The Unpredictable Machine
The Engineer stood in front of it, scratching his head. The Machine was a silent wall of dials and switches, cogs and levers.
"I'll be blowed," he said, "There'll be no figurin' it."
"Have you checked the plug?" asked the Boy. The Engineer turned and looked at him, then stared back at The Unpredictable Machine, mopping his brow with his cloth cap.
"Aye, it's a right puzzle. A right puzzle. It's almost like it's got a mind of its... hmmm... Tell you what - hand me a screwdriver; let's get a panel off, lad."
The Boy creaked open a rusty toolbox and rummaged around for a screwdriver. He hadn't long been an apprentice - just a few weeks out of school, which he had hated of course, and he had landed the job quite easily, when his mother marched him down to the factory and suggested it to the Engineer. It had already been an experience, fixing a printing press, an old weaver's loom and the electrical wiring on a boiler. This, however, seemed a bit more of a challenge. And the Engineer was stuck.
"Right," he said, jamming the screwdriver into the corner of a plate, "Let's see what tha's made of."
Neither of them heard the soft footsteps of the Owner as he slipped down the stone steps towards them. He stood behind the companions, silently watching them for a while.
The plate slid off and a bundle of coloured cables tumbled out. Something squeaked.
"I don't think that's where the problem lies," said the Owner suddenly.
The Engineer jumped.
"By God," he said, catching his breath. The Owner looked at him, trying to smile. There was a sort of familiar sadness in his bright blue eyes.
"The Machine is... not exactly predictable. It isn't subject to the rule of logic. It operates... differently," he said. He wrapped his velvet jacket a little tighter and fingered a bright brass button.
"Operates? Tha's seen more operation in't cemetery. 'Ow're we supposed to fix it?" said the Engineer.
"Ah."
"Ah?"
"Well, that, I um... I don't know. You see, I um... I think I may have... offended it."
The boy looked at the Engineer, who was momentarily stunned. The Owner was looking at his slippers as though fascinated by the movement of his own toes.
The old man returned his cap to his head, looked at the curious Owner, squared up the hat and simply said, "Come on, lad. We're off."
"No, wait!" cried the Owner, "you've got to help me! I need you to figure out what's wrong with..."
Just as the Engineer was about to firmly interject, pick up his toolbox and leave without a word, something really weird and unexpected happened. The Machine was suddenly alive.
It was purring. Then lights started flashing and there was a sound of cogs turning and crunching inside. The Engineer turned and watched, bewildered as it lit up. The Owner looked on seriously. The Boy watched.
"What... did you do?" said the Engineer, turning to his apprentice.
"Nothing!" he replied. The Machine grew louder. It sounded like a traction engine, pounding and grinding inside. The dials span and lights flashed as it churned. The cables hanging from the open port vibrated against the cold metal.
"Ah!" cried The Owner, delighted. "She lives!" He rushed over to one of the control panels and started pushing buttons. The Engineer, still clutching his toolbox in one hand, looked dumbfounded at the re-animated Machine.
"What... What's it do?" he said.
"What?" shouted the Owner over the noise.
"What's it DO?" shouted the Engineer.
"She... she's UNPREDICTABLE!" laughed The Owner, flicking levers and switches. "Ha! And she's beautiful, don't you think?" He slipped up the broken plate and bundled the mess of cables back into the port.
"Screwdriver!" he called as he slammed it into place. The Boy looked at him, then handed him the screwdriver the Engineer had dropped to the floor. The Owner carefully screwed the vibrating metal into the machine.
"Is he... a bit mad do you think?" the Boy said to the Engineer.
"Aye, lad, I reckon he is," replied the older man, "An unpredictable machine? Machines are anything but, mark my words. You can always figure 'em out, one way or t'other. And I'll tell you what's more, you can't offend 'em neither. This fella's loopy."
The Owner danced around the machine, squealing with joy as it popped and squeaked.
"Loopy," repeated the Engineer.
The Boy watched, still fascinated. The Owner was ignoring them completely now, leaping from panel to panel in a flurry of excitement. It was a bit like a dance - a kind of complicated routine with twirls and steps and lifts and holds. The Machine would flash a button high up to the right, and the Owner would leap, fingers outstretched to flick the switch. Then a low hum would rumble from the base as the Owner pushed a lever with his slipper-clad foot and the Machine purred. Slowly, the boy began to wonder who was operating what.
The Engineer was not so philosophical. He'd had enough. He beckoned the Boy to follow him up the steps and leave the lunatic and his unpredictable machine to it. The boy followed, dutifully.
"I've never seen 'like of it," said the older man, climbing into the van. He slammed the door shut and they drove home in silence.
Later, the Boy recounted the tale to his mother. She was washing up as he told her about the eccentric man and his unknowable machine that had bleeped into life and made him so unfeasibly happy. She smiled to herself as she sunk her hands into the warm soapy water.
"What do you think the Machine were for, love?" she asked him, looking at his reflection in the kitchen window.
"Baffled if I know," he said, munching on a hunk of bread. "It didn't really do nowt."
"Oh, I think it did," she replied. "Eat your soup love, your dad'll be in in a bit."
No comments:
Post a Comment