A Machine Called Earth

The crackling of the fireplace had grasped Hector’s attention. He stared into the flames, as the log crackled and popped as it burned in the hearth. It was bright and warm. The heat radiated from the fire, warmed Hector’s very soul. He looked away from the fire, and on the mantelpiece his attention rested. It was cluttered with ornaments and picture frames. He gazed through the bizarre sculptures and what looked to be trophies. They were quite strange, for they were something Hector had not seen before.

But his eyes wandered upwards, where they rested on a painting. A large painting that took up the entire wall. It was surrounded in a fine, golden frame, detailed with intricate inlays. Within the frame was a portrait of a man. It was an unfamiliar man, whom Hector had not seen before.

He stood tall and proud, with a glass of wine in his hand. He was wearing a dressing-gown of purple silk. A color of importance, wealth and power. As Hector’s eyes traveled back down towards himself. He noticed that he was sitting in a red, leather chair. And adjacent to him was another. And sitting in that chair was the man in the painting.

The man smiled and said in a calm and sophisticated tone, “Ah, how art thou, Hector.”

As confusion arose, Hector asked, as politely as he could, as he was unsure of who his company was. “I’m sorry sir, I’m not sure where I am.”

“Ah, such eloquent manners, oh how I miss such talk.” The man replied. “I have not heard such words in quite some time.”

“Ahem, thank you...sir?” Hector replied.

“Hmm, quite alright. Please take a drink, don’t be shy.” The man said as he motioned to Hector’s hand, which was holding a glass of wine. Hector brought the glass to his mouth, but before he took a drink, he brought it down again saying. “My apologies, I don’t remember how I got here, I don’t remember who you are. In fact, I don’t remember anything.”

“That’s quite alright, Hector. You are in my humble abode, and I am Ichabod, your friend.” That name, it shot out at Hector like a blinding ray of light. But he didn’t know why, or more like, he couldn’t remember why. Ichabod. The name was etched into his mind, ‘but why?’

Still confused, Hector decided to be polite, and take a drink of the wine. As the wine swirled down his throat, it burned. It was a familiar sensation, and at that moment, Hector’s memory returned. This was the same wine that his captors had offered him.

“ICHABOD!” Hector shouted. “I remember you.”

He nodded and had a smile that said, ‘Yes, you are correct.’

“But you look different. You were deformed and fragile. You had a mask and respirator, and you were in a wheelchair.”

“What you saw, was the decaying body of Malachi.”

“What do you mean? Why did he call himself Ichabod?” Hector asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

“I had taken possession of him. I was dwelling within him. However his body grew weak, causing me to undertake, certain ventures to ensure his survival.”

“Certain ventures? What do you mean by that?” And as soon as those words had left Hector’s lips, he remembered the canister connected to the breathing apparatus, which the man in the wheelchair, Malachi, was breathing through. It was a life-support system! “So you were keeping him alive?”

“Correct. I do like your mind young man.” He said, as he looked at Hector with lustful eyes.

“But, Why?”

“Ensuring his survival, would also result in my survival, you see. But, I’m beginning to grow weary of him. He is weak, and practically immobilized.”

“The canister. It read ‘Trees of Life’.” This was a statement, but Hector asked it as a question.

“You want to know about the canister? ‘Trees of Life’, you want to know what that means. Take a guess.” The man said with a smile.

And at that moment, it all came crashing down on Hector, like an anvil of revelation. The trees. The roots leading south. River-ton. All that the town had went through, all those people, all that Jessy had gone through. It was all due to Ichabod.

“It was all your fault!” Hector shouted.

“River-ton you mean? Yes. I was able to, along with the prying Malachi, discover a way to, well, farm humanity. And as things go, the citizens of River-ton were my crop. I used the plant-life to harvest the life of the people, and transport it, through the root systems, to me, were I could consume it and survive. Although, it was a feat in itself to get the humanity (or whatever you want to call it) from the plants, into a consuming format.”

It seemed that Ichabod was indulging in the revelation of his doings. His eyes had lit up, as he continued.

“I sent out men, to seek for me, an inventor or engineer, to make that happen. Turning the humanity into a consumable format that is. I had taken people from all over the land, but it wasn’t until I had taken one from Tammerville that things went according to plan. But I am going on. My apologies.”

Hector took another look around the room. It was lit by the comforting light of the fireplace. It felt inviting, and Ichabod was not hostile in anyway. He seemed kind and understanding, and his recollection of past events almost seemed as though he had done no wrong. But Hector had seen firsthand the works of this man. Hector decided to not let this conversation drag on. Asking,

“What is it you want of me?” As he knew he was here, having this conversation, for a reason. He looked at Hector and said.

“You are against what I have done to River-ton, no?” Hector nodded.

“Well, what if I said, I can reverse what had happened. And they can be free.”

“I’d like that very much sir.” Hector replied. Expecting the impending catch.

“Well, if you allow me to reside within the bounds of your body and mind. Strong and courageous. I will have no need to continue harvesting the people of River-ton, and they will be free. Not to mention the endless and boundless wealth and power, money and women you could ever ask for. All I ask is for you to allow me to reside within you.”

No doubt this offer was tempting. In accepting, Hector would be saving Riverton. But that was not all that was wrong with the world. ‘Tammerville was cursed, and still would be. Violet Town would still continue to flourish, and according to Moab, take over the whole land.’

“Please drink. For this is a fine agreement.” Ichabod said, raising his glass.

“What about the Keeper?” Hector asked, as this was a subject that was just about unknown to him.

“The Keeper!” Ichabod said. Stunned to hear that name. He then adjusted himself in his chair, as he was beginning to get quite annoyed at all Hector’s questions.

He then leaned forward, and asked Hector. “What do you know of him?”

“Not much.” Hector answered, but he wasn’t going to tell him that he didn’t even really know if he even existed or not. The only words he’d ever heard concerning the Keeper, were from crazed men, who may actually have been insane.

“The, so called, Keeper, was my captor. He imprisoned me within the control room. He used my abilities when it suited him, but then I’d be thrown back in my cell. It wasn’t until those five men came crashing through the ceiling, causing the Keeper to leave, that I became free.”

Hector thought to himself, ‘So, the Keeper does exist.’ This knowledge led Hector to ask.

“Why did the Keeper leave?”

“I don’t know, I was mealy a pawn in his game. But now that he is gone, I now have the power. It’s my turn to be in charge. So drink, and join me, as I shall be ruler of all.” At those words, he raised his glass once more.

Now Hector knew that Ichabod was behind all the evil in the land. He also knew that the Keeper was alive, and that he had to find him. ‘I will not be able to fully workout what is happening until I meet the Keeper.’ Hector thought. He then stood up and said. “I’m afraid that I cannot accept your terms Ichabod.”

And with those words, Hector threw the glass into the flames of the now smoldering fireplace. With a flash of light, coinciding with the smash of the glass, all went dark. With the last thing Hector saw, being Ichabod’s gleaming stare of rage. The enraged eyes of Ichabod staring at Hector filled with flames.