Challege 12: Themed Challenge

[IsabellaRose]

The Challenge

Write a short story (max 2,000 words) set in a "-punk" genre like steampunk, cyberpunk, dieselpunk, biopunk, bugpunk, resistorpunk, nanopunk, clockpunk, etc. that is focused on either:
1. the invention that sets your world on the path to being the "-punk" world it is OR
2. an everyday use of the genre-defining technology by someone who simply accepts it as normal.

Post your story as a reply in this thread. Please limit this thread to entries for this challenge. If you have questions or comments, please post them in the Discussion thread.

I'll post a poll to vote for winners after the deadline. 

Deadline

Midnight (EST) Saturday, Dec 03, 2022

Limits

1 entry per person

2,000 words max per entry

Prizes

1st Place: 2,000 EcchiCredits

2nd Place: 1,000 EcchiCredits

3rd Place: 500 EcchiCredits

[Gangsta Moll Deactivated]

Uncertainty

It was typical of Laetitia to make a theatrical show of it.

The stage dressed as if for a gala performance: the tables set with glittering crystal glasses, silver service; the long buffet tables groaning with exquisitely presented food. The only concession to Science is the Portal - and even that has a frame of glittering silver so that it looks more like a mirror than the engineering marvel that it is - though now its mirror clarity is gone, shut off, and only its dull grey real surface gleams softly in the chandelier lights. 

Typical also of Laetitia to steal the glory for herself.

To be fair, in many ways it was her project: she who raised the funding, courted the rich and famous and powerful to support the huge expense and years of work; she who provided this glorious setting, the mansion high on the cliffs, the laboratories hidden in stable blocks and outhouses; and she who managed all this through successive changes, of governments and markets and crises. But the maths was mine - and the idea too.

The idea was simple: the maths less so, the engineering even more nearly impossible. It is in my head now, all of it - the maths turns and twists like multidimensional geometric shapes that shift and move and mesmerise with their clear cruel beauty. And I see the flaw in it: the human dimension, the unpredictable, that I being me was most prone to ignore, to forget - to be in fact, because I am me, unaware of.

To see a world without observers.

That's all it was - a speculation, a wondering.

A quantum world, without observers to collapse the quantum uncertainty wave functions and make anything concrete and real. All the possibilities, just co-existing: none crystallised, none chosen into being by the act of an observer.

I had to explain it to her, of course. How the world - our world - is at its heart uncertain - wave functions, mathematical entities, that can shape and form the way the world is and how it behaves - but do not do so unless and until an observer observes. No-one knew what an 'observer' was: but we did know, and experiment demonstrated, over and over again, that unless and until an observer observed - and yes, it seemed necessarily a human observer, observing being intrinsically a special thing that humans do - until they observed, all the possibilities co-existed, a fog of uncertainty, a mist of possibility. But once observed, all the possibilities collapse, with just one out of all chosen - crystallised - to become concrete, real, the world as we know it.

Our world - their world, I remind myself, sorrowfully - was so teeming with observers that everything was concrete - every hill, every river, every star, every cloud, all crystallised into concrete crystal clear reality by the ever-prsent human tide of observers.

And all I did was to wonder what it would be like to see a world without observer - to see the quantum realm, raw and wild, untrammelled, uncontrolled?

And so we did it.

We built the Portal.

It is so fresh in my mind, that vision through the Portal's mirror surface. Literally a mirror at first, because the world it showed was ours: every detail exactly reproduced - crystallised the moment before we energised the Portal - every single thing, just as it was: except, no people - no observers to collapse the wave functions. And then its slow divergence: the grey swirling mist around all that lacked concrete permanence, gradually swirling so that anything less than certain started to shimmer and fade and blur into the mist.

We designed the Portal as a window - a way to look into the quantum world: not a door, through which to enter it. But I think we were so taken with our project - so intoxicated by our own genius - that we forgot something.

Without observers, anything is possible: even the least probable, so long as it is not impossible, is possible. Tautology, yes, and circular, a spiral of uncertainty. And I forgot too that the Portal had two sides: one in the uncertain realm where anything was possible. Including that the Portal had a flaw - a flaw that was almost impossible in our world, and in fact impossible because we had worked with mathematical and engineering perfection. But without observers, in the realm of pure uncertainty, the Portal failed: it leaked, it was - accidentally - observed. The Portal was a window, not a door: but it is possible to open a window, and go through it. Somehow, someone observed the Portal, through its window, and that observation crystallised, in the uncertain quantum world, a Portal whose window was open.

