Chapter 11

The alliance between Archer and King Panfred took an interesting form.

By special decree of the king, Ramman’s military shipyard was privatized and placed under the control of a private company founded by Archer and Sol.

They called the company simply Archer & Sol, or A&S for short.

A&S’s first priority was to create a workforce capable of building ships around the clock.

Ramman had no shortage of skilled shipbuilders who could work three shifts and keep the shipyard operating twenty-four hours a day.

But Sol had a vision that appealed to Archer:

A workforce of artificial people who needed no rest and no wages, who made no mistakes, and who did nothing but build, build, build.

Second, A&S needed fuel for the magic brush.

It took a week of coordinated experimentation with the kingdom to discover that the most efficient resource was a substance known throughout the Four Crowns as blue coal.

Its chemical name was irinium.

Blue coal powered the engines of this world’s flying ships.

It was also used to make the local gunpowder for their cannons.

It was the reason cannon fire produced blue smoke and green flame.

And best of all, the Four Crowns had blue coal in abundance.

It was cheap.

For A&S, it was perfect.

Archer would take the brush in his left hand and, without rushing, erase entire containers of blue coal, replenishing the brush’s charge.

Wagons loaded with blue coal arrived at the A&S shipyard.

Empty wagons departed.

Archer now had a potentially limitless source of charge for the brush.

Potentially inexhaustible.

With the problem of the brush’s charge solved, Archer painted the first hundred artificial people: mannequins with articulated joints and limbs.

Since there was no longer any need to conserve the brush’s charge, the artificial people were made of iron for strength and fire resistance.

Instead of faces, the workers had speakers capable of producing sound.

Sol brought the artificial people to life with his magic wand and spoke with each of them.

“Archer,” Sol said one day as Archer was painting another iron mannequin.

“What is it, Sol?” Archer asked.

“I think I’ve discovered a problem,” the artificial man said.

“Yes? What did you find?”

Archer stopped painting the mannequin.

“The Wand of Animation you created for me has a kind of charge of its own,” Sol said. “But instead of being replenished through experience or by erasing valuable resources, like your brush, my wand draws its charge from me.”

“What do you mean, Sol?” Archer asked, puzzled.

“The more artificial people I bring to life, the less of me remains within me,” Sol said.

“It’s as though my soul is being divided into fragments, and every time I bring an artificial person to life, I place one of those fragments inside them.

“The more fragments I give to others, the fewer remain in me.

“Do you understand?”

“Then we stop immediately,” Archer said. “I refuse to spend your soul on a hundred artificial workers.”

“Yes, but Archer,” Sol said, “when I place a fragment of myself inside these workers, I feel that I’m giving them life.

“I feel there’s something profound and meaningful about it.

“It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make gladly.”

“I don’t know, Sol. That sounds questionable,” Archer said. “I’d rather find another way.

“There is an alternative, after all. We could do what we did with the first mannequin in the basement of our palace.”

“No, Archer. I want to divide myself into a thousand fragments and distribute them among the artificial people.

“I can feel myself in them.

“It’s almost as though they are me.

“It’s difficult to put into words,” Sol said.

“And what will be left of you?” Archer asked.

“I think half of me will remain,” Sol said. “Half is enough.

“I won’t become defective. I give you my word.”

Archer stood silently, looking at his companion.

“Archer, it’s all right,” Sol assured him. “I just wanted to tell you so you would know.

“Don’t be surprised if I become somewhat less myself.

“Other than that, I’m fine.”

Archer took a deep breath, shook his head, and went back to painting the mannequin.

“Sol,” Archer said. “I don’t like this.

“But if you’re telling me this is what you want, then so be it.”

Once the first hundred artificial people had been painted and brought to life, Archer noticed no significant change in Sol.

The first hundred iron workers began building ships.

At the king’s invitation, master shipbuilders came to the shipyard to teach the artificial people their craft.

The masters worked and gave instructions while the iron workers watched and learned.

Some ship components were made by the craftsmen themselves from timber. Others were painted by Archer at their request.

Archer handled the components that would have taken the craftsmen a great deal of time but that he could create quickly—masts, frames, cannons, engines.

The craftsmen handled the components that were easy for them to make but would have taken Archer a long time to paint—decks and keels.

