men in black suits entered the room, forcing a middle aged woman in front of them.
“You know what to do,” one ordered. “You have two weeks to get that machine running if you value your life.”
“And if you ever want to see that son of yours again,” added the other.
George almost cried out. That woman was his mother!
It was the first time he had seen her in years, but he was sure it was her. He watched quietly, jaw clenched in anger, as she tinkered away on the machine, the two men always watchful, weapons at the ready.
Oh, to find his mother only to find her captured! What could he do?
All day George watched, hoping and praying they wouldn’t need anything from the crates he hid behind. Waiting for an opportunity. His heart pounded in his chest, for he knew that his mother was near. If only he could figure out how to rescue her!
At the day’s end, as the men forced Rosa back out and onto their ship, George vowed that he would rescue his mother, no matter the cost. She was captured because of him, and he would be the one to save her. He crept back down to his small craft under cover of darkness, his heart swelling with hope.
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Come back next year for the conclusion of the story!

This was built for the Wandering Skies contest 2024 for the category "Stuff of Legend"

Thanks for checking it out,
Math Wizard

Taken on: November 22, 2024

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wanderingskies

temple

steampunk

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Sets appears in: • Wandering Skies Story

Groups appears in: • in explore • Wandering Skies Contest 2024

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