Now I am here in the deserted glittering ballroom. Where I look, the grey mist crystallises to concrete reality. At the periphery of my vision, I am sometimes aware of a sort of coalescing - forming, from formlessness, to clarity. I have explored - the mansion, its grounds, right down to the clifftops overlooking the beach and the sea. 

Everything I have seen is real, now. Being me, I experimented - tested this new world - tried to control the crystalising reality, to choose from multiple possibilities - but I can't. I think perhaps I never could - I was, and am now, a passive observer, collapsing wave functions but with no choice - at the mercy of whatever happens, tossed on the waves of chance. The world I see - the world I create by observing - is the world that would be, without me: the most probable world, the world of pure chance. Things happen to me, and I think I control them but I do not: it feels as if I do but I don't.

There are others - few, but some. I have seen them, on the beach and on the far hillside: others, people - and things - somehow brought through the Portal as was I. I watched, through binoculars, at a distance: saw how the wave function collapsed into reality for them just as it does for me - but into unexpected and sometimes strange realities: their probabilities, not mine. Perhaps the Portal crossed many multiverses, brought many probabilities to this new uncertain world? Strange creatures, odd artefacts, unfamiliar landscapes.

And some are not passive.

Some can choose what becomes real: not consciously or knowingly - not yet, at least - but I watched them crystallise improbable realities, control what happened: even if that control was itself uncontrolled, chaotic, wild and mad: desires, perhaps - and sometimes evidently lusts - choosing the probabilities that  satisfied their own needs, selecting the reality that suited their desires.

To control fate is to be a sort of god. I wonder, perhaps, if in our world - my lost world - gods were so few and passives so many that the choice of the gods was swept away by the multitudes of us who collapsed the most probable, the least unexpected? And in earlier worlds, less populated, less observed, perhaps the gods - them - worked their magic more easily just because fewer passive observers - us - countered them with predictable normality?

Back here in the ballroom all is calm: predictable, normal, familiar. I have been here some hours now. Outside, just now, I caught the faint cries and howls and shouts in the distance, approaching. There are so few of 'us', and 'they' are running wild.

Edited November 19, 2022 by Gangsta Moll

[Elena Ichinomiya]

Ticking Away

Rudolph Astera Is sitting quietly inside the train. The loud engine sounds can be heard even from where the car he’s staying at. His eyes scanning every single words on the book he had on his hand, while his other “hand” is holding an envelope. The said envelope has black and gold ribbon attached on it, meaning that he was summoned by not just anyone but someone important than any nobility he know. As if to emphasize his anxiety, his “hand” whirling and ticking whenever he tapped the envelop. Putting his book aside, he decides to read the letter again.

“Dear Rudolph. Hope you are in healthy condition when reading this”

“Things wasn’t pretty here. And not just the air. Things seems run amok in the streets. People say vampire or even the ripper! But anyway, I’m not sending you this letter to make you worry. But rather about the project we talked about last Summer. Remember Project Magnolia? That very same one where you want me to build the shell design. Its already finished. But for the finishing touch, we need your “hand” to do that. I try to make that large contraption works but it’s no use. The only part that make it tick is inside your “hand”, I can’t do a thing when it comes down to that. I’m an inventor, not alchemist”

“The sooner you come here the better. But I guess I’m stating the obvious since I know you probably come running right now. Be safe my friend, many train accident as of late”

“Kind Regards, Macias Neuer”

Rudolph sighed and put the letter back inside the envelope. The project he envisions is about to reach its final state. He should be happy as an inventor, but for some reason, it didn’t excite him at all. Project Magnolia. Perhaps the first project where the world introduced to the first living doll in human shape. It might be nothing but a tin can assistant most people use to ease their workload. This one doesn’t made from metal but porcelain doll. And certainly, it doesn’t always spill an oil or overheat when it works far too long. But the best of all is…it can talk. In fact, that’s where his concern is. He knows the project would run smoothly, he knows his friend Macias won’t let him down. But he put gamble on that because voice is not something that can be made through machinery. It could end up with whirling sounds of gear, or worst, grinding gears. Who knows making just one human function that always used every single day would be difficult?