In this way, the process was optimized, allowing ships to be built remarkably quickly.

With the help of the master shipbuilders, a new vessel was completed:

A frigate.

The second ship was built by the artificial people and Archer alone. That was how quickly the machines had learned the art of shipbuilding from their human teachers.

Of course, they didn’t get everything right on the first attempt.

There were unexpected mistakes. System failures.

But Sol and the human craftsmen were there to correct their work and explain what they had done wrong.

Interestingly, the same mistake never had to be explained twice.

The machines shared their new knowledge with one another.

Rumors of Sol’s living machines spread throughout Ramman and beyond, reaching the other kingdoms.

Ordinary citizens regularly came to the shipyard hoping to see the strange beings for themselves.

King Panfred asked Archer and Sol to organize regular tours of the shipyard, both for the general public and for emissaries from the other kingdoms.

Archer and Sol agreed.

Before long, the artificial workers themselves were leading tours of the shipyard.

Ramman’s newspapers called them a new wonder of the world and published dozens of articles about the artificial people.

Of course, the city’s newspapers were controlled by members of the royal family, so it was hardly surprising that their coverage was favorable.

The people of Ramman were divided.

Some welcomed the machines and celebrated them as heralds of a new age.

Others feared them and cursed their existence.

To reassure the latter group, a small public-relations campaign was organized to improve the iron workers’ image.

With the help of the Royal Academy of Arts, Sol learned to play the drums and then taught the beings he had brought to life to do the same.

He taught them to march.

And then Ramman held a parade of iron drummers.

One hundred artificial people marched through the city’s main streets in perfect unison, playing a magnificent drum march.

It was a spectacular sight.

A hundred bodies moving in synchronization.

A hundred drums beating as one.

On some streets, the iron workers stopped and marched in place before continuing their procession through the city.

At the end of the parade, all one hundred artificial people assembled in the city’s main square, where the public was allowed to approach them freely.

There was no shortage of people eager to interact with the machines.

The parade of iron drummers became so popular that they decided to make it a regular event, held once a week.

At each parade, the drummers played a new march and performed new choreography, but overall, one parade was much like another.

Even so, people kept coming to watch the iron men march.

Unfortunately, the fourth parade was marred by an attack from an angry mob of citizens who believed the artificial machines were creations of evil.

A well-organized group armed with clubs, chains, hammers, and axes charged the marching iron men head-on.

Police officers tried to pull the attackers away, but there were too many of them.

The iron musicians simply stopped and stood there, taking every blow without making any attempt to defend themselves.

They seemed not to understand what was happening, as though the very concept of aggression was unknown to them.

The attackers managed to knock many of the artificial people onto the city’s stone streets, but they were unable to inflict any serious damage on the humanoid machines.

They were made of iron, after all.

All they suffered were scratches.

The only components that sustained real damage were the speakers mounted where their faces would have been.

Thirty-two of them had to be replaced afterward.

Sol wasn’t upset by what had happened.

On the contrary, he concluded that it was important to organize more activities that would make his creations seem more human.

Once again, he turned to the Royal Academy of Arts, asking its members to teach the iron workers how to play other musical instruments.

They learned to play stringed instruments and keyboards.

Unfortunately, the artificial people had no lungs, which put wind instruments beyond their abilities.

But there were more than enough instruments available to assemble an impressive orchestra.

With the support of the city authorities, Sol organized a concert in Ramman’s main square, on a stage that could be viewed from every direction.

It seemed as though the entire population of Ramman had come to watch.

The crowd was so enormous that every police officer in the city had to be deployed, along with members of the military.

The concert lasted an hour.

When the iron people finished playing, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause.

As another part of the successful effort to integrate the artificial people into Ramman society, one of the city’s major newspapers interviewed an ordinary iron worker.

Not Sol.

Just one of the artificial people.

“What should I call you?” the reporter asked.

“Forty-Two,” the iron man replied.

“Forty-Two is a strange name in the human world,” the reporter said. “Wouldn’t you like to have a more human name?”

“No,” Forty-Two replied.

“All right,” the reporter continued. “Forty-Two, what is your purpose?”

“To perform assigned tasks,” the artificial man replied briefly.

“And which tasks do you enjoy the most?” the reporter asked