“How did you get in here?” I whirled about to see a second silhouette, this time framed by light pouring in through the open doorway. “I...I must have become lost, I was just-”
“A likely story”, the woman’s voice snapped. I recognized who it belonged to just as Agnes strode into the room, shut the door, and approached within range of the room’s single bulb. “Well...now you know. You must realize how much the smooth operation of this orphanage relies on Miss Alice.”
I apologized profusely until she stopped me. Repentance was evidently not what she was after. “What am I going to do with you? You were snooping the other night as well, weren’t you. I found the vent cover ajar.” Blast it! And I thought I’d been so stealthy.
“You’ll no doubt tell everyone that Miss Alice is a sham, won’t you. Depending what else you saw, you’ll contact the local constable...bringing all of our simple, pleasant lives to an end! It’ll be back to the gutter with most of us! To the workhouses, if there’s room. Probably back to the brothel for me.”
I waved my hands in protest. “You have me all wrong! I’d never dream of such a thing. It’s really quite smart, this arrangement you have. I see now why Grandfather set things up as he did. It could never last otherwise, they’d leave as they grew older and sought work elsewhere. Some would begin to wonder why you’re the one in charge, perhaps daring to challenge you.”
She stared at me, a wry smile slowly spreading across her face. I pressed my apparent advantage. “I actually quite like it here. I haven't got it nearly as rough as the rest, as with yourself. The trick will be keeping them from wanting more. From becoming curious about the outside world, or begrudging their assigned station. Grandpa’s method is predictably brilliant, but I’ve some ideas for how it can be improved.”
I do not know what might have become of me had I answered differently. Had I condemned her for her role in perpetuating this madness. But I really did mean what I said. For someone with my background, to wind up in such a place could be a blessing in disguise. For isn’t it better to rule in Hell, than to serve in Heaven?
There would be no more work for me, we agreed. Other concessions included a better room on the top level, nicer clothing, and more regular enjoyment of that entrancingly delicious broth. When she showed me her own quarters I was astonished at the degree of luxury. All this time she’d stashed me down in that cramped metal chamber, while she lived up here like a queen...but no more!
My new room was no less opulent. The whole upper floor was something of a miniature mansion or hotel, with rooms upon rooms for administrators as well as a dining room, ballroom and various other amenities. I asked Agnes why she’d been running it alone all this time. “I like it at the top. Why should I share the throne with anyone?”
“You won’t live forever” I replied. “Who will take over for you when you’re too old and feeble to keep all of this under control?” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose I never thought much about that. From the start, it was about providing for myself. For my own life. So that I’d never have to return to that awful place.”
I intuited she meant the brothel, and didn’t press the matter. “No doubt” I offered, “It’s nice at the top. But also lonely, I imagine. Don’t you think it would all be more manageable with a bit of help? Two heads are better than one.” I flashed a conspiratorial smile.
“...You’re being fresh, aren’t you” she accused. I just laughed. “Could be! You do look rather fetching in a bonnet.” She then sternly blushed as the two of us, leaning against the inner railing, gazed up through a circular opening in the roof at the canopy of stars overhead.
I awoke the next morning to a cacophony of screams, structural groans, and bits of dust and debris raining down from the ceiling on my nice new bed. I threw off the covers and stumbled to the floor, pulling my pants on as quickly as I could.
Once outside my room I gazed over the railing at the pandemonium unfolding below. The entire metal skeleton of the building swayed visibly, making a deafening mixture of creaks, grinding noises and shudders over which the cries of frightened youth were only barely audible.
“Agnes!” I shouted. She was nowhere to be seen. When I threw open the door of her room she was stuffing strings of pearls into a handbag. “There’s no time, Agnes! It’s an earthquake, we have to get out of here!” She fought me off, choosing a tiara and collapsible sceptre from the pile of valuables which lay openly before an electrically illuminated vanity mirror.
Stupid girl, I thought. This was no time to be packing as if for a trip to the countryside. “What are you doing!” I shouted. “It’s all coming down around our ears! What good will pearls be when you’re crushed under a mountain of rubble!?”
