The Technicals, Part 4: Conclusion

The Technicals were done returning all the absorbed beings to the Gathering.

“Give back. Give back.”

Their chant went on as they began to pull random components from their bodies. Gadgets and their associated odds and ends grew in two piles.

To everyone’s astonishment, one pile—consisting of plastic, glass, metal, and wood—turned to streams of mist. The streams went in several directions. One vaporous trail went no further than the edge of the meadow. While the other mist streams disappeared over the horizons, this one flowed toward a grove of trees.

At first, there was nothing to see. Gradually, the grove thickened into a small forest. Trees shot into the sky—evergreen, old growth hardwoods, even a spattering of new growth. Murmurs passed through the Gathered beings. Silence—heavy, yet buoyant—fell across the meadow.

The Technicals shrank as they shed phones, DVD players, stereos, and more.

The second pile released green and violet streams that collected into clear barrels. These were the hazardous materials used to make many of the devices work. In the barrels, the poisons swirled faster and faster until they lost their color. A layer of water pooled beneath a mist that now resembled the same mist that returned resources from the recycling pile. Water and Air confirmed the remains truly were purified elements.

Mist soon filled the area, obscuring the Technicals. The Gathering held still, much to Wisdom’s amusement. Many of the beings were not given to stillness on the most solemn of occasions.

At long last, the Technicals went as quiet as their audience. A soft breeze not of Air’s making ruffled, then separated the mist. Everyone leaned closer to see.

The mechanical monstrosities were gone. In their place stood a pair of children. Wearing simple white shifts, their bodies had skin that glowed black as a computer monitor. Zeroes and ones scrolled in vertical lines, some going up, some down. The boy child held the girl-child’s hand. His hair was a rowdy, alabaster mess. Hers, of a matching shade, was long and pulled back into a low ponytail.

The boy approached the Gathering with his little sister in tow. She hid behind him until he pulled her to his side.

“We’re sorry for what we did,” he said. His voice was warm and more natural than before, although he retained an electronic hum that was not unpleasant. “I’m Mech, and she’s Tech.”

Tech darted behind her brother again. Now that beings had begun to relax, some chuckled at Tech’s shyness.

Mouse whispered into Wisdom’s ear. The Conceptual nodded. She walked up to the children before Elephant could make a move.

“You have gone a long way toward making amends,” she said. Somewhere behind her, Elephant made a noise and was promptly hushed. “I was but a child at my first Gathering. This is true of everyone here.”

Mech smiled an infectious grin.

“Tech an’ me are gonna be good from now on!” he boasted.

“Don’t be too good,” Trickster grumbled.

The remaining tension evaporated and was followed by laughter and welcoming hugs.

Satisfied, Wisdom slipped away from the crowd. The spotlight belonged to other, more extroverted individuals.

“They’ll be fine,” Mouse said. “I remember the turmoil you Conceptuals caused, and these children were no worse.”

“Ah, but there are only two of them. You do recall our numbers, do you not?”

Mouse giggled. “Point, my friend, point.”

Something pulled on Wisdom’s robe, startling her. She looked down to find little Tech holding tight, thumb in her mouth.

“Tell me story?” she asked around her hand. “Techie like Gramma Wizzum an’ Auntie Mousie.”

“Why, I’ll be,” Mouse breathed.

Hope—the emotion, not the Conceptual—swelled in Wisdom’s chest. Few opportunities arose for Wisdom to influence anyone, let alone youth.

“I’d love to tell you a story,” she told Tech. She scooped the girl into her arms and snuggled her close. “I’ll tell you as many stories as you want.”

☼

This story may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission from MJ Twain.

The Technicals, Part 3

It was difficult, but Mouse and Wisdom waited. The Technicals drew in the rest of the Gathering until the meadow was silent, empty. If they had it right, they would be safe. No place existed for Wisdom within the Technicals’ grasping indulgence.

“Are they finished?” Mouse peeped from a fold in Wisdom’s cloak.

“Quite nearly. The area must be barren.”

Through her tenure of history, nothing had been as painful as watching complete destruction. Yet, it was necessary to the solution.