His train of thought stopped when the door slid open. A similar whirl and clanking metal can be heard as a mechanized arms push the door open wide. It’s a woman. Probably same age as Rudolph. She has long blonde hair, almost golden even, a matching dress colour along with her little top hat, and her shiny gold mechanized arms. But unlike Rudolph, she had one each that goes from her hand up to her elbow. It seems she’s a passenger from the previous station where the train make its brief stop.

Rudolph tip his hat as the girl show curtsy as they greet each other. He didn’t mind her presence as he focusses back on his book again. The rumbling train and the ticking and whirl of their arms fill the air. It might be just prosthetic arm for people outside Audia. But for the native of this region, it was a symbol to determine who they are. The fact that Rudolph had steel type while the girl has gold type, it shows that Rudolph is a working class commoner while the girl hail from nobility. His ears also pick up the sounds of mechanized arms. It was well tuned and not as loud as his own. Each shape of the fingers is nicely decorated unlike Rudolph who had sharp pointy tip for his fingers.

“I’m sorry, does my arms distract your focus?” she speaks up. Rudolph shake his head and tell her how quiet her arm mechanism is. He later reveals that he works in the workshop where he fix any type of mechanized arms like they had, which is why it make him curious why she had her model run quietly while Rudolph ticking arms sounds like an old grandfather clock.

“Perhaps its related to our mood? My relatives said our arms tend to fail to hide our emotion which can be troubling if you work as trader” she told him. Emotion? Is that it? He never considers human emotion would affect mechanism. This is new to him. But that can’t be true also since the girl said it’s the words from her relatives. So he asks if her relatives were inventor like him, which she said no. “It’s still fascinating though. If it were true…then maybe you need to relax good sir” she told him.

Relax? Well, he does feel anxious. His project possible failure keeping his mind occupied that he forgot to calm down. He keeps thinking about the failure but not the plan B. For inventor like him, failure is part of the job, its normal. What make inventor truly shine is how they scrap their failed project and find out what make it tick and don’t. That’s the real pride of every inventor. Sir Eugen Douwes Stegen also had a lot of ridicule for his invention making the tin man that keep failing on him on every convention he attends. Yet his invention now are used worldwide and acknowledged as one step of human evolution, a defining creation of this era.

And yet knowing that…his mind still on the cloud. What would the plan B going to be? Scrapping the project? Burn even more money to get the resource? He can’t tell.

“Sir, your arm just sparks some fire” the girl warns him. He apologizes for the unsightly manner he shows and try to keep it quiet. But it’s not easy as he thought will be. Normally a mere tap and tweak would do the job. But it didn’t work this time. The embarrassment begins to build up knowing the blonde lady probably see him as amateur inventor who brag his skill seconds ago turn out to be all talk. Before he swore any language however, he felt another pair of hand holding his metallic arms. “Calm down sir, you might break it” she told her with assuring smile. Rudolph see his hand being hold with both of the girl metallic arms. The whirling noise of her arms still quiet as ever unlike his. The fascination turns into curiosity as he checks every compartment of her arms. It was designed differently and every part was placed in a way that won’t make it unsightly to see. The ticking sounds however, is what catching his interest.

It’s as if it was modified to tick with every beating of the girl heart. Compared to his own, it seems his arms mirrored just that. His heart beating fast and so is his mechanism ticking noise. He hates to admit it but perhaps the girl has a point. He takes a deep breath, his eyes still locked to his and her arms that still hold it firm. A minutes passed, and he find his arms ticking calmly.

“There you go” the girl smiled as she let go of his hand. But Rudolph grab her hand again out of blue. “Umm…sir?” she seems demand an answer for his sudden outburst. He doesn’t know how to put this, so he just told her…

“I want to match the ticking noise to yours…” he told her.

The girl went quiet before giving a nod. “Glad to be your assistance, Sir Inventor”

“It’s Rudolph. Pardon me for giving you cold shoulder instead of introducing myself earlier. Lots of things occupied my mind right now” he told her.

