Aeroparts Factory (3 page)

Two automatons stood waiting under the crane.
The empty chain swayed, waiting to be loaded. Martin told the metal
men to pick up the rafter that was to be done next. As the
automatons held up the large metal bulk, Martin climbed on it and
hooked the chain to it. Once on the floor again, he yelled "Going
up ten!" to the machine man on top of the crane. He saw the
automaton pull a lever. Slowly the chain was strained as the gears
rolled, and the rafter was hoisted up ten feet. That should be
enough. Martin looked around the paint pit, to make sure nobody was
watching him. Then he stepped back to what he considered a safe
distance. The rafter would come straight down, thirty feet would be
enough. After another look around, Martin swallowed hard. This was
it. "Drop, drop, drop!" Repeat the word three times, Sir Baldwin
had said.

For an eternal moment nothing seemed to happen.
It was as if the command had not reached the automaton, which was
uncanny. Usually it would respond to commands immediately, even
when he did not yell so loudly. As Martin was getting his nerves
together to yell again, the two automatons that had held the metal
part turned and came walking towards him. Martin frowned for a
moment. When the metal men were beside him they grabbed his arms
tightly. That was when he understood that something was going
wrong. "Hel-!" he tried. One of the automatons lashed out and broke
Martin's jaw. It changed his scream for help into a groan of pain
while he wondered how a machine man could move that fast before
consciousness faded away.

The metal men lifted Martin from his feet and
carried him to where he had been standing, under the rafter. On top
of the crane, the automaton moved an arm, pushing a lever. It
released the safety mechanism of the crane and the six ton rafter
came crashing down.

-=-=-

Sir Hillary Baldwin looked down at the smudgy
man who held his hat in his hands. The man had just told him that
everything had gone 'according to plan', which pleased him. "So you
are sure that the victim was terminally injured?" he asked to make
sure.

"Oh, yes sir," the motley, unshaven man said,
"dead as can be. No one survives a rafter falling on their head,
sir. The stuff that your alchemist gave me to pour into these
machine men worked perfectly. Was pretty damn high up there
though."

The gentleman in the black cloak nodded. "Very
well. I will have to take your word for it. Of course, you
understand that not a whisper of this must get out. It would be
very bad for business."

The sabotaging spy, in his worn coat and paint
stained trousers, nodded. "I know, sir. No one's going to hear
nothing from me, sir."

"You are quite right," said Sir Baldwin, "no one
will." He snipped a finger. A closet door opened. A huge automaton,
painted black, stepped out of it.

"What's that, sir?" the spy asked as he saw the
long hollow tube that was mounted instead of a regular left forearm
of the machine man.

"It is, let us say, our insurance for silence,"
Sir Baldwin said. He had stepped to the far end of the room and
watched with interest how the black automaton grabbed the ragged
man by the throat and lifted him up. The hollow tube on the
automaton's left arm started revolving at high speed, and the
screams of the man in his right hand ended quickly as the tube went
into the man's chest and emerged from his back.

"Crude but adequate," the gentleman nodded as
the dead body dropped to the floor. The automaton stood in silence,
the tube coming to a stop. The high speed of it had almost cleaned
it of all the blood from it, but a selection of bodily parts fell
from it to the floor as the machine man lowered his arms.
"Parker!'

A man came in quickly. He had been waiting
outside the door. "Sir? Oh, I see. We'll take care of this,
sir."

"There's a good man," Sir Baldwin nodded
amiably. Parker was a good man, and that kind was hard to find.
"Make sure this one is found in a different part of town again,
Parker. It is time to pay a certain company a visit. And Parker, do
clean up this nastiness."

At Bromsky's, Ratty Matty was giving a lively
description of how they had found Martin. The odd bit that he
embellished did not make much difference. "There was blood
everywhere! It was so sick, you can't believe it. And two of the
automatons were crushed under the rafter also. I could see that one
of them held Martin by the arm, as if they had planned to kill
him!" A hush went through the pub.

Bromsky was not pleased. All this talk of dead
people brought angst on the table instead of drinks.

"Always thought there was something strange
about the fellow," a man with a grubby voice and ditto face said,
"remember how this fine bloke picked 'm up yesterday? Can't be
good." Several people nodded, to the annoyance of Matty and
Bass.

"He ain't never been bad, that Martin," Matty
objected. "He was a hard worker and a good soul, and now he's dead,
God rest his soul. The metal men killed him, honest to God."

After a while, the people at the table
dispersed, falling apart in small groups, discussing Martin Phelps
and his sudden demise, and other things of mutual interest. Matty
and Bass went for an ale and drank that to the memory of their
friend. They had another ale, and then yet another.

It was very late when Matty and Bass finally
stumbled out of Bromsky's.

-=-=-

"Gentlemen, I am very grateful that you agreed
to see me. The news of the accidents that have occured here have
reached me, and let me assure you that I feel very sad about this,"
Sir Baldwin addressed the board of AeroParts. "You may recall my
previous letters, in which I warned you that my company had
discovered flaws in the automatons that are operational in your
company. It may not come as a surprise, gentlemen, that your
company is not the only one who has suffered horrible accidents
like the ones you have faced. We know of at least three other
businesses that..."

The immaculately dressed man shook his head.
"Let me spare you the gruesome details, dear sirs. Two of the three
enterprises I am referring to have by now eliminated the faulty
automatons and replaced them by the models that my company has
presented to them. I do value your wisdom to allow me a
presentation of our best model. We call it our Autonomous
Mechanical Man mark 3, AMM3 in short."

Sir Baldwin looked to the side, where two men
stood, next to a large black metal man. "AMM3, approach." The black
automaton emitted a few clicking sounds, stood straight and walked
over to the person who had summoned him. The heavy footsteps made
the floor shudder.

Sir Baldwin, with the huge automaton looming
over him, turned to the group of men in front of him. "Feel free,
gentlemen, to step forward and examine our AMM3. And if you decide
to purchase this model, I am inclined to offer you a nice price.
Out of respect of the people who lost their lives..."

-=-=-

A rather thin man, wearing a black suit, opened
his big leather bag. The constable who had called for him was
talking to the ladies who had made the shocking discovery in the
park. The thin man opened the jacket of the man who had been pulled
from the lake. "This has to stop someday," he muttered as he put
his goggles on and examined the large gaping wound in the dead
man's chest. "Clean through. As was to be expected..."

###

About the author:

I am an IT consultant who loves reading and
writing.

I've been an amateur-author since years,
writing SciFi, Fantasy and lately also Steampunk. My home is in the
Netherlands.

I hope you liked my short steampunk story
"Aeroparts Factory".

If you want to connect with me online:

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