The Technicals lumbered across the land, inhaling and spraying what they didn’t absorb. Resources fed the monsters so they grew and consumed more. As the sun set far to the west, they began to slow.

“They’ll be out of fuel and materials soon,” Wisdom said. “They are too engorged to move on for long.”

Mouse shivered on Wisdom’s shoulder. If not for the Conceptual’s protection, she would have been with all the others, taken in by the grabbing youths.

“Look!” she suddenly squeaked.

On the far side of a now-bare plain, the Technicals slowed to a stop.

“It’s time,” Wisdom said.

“Yes,” Mouse agreed.

The Technicals were twice their original height. They stood, side by side, at the edge of a cliff.

“You’ve run out,” Wisdom said to them. “What do you plan to do now?”

“Resources.” The Sprayer pointed its nozzle beyond the cliff. “Access more resources. Want more.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Wisdom murmured. “When those are gone, what will you do?”

“Obtain more,” the other one droned. “Consume more. More is good.”

“Yet, you did not consume me. I would be more.”

“You did not fit our parameters.”

Wisdom waved a hand. She rarely used her gifts, but she deemed it necessary to create the illusion.

A globe appeared in the air past the cliff, over a valley. It glowed blue, green, brown, and white. Clouds raced across its face.

“There are resources all over the world,” Wisdom said. “All that you see is usable. Metals and plastics are your components. Everything else turns to informative resources.”

“Absorb data. Yes. Grow. More.” The Technicals were too bulky to nod, but they seemed to do just that.

Wisdom waved her other hand. The globe expanded until the view of the surface held a great deal of detail. Lush forests bordered clear lakes bordered mountain ranges bordered deserts.

“Resources. Data,” the Technicals chanted.

The view settled on the cliff where they stood. Then it showed the Technicals continuing their consumption. The valley’s greenery turned to bare soil, and the distant hills gave up their riches down to the bedrock. Wisdom had the view pan out to show the obliteration of resources. She did not spare them how humans would suffer. Humans created the Technicals and were like gods to them. Let the greedy beasts see how their creators would suffer.

When she finished, Wisdom showed a barren world with the grotesquely bloated Technicals stalled in the dry Atlantic Trench. They had nothing left to feed upon. Nothing left to absorb.

“Resources?” Sprayer queried. “More?”

“No,” Wisdom said. “There will be no more resources to consume. Once you take it all, it will be gone forever.”

“No more?” They responded in tandem. “Done?”

“This will be the future if you do not curtail your consumption.”

Wisdom waved the image away.

“Need resources,” the larger one stated. “Must consume or go offline.”

“Is that so?” Wisdom asked.

Mouse scampered back and forth across Wisdom’s shoulders.

“Children for sure,” she squeaked. “They can learn. I feel it.”

“Must stay online,” Sprayer said. Its voice wavered for the first time. “But must leave resources.”

The other Technical screech in metallic frustration. Wisdom smelled ozone and hoped.

“Surely you may find a way to exist without exhausting everything around you.”

They leaned toward each other. A series of high- and low-pitched sounds passed between them. Wisdom stepped back, sensing a critical moment. They looked to be arguing.

Then the noise ended.

The Techincals looked to Wisdom. She waited. She worried. She hoped.

“No solution,” they reported. “Assist?”

Wisdom nearly melted with relief. Mouse quivered beneath Wisdom’s ear.

“Perhaps…” Wisdom drew the word out to give the impression of thinking on her feet. “Perhaps you do not have need of so many resources. Why not use what you need and no more?”

“No more?” they echoed.

Wisdom slowly nodded. “Give back what you no longer need and take only what you can use. Conserve.”

“Conserve,” they chimed.

They huddled—in as much as two monstrosities could—and began their odd chattering. They were more animated than ever.

“Give back!” Sprayer trumpeted. The mechanical voice held excitement, as it turned its nozzle toward Wisdom.

Wisdom fought the impulse to cringe. It would not do to undermine the tenuous rapport with the Technicals. She trembled as the nozzle swung toward her. Then it passed.

