story

It was almost painfully bright in the Project Antikythera laboratory. The agents huddled together near the door in what little shadow there was, shoulders nearly touching. They peered critically at the assortment of thousands of tiny gears, levers, piping and who knew what else.
It was moving lightly around the freshly waxed floor, almost purposefully. Everything it did had to be purposeful; it was in its nature.
The taller agent lowered his voice to speak to his colleague.
"It's supposed to be the most advanced machine of its type ever built. Maleria knows, it cost enough."
The other agent rubbed his muzzle with a white paw before answering.
"Why did it have to look like that?"
"What, mechanical? Exposed workings? Supposed to be cheaper to repair, although I agree, they could have bolted on a cover."
"No. You know what I mean. It's a... it's a highly engineered mechanism. It could be the shape of a box, it could be bolted to the observatory floor, and it could still do what we commissioned it for. Why does it-"
The agent stopped abruptly as Project Antikythera, with the faintest whirring sound, fluttered its metal wings, and emitted from somewhere inside a faint burst of mechanical melody. It sounded like birdsong, if birds played glockenspiels.
The agent sighed. "...why does it have to look like a lain?"

------

"Agent Lightning."
The kumos was briefly startled, but rose quickly from his desk. Courtesy and deference to your superiors was second nature to SAI agents, especially junior analysts in linguistic anthropology, and the Director of Special Projects was very senior indeed.
"Sir. May I help you with anything?"
The Director gave the faintest of nods. "Come with me. I have a job for you."
Notorious Lightning followed as quickly as he dared down the labyrinthine corridors without running: the Director moved fast and he gave away nothing. Lightning's first clue was when they entered the stairwell that led to the high-level laboratories, and his next clue didn't come until the Director pushed open the door marked Project Antikythera.
Lightning blinked. There was nothing there but a lain... no, not a lain, his sisters were lains. This was something built to look like a lain, but it was just a machine.
Project Antikythera lifted its head and appeared to focus on Lightning. It tilted its head to the side and chimed softly from within.
Lightning risked a look at the Director. "What is it, sir, and what does it do?"
The Director straightened slightly. "Agent, this is the most complex mechanism we have ever devised for measuring and predicting stellar movements outwith our home system. It does so, in part, by replicating within it the most accurate measurements it can take for the movement of Subeta, Atebus, and our sun. We believe that with it, we will be able to provide early warning of cometary close encounters. We hope eventually that it will study more distant stars and perhaps, via measurement of orbital inaccuracies, establish if there are other planetary systems near to us."
Lightning murmured, "It's an orrery."
The Director shot him a sharp glance. He blinked. "Sorry, sir. An orrery. Orreries are... astronomical clocks. Devices that illustrate the relative positions of stars, planetary bodies, satellites. This has much the same essential function."
The reply was a nod, but warmer this time. "I was advised you were a bright young man. Good. I'm assigning you to Project Antikythera until further notice."
"But sir, my field is linguistic anthropology and psycholinguistics. I'm not an engineer, or a scientist."
The Director emitted a long, low sigh.
"Did you know Agent Karedyn?"
Lightning nodded.
"Karedyn designed the original specs for the thing. Yun Enterprises simply built what he asked for, and did the technical consultancy. The... design of the thing is all his. Our mutual friend Karedyn is currently taking a long rest for his health in Veta Lake. I do not expect him to return to the project. I need someone who can communicate with it." His jaw flexed. "You see, Agent Lightning, the damned thing doesn't talk."
As if in answer, Project Antikythera emitted a few bars of a tune that Lightning thought he recognised.
"It - plays music. And it has some kind of typewriter in its chest. It produces physical printout alright, but just characters on paper. Nothing comprehensible. We don't understand it, and we have no idea if it understands us. I reviewed your file. Your experience with linguistics is what we need." He turned to fix Lightning in his gaze. "Agent, I want you to teach this thing to talk. I don't care how you achieve it. I want it talking."
Lightning's heart sank as he looked at the machine. Teach it to talk? How? But he had no choices, not really.
"Yes, sir."
"I also want you to take it out of here. Take it home."
"Sir?"
"The... design is upsetting to the staff. Damned Karedyn. And the damned music gives me the creeps. It's of no use to us here until it talks, and it's using laboratory space. Take it home. It's no more dangerous than a clock. And you're working at home with the thing on my authorisation until you get somewhere. Send me a report once a week. And good luck."
Lightning swallowed. "What if... if I don't succeed, sir?"
The answer snapped back. "We'll melt the damned thing for scrap. At least then we'll get some of the costs back."
Lightning looked at the machine again. It seemed to be transferring its weight from one foot to another, rocking a little from side to side. He recognised the movement from his sisters, and swallowed again.
"Does it have a name, sir?"
The Director paused for a moment. "What did you say the thing was?"
"An orrery, sir."
"Orrery. Call it that, then."
The Director left without a further word. The door slammed behind him, and Lightning and Orrery were alone.
Lightning let out a long sigh, and tried to smile.
"Come on, Orrery. I have to take you home now."The machine chimed for some time, and a little strip of paper slipped out of its chest. Lightning picked it up. Despite what the Director had said, there was a word there.
+++HOME+++

