The Great Inventor#
In the darkness, there was a piece of rock. It was rectangular and flat, and a few thousand kilometres thick. On its surface were thousands of tubelike structures, strung up between cylindrical towers that pushed up against the world’s ceiling. Six-limbed citizens crawled across their surfaces, entering through various arched holes to do their business.
Within a cluster of a thousand such towers, there lived the Great Inventor. He was alone in his tower, and nobody bothered him. The man slaved away at his workbench, drawing plans and carving sigils and assembling machines. He’d modified his own body to not require sleep. Every fibre of his life was dedicated to his gray creation.
Days pass. The Inventor pulled wires, etched circuits and welded metal. The cacophony echoed through the city’s great towers, like a ghost bashing away at a wall, begging to be heard. The Inventor drags many parts into the chamber: metal, wood, fabric, flesh. His machine grows day by day, soon occupying most of the massive chamber. Its hulking form curled up one wall in ribbons and clumps of material, looming over the Inventor as he hammered against its surface.
Finally, after years of toil, the Inventor sits down on an empty wooden crate. He cranes his head up and admires his creation. It stands there, motionless. Two chains hang from within the bowels of the machine, and strung up between them is a faceless automaton. The Inventor stares at the empty body, thinks, grins. He lifts a hand and snaps a bony finger.
The machine rumbles.
Finally, thinks the Inventor, will all those wrongs be righted. The unjustly slain will walk this land again, and then I will no longer need to fear. All those I watched, bones and husks, will no longer need to fear. There is no longer anything to fear.
The Inventor shifts his weight, then stands. Anticipation is wild in his eyes, laser focused on the automaton. And as if in reaction to his gaze, the automaton moves. It jerks, once, twice, falls to the ground. The Inventor cackles with joy!
And so be it! exclaims the Inventor. It is done. I have laughed in the face of the Immortals, laughed in the face of death itself, the great tragedy! You are no longer welcome in this world!
He was so ecstatic and triumphant, but in reality ignorant. For, he wasn’t the only one cackling. He would never ascertain the source of this other laughter. He would never see this realm again.