“I have nowhere else!” she cried, tears bursting forth. “I’m not going back to that place! I’m NEVER going back!!” I took a moment to realize what she meant. Then, solemnly, I helped her fill her bag the rest of the way with whatever looked like it could be sold for a high price.
The corridor swayed sickeningly beneath us as we fled for the stairwell. It was a harrowing descent, neither of us certain we’d reach the bottom before the quake toppled the orphanage. Just when I finally understood it, too. Just when I finally felt I belonged.
We joined a crowd of children in the fields outside, watching the towering orphanage violently shudder. Only once I was sure Agnes and I were safe did I make the connection. The ground beneath us was still. It had only ever been the orphanage itself which shook.
So there’d been no earthquake after all. But then, what? Outer panels began to withdraw from the walls of the superstructure revealing vast, churning arrays of gears, chains, and pistons within. Great jointed cranes swung out from cavities inside, hidden until now by the building’s outer shell.
As we all watched with a mixture of terror, awe and confusion, the orphanage slowly began building an identical structure immediately next to itself. I didn’t understand what it was doing until several hours in.
Vertical beams first, with inner and outer rings where each floor would eventually be. Then plumbing, then electrics, including the dynamo. Some mechanism manufactured for the purpose was placed in the center and, once steam built up, it began to burrow into the Earth.
In search of metals, no doubt. And to reach the water table, which the newly constructed second orphanage would draw on for steam, for drinking water and for coolant. Level by level the pivoting, articulated mechanical arms extending from the first orphanage assembled its twin.
It was just putting the finishing touches on it, steam beginning to rise from its many chimneys, when the police arrived. They frantically questioned us, but nobody present was able or willing to provide an explanation which satisfied them.
The sun now rising brilliantly over the horizon, the press began trickling in. Arriving in their motor carriages, marveling at the bizarre sight of one building constructing another. Their astonishment doubled when, upon the completion of the first copy, each structure at once began building yet another replica to either side.
A media sensation at first. Then a curiosity, drawing great crowds of gentlemen and ladies to spectate as the ever growing cluster of towers expanded itself outward. Only a month or so later did anyone think to raise an alarm over the rate at which the vast mechanical compound was growing.
So, some artillery was amassed. A few dozen men spent an afternoon shelling several of the towers, succeeding in bringing their activities to a halt. But by then, there were nearly forty. More men were gathered the next week with larger, more numerous weapons.
But by that time there were over a hundred. When at last the army was mobilized to launch an offensive against the outwardly creeping grid of unadorned, industrial looking cylindrical towers, they finally understood.
It was too late. The towers were already too numerous, and replicating themselves faster than the collected might of our great nation’s military could destroy them. Panic spread via the papers and radio, but of course it accomplished nothing.
Agnes and I moved back into the original orphanage. We’ve put about half of the orphans to work furnishing and otherwise rendering the neighboring structures fit for human occupation. The other day, mobs of filthy, wretched beggars arrived. Inquiring whether they might live within some of the new towers.
I encouraged it. It’s what Grandfather intended, that the meek might inherit the Earth. Clothed, sheltered and fed without exception, welcomed into our growing family. Everyone else, who still had something to lose, got busy fleeing the continent by ocean liner...for all the good it will do them in the long run.
I have glimpsed the future, as Grandfather did before me. Because of that, now I know what he knew. I understand that if it weren’t him who built this, it would be someone else. An inescapable result of the relentless drive to perform every sort of work with machinery. To eliminate paid laborers wherever possible.
A new Genesis. The dawn of a new world, a new ecosystem. A new form of life, and a new way of life. Soon it will blanket every inch of available landmass. Perhaps extending into the sea, in time. Perhaps beyond the sky.
I have seen it. In my dreams, and for that matter whenever I close my eyes. Gears turning gears. Rusted pipes. Grinding, thumping machinery covering the Earth from one horizon to the other. Humanity at last humbled, taking their place within those endless metal corridors as children of the machine.
Agnes can see it too. The coming order. A new regime, a metal empire. Ruled over by its own pair of nobles, the first of many. The day is coming when our descendants will preside over the entire Earth, unified at last.
Not long now.
The End.