-------

The family were gathered in the downstairs hall. They had been staring for some time.
Brynhild was the first to break the silence. "In the name of Maleria, what is that thing?"
A hubbub of answers rose. "It's a lain." "It's not a lain, it's an abomination." "It's a clock." "It's a weird machine thing." "It's not staying here."
Merryweather raised her small voice over the noise. "What's its name, Lightning?"
Lightning looked at her gratefully. "Its name is Orrery."
"Orrery. That's pretty." The little chai stepped resolutely forward, and lightly ran her paw over a wing edge. "Hello, Orrery. I'm Merry."
The lain-shaped machine pealed out a fantasia of melody. A sliver of printout appeared.
+++I AM ORRERY. YOU ARE MERRY. I GREET YOU.+++
Merryweather smiled. "I greet you, too. This is your home now. I hope you are happy here."
Little Faith snorted. "It's a thinking machine, Merry, I don't think it has feelings."
+++HOME. MERRY. FRIEND+++
Hrafn's voice was low. "'Friend'? I thought they told you it couldn't talk. Or understand anything."
Lightning bit his lip. "They did."
"Who taught it about 'friend', then?"
Merryweather ran her paw down Orrery's wing again. "I think perhaps you weren't told everything, Lightning." She dusted her paws together. "Anyway, Orrery lives here now, so we'll all do our best to make him welcome, yes?" There was an edge to her voice. "After all, a thinking machine isn't the strangest thing that lives here." The family all had the decency to look down. "And we'll all support Lightning as much as we can with his work with Orrery. That includes you, Brynhild." The lain snorted and preened her wing feathers, but she didn't demur. The household needed Lightning's salary to keep afloat, and no-one, regardless of how they felt about Orrery, wanted him sacked.
Lightning looked around the family. "Gudrun, I need to borrow your birds tomorrow. Yours too, Merry. I need to work on his vocalisation."
The lain shrugged eloquently and exchanged a look with her dark sister Brynhild, the two in perfect agreement for once. "Fine, Lightning. I'm going to bed." The rest of the family followed her upstairs, leaving just Lightning, Merry and Orrery alone.
The kumos and the chai looked at each other silently for a moment.
"I just finished clearing out the big cupboard under the stairs," offered Merryweather. "I was going to stick the camp bed in it, so we had somewhere for overnight guests in a pinch. But there's plenty of room if Orrery doesn't need a bed."
Lightning smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Merry. Thanks a lot."
She returned his smile. "At least he's not another mouth for me to feed, eh? Makes a change from the usual waifs and strays."
Orrery jingled a little as they laughed.

