скачать книгу бесплатно
“What?” Diego asked. It was almost like Santiago was studying him. “Dad . . .”
“Sorry.” Santiago shook his head, like he was returning from a daydream. “You know what? On second thought, I tell you what: Why don’t we stop by the workshop before school?” He checked his watch. “There’s enough time if you eat fast. And then you can have that present now, after all.”
“Okay, cool.” Diego wolfed down his food.
“I’ll meet you at the front door,” Santiago said, gathering his belt and refilling his coffee mug.
Diego shoved in his last bites and jumped to his feet, still chewing.
“Bye, sweetie,” Siobhan said, kissing Diego’s head. “We’ll have cake tonight when you two get home.”
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
A Workshop of Wonders (#litres_trial_promo)
Diego and Santiago rode the elevator down to the workshop. The elevator clacked and shimmied, its gears grinding. Like so many things, it had once run on electricity, but the Time Collision had made the earth’s magnetic field violently unstable. As a result, virtually nothing electric worked. Some simple devices worked with the help of Elder fuses but only in limited capacity and only for short amounts of time. Limited use of old-fashioned telegraph devices was the only form of long-distance communication. Anything that had used circuit boards needed to be resurrected using steam, hydraulics, limited diesel, and manual labor. The work that Santiago had pioneered, mixing Steam-Time and Mid-Time technologies, had been the key to rebuilding the world safely. He had replaced this elevator’s smooth plastic buttons with brass ones that triggered little pistons, which in turn connected to gear works. The elevator lowered with a rhythmic pumping of steam compressors. Like most things in the city, it smelled of machine oil.
The elevator lurched and clanged to a stop, the doors grinding open.
As they did, Diego felt an odd sensation in his head. The world swam slightly, and there was a faint ringing in his ears. He put his hand against the wall to steady himself.
Santiago stepped out into the hall and glanced back at Diego.
“Diego, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just . . . I’m fine,” Diego said, following him out. He took a deep breath and felt normal again, but when he looked up, Santiago was still gazing at him oddly.
“Dad, what?”
Santiago shook his head. “You just looked green for a second. You sure you’re all right? It’s going to be a big job today. I’ll need your best effort.”
“It’s just driving a loader,” Diego said, walking beside Dad. “And I’m sure their steam converter is nowhere near as sophisticated as yours.”
“No,” Santiago agreed. “But its designer, George Emerson, is a tough nut to crack. Don’t take his attitude personally. He’s been here six months already, working on the retrofit, and the encounters I’ve had with him have been . . . less than pleasant. His son Georgie has been helping too, though, and he’s much nicer. Maybe you two will have something in common.”
“Maybe,” Diego said.
They walked down a high-ceilinged hall, their footsteps echoing on the long, warped boards.
“Hey, have you thought any more about what you want to do this summer?” Santiago asked.
“Nah,” Diego said. “I’m not sure yet.”
“Time’s getting short,” Dad said. “If you want to fly and service the planes with your mother at the air base, I’ll need to find an apprentice for the shop. And that will be hard, since I already have the best young engineer in New Chicago.”
Diego knew that if he looked up, he’d find Dad smiling proudly, so he kept his eyes on the floor. “I like working in the shop, Dad. It’s just . . .”
Santiago sighed. “I know. You love to fly. Besides, Mom should get a summer with you for once.” Santiago patted Diego’s shoulder. “She’s jealous of all the time we get together.”
“I could still come by in the evenings,” Diego said. “I mean, to check in on the robots and stuff.”
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem. I’d be glad for it. Whoever I find will no doubt need a lot of training.”
“Well, yeah, but then you’ll have someone around who can really help out, long term.”
Santiago shrugged. “Someone who will need things explained three times when you barely needed once.”
“That’s not true,” Diego said. “I wrecked that plasma torch last month, even though you showed me how to use it.”
“That plasma torch would be hard for even my most experienced men to operate.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
Santiago stopped and patted Diego’s shoulder. “It’s all right. I hear you. Flying sounds more exciting.”