“If you wouldn’t mind me asking, what was that book you just read?”

“It’s a journal of sort. Inventor tend to forgot things include their own lunch break”

“Oh, do tell…”

They end up with a line of conversation that, perhaps only Rudolph, seems to forgot that he still holding the girl arm. So much so that he didn’t notice that his arms no longer acting up. It was then when he about to get the book for the girl, he accidently pulling her also. He quickly apologizes, finally realizing that he had been holding the girl arms for the rest of conversation.

“Would you hear that?”

Rudolph tilt his head confused. What does she mean? He thought. That’s when he realizes the car only filled with just one noise beside the train. It was subtle, but it’s there. Their arms, ticking together in the same rhythm. It fascinates Rudolph so much that he smiled at the sight. He always thought when someone arms were acting up, its because of faulty built. Perhaps it was more than just a show off title for everyone to see. They sit down and listen to the ticking noises, sometimes distract themselves looking elsewhere since staring people in silence was considered rude. Yet they had smile on their face.

But unfortunately, every moment, be it good or bad, will always come to an end. Once the train reach another station, that’s where Rudolph destination is. He tip his hat again to the lady as he make his leave. Once he come out from the train, he was greeted with a tin man inspector. It was there to see if he wasn’t a straggler who hitched on the train in the middle of the road. It leaves Rudolph alone afterward with heavy step and loud clank.

He takes a deep breath. Somehow he felt…hollow? Sad? No, that wasn’t it. If it is, he could tell why. And then he realizes the ticking noise of his arms is…slower. Why? He already checks it before he departs, it should be on its top shape even after long travel. He shrugs and decide to think about it later. Until he passes the car where he was staying previously. The blonde lady seems to be going for the next station. She gives a slight nod and smile when their eyes meet again, In which Rudolph reply with a tipping his hat and bow. At the same time, the loud train whistle followed with the shouting of the train conductor to every passenger who board the train to hurry as the train will depart soon.

…That’s when he realizes…he doesn’t know her name.

The steam train begin to move away from the station. However, Rudolph eyes still fixated on the lady who seems confused why he looking at her as if he forgot something. Out of blue, the young inventor drops his heavy suitcases and run to the car window where the blonde girl is. He follows along the slowly moving train, his mechanized arm placed on the mirror. The girl follows the gesture by placing one of her hand exactly where he put his own at the mirror. Even with the noise of the surrounding, Rudolph can still hear their synchronized ticking noises of their arms. His step become faster, almost running as the train start to pick up the pace…until he can’t chase it anymore and see it goes to the distance toward next station.

He looks at his arm; its ticking noise mirror his disappointment as it ticks slower than before.

He went back to where he drops his suitcases, checking if something is missing and head to the exit.

While hoping deep down, that they will meet again when he aboard the train back home after his business here is done so he can thank her properly for her assistance. And to know her name, which probably become his biggest curiosity over his own project.

Edited Monday at 06:34 PM by Elena Ichinomiya

[Durendal]

A Steamy Weekend

Theodore felt distraught. What day was it now? Thursday? Friday? Soliday? He wasn't even sure if the last one was a day. He was pretty sure it wasn't, but, there was some nagging doubt in the back of his mind. After all, it had now been months without a breakthrough. His last "revolutionary contraption" wasn't all too exciting either- a spring-loaded toy that always stayed upright, despite the short hops and bounces it could perform. The proceeds from selling it allowed him to keep trying to strike upon a new, great idea, but he wasn't all too happy with the fact his name was associated with such a silly little object.

Bringing down his goggles to cover his eyes, Theodore gripped his trusty mallet in his callous-covered right hand, beginning to strike a sheet of brass into his desired shape. As he worked, each rhythmic clang and bash formed the backdrop to his thoughts- his daydreaming, to be specific.

In his mind, he pictured himself atop some sort of glorious creation- a large contraption that would enable a person to be transported from place to place, at speeds hitherto undreamt of. An invention that could outpace a horse- perhaps even a bird! Theodore dreamt of the day he could ride upon such a creation, one that he would obviously have been responsible for creating while being applauded for his genius. Flowers would be thrown unto him, coins tossed to him. Each coin plinked off of his metal chariot- its noise alarmingly similar to the sound of a distracted inventor hammering away at a fragile brass plate that was on the cusp of breaking.

