The Mechanical War

PROLOGUE

"Papa said that the war would end soon. Said that we'd get milk and butter and cream and crisp red apples right off the tree. That the skies would clear and planes would stop passing by so often. But Papa was wrong. The skies never cleared, and I never took a bite of a ripe red apple ever again.

"The mailman and Ms. Ella next door told me it didn't matter, not really, 'cause the sky was beautiful just the way it was (it wasn't) and that the synthetic food tablets were just the same as apples and grapes an' berries anyhow (they weren't). They said to me: 'Ms. Rachel, there's no need to worry. Everything will turn out fine. You just wait an' you'll see.'

"An' Soldier John just down the street, who came back crippled from the war, he said that we were all just fine, an' the Queen's army was doin' alright, an' it'd all be like a bad dream soon. But he wouldn't say no more 'bout it, and that was how I knew he was lying.

"Queen Caroline gave her talks every evening too, and e'ryone would gather round the tinny radio posts, an' stare up at the little yellow light up top of each one like looking into the light might bring us a brighter future. An' the people always walked 'way with their heads down, an' said nothin', not even to friends an' neighbors, an' certainly not to me, 'cause when Father (he always told me to call him that 'fore company, so I guess I'll 'ave to start callin' him that way now), when he was away, no one looked at me, and I guess I liked it that way. But there was one thing bothered me 'bout that, and it was that no one bothered to ask what I thought.

"But I guess it was kinda to be expected, 'cause I was a kid, and no one listened to kids, even if they acted all proper an' nice like their papa told 'em to, but more important, I was a girl, an' that was the real reason. Boys my age were still children too, of course, but they were shipped off to the war, like they could fight, an' win our country back, but e'ryone didn't care 'bout the girls unless they were airship pilots or somethin' fancy like that. So most of us real fine ladies kept our mouths shut, and acted all proper in our clockwork hats and fine stitched wool gowns so huge that little wheels had to be attached to 'em or they'd collapse the moment we moved. But Ms. Ella was somethin' else altogether.

"Not that she grew up right, anyhow. Ma said that Ella'd get the whole street 'terminated once, but that was long ago, an' she passed only a couple days later, an' I'd never really trusted what Ma said, an' that was no exception. An' I liked Ms. Ella t' tell the truth, though I'd never tell Papa that, 'cause he didn't like her much, 'cause she wasn't so proper an' fine an' she never wore the brass corset that was so popular among women to wear atop their dresses back then. But I liked that. I liked her coarse brown breeches an' work boots. I liked her white ruffled standard-wear shirt that was originally made for men. And most of all, I liked her aviator cap an' goggles. Cause Ella was a pilot, of her very own airship, an' down at the docks, she was mighty fine an' respectable, but back on Garden Row (that was the street we lived on), she was too... different. But really, she fit in just perfect to the time, even if no one saw it.

"She was a mechanic, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Skinner, an' they were the best watchmakers in the whole city. So she had a reputation, but even better than that, she just belonged. She looked real good, just right, as she strolled down the street with that short brown hair of hers tucked up under her cap, and a tool belt 'round her waist, an' a wrench in her hand. She looked mighty fine with the zeppelins passin' by overhead, an' steam trains an' two-legged walkers beside her. She was like the women the Queen had her workers post pictures of up on the sides of government buildings, advertising positions in the army.

"An' Ella loved the time period, an' how it looked an' how she looked, even if the sky was brown an' the streets were overrun by crows with beady red eyes. An' she had this little mechanical dog too, the kind every child begs his or her papa an mama for when they're little but never get 'cause they're too much for their parents to afford. He was a good little thing, real cool, too, I thought, an' he helped Ella with whatever she needed help with. But she didn't call the dog Daisy or Puff or somethin' real quaint an' pretty an' delicate, like my father (he was always tellin' me to call him that in front o' company: father, though I never really got why), but anyhow, my father, he thought those were real good names, an' proper too—everythin' had to be proper 'round him—but of course Ms. Ella didn't like that, not one bit, an' she called 'im Rusty.

"An' Rusty was a mighty fine little beast too, an' he didn't even need t' eat just about anythin', 'cause he had these little black solar panels (that's was Ella said they were called when I asked), he had them on his back, an' that's how he'd get his energy. But he did need a good oiling every once in a while, 'cause otherwise, ya see, he'd get all squeaky like when he walked back an' forth, an' it'd be real funny for a while, but then it'd just get on Ella's nerves, an' he started slowin' down a bunch, Rusty did, so she always oiled 'im when he needed it.

"Yeah, she really loved good old Rusty, an' she'd take him with her to the air docks, an' everyone there knew 'im by name, an' they'd come an' run their hands along his shiny back (it wasn't really at all rusty, as his name suggests, not 'til she forgot 'im outside one day, an' it rained, an' from then on, he actually was real rusty like it seemed he should be). An' even then, they ran their hands 'long his back, an' Ella'd take him up in her air ship then. But he wasn't the only one who she 'llowed on board, an' boy, I loved it when she took me up too."

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