Sprayer’s nozzle opened, releasing all that it had collected that afternoon. A fine mist shot over the plain and coalesced as Animals and Florals. The other Technical followed. It opened something like a mouth to issue another mist. Conceptuals and Elementals reformed among the rest of the Gathering.

The Technicals shrank as they returned resources. Once the meadow reappeared, the Technicals paused. Their chattering speech resumed, and they cast several glances at Wisdom.

Around the meadow, Gathering attendees shook the startlement off. Wisdom saw anger and confusion grow throughout the multitude of beings.

“We cannot allow the Technicals to be overwhelmed by the others,” Mouse said. “Look at Fire and Elephant. They’re ready to cause trouble.”

Wisdom agreed. Sadly, she was often ignored, else she would stop the nervous buildup.

The Technicals quieted. Wisdom hoped the plan was good enough to survive the imminent furor.

“Who do you think you are?” Elephant bellowed at the Technicals. Her little voice was no less impressive than the roar of a lion.

Wisdom surged forward.

“Stop!” She placed a hand on Elephant’s shoulder. “Let them speak.” Now it was Wisdom’s turn to go under Elephant’s scrutiny.

“I never!” the pachyderm cried.

“You will now,” Wisdom grumbled.

“Come now,” Mouse squeaked to all who would hear. “The Technicals will speak.”

They didn’t have to. Their next act began with a surprise.

☼

This story may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission from MJ Twain.

The Technicals, Part 2

There were two of them. They stood as tall as a two-story building, and each bore a humanoid resemblance, if only in shape.

The first Technical crashed into the meadow, dropping components and dragging wires in its wake. Its body was composed of computer innards, televisions, cell phones, countless other electronics, and even a car or two.

Not far behind, the second Technical stepped with more care. It contained many of the same kinds of materials, but it also featured a spray nozzle on its left arm. For each step forward, it scanned the ground and sprayed. Everything touched by the spray wilted, much to the horror of the Gathering.

Air gusted to the trailing Technical, hovered before its expressionless electronic face.

“Stop!” Air howled. “You’re killing everything in your path!”

The Technical did stop. Monitors that served as eyes glittered and glowed. Air read the word “Processing” as it flashed across the screens. Then it spoke in a monotone.

“No lives lost. Must disinfect. Bacteria, viruses, fungi detected.”

“No lives lost?!”

Air flowed around the foul monstrosity.

“There are thousands of lives in every step you take. Insects, field mice, worms, not to mention the grasses you just destroyed.”

“Insignificant. Elimination of infectious agents takes priority.”

Air couldn’t think of a response. Neither, apparently, could anyone else from the Gathering.

The lead Technical came to a clodding halt before the Gathering. Its head rotated one full turn as though assessing.

When she saw that no other being was willing to face them, Wisdom, of the Conceptuals, drew back her hood. She had the appearance of an elderly woman, her face lined and hair the shade of an overcast morning.

“Welcome,” she said. The Sprayer now joined the first Technical. “Thank you for heeding our call.”

High-pitched chattering passed between the two. They seemed to be discussing a heated point, then they seemed to resolve it.

It was the first arrival, the larger of the two, that spoke.

“We will accept your resources,” it hummed. “There is more to manufacture. Be ready for assimilation.”

Wisdom’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. She spun to question her compatriots, but they were in a frenzy to escape.

The Elementals were the first to be taken. Air was sucked in an unstoppable vacuum. Water tried to flee, but she fell to Sprayer’s reversed nozzle. The other factions were vulnerable. Animals and Florals were inhaled by the ravenous machines, and the Conceptuals were absorbed—except for Wisdom. She witnessed the disappearance of Love, Hate, Happiness, Giving, and all the rest, but not her. Clearly, she realized, the Technicals had no room for her.

She felt something scamper up her cloak. It squeaked into her ear.

“Mouse!” Wisdom exclaimed. “You have insight?”

The two were old friends. Mouse was a quiet individual, overlooked by many. Wisdom knew better. So, as others from the Gathering were taken, Wisdom listened to her tiny friend.

