Sunday Story Time: Historia de Filia ex Machinis

Part One – The Ascent

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As she neared the top, her arms started giving way. She was forced to rely heavily on the contraption that was strapped to each of her limbs. With each puff of steam the hand which had been unscrewed from the wall was raised, and bolted on again. After each set was completed a mechanical arm extended past her right shoulder and drilled a Puresteel spike into the face of the wall. The machine hissed and puffed as it went along, venting steam into the night, slowly bringing her closer to the top.
The edge came closer and closer with each pull. She had to carefully guide her hands and feet to cleanly touch the wall each time. She was near the top, perhaps four or five more pulls.

A puff of steam sounded, pffffffffff PINK! The compressor hitting the bottom of a cylinder. Perhaps that one had not been filled as much as the others. She lifted her free hand, stretched as far above her head as she could. The weighted supports fought against exhaustion. She pressed the flat of her hand to the wall as pure steel screws drilled into the rock.
TsssssssPINK! Another canister down. The top was just out of reach.
The machine ticked, restarting the cycle. The mechanical arm near her head didn’t fire. This must have been a fail-safe to prioritize the last bit of power. Her foot unscrewed, and she lifted it as high as possible realizing it was unlikely she would get another chance to move it before the top. Her right hand unscrewed and she shoved upwards, placing her hand just below the rim, she could feel the edge with her fingertips. The bolts hit home, and a familiar PINK! sounded. And all went silent.
Roslyn clung to the face of the building like as splayed frog while the night around her deepened.

Moments passed while she tried to think herself out of the predicament. She would have to release the suit partially, freeing her limbs one at a time. Problem was the release locks on her hands were designed for fingers. The idea was that the operator would have at least one free hand – which she no longer had. Something she could have avoided if she hadn’t panicked. If she hadn’t guided her left hand to the wall, and rather let the screws drill into the air, things might be simpler.

She realized that she had two options: hang here until starvation set in, or force teeth to suffice where fingers were better suited. It was not a difficult choice. ‘Soft iron’ scraped her molars as she tried to find purchase on the left hand release-lock. She could grab it, but the twist motion which came easy to a wrist was not so simply repeated by a neck. She kept wrenching her teeth off the latch as she tried to turn it. She changed tactic. She twisted her head and pressed the right hand side of her face onto the left-hand casing. Her face mashed against the metal, and molar-scraping ensued but she found purchase.
Five years’ worth of wear and tear paid off as she was rewarded with a small turn. She reset and repeated, tugging for all she was worth. It moved again, it was close. She grabbed it again, suppressing a hysterical chuckle as she suddenly thought how ridiculous she must look. She pressed into the upwards-nod. And with a squeak and a grind that surely took the eating surfaces of her teeth with it, her hand came free. Almost. She just had to open the forearm clasp to release her arm enough to reach the shoulder bolt. This one was much easier. Roslyn bit down and tugged the latch sideways. She only paid a fraction of the enamel cost for this one; the latch slid open on the first try. Next the shoulder bolt. Now that she could use her fingers, this unlocked easily.

Roslyn heaved a sigh of relief. She had freed a quarter of her body. With her free hand she rummaged in her belt, fingers closing around a small canister. It was usually used to power much smaller devices, but it would have to do. She reached behind her, cast off one of the depleted canisters, and then yanked the smaller one from her belt, plugging it in with an expertise that came with a lifetime of use. The contraption shuddered, creaking and hissing to life as it was filled with compressed steam.

The unshackled left arm supports hanging by her side bashed uselessly against the wall as the machine attempted to climb. Next, her right foot came free. With a lurch she surged upwards, fully extending her left leg and throwing her free arm over the edge. She hung there, clinging tightly, feeling the weight of the pack trying to drag her back off. At the same time she rotated her free leg, twisting against the restraints with hip and waist, angling her foot into the air as bolts wound themselves uselessly into the night.

A dull pfffshhhpfff and suddenly she had to dodge her own right arm as it was forced to move. The steel bracers skittered across the granite surface tiles of the roof-top. She watched as shiny steel bolts unscrewed, not three inches from her face. Next came the spike. Roslyn took a firm hold with her elbows, and readied herself, resting more of her weight on the single set of screws still bored into the face of the wall. That Puresteel had better be worth its cost.
A gentle hiss announced it, and she grabbed the shaft as it extended over her shoulder. She guided it downwards so that it could drill a spike into the rooftop. Quickly, all sense of holding forgotten, Roslyn scrabbled at her belt with her free hand. The pack ticked ominously in the night. She gritted her teeth and pushed onto the wall with all the strength her one leg could muster. Her fingers brushed their target object, and grabbed automatically.

She yanked the clasp free bringing a good deal of cable with it. She slammed the catch around the spike now jutting out of the roof, as she heard a hiss and the bolts securing her left foot retracted. A moment’s stillness that lasted a lifetime. Suddenly, she was dragged helplessly off the edge.

Roslyn plummeted into the abyss.

The cord snapped tight and Roslyn slammed back-first into the face of the building with a crunch. She dangled in the air like a stunned, half-mechanical spider. The winch at her harness belt was not going to be enough to lift her and the pack. It was sheer luck it had been strong enough to arrest such a drop at all. Best not to push it.

There was only one thing for it. Roslyn quickly freed her right arm, and doubled over in mid-air, stretching for her feet. The locks came away easily, the contraption now hanging limply from the harness, jarring between her and the wall. Panting, with sweat running down her face and into her eyes, she dangled there for a moment, savoring the fresh night air, and being able to move freely her limbs for the first time in an hour and a half. Hanging upside down, at an odd angle, blood pounding in her ears, she stared up, between her feet, at the stars. As she looked out into the unknowable universe, she said a quick prayer for anyone who might be far below her. Both her hands snapped up, palms first, hitting the harness release catches near her shoulders. The pack and its insect like arms fell away, turning silently as it dropped.

With the pack jettisoned, and her center of gravity restored, Roslyn hung normally. She shivered. Pins and needles traveled like a wave through her body. With basic survival out of the way for now, she felt the full weight of the exertion that she had just put her body through. She hit the switch on her belt winch and tried not to pass out as she ascended.

She finally reached the top. It took every last drop of energy that she had to haul herself over, but she managed. She lay on her back, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

“You shouldn’t be here, girl.”
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This is an experiment in collaborative writing. The story is formed by 'bouncing' parts between two writers. Which means no one is quite in control of where the story goes!! Its really challenging, and a lot of fun. Part 2 to follow soon...

DigitalPnut