Diego wasn’t sure that was what he was saying at all. And he hated this feeling that he was letting his father down, but also that Dad kept assuming Diego was a genius builder like he was. Actually, there was little chance he’d ever be the pilot that his mother was either. Both his parents cast tall shadows.
“You know working with Search and Rescue will be a lot more swabbing decks and windshields than flying patrols or performing rescues,” Dad said.
“I know.” Diego understood that what he most often pictured—spotting Aeternum scout ships, arcing through the air with his cannon rifles firing—was unrealistic for his summer.
A shrill bark echoed in the hallway.
“Hey, Daphne.” Diego bent, and the little orange-and-white Shiba Inu nearly jumped on his face. “Whoa, girl.” Diego wrestled the dog down and gave her a quick, furious scratch. “Nice to see you, too.”
He stopped at a large metal door on runners and twisted the big dials on its lock. The door hissed and began to grind open.
“Over here,” Santiago said. He stood by a large iron workbench, its faded red paint chipped and worn away. The sunlight bathed a black tarp covering something on the table.
“Now,” Santiago said, grinning like a kid. “Back to your birthday . . .” He whipped off the tarp.
There it was: a gravity board, the magnet-bottom boots, steam pack, and gloves beside it.
“Awesome,” Diego breathed. He gazed at the polished surface, at the fans and machinery. The design was so cool. Diego could barely keep himself from grabbing it and jumping headlong out the window.
“Oh,” he said. “Hey, you weren’t kidding . . . it’s not finished.”
“What do you mean, it’s nearly there . . . isn’t it?” Santiago asked, eyeing him.
Diego pointed to the board. “Well, the rear thruster and the mercury accelerator haven’t been installed yet.” It seemed obvious to Diego, but that was strange; he’d never really studied exactly how these boards worked. He’d been too concerned with how to fly them.
“I was going to finish it today and give it to you tonight,” Santiago said, stepping over to a bench by the wall. He returned with an armful of parts. “But maybe you should try to finish it yourself.” He placed the parts on the table.
“Me?” Diego said. “But I’ve never worked on one of these.”
“I think it will be different today.”
“Dad—”
“Diego. Try.” Santiago’s hand fell on his shoulder. “I want you to place your hands on the engine components and close your eyes.”
Diego glanced at his dad.
Santiago nodded at the parts. “I’m serious. Go ahead.”
Diego shrugged. “Okay . . . but this would probably go a lot faster if you did it.” He placed his hands over the cool metal pieces and closed his eyes.
“Now, try to see how the engine should be put together in your mind.”
“But I have no idea how—”
“Just try.”
Diego almost pointed out that birthday presents were a lot less fun when they were tests. Also, what if he couldn’t do it? He wanted to fly this thing today!
But even as he was wondering this, a strange thing began to happen in Diego’s mind. He saw flashes . . . images of the parts. Not just the parts, but how they fit together. It happened in bursts of white light against darkness. He focused on two pieces and saw them connect. Two more, now three. And not only that, he sensed their relationships, how the different pieces functioned together, how each gear, each material had a purpose.
Distantly, he felt his muscles working, his hands and arms moving, following the images in his mind. He lined up pieces, grabbed a screwdriver from the far end of the table, made a connection. . . .
It was like watching a movie about how to put the parts together, except that movie was playing inside his mind, almost like some part of him already knew. But how do I know this? he wondered.
The thought broke his concentration, and the images sank back into the darkness.
“Ow!” Diego felt a stinging sensation as he opened his eyes. He’d stabbed his thumb with the screwdriver. He hadn’t drawn blood, but there was a red indentation.
“What just happened?” Diego asked, looking up at Santiago. “I saw something, but I lost it.”
“Relax,” Santiago said, his voice nearly a whisper. “Concentrate on the pieces and try again. Clear your mind and think only about the build, and nothing else.”
Diego closed his eyes and focused harder. The flashes returned, showing him more. His hands moved faster, his brow starting to sweat. He finished the accelerator and moved to the motor, calibrated it, and finished the assembly.