“When the Conceptuals joined the Gathering, you were children. Pandora made a mess when she let you loose.”

“Ah…” The tales of Pandora’s Box had been skewed over the millennia, but the core of truth remained. “Yes, it was a difficult time. Some of us then grew up without maturing.” War and the Trickster came to mind.

“Would it not help to treat this situation the same?” Mouse asked. “They are little more than children run amok.”

Wisdom nodded. “Somehow, we must. Else all is lost.”

☼

This story may not be reproduced in any form without express written permission from MJ Twain.

The Technicals, Part 1

It was the Elementals who called the emergency meeting. As the eldest beings, they were minimally in charge of the process.

The Elementals were joined in a quiet meadow by representatives of the Animals, the Florals, and the youngest of the beings, the Conceptuals. Members of each group settled in to their places around a deadwood table.

“I believe it is understood why we are here today,” Water burbled. She was a lovely young-looking thing in her humanoid form.

Everyone murmured agreement, even the Cactus, who was prickly by nature. He folded his spiny arms and scowled.

“The Technicals,” the Elephant answered. Her voice was oddly high pitched for a beast of her girth. “They are everywhere, running this way and that.”

“They’re out of control!” the Coyote shouted. Everyone stared at the known trickster. He shrugged. “I know ‘out of control’ even when I don’t cause it.”

Fire paced the perimeter of the Gathering. Grass and tiny wildflowers hissed beneath his feet. A circle of charred vegetation grew trailed in his wake.

“Something must be done,” he snapped. “Creatures are being forced to flee their homes when the Technicals arrive.”

“The humans have lost control of their creations,” Elephant said. “It is poetic, if you think about it.”

A goldfish poked its head from Water’s arm.

“While we don’t deny a point of satisfaction in the humans’ predicament, I and my fellows are forced to concede the necessity of intervention.”

Muffled “ayes” signaled agreement from the goldfish school, which swam around within Water’s form.

“Maybe the problem will blow itself away, but we must prepare for not.”

Each word was chirped by a different member of the Flock Sparrow. All those Gathered were silenced by the flock’s boldness. Sparrows rarely contributed more than their droppings. Once the agitated birds settled among Oak’s branches, the many attendees broke into boisterous debates, accusations, and all other manner of discussion, save for that of a solution.

“Ahem.”

The tiny voice was lost beneath the cacophony. An equally tiny body flitted from beast to tree to rocky pile. No one took note.

“I say we meet head on to show them how the world operates,” Grizzly roared. He rose to tower above much of the crowd. “Put the cretins in their place.”

“Excuse me!” the little one squeaked, but the bear’s pronouncement had rattled everyone’s ears.

The impish figure shook her head. Without a thunderous call or the benefit of numbers, she was unnoticed. She had something important to say. There was only one way left to capture the Gathering’s attention. She scampered, nose and tail twitching, between feet, roots, hooves, and such until she sat near Elephant.

Now, it is said that elephants are frightened by mice. As with other myths, this is largely untrue. The elephant present that day, however, had an unfortunate, traumatically embarrassing encounter with a family of mice when she was little more than a calf.

The little speaker knew of it well, as she was part of the dreaded event. She also knew that Elephant never overcame the terror of that long-ago night. The time had come for Mouse to use the ignominy for something worthwhile—if she wasn’t stamped to death first.

Mouse skittered up Elephant’s thick, wrinkled hide. Before she could give it another thought, she ran down the face and to the end of Elephant’s trunk…

…and bit. Hard.

Elephant’s shrill scream halted the furious arguing. Mouse was quite certain everyone present stopped breathing—she certainly had.

“Aiyee! It’s a mouse! Save me!”

Elephant careened to and fro, nearly trampling tender young saplings and knocking others out of her path. Mouse clung to her position, teeth clamped on for dear life.

Finally, Elephant stopped. Her wide body heaved for air in massive pants.

“Why do you terrorize me so?” she shrieked. “Why the torment?”

Mouse was suddenly afraid to speak, as she didn’t want to fall and be crushed. So it was that her morsel of wisdom was lost to the chaotic arrival of the Technicals.

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