| Logs |
2009 April 14
| When The Bough Breaks |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
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| Realms: Bough Logs |
Lotus Aria, First Stanza
In one of those moments of no-time, Norris is no longer in the vault with the weapon. Where he is seems perfectly natural to him, though. He is in what has the heat of a forge, but the room seems made of iron, and in front of him is a large, curved surface of iron or steel. rivets of the type used to make plate mail, but much larger and sturdier, line the joints. It looks almost like a large iron egg that he's making.
He is not alone, there is a large number of people also in the shop, and there is a tremendous cacophony of men shouting and tools being used. He doesn't recognize the tools, growling and pounding as if they have a life of their own, but they, too, seem natural in this setting.
For a brief instant, in the moment between being 'awake' and 'elsewhere', Norris is confused. And then he merges seamlessly with the world he has become a part of, and goes back to the task he was working on...although his hands do take a moment to explore this odd iron egg, as if he didn't recognize it. Trying to discern purpose or function.
It seems to be nothing less than a shell. And judging by the plates on the ground beside him, it will be an egg with an opening in one end to put things into. What, he isn't sure.
A number of men are touring the shop; one is a large, beefy man, he looks like some kind of blacksmith himself, if not for the neat forest green uniform he wears. But the one that really stands out is a lean, wiry man, wearing clothes that look one size too large for him, and a hat of some kind that looks two sizes too large. He holds a pipe in his hand, gesturing with it as he shows the other men around the smithy.
They come near to where Norris is working, and the big man says proudly, "--And this is our top steelworker. Runs this place like a blacksmithy, I tell you, and all the rest of the workers are just his 'prentices." There is a chorus of polite laughter at the large soldier's joke; even so, it is a proud tone that the soldier has, he clearly respects Norris's work.
Norris watches the strangers for several seconds before shaking his head, self-chastising for getting so distracted. He immediately decides to pick up where he left off...except he's having a brain fart, and not remembering what to do next. He studies the plates, trying to figure out which should go next. And then before he can, the men have arrived, and he straightens up smartly, inclining his head. "Sirs. Welcome to the workshop." he greets them, his voice sounding different. And yet this time, he takes no note of it.
The group of men murmur thanks for his welcome, and the soldier almost immediately starts to user them away. The thin man, however, seems fascinated and quietly interested in the steel egg Norris has been working on, and as the other men go off he remains, examining it. "This'll do well, Norris," he says. "Thanks for putting in the overtime to do it."
Norris's chest swells. "Yes sir. I take all my assignments seriously, and delegate accordingly, but this one has needed my full attention. As proud as I am of my people, some things must be left to the master." He says it matter of fact, without ego, but with a hint of pride of what he has accomplished. But then his head tilts, a query clearly brewing. "Sir, if I may be so bold....I was given explicit instructions on what to make. But at no point did anyone ever say what it was to end up being. What is the purpose of the prototype?"
The thin man hesitates, then smiles wanly. "Security, Norris. Can't tell you just yet. But... Look, you've been with the project for a while. Tell you what. When you get it done and we send the package to Almogordo, I'll have you come with us. You deserve to see it."
Norris beams. "Sir, yes sir. It would be an honor. It's every craftman's deepest wish to see their work serving the purpose for which it was designed, whatever it may be. Or, it should be. It's the best way to ensure quality, to know that you will one day see the fruits of your labor." he asserts.
The man considers that, then nods, his smile warming a bit. "Yes. Yes, it is, at that. I tell myself that every day." He gives a sort of half-wave as he heads off to rejoin the group. "Keep up the good work, Norris. I'll see you in Almogordo."
Norris straightens as the man leaves...and once he is away, he relaxes. "Back to work." he says to himself. And then he addresses the others present, urging them to do the same, distracted by the surveying group, and then putting his goggles back on, and grabbing a plate in one hand, and a tool in the other.
The weeks pass, and Norris completes the steel egg. It's a good piece of work, solid and well built. Once he finishes it, it is politely but firmly taken custody of by a bunch of soldiers, who take it elsewhere. A few days later, a caravan heads out to Almogordo, and Norris is, as per the orders of the thin man, allowed to go with them.
It is a quiet trip; few seem to be willing to talk much, and there is a sullen kind of tension about the group. As the caravan arrives at Almogordo, Norris does catch one glance of his handiwork; it is almost but not quite recognizable, in that there are a lot of other additions to it, gaudy and inconvenient steel wire strung about it leading to the package that it holds.