I can’t believe this is happening, he thought. What is making this happen—
Just that simple thought seemed to snuff out the images again. Diego took a deep breath and concentrated again, but the images didn’t return. Come on. He tried to think of nothing else, to clear his mind and focus, but there were only distant impressions in the dark, like shapes through a fog.
Diego sighed and opened his eyes. “I lost it,” he said. The board was nearly complete. He stepped away from the bench, breathing hard. His brain felt stretched, his head tingly. He eyed the board. “Dad, what was that?”
“I’ll show you.” Santiago shut his eyes and reached to the parts. His fingers traced over the last small pieces, then fit them together to make a compression valve, which he placed in the motor. He flipped a switch, and the mercury accelerator purred to life. The board rose in front of them, hovering a foot off the table.
“How did you do that?”
“We did it,” Santiago said, “by seeing it and only it. There can be no other thoughts or feelings. Your total focus must be on the thing that you make.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Diego said, except it had made sense as it had been happening. “How is that possible?”
“First things first,” Santiago said. “Tell me this: Did you notice anything different about that engine as you were working?”
Diego was surprised to realize that he had. “You replaced the titanium mounts with destabilized aluminum alloy.”
“And why would I have done that?”
“Um . . . because it is lighter and more powerful,” Diego said. “So it will stay flexible under increased pressure without becoming brittle.” That made sense; Diego had heard his dad talk about things like alloy properties, but it wasn’t like he’d ever studied them.
“And that means . . . ?” Santiago probed.
“It means that I can make a near ninety-degree full-throttle turn while absorbing the violent vibrations that would normally tear the motor out.” Diego shook his head. “How do I . . . know all this? I’ve never even worked on a gravity board. I don’t—”
“But you do,” Santiago said. He put his arm around Diego. “You saw it, Diego, just like I knew you would. Because you are my son.”
“Dad, that doesn’t make sense.”
“But it does. There’s a reason why I can build the things I build, why I can see how to bring together the technologies of the different times in a way that very few can. I have a gift.”
“You’re really smart.”
“No, it’s more than that. I have a . . . power.”
“What, like a superpower?”
“Not exactly. But it is, was, unique to me.”
“Were you born with it?”
“No, it manifested in me after I came to this world. I was sixteen the first time I used it successfully; I was volunteering to help build a well for the Natives living in the western territories. The design I came up with, everyone claimed it was impossible. The Steam-Time engineers said it was a miracle or maybe witchcraft, but an old Algonquin shaman there called it something else . . . the Maker’s Sight.”
“A shaman,” Diego said, trying to fit all this into the nuts-and-bolts image he’d always had of his father. “The Maker’s Sight? And you’re the only one who has it?”
“Maybe not the only one. The shaman said that she’d seen this kind of thing before, but she wouldn’t speak of it further, except to warn me to keep the power secret. And I have, until today.”
“You knew I had it,” Diego said. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes, but not until today. Your mother and I always suspected that you might inherit the Sight, but we were never quite sure.”
Diego peered up at his father. “Why today?”
“I can’t say. But this morning at breakfast I saw these flashes of light in my mind that tingled and burned. They reminded me of how I experienced the Sight, but they weren’t quite the same. In between each flash, I saw the gravity board. I suspected that the power had come alive in you, but I couldn’t be sure until we came down here. When you first gazed at the unfinished gravity board, I could feel the Maker’s Sight in you . . . around you, coming off you in waves.”
“So are you saying that it, like, runs in our family?”
“Yes, but it begins with me. Or, more precisely, with the Time Collision. Before that, I was just a normal boy. The Sight is just another way that the world was made new.”
“And it lets you build things.”
“It shows me a series of images that allow me to make or fix anything. Like what you just experienced, but to use it at the level I do requires supreme concentration, and it takes years to master. I am not certain that this is what the power is for, or even the only way to use it, but this is what I have chosen to do with it. In the world after the Collision, building and fixing things seemed like the best way for me to help the world.”
“So,” Diego said, “what am I supposed to do with it?”
“I’m not sure. It may be the same, or it may have a different purpose that is unique to you. You will figure that out as your Sight grows.”
