A Machine Called Earth

Before Hector woke, he had a dream. Dreams were something of a regular occurrence for Hector. Since the ‘Train incident’ Hector had had many dreams which haunted him of that event. In another time, these dreams, these fears, might be called, PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) but Hector, nor anyone else in Arccon, had a name for such a thing. However, these dreams, had ceased when he met Hope. She was something of a bright light that filled his mind. His past thoughts of his time as a Blackcoat, being underage, witnessing death, taking life, these thoughts had left his mind. However, when Hector met Ichabod, his slumber took a turn for the worst. His dreams became something more than mere visions and lights, reenactments and memories. He was being contacted, invaded, by Ichabod.

What was Ichabod’s plan, what was his goal? What was the purpose of his contact, his hounding? Although the torture that Hector had gone through, was over. The cold, damp dungeon, filled with the stench of Moab’s decaying flesh, the pain, the hopelessness, the fear. Although such things were over, the torture, the hounding would continue. Ichabod’s goal was to break Hector, to force submission over him, to make him give up. Ichabod would pilot his dreams, and cause distress and doubt in Hector’s heart.

This was the dream.

There was a strong darkness, for nightfall was upon the land. The sky, speckled with the slight flickering of the cosmos. The lights swayed to-and-fro, as Hector saw through the eyes of a man, who was on a boat. The boat, was in fact, an airship. But it did not sail through the clouds, it floated along on the water.

There was a moon, it was full and bright, but its light did not make it to the surface of the earth. Nor was it necessary, for although the land was dark, and hidden with shadows, for the moonlight had no effect, there was light. There was light because, this airship was not in the sky, for the reason being, it had crashed. The waters were littered with the floating wreckage of the flying vessel. The floating hull, half sunken, was in flames. It was not entirely engulfed in flames, nor was it entirely sunken.

As it floated along the vast, and seemingly endless body of water, black and ravenous, it was the only refuge that could be seen. And although it floated low in the water, and one end was on fire, it was safe, regardless of how temporary.

In the water, was a nation of slaves. They, in fear, swam to the floating wreckage, grabbing out for safety, for refuge. Those who were in the water, were numbered so greatly, they could not be counted. However, the man who was on the boat, did not let a single soul onto the airship wreckage, he pushed and kicked away the ones who reached out for refuge. None but the one who was already on the boat, made it onto the boat. The ones in the water, the nation of slaves, they all began sinking into the dark waters. Soon no one could be seen. The nation of slaves, sank into the darkness of the waters. The man who was on the boat, the man who did not let a single soul onto the boat, he looked over the edge of the vessel, into the waters. There his face could be seen, the reflection of his identity was revealed. And who was it? It was Hector’s own face. That was when he woke up.

The sound that woke Hector, was that of distress, and fear. They were the sounds of people running and shouting for help. The screams that come from horror and fear.

Hector then quickly made his way outside, through the main entrance of the common-room hall. There he saw, that the streets were full of panic and distress. ‘What is going on?’ Hector thought. But whatever was going on, was something bad. For streets do not flood with panic lightly. Something was happening, something serious.

Hector then thought, ‘I must find Hope and Jessy.’ So he began to quickly run towards where their rooms were. Hector began to grow worried, and quickened in pace, when he saw that the majority of those who were running, were running in the opposite direction that he was heading. Their rooms were near where the volcano/hollow mountain was, and this seemed to be where all were running away from. But still, Hector knew not of the cause of the panic.

“We’ve been found!” One citizen said. Hysteria filled the streets, as Hector pushed his way through the crowds. Not a thought could be heard, through the torrent of screams and sweeping clutter of fearful footsteps, running in all directions.

This was a city which focused on its ability to stay hidden. It lay silently at the bottom of the sea, out of sight of all who dwelled above. But for the event of an emergency, in an attack, there was no refuge, there was no safety. The citizens of Artemus, were, in lack of a better word, trapped.