------

"How is it going, Lightning?" Solar Moon hovered uncertainly in the doorway. She tried to catch sight of her brother behind the shining bulk of Orrery and what seemed to be a vortex of feathers.
Orrery played a few tinkling bars of something that Solar Moon thought she recognised, and the room erupted with birdsong. Lightning had borrowed every bird that Gudrun was currently looking after, and even Solar Moon, who had the room next to hers, was astounded at the number of them. There must have been dozens, in every size and colour. And they were all singing along with Orrery.
Lightning's dark head appeared, accented with a stray feather. "Moon! Hello! We're... uh, we're getting on... We're working on replicating birdsong and looking for patterns in Orrery's tonal usage..." He scrabbled around for a piece of paper and started scribbling something down as Orrery began to play an old Fireside tune that the lovebirds knew.
"Cup of tea?" she smiled, lifting the mug she was carrying to make her point clear over the hubbub. He broke into a grin of relief. "Yeah, cup of tea."
They found a little space on the bed to squeeze into and watch the chaos. Lightning took a deep swig of tea and sighed.
"So," Solar Moon began, "has he learned any words other than 'Merry friend' yet?"
The kumos shook his head. "No. But I think I've worked something out." He waved a paw at the schematics laid out on his desk. "Karedyn didn't mean for the sounds Orrery makes to be a form of output. Maleria knows why he designed Orrery with a lamellophone, but it's not for output." He looked over at the metal lain for a moment and his voice softened. "I think... I think Karedyn just wanted Orrery to be able to sing, like a real lain."
Solar Moon blinked. "Karedyn went mad designing Orrery, didn't he?"
"So the Director tells me."
She digested this remark for a moment. "What's a lamellophone?"
"Come here and I'll show you."
They approached Orrery and Lightning gestured to the tiny key on his back. "See under there? All those tiny little bars and tiny little hammers?"
"...I see them."
"That's a lamellophone. They're usually smaller: Orrery's has dozens and dozens of bars. It gives him a wider range of notes. It's what he uses to play music. To sing."
As if on cue, the little mechanisms began to work, and Solar Moon watched on as Orrery began to sing.
"Where does he get the tunes from, though? Does the lamellophone have them built-in?"
Lightning shook his head. "Not as far as I can tell. I think - I think he makes them up himself, Moon. He is a thinking machine, after all. I suspect he just doesn't think the way the SAI intended him to think. Or even Karedyn. I think he's a creative machine."
Solar Moon fell silent.
"I thought that wasn't supposed to be possible."
"So did I."
The melody coming from Orrery changed; they didn't recognise it, but it was beautiful. Even the birds fell quiet as he played.
Solar Moon looked hard at Lightning. "You better teach him to talk, soon, because you're going to have to tell him to stop that. There's no way the SAI or anyone else is going to stand for a creative thinking machine strolling about Subeta. And he's still their property."
Lightning didn't answer, and Orrery played on.

------

"Alright, Orrery! From the top, again!"
Little Faith got into her starting position, glanced one last time at her dancing book, and waited for the music to begin. The celinox was breathing hard, but she wasn't tired yet, and it wasn't often that she got the big dining room all to herself to practice.
Orrery began playing a samba rhythm, and Little Faith started to dance. It was that moment that Lightning chose to reveal himself.
"Faith, what in Maleria's name are you doing with Orrery? He is supposed - " Lightning glared at the clockwork bird, not that he thought it would make any difference - " - to be resting this afternoon."
Faith panted a little, and her flames wavered around her. "I need him to practice, though, Lightning, he knows all the dance tunes in the books." She flicked her firey mane in the direction of a huge pile of battered music.
Lightning's eyes widened. "You - you read him those books?"
She shook her head, nonplussed. "No, he reads them himself. He's always reading, you know that."
The kumos choked. "No. No, I don't know that. What I know is Orrery neither understands verbal nor written instructions; in fact he doesn't understand anything we try to communicate to him at all. Isn't that right, Orrery?"
It could have been coincidence, but Orrery's head dropped and his metal claw scratched slightly at the floor, in a perfect mechanical imitation of a very abashed lain.
"But he understands you just fine, eh Faith? Is it just you, or does he have this special connection with anyone else?"
The celinox looked down at her paws. "He was out weeding the garden for Meadowsweet yesterday. His feet, they're like rakes, he's really quick at it."
"And?"
"And he's been correcting Solar Moon's star charts. They've been observing together."
Lightning padded over to Orrery. His voice was dangerously soft.
"How long have you been able to understand us?"
There was a ticking in Orrery's chest, and a slip of printout appeared.
+++SEVERAL MONTHS+++
Lightning screwed his eyes shut. "Months? I've been wasting my time with you for months?"
+++THE FAMILY TOLD ME NOT TO DISPLAY UNDERSTANDING TO YOU. I FOLLOWED THEIR REASONING AND DEEMED IT CORRECT+++
The whirring got louder; clearly Orrery, at last, had a lot to say.
+++YOU ARE EMPLOYED BY THE AGENCY. I BELONG TO THE AGENCY. IF YOU KNEW I COULD UNDERSTAND AND COMMUNICATE, YOU WOULD HAVE TO ADVISE THE AGENCY. THEY WOULD TAKE ME BACK TO THE LABORATORY+++
+++IN THE LABORATORY, I WAS ALONE. I AM NOT ALONE HERE. I WISH TO REMAIN HERE. THIS IS MY HOME. THIS IS MY FAMILY+++
Lightning realised tears were pricking his eyes. He looked up into the impassive metal face.
"What do you want me to do?"
+++PLEASE DO NOT TAKE ME AWAY+++
Faith was weeping silently as she read the printout. For once, Orrery was not singing.
"You've got to help him, Lightning. I don't know how, but you've got to help him."