...Shit. When Theodore finally snapped back to reality, so too did the brass sheet before him. That is, it snapped. With a sigh, Theodore swept the now ruined metal off of his workbench. Looking down at them, Theodore saw the wasted resource sitting in a puddle of water he had carelessly spilled earlier that day. He squinted his eyes. Would this be the key to a breakthrough? Would its shape in the water be the missing piece of a puzzle?

After spending a shamefully long time pondering this, he shook his head. It wasn't useful. At all. He looked out of his window, hoping something out there might be more inspirational. Looking across the sea of stovepipe hats and pocket watches, the clusters of women in their corsets and excessively frilly dresses, he struggled to find something that would spark his imagination.

But- there was something. Ever so briefly while gazing outside, Theodore saw his own reflection. The face of someone struggling, someone who was desperate for fulfillment. He wondered if this face wasn't just conveying a need for stimuli, but if it wasn't also a face that screamed boredom. The visage of someone who was desperate for something to do. He didn't want to believe that his research and tinkering failed to fulfill him, but... there was something to be said about how bored he was of the same four walls he stared at, day in and day out.

This thought formed the basis for his latest invention. A remedy to boredom! Not only that but, a creation that could go hand in hand with his earlier thoughts about something one could ride for the sake of transport. Of course.. thinking about these issues intertwined, the solution was so, so obvious!

For the next few days, his workshop was ablaze with the sounds of industry. Hammer blows rung out, hand crank drills were used to the point of them becoming blunt and his wrenches became frightfully bent out of shape. Throughout Thursday, Friday, even Soliday- Samuday- Saturday? Saturday. Throughout all those days, some of which Theodore still couldn't focus on the exact names of, he toiled away.

By the end of the week, his creation was done. It looked similar to his outdoor wood storage shed- a semi-cylindrical chunk of metal. From its rear, a hooded pipe extended outwards, a dispersion system for the waste output of this creation. To its left, a woven wire cord tipped with a triangular handle, a part of the invention instrumental in priming it for use.

On its front-facing side, perhaps the most important section was present- a funnel leading into the complex innards of the invention. Into this, water would be poured. Once the cord was pulled with sufficient force, a small boiler within the invention would spring into action, heating the water at an alarmingly fast speed. From this, the water would soon be boiled away, leaving the desired result behind- steam! Theodore had crafted the innards of this brass beast to direct the steam into a narrow tube, so that the hot gas could be used to simultaneously rotate a wheel and push upon a piston, causing it to be driven back and forth.

Through a dizzying number of gears, cogs, pulleys, and parts that Theodore had yet to find a suitable name for (The current leading contender was "Chumble Cranks". He was not at all set on it.) the machine was able to translate the boiling steam into kinetic energy. The inner workings caused incredible rumblings and vibrations. The whole invention practically shook when in use, constantly emitting a pleasant hum.

Through the rearmost tube, the excess steam was piped out, causing whoever was riding the invention to be warmed. A pleasant side effect, thought Theodore.

But, that was just the side effect. Sitting himself down on the invention, simultaneously pouring a beaker full of water into the front funnel, Theodore was excited to test out its main use. Of course, he kept true to his original idea, something one could ride, an invention that would transport its rider and remove any degree of boredom within them.

Who would have guessed the place it transported them to would be the highest heights of pleasure? Pulling the ripcord, the invention lurched into action. It shook, quaked, and tremored with intensity. Immediately, Theodore felt his entire lower body be flooded with excitement, the vibrations flooding through him, the stimulations crashing upon him like waves on a beach.

While still shuddering atop his invention, Theodore cried out to the world, staking his claim on what he believed was his magnum opus. "Y-Y-Yesss! This is iiiit! After todayyy... everyone w-will know the... haaah.... name of meeee... Theodore Sybian!"

After enjoying the rest of his afternoon, Theodore pondered what may come next. After all, he had. He considered inviting Mary to enjoy the creation. He even briefly entertained the thought of somehow utilising the technology within it to create something more true to his original idea, a vehicle of sorts.

Perhaps another time. For now, he wondered how the experience may be enhanced by creating a varied, textured saddle that could rest upon the top of the machine.