The city however, had but one defense. The Masterials. These men and women, lived in knowledge of the book. They would protect the book by any and all means. Although Shamus was in possession of the book, and had been, for the last seven years, the Masterials knew of what was within the pages. For long ago, era’s long past, they have studied the words, and those words have remained with them since. For words are not confined to paper, nor are they revealed solely on pages, and in books, but words can be, in fact, spoken. And this spoken word, had been passed down with extreme precision, and dedication. These were the words, this was the information, which Ichabod wanted eradicated from the world. They were the last stand against Ichabod and complete power. The book, ‘A History Of All Things Regarding The World And Within’ along with the Masterials, they had the knowledge which Ichabod wanted to confine to myth and legend. To become lost, and forgotten. But what most didn’t know, including Hector, was that in fact, he had the knowledge of how to stop Ichabod.

Knowledge isn’t always something that can be taught. One cannot study all knowledge. Nor can it be found. Sometimes knowledge, is a gift. Something that is granted, something that is given. Something that cannot be earned. But little is knowledge, if you are dead.

At that moment, Hector saw a group of the Masterials. They, like Hector were running towards the source of chaos. As they ran, their bluish/green tunics blew and swayed with such majestic motion. Half of them held great medieval double-edged swords, while the other half held pistols with extended barrels, holding them as if they were rifles. Hector was in awe, as they ran into unknown danger, with not the slightest glint if fear in their eyes.

As Hector skimmed through the faces of those running, looking for Hope and Jessy, his eyes drew to the entrance of the mountain, where his heart calmed for a second, for out of the great doorway of the volcano, was Hope, holding the hand of Jessy. Out they ran, and for a moment Hector knew that they were safe.

But following them, was a flood. A flood of what you ask? Following them, was a flood of beasts, a flood of the cursed ones. These cursed ones, they had but one purpose, to kill all in their wake.

As Hope and Jessy ran towards Hector, who stood shocked and paralyzed, the cursed ones closed in on them. Hector thought that he was moments away from witnessing their deaths. But at that moment, the Masterials lined up, in front of Hector, facing Hope and Jessy, where one of them yelled, “GET DOWN!” His words, directed to Hope and Jessy. And at that moment, Hope, still holding Jessy’s hand, dived onto the ground. “FIRE!” Came the voice again. And at that command, they fired. They fired with such deadly precision, hitting their targets. The wave of beasts fell to the floor, and Hope and Jessy made it to where Hector was.

“Are you ok?” Hector asked.

“We’re fine, but we got to get out of here.” Came Hope’s out-of-breath response. Panic was still surging through the streets of Artemus, and it began to grasp hold of Hector as well. He knew not of a way out, nor of a way to stop the torrent of beastly souls that flooded into the streets. But this was not his fight. He had to leave.

In lack of a better plan, Hector and his companions, began running in the direction that everyone else was running. His driving focus, to see Hope and Jessy to safety. But as they ran, they were stopped by Logan. “Quickly, over here.” He said, motioning for them to follow him.

Logan led them off the main street, and into an adjacent side road. He was holding a great harpoon-gun. One which he would use, during an underwater expedition. He was also strapped with at least three pistols.

As they ran, Logan arrived at the destination he was leading them. “Here. These are escape pods. You need to leave.”

Hector looked at him sharply, “Leave? No way, give me one of those guns, let me help you.” For the initial panic and fear had left him, and Hector now wanted to stop this invasion. Especially that Hope and Jessy could now escape in the escape pod.

“That’s not an option, lad. You need to leave.”

“But I can shoot, let me help. Your overrun, you need all the help you can get.” Hector said once more.

“Look, I don’t doubt your aim, nor your skill with a gun. But this is not your fight. Now get in the pod.”

Hector was reluctant to leave, he didn’t want to be thought of as a coward. But after some reasoning, he finally got in.

Logan said to Hector, “I’ve heard about this Ichabod, it seems he has you in his sights. I suspect this is the reason of this attack. But do not fret. Our fate is one which has been planned. Your fate, is yet to be discovered. When you reach the surface, look for a road. If you follow the road, it should lead to the Inn I once owned. There is a chance that my brother Theo will be there. Tell him that I sent you, and he shall look after you. Remember your goal, find the keeper, or let him find you. I trust you know all that you must, all that is necessary. Now go, and let the Masterials show, the strength that we possess.”

At that, Logan closed the hatch of the escape pod, and ran into the crowd. With no fear or hesitation, he was out of sight. The pod had no mechanics or controls. It was a simple contraption. It was pressurized, and air tight, and used the very oxygen that was within the pod, to ascend them to the surface of the ocean.