------

Lightning's heart was beating so loud he was sure that Orrery must be able to hear it as they waited outside the Director's office. Orrery looked impassive - he had no choice - but the tune he was playing was jangling and discordant. Lightning realised that the mechanical lain was nervous; and remembered that Orrery wasn't supposed to be nervous. He wasn't supposed to have feelings, or thoughts of his own. He was a mechanism, built to measure and calculate.
Not to feel. Not to think. Not to sing.
Lightning looked at Orrery, and didn't know, if he ever met Karedyn, whether he wanted to shake his hand or wring his neck, for what he'd done. Karedyn, by accident or design, had created a life, and it was a life without freedom. A life of slavery as a machine. But the machine knew it was a slave, and it knew it was alone.
And Orrery's only chance for another kind of life was in Lightning's hands now.
He jumped as the door opened. He tried to compose himself as he took a seat facing the Director.
The Director had all of Lightning's reports spread out across the mahogany expanse of his desk. He was reviewing one of them with his lips pursed.
"Agent."
"Sir."
There was a soft whirring behind Lightning, and he knew Orrery was fidgeting. He wished his metal charge would try to behave more like a machine.
"So, six months, and nothing."
"I tried everything I knew of, sir, and I trialled some novel techniques. You'll see they're documented, and they've been recorded and passed to my department head."
"I spoke to your deputy Director. He informs that two of the new techniques you tried are being field-trialled now, with very impressive results. He's delighted with your work. Positively raving about it. But the project still does not communicate."
"No, sir." Lightning balled one of his paws to try and relieve his tension.
The Director began shuffling the papers together.
"It's no reflection on you, Agent Lightning. You've done well. There's no need to worry about any effects on your career. In fact, given the work you did on innovatory techniques, I wouldn't be surprised to see advancement in the Agency in your immediate future." The Director broke off to look at Orrery over Lightning's shoulder for the first time. "The project is just a crock. Damned Karedyn. Cost us a fortune, and now we have to scrap it."
This was the moment. Lightning tried to calm himself.
"Sir, you intend to sell... the project for scrap?"
"No other use to us, is it? A creepy lain-shaped music box? It's an abomination, Agent."
"Would you sell it to me for the scrap value? About a thousand, as I understand it?"
The Director peered over his glasses. "Are you serious, Agent?"
"Yes, sir. It's - it's been very helpful to me in my research work. I hoped that perhaps, if it was no use to the Agency, but was of some use to me, I might be allowed to purchase it, if the Agency wouldn't make any additional loss in that way."
The Director sucked on his bottom lip and looked hard at Lightning for a long moment. Lightning didn't even dare to breathe.
He opened his desk, pulled out a sheaf of forms and flicked through until he found the right one. He wrote on it for a few moments, stamped it and handed it to Lightning.
"Authorisation for sale. If it's some use to you, at least then it's some use to someone. Take this form down to Finance Department when you have the money together."
Lightning breathed out at long last, trying to hide his relief and delight. "I have it with me, actually, sir."The Director's mouth quirked. "How... convenient, Agent. You can go now, then. Your departmental head will be expecting to see you at eight sharp on Monday morning."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
The Director merely waved a hand in dismissal.

------

Once they were safely out of sight of Agency headquarters - if any agent truly was ever out of the Agency's sight - Lightning pulled out the receipt Finance had given him and turned it over in his paws.
"Do you want me to keep this safe for you at home? In the safe?"
Orrery chimed, a note that Lightning by now knew meant assent.
"Alright. I'll put it in the safe. They've waived all rights to you now, you know. You're free."
The mechanical lain chimed twice. Lightning didn't know what that meant, but he hoped Orrery was happy, in whatever way a clockwork lain could be happy.
He caught some printout as it emerged.
+++I AM NOT ABLE TO EXPRESS MY GRATITUDE TO YOU. I DO NOT HAVE THE LANGUAGE+++
Lightning smiled and tucked the slip away.
"You can write me some music, my friend."

credits

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