Steven Harper - The Havoc Machine

“I should go play with other boys,” Nikolai said. “That is what boys do. May I?”

“If the Tortellis don’t mind,” Thad replied slowly. “But his sister will be there. What she said wasn’t nice.”

Nikolai’s eyes went blank for a moment, and Thad thought he heard a faint clicking over the clack of the train wheels. Thad’s earlier feeling of protectiveness slid away, replaced by a cold reminder of Nikolai’s status as a machine.

“Sticks and stones will break my bones,” he said at last, “but words will never hurt me.”

“Applesauce,” said Dante.

“That’s the spirit,” Thad said woodenly. “Off you go, then.”

Nikolai slid free of the seat and left with Claudio, both of them already experts at staying upright on the rocking aisle.

“Alone at last, my husband,” Sofiya said.

Thad slumped in his seat. “Not you, too.”

She laughed, the first time Thad had ever heard that from her. The sound was surprisingly free and rich and eased some of Thad’s tension. She was very beautiful, even in her dirty cloak and her hair coming undone. Thad decided he could, perhaps, enjoy a few moments of that.

“I only make a joke,” she said. “But Nikolai seems to have cast us in a particular mold, no?”

“What are we going to do with him in Saint Petersburg?” Thad said. “I can’t have him hanging about all the time.”

“Why not? He seems to like you. Us. He is easy to care for-just give him a bottle of spirits from time to time. He might even prove useful.”

“A clockworker built him,” Thad said. “I don’t trust him.”

Sofiya twisted in her seat and looked up the aisle. Close to the front of the car, Nikolai and Claudio were playing on the floor between the seats with a set of toy animals. “And why not?”

Thad folded his arms and stared out the window, though it was fully dark now and there was nothing to see. “He comes from a monster who killed a lot of people. Who knows what he’s programmed to do?”

“Hm.” Sofiya crossed her ankles beneath her skirt. “You keep a clockworker’s parrot on your shoulder. That seems a contradiction for someone who dislikes clockwork machines.”

In answer, Thad took Dante down from the seat back and held him out toward Sofiya. “Say it,” he ordered.

“Applesauce,” Dante replied. “Doom, defeat, despair. Pretty lady.”

“Say it, bird, or I’ll twist your head round backward.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

David’s recorded voice was loud enough that Tina McGee, who was once again sitting on the seat backed up against Sofiya’s, turned around for a moment to look. Thad waved at her and put Dante on the seat back once more.

“I see,” Sofiya said quietly. “I understand, and I am sorry. Again.”

“I keep him. It doesn’t mean I like him.” Thad gestured abruptly in Nikolai’s direction. “How does he do that? He’s only a machine. Machines don’t play games.”

“It looks to me that he is learning to play. I think that is why he went with Claudio despite Bianca’s dislike for him. Did you not see his hesitation? He was caught between impulses-one that tells him to keep himself safe and one that tells him to learn. The impulse to learn tipped him over the edge. Of course…” She trailed a hand over the arm rest of her seat. “…human beings do much the same, do they not?”

“He’s not human, Sofiya.” Thad sighed. “I don’t know why you’re trying to convince me he is, but-”

“No,” Sofiya interrupted. “He is not human. But…” She trailed off again to glance over her shoulder. “But he is not an automaton, either.”

“Bless my soul,” Dante muttered. “Despair, death, doom, defeat.” And Thad was too tired to tell him to be quiet. He was leaning back to close his eyes again when Sofiya cocked her head inside her scarlet hood.

“Do you think Nikolai should be destroyed?”

Thad’s eyes came fully open. “I…don’t know.”

“Could you push him into a furnace and watch his face melt into slag?” She leaned forward, invading Thad’s space. “Could you see his eyes dissolve into molten glass? Hear his voice break and crack into smoke and steam?”

Thad realized he was pressed into the seat back and forced himself to stop. The image she conjured up was horrible, and it mingled with the sights and sounds of David’s last moments. His stomach roiled and mouth was dry. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Answer the question. We need to know when we arrive.”

There was only one answer. “No,” he replied at last.

“Perhaps we should back away a bit,” Sofiya said. “Explore other ideas. Could you tell him he cannot stay with you? Could you put him out on the street and say he could never see or speak to you again?”

“Probably,” Thad said.

“Even if he asked you not to?” Sofiya continued. “Because he would. He would say it was a papa’s duty to take care of a child, and he would beg you to let him stay.”

“I could give him to Dodd,” Thad said abruptly. “Dodd already asked to have him.”

“As an attraction for the circus, yes,” Sofiya agreed. “He would probably even pay you a large sum of Mr. Griffin’s money for him, good silver rubles. And then you would see him all the time, working for Dodd, doing as Dodd said, and he could ask you every day to take him back. Could you do that?”

Thad didn’t answer for a long moment, then muttered, “I could melt down your horse in a moment.”

“Ah! Now we are making progress. Why could you do that?”

“Progress?”

“Answer the question, my husband. Why could you melt down Kalvis but not Nikolai?”

“Because he looks like a little boy,” Thad nearly shouted. “Because he reminds me of David, and I couldn’t push him into a furnace any more than I could push you into one, you damned witch.”

“I know.” Sofiya touched his knee softly. “I do know, Thaddeus Sharpe.”

Thad was blinking back tears, something he hadn’t done since the last time he’d visited David’s grave. He felt drained, on the edge of exhaustion. “If you knew, then why-”

“Because I think you needed to say it out loud to someone.” Sofiya rested her chin in her hand. “Are you hungry? I could ask Mama Berloni if she has anything more to eat.”

When she said it, he became aware that he was both starving and immensely thirsty. “Definitely.”

“A wife’s duty.” She rose to her feet with an impish smile. “You know, clockworkers aren’t always evil.”

“Tell that to David. And Olga.”

“Clockworkers also build many fine things,” she said, still standing. “They discovered how to use electricity and build airships and design efficient engines like this locomotive and thinking machines like Nikolai. They go mad in the end, but it is not their fault. It is tragic.”

Thad’s mouth turned down. “Especially for their victims.”

* * *

The machine clung to the underside of the hot iron object. The iron tasted pleasant to the magnets on its feet, and the signal’s constant ping created a reassuring warble. But after an interval passed, the iron object slowed, then stopped. It exhaled great clouds. The machine hung on.

The signal…changed. The machine listened for only a moment, then released the magnets and dropped away from the pleasant iron. It skittered out from under the huffing iron object and rushed away, past more objects, some moving, some still. A few jumped away with little shrieks or cries, but the machine ignored them. It scampered across a floating object that spanned an enormous amount of rushing fluid, and the signal rewarded it with happy tones. The machine found a tasty iron object that covered a tunnel. It pried the iron away, dropped into the hole beneath, and vanished into the darkness.