Tin Gods (Short Story: Starving Telescopes)

Tin Gods

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. From their home, Nor would watch as Sal––the guardian of light––crossed with Fir––the guardian of pitch––battled for terrain on their violet chariots, and flashes of fluorescent pink echoed in brilliant streaks across a sea of lavender-washed velvet and stardust.

They believed the stories. Lovers by day and the darkest enemies by night, Sal and Fir were as ancient and beautiful as time. They were something extraordinary, but only from afar.

They clung to the side of their cave as lightning from the Godstorm striked a tree far away, sending up flurries of mechanic birds graffitied with cyan and silver. Sensing its kin, Pik––Nor's own bird––lifted its wings meekly in response from their work table. Come morning, they would go down to the floating market and purchase the parts they needed to fix him. For now, they watched keenly with their cybernetic eyes as he suffered miserably, thin trickles of exhaust leaking from between his many wings.

Nor sighed and made their way back to their bed, a mess of ratty brocades inherited from their parents, and slipped beneath. As they drown in their sleep, they dream of Sal and Fir. In the dream, Sal came to them with dark skin and long white hair that fell like water at their feet. Their mechanical arm reached for Nor, silver robes flying wildly about. "Save me," they whispered, eyes large and shiny like rain puddles. Fir cackled from behind them and stepped out from their mess of shadows that writhe and tug at their wild black hair and pale skin. They wore a magnificent gold headdress of stars and crescents and robes as black as an assassin's heart. "Save them?" They mocked, and they gripped Nor's chin, claws leaving marks. "Let the child save themself."

Nor gasped as they fell backward and then light was nudging their eyes open. A weight crushed their chest. They widened their eyes and saw a mechanic bird peering curiously at Nor. "Save me," it said. "Save me."

"Save yourself," Nor snapped, and grabbed the bird's neck and tied it up with rope. They dressed and grabbed a satchel––gently patted Pik's sad form––then untied the mechanic bird. Nor fiddled with its back before taking out their screwdriver and nudging the panel open. They stuffed the screwdriver into the compartment on the side of their neck as they fiddled with the wires. The bird squawked and tossed its head back, metal wings screeching as Nor furiously held them down. They must have done something right because suddenly the obnoxious thing instantly tamed itself.

Nor pried the wings open and climbed onto its back. "To the floating market," they commanded, and the bird carefully rose, before tilting forward––and nose diving off the cliff's edge. Nor's stomach tossed itself behind them as speed reached violently quick, and they could not help the delighted grin from cutting its way across their face as their crimson hair whipped behind them like a bloody flag.

See? Doesn't it all make sense now?

Freedom. Nor felt freedom speed through their veins, they felt the shine of Sal chasing the shadow of their tail, and they felt a wild happiness they seldom remembered they could even taste.

The mechanic bird cut severely upwards to the purple clouds where metal pipes punctured harshly through them. As they flew near, the pipes grew bigger and bigger until they were massive silver pillars rusted with pink vines and green mold. They burst through the final layer of cloud––fresh condensation chilling their skin––as the floating market sparkled brightly. Children raced across hovering planks and holograms acted out stories of the Tin Gods. Nor found a spare plank and nudged the mechanic bird towards it, and slung their satchel off their shoulder. They plopped down on the plank in one fluid movement and sat cross legged.

They reached inside and pulled out a gleaming case with eyes scratched into its surface that seemed to curiously watch Nor from every direction. They pressed their thumb into the depression and it flew open, revealing a simple, silver flute. The flute shimmered as they pulled it reverently out and gently set the case aside, greasy strands of scarlet falling across their face. They glanced nervously upwards, feeling the steady movement and contented rhythm of the market. Customers bartered beneath their breath with peddlers and someone dressed ridiculously in purple clumsily plucked the bassy strings of a strongly untuned cybernetic lute. A child cried as they sucked on a piece of candy.

Nor breathed in the crisp air deeply and before they could exhale they pressed the cold metal to their lips, tightened their chest and closed their eyes as the held breath was released. As soon as the first notes of music flickered to life, they felt their muscles ease as they fell into a familiar pattern. The outside world quieted, and colours danced playfully on the backs of their eyelids as the music filled Nor up like a pitcher of cream. They told stories with the flute, wild ones of reckless love and sweet betrayals and an ending that never came near enough and never far enough either. They played for precious seconds, daring minutes, scarce hours, and languorous days, and it all breathed the same words––

Save me. Save me.

A kaleidoscope of colours ripped across them, dragged its claws in their back and through their cranium. It choked them, throttled them––but they had never flown so far.

The flute was yanked from their lips and Nor's eyes flew open. The vendor glared back at Nor as they swallowed deep breaths and their eyes adjusted to the calm, pinkish grey light of the floating market. Nor stared at the crowd that had gathered around them and then the vendor lunged to the side.

Nor screamed, "NO!" as they tossed it over the side of the market with a snarl. The breath was wretched from Nor as they scrambled to where it had been thrown, only to see the thin silver thing's sparkle get swallowed by a tuft of purple cloud, like the light blown gently from a wick––sending the world into a quiet darkness. They felt their heart shatter, their bones snap––as the wind tugged at their hair. They climbed to their feet and felt that brilliant colour and pitch rise up again inside as they stared, as they glared at the perpetrator.

Nor clenched their hands and they roared, power surging up inside them and snapping its teeth at the vendor.

"Freak," they spat and turned around as the crowd dispersed. Nor felt the hate inside grow and grow like a nasty thing. They would make them pay, they would make them scream––

But then they looked behind and they saw those gentle clouds, where once there might have been a silver sparkle.

The energy drained out of them and they slumped over in defeat.

The noise of the market bubbled up again. Nor lowered their head, threw their satchel over their neck and untied the tamed mechanic bird. It squawked as they climbed onto its back, and before they could fully peel their foot off of the plank––took off across the edge.

Save me. Save me.

That night, they made stew by an artificial fire using the small rations they had left. That night, they slept and just like every other night at midnight––

The purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky.