Shadiverse Tourney Submission: Discovery Steampunk

[Aspiring Writer]

Well, it's been a while since I have done anything here. Since I'm visiting, I decided to post recent work for all of you. It a small thing for a Flash Fiction Tourney on Discord, so I shouldn't have any problems sharing it. The goal was Discovery Steampunk and we were limited to no more than 2k words. The votes are still coming in, but for the time being, I am winning. Huzzah! And yes, this is on Shadiversity's Discord. Enjoy, and pls ignore the formatting issues, i can;t fix that, it just happens when you paste it on here from docs. (Note, this actually did win the tourney, surprisingly.)

Spoiler

Simon awoke to her voice. His head was throbbing at the temples, his body sore all over, but that voice brought him out of his stupor. He pushed himself up with a groan, feeling like he had been hit by a truck.

In the corner of the room was Star, in her normal jacket and jeans, talking to herself as she stared out the window. Her short green hair made her easy to recognize, though it looked more brown in the orange light of the window

He smiled, familiar enough with Star’s sleeping troubles to not bother her. His expression fell, however, when he realized they weren’t in their room at the Bronze Hotel. He laid on a one-person bed, a side table with a bunch of gears and tools next to him. Besides that, the room was sparse, with a neglected stool in the corner and a mirror hanging off the far wall.

“Star? Where are we?” he called out.

Star whirled around, her purple eyes shimmering even in the poorly lit room. The look she gave him made his breath catch. Why did she look so relieved to see him, yet so afraid?

She ran to him, hugging him before breaking into tears. He hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace. “Hey, hey, what happened? What’s this about?”

She managed to pry herself off him, wiping her tears away. “You don’t remember?”

Simon shook his head. “No. Did something happen when I was asleep, or…”

Star chewed her lip. “There was an explosion. At the workshop. You remember the workshop, right? You remember me?”

         Simon cupped her cheek with his left hand. “Of course, I remember. Nothing could make me forget. But, what explosion? What had happened?”

         Star smoothed her clothes, calming down. “It was the new employee. He was working on the generator we had received a few weeks ago, and he was having trouble. He had called you over to help, but before you reached him, it…” Her voice cracked. She splayed her hands out, mimicking an explosion.

         Simon’s brow furrowed.  “Is he…?”

         Star nodded. “He was right next to it. Nothing survived. We were lucky nobody else was near him at the time, but you… you were caught in the blast.”

         Simon cursed. He had hired the boy because he had shown promise. To die that young… he shook his head.

         “I already told his folks about the accident, and they seemed to take it well. They knew the risks when they allowed him to take the job.” She still looked nervous, as if waiting for something.

         “Is there something else?” he asked.

         Star pursed her lips, staring at his right arm for some reason. “Remember when I said you were caught in the blast?”

         He nodded. The event was still a blur to him, but he did recall laying on the ground, sirens approaching.

         “Well, you didn’t get out unscathed. We… had to give you some… replacements.” She nodded to his right arm.

         He lifted the arm and saw what she was referring to. From the bicep up, his arm had been replaced by a prosthetic. A bronze-alloyed one, by the shine of it, so it would be resistant to rusting.

Flexing it, he found he couldn’t feel his fingers clench and unclench. It was strange to see him control his own arm, but having no way to feel it moving, to feel it turning. He put his new hand against the wall, unable to feel to rough texture as he rubbed it with his thumb. He felt the wall with his real hand, just to see, noticing all the little bumps and cracks.

He brought his hands back, staring at them. His real one next to his bronze one. The prosthetic was of a much better design than most. There were very few gaps for objects to get stuck in, despite the numerous moving parts to get him maximum flexibility.

He counted them, and found there were six main parts that made up her arm; two each for the bicep and forearm, one for the elbow, and the hand being the last one, as well as the most complex.

The tinkerer inside him couldn’t help but be impressed by the quality. This would be expensive to get, especially on short notice…

“Star, how long was I out?”

“A week.”

That couldn’t be. The markups this kind of prosthetic would have would cost their entire workshop and more. To make this, they needed constant measurements and comparisons, to fit the pieces on him to see if it was comfortable once attached, to make sure the weight was properly balanced. How could they have afforded this?