The day passes fairly quickly for Norris; there isn't much for him to do, except while away the hours. The day is a little cloudy, and a storm front passes over with some thunder and lightning. Norris sees the big soldier several times, looking to the sky warily, as if by some sort of will alone he could stop the occasional cloudburst.
As it so happens, Norris has been sleeping for a bit that evening, with the test the last he heard, when he is gently awoken by a young, fresh-faced soldier. "I'm sorry for waking you, sir," he says quietly, almost deferentially. "B-but the doctor... he asked me to come get you. The test is about to begin."
Norris is confused and restless...he certainly has a burning curiosity about this whole matter, and with nothing for him to do but wait and wonder - no one able to answer his questions - he gets understandably agitated. His work is his life, and without that to fall back on, it's hard to be patient. And so when the soldier finally awakes him, after he'd managed to rest for all of a couple hours, he growls a bit sourly. "Yah, yeah, be right with you, youngster." he grunts, grimacing. He hadn't even shaved, or stripped before getting into bed. He swivels into a sitting position, and waiting there a full ten minutes before he feels up to getting up. Splashnig water onto his face, he finally follows the barely-blooded soldier.
The soldier waits patiently, fidgeting a little. When Norris stands, he nods and straightens. "This way, please, sir...."
The soldier leads Norris through the nearly-silent encampment, out across the rocky, dusty ground. It's chilly, even though it's the middle of summer; if Norris read the time right, it's actually less than an hour before dawn.
It's a bit of a long walk, and eventually, being led through trenches, Norris is eventally brought to the doctor, the thin man, who is leaning against a butte, looking off into the flat of the desert. The faint pungent scent of his pipe reaches Norris almost before he sees the doctor. The man wears casual clothing, but not his hat this evening. He seems to spot Norris only when the movement catches the corner of his eyes. It's hard to see in the dark, but he looks like he smiles. "Norris. I'm glad you could make it. Thanks for coming -- That'll be all, corporal." The soldier salutes, and departs.
Norris tries to keep his poise and cheefulness, and mostly succeeds. "Wouldn't miss it, doc. But, uh...what exactly am I to be watching down here? Where's the prototype?" he queries, looking around the cramped quarters, trying to get a handle on what's going on.
The doctor chuckles softly. "Please... call me 'Oppie.' I've never gotten used to being called 'doctor' or 'doc.' Despite all the school work." He takes the pipe from his mouth, and gestures out into the desert. "It's thataway. Ten miles away. We're at a pretty safe distance, I'd say." He adds wryly, "If not, then we really made some bad calculations."
Norris's brow knits almost immediately. "Ten...what?" And then he quickly follows up to clarify. "Can we even see that far with binoculars? Or maybe you got some sort of new fangled telescope to see it? And what do you mean by safe? It's a metal egg. It's not dangerous." He feels confused at this juncture, even more so than he was when he first awoke...and wondering if, in fact, he's still sleeping.
"Well, if it's not dangerous, then this war is gonna drag on a lot longer. At the same time... well, it's like you said: the craftsman needs to see what his creation does.
Norris opens his mouth, and then closes it. He knew he was making something for the war effort, but the specs were far different from usual munitions and bomb casings made for the army. So he'd assumed it was something else. But to need to be ten miles away... "I guess we're gonna have one hell of a show, then." he replies, peering out over the top of the trench.
Oppie nods, setting his pipe between his teeth. "Oh, yeah, it'll be that for certain!" He is quiet for a moment, then he says. "You know, Norris... well, to be honest, besides the other brainy-types, you strike me as one of the few people who went into this project with a pretty clear head. Not like the soldiers -- Groves' boys are good but they're focussed on fighting the war. It occupies their every thought."
Norris shrugs a little, continuing to watch, though there's clearly nothing to see yet. "It's always been that way, Doc...Oppie." he amends, the strange appellation rolling over his tongue clumsily. "I know where my skills lie, and that's what I work towards. I leave the fighting to others not because I'm afraid, or because I lack focus. I am focused, but focused on my work. I will always be a man of creation...it was true before the war, during the war, and I expect that it will be so long after the war is done. It's what I do. It's who I am."
Oppie chuckles quietly. "'A man of creation.' Yeah, I can see that. Funny, I was just reading the other day something about that. But...." His voice betrays that his smile is gone. "What if your creation becomes a thing of destruction?"
