So, here it is Monday (er..tuesday) morning, and I'm ready to quit posting. I think I have a three day expiration. Insert one day to slack or a weekend, and I'll never look back.
Speaking of the weekend, all I did was play WoW. I was initially going to call the 'rents and spend Sunday there, but after I woke up on Sunday I felt blah. Its funny--it wasn't all that long ago that having to stay at home all weekend with my parents was the worst thing in the world. Now its something to look forward to. It doesn't help that all my old friends are either a)Pretending they're still sixteen and are, therefore, total assholes or b) have fled the state.
Anyway, I need some sort of writing excercise.
Also I need to link this vid site, it's got some funny stuff on there. Tomorrow most likely, I'm not on the correct computer.
It's pretty tough to write in here today. Lots of traffic. Hoo, lotta traffic. Arr.
I suppose I can look busy just typing. Typing away, typing away. Laa dee daa. Hmm, steampunk. I love steampunk.
Boiling to the point of violence, the water in the metal bladder erupted in gout of shrieking steam, which billowed into the catch as the freshly oiled gears began turning. Gideon wiped his sweating forehead with the back of his arm, unknowingly leaving a smear of black grease. He dropped the heavy iron wrench and it clanged loudly as it bounced once off the metal grating. Rocking back on his heels, he cast an expert’s eye over the intricate construction--levers primed and operating, steam valves exhaling pressure, various gauges showing optimal operating temperatures and calibrations.
Rubbing his hands in anticipation, he adjusted an oscillator here, a tension regulator (condensor) there. Like a father doting over a newborn, his ministrations were gentle and caring, careful not to harm the construct yet performing the necessary minutiae and adjustments to ensure its functionality. Again the exhaust port of the hulking iron and copper behemoth rattled, then erupted in a gout of steam, the catch absorbing the majority of the moisture and returning it to the boiler. Oscillators spun faster and faster and the giant coiled springs on the constructs arms tightened and pulled back. Twin lamps in the sockets winked on and the huge tesla coils emerging from its shoulders began to crackle and spark, arcs of electrical energy leaping across and charging the air.
The hairs on Gideon’s arms stood on end as the mechanical man came to life, servos and actuators propelling it to its feet. It stood there, a thing of burnished metal beauty, alive and functioning--breathing even, the bellows in its chest pumping its steam lifeblood throughout the inner workings of its frame.
A week ago the prospect of this creature standing on its own was unfathomable. Constantly feeding it coal to keep the fires burning was a logistical nightmare in itself, never mind positioning it to keep the water in the boiler hot enough to produce steam. Musings and documentation of the inventor Tesla had come in via the Post, and it wasn't long before Gideon had a working copy of his coils and condenser storage apparatus.
Gideon had programmed a series of punch cards that delivered certain generic instructions to the mechanical man. These were simple follow, defend, lift and carry commands for menial tasks. However, this would be invaluable—the construct would not get tired, for it possessed great strength and fortitude. He possessed amazing potential to serve the greater good, this mechanical man of his.
Heh, mechanical man. He would have to come up with a suitable name for the hulking behemoth. He scratched the unshaven stubble at his jaw, musing on a name. It would have to be something dignified of course—his construct was of course the quintessential gentleman, stove pipe hat, monocle, and waistcoat. Perhaps Thaddeus? Thaddeus Moebius Boilerplate.
“Splendid, Mr. Thaddeus. You are looking rather splendid this morning. Let’s take a short stroll around the villa, give our legs a bit of a stretch.”
He inserted the rolodex of punch cards into the constructs frame, delivering the basic instructions and command set to ‘follow’.
Gideon stepped out of the barn his workshop was contained in, into the bright morning sunlight. He turned and squinted into the murky shadows of the barn; eyes already adjusted to the light, and raised his goggles up onto his forehead.
With a whirr and a hiss, Thaddeus ambled into the daylight, his cheerful grin permanently affixed to his metal face. He seemed almost alive, this creation of his; but then the sun struck his burnished black and copper frame and all illusions caused by shadows dissipated.
They strolled down the road, early summer in evidence. Butterflies and honeybees flitted amongst the tall grasses and wildflowers along the road, a warm breeze stirring the leaves of a single tree. He wished he could follow the construct to observe it—as it was he kept casting glances over his shoulder in unbelief.
They came to the end of his drive, and turned onto the street proper. How would people react?
Hmm, not bad. Only 700 or so words, but not bad for warmups I suppose. I have only a vague idea where to go with it.