The answer slowly dawned on him. “Did you make this?”

She nodded, staring down. He suddenly noticed that there were bags under her eyes. He thought that might’ve been from crying, but to make this in time… she must’ve not slept since the accident.

“It’s good,” he commented, hoping the compliment would make her feel better.

It didn’t. She seemed to be preparing for something, her posture tense, her hands clasped together tightly. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He slipped off the bed and noticed the second surprise. His feet were also prosthetic.

He was wearing shorts, so he could see where the prosthetics reached up to. The one on his right leg almost reached up to his knee, and the left one reached just over his ankle. They were made of the same bronze alloy as the arm, and fit perfectly. They even had toes that he could move, which was rare to find on feet prosthetics.

“How- How did you…?” He couldn’t finish the question, marveling at the craftsmanship. The toes just fit so perfectly. They were spaced just the right amount to not get in the way of each other, and they seemed to be the same size as their counterparts, which wasn’t easy to do.

“The rest of the workshop pitched in to get this done. We wanted to make sure they were comfortable…” She trailed off as he started balancing on one foot.

He immediately fell, landing on the wooden floor with a hard thud. Prosthetic feet weren’t good for balancing, but he had wanted to see how well it held together under his weight. Laughing, he got up and picked up a gear from the side table. He held it in his bronze hand and tried crushing it, getting it to bend under his strength. He giggled like a child, looking for something else to test. After a moment of hesitation, he punched the stone wall. 

A web of cracks spread from where his fist landed, and when he pulled his arm back, all of its motor functions were fine. There were some scratches on the knuckles, but no dents.

Star clasped her hands around his bronze one, trying to make him lower it. “Please, calm down. Breaking things aren’t going to help. We- we’re sorry.” She shook as she held her tears back, looking down as she spoke.

Simon cocked his head. “Why are you sorry?”

Star shook her head. “We-We tried our best to make them comfortable, so they wouldn’t bother you, but nothing could compare to what you had before. But- “

She cut off as he proceeded to let out a laugh. She looked up, finally met his eyes, confused. “Si?”

“Star, these prosthetics are amazing. I couldn’t have done better myself. You and everyone at the workshop have created a work of art! You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She blinked several times, staring at him in disbelief. “You like them?”

He lifted her up by the waist, spinning her around, careful not to hit her head against the roof. “I love them! How could I hate such skill? Such passion?”

She stammered, trying to respond. “Well, it’s common for patients that get prosthetics to reject them, so I assumed…”

He kissed her, cutting her off. “Your worries are appreciated, but unwarranted. I would never be mad for getting a second chance. Did you add any special features, like those new models?”

She shook her head, regaining her composure. “No, we wanted to focus on making it as functional compared to your regular arm as possible.”

“Shame,” he said while staring at the arm, thinking of all the adjustments he could add. “Maybe we could make attachments? That would allow us to make use of the convenience this allow us.”

“It would take some modification, but we could have it capable of taking attachments on the fingers and palm.” She glanced at him. “You’re taking this awfully well. You just found out you were in an accident, and now you’re dancing around like it’s the best day of your life.”

“I knew the risks of the profession as much as the boy’s parents. I knew this would likely happen one day, but to not just have it happen and live, but to get these afterward… I couldn’t have asked for anything more.” His smile broadened. “Why wouldn’t I feel like celebrating?”

Star raised an eyebrow, and then started laughing herself, shaking her head. “I should’ve known even this wouldn’t hamper your enthusiasm. You’re still the same as always.”

He shrugged. “I am who I am. So what potential issues are there with this design? I know the risk of getting something stuck inside, but what about things like maintenance?”

Her eyes twinkled, her own inner tinkerer showing through. “Well, actually, we have some ideas on how to keep things from getting to sensitive places, so that may not be an issue. Maintenance-wise, the elbow section might require some tuning occasionally…” she continued listing down things he would have to do to take care of his new prosthetics, including some potential solutions they were trying to come up with.

While she said all this, he kept testing the strength of his new arm on the gears and tools on the side table. He would reimburse whoever owned the place for the damages, but he couldn’t wait to test out what the arm could do.

This is going to be fun.

 

 

Edited June 22, 2021 by Aspiring Writer