Norris is silent for a moment. "It's in man's nature to wage war. Nothing I can do about that. Nothing I can do about the folks that decide that they have to kill, to gain power. But my job isn't to fire the bullets, or drop the bombs. My job isn't to kill. Someone else decides when and where that has to happen. I'm the one that makes sure that when they do whatever it is they do, that the things they depend on to ultimately save lives will work right. That my work can potentially save as many lives as it ends. The only thing I can control is how well my work is done. I can't control how it's used." he finally says evenly. "That said...I'll look forward to a day when a guy like me won't have to make instruments of war."
Oppie nods, and says, "Same here, Norris. Same here." He is quiet for a moment, then says almost musingly, "'Man of creation.' Silly question, maybe, Norris, but did you ever read Indian mythology? Not native Indians -- India Indians."
Norris's face scrunches up, turnnig to look at the other man. "I read a book a couple years ago. That wasn't it." he replies ruefully.
Oppie smiles a bit. "Ah, remember, I'm a brainy nerd anyway. Couldn't forge my way out of a paper bag! But anyway... I was reading it, and comparing it to the work we were doing. Fascinating stuff. Did you know, the Hindu believe that the universe was created from a single lotus blossom seed, blooming over and over again?"
Norris seems to consider that. "I've heard of worse ideas. Sounds a bit like the turning of the seasons, just on a...whatsis...on a scale bigger that our own planet. And stuff's already being created on our planet, whether it's new life, or new ideas, or new inventions. Whether it's Mother nature doing the creating or just a joe like me, hammering away."
Oppie nods. "Yes. It's a little refreshing, actually. That there'll be something else after us, even if we manage to destroy everything. It... kinda makes me think of what we're doing here."
From somewhere, there is the sound of an alarm of some kind. Oppie gives a bit of a start, then forces himself to relax. "Ah.. here, you'll need this..." He hands over what looks like a pair of dark glass circles, joined together by a short leather cord and with thick leather surrounding the circles; Norris knows, somehow instinctively, that it's worn over the eyes.
Norris takes the goggles (goggles?) and puts them on. "Aw, come on, Oppie. It's a war. It's not the end of the world, Revelations. History aint my thing, but there were still people after the fall of the Roman Empire, and like that. One way or another, we'll still be doing what we always do...me in the workshop, and you at your chalkboard."
Oppie starts to put his own goggles on. "I know, Norris, you're right, of course, it's just... Well, I have to wonder. See, Feynman and Fermi, they think that what we're working with is the same sort of thing that triggered the birth of the universe. The thing that made the 'lotus seed' first bloom. I don't think we're anywhere close to energy levels like that. But someday, somewhere... someone's going to make a device that really will be like the seed of a world-lotus."
Norris stares at the other man. "You lost me, Oppie. My egg out there is going to make a flower bloom? How's that dangerous?"
"Well, honestly, it's not. But it's going to be the first of a whole string of devices, I'm sure. Eventually, they're going to make one that matches the power of our theoretical 'lotus seed' that blossomed into the universe." The alarm sounds again, intermittently now; it's almost hard for Oppie to talk over it. "And so here we are, Norris. Is it the end, or is it the beginning? I wish I knew. But this lotus seed is going to blossom, and what kind of world it's going to bloom into, I don't know. All I know, is that here we stand, with your gadget out there ready to blossom. If all our calculations are right, you have really become the man of creation, the sire of worlds, the father of universes...."
There is a sudden flash of light, blinding even through the dark goggles. Seconds later a terrifying crash and roar thunders across the desert, seeming to shake the world to it's very core.
And in that flash of light, in that scintilating vortex of fire and energy and superheated air; somewhere in there, Norris imagines that he can see the unfolding of a beautiful flower of fire, it's pollen and essence rising up into the sky.
"And I..." Oppenheimer says, "I have become Death, the destroyer of worlds."
Norris doesn't understand, until the end...for all his mastery, he's a simple man. He doesn't ask the big questions, he doesn't see the forest for the trees, so Oppie's metaphor escapes him. But when the flash comes, making his raise his arms to protect his face, what he sees makes him recoil in horror. It is, beautiful...but it is beautiful in the way that a tidal wave is, or a comet, before they crash down and leave devastation in their wake. This is no lotus blossom - this is Destruction personified, and Oppenheimer's words echo in his ears as the air rushes over him, and he's sure it will make him dust as well...
...for the first time, he has looked on his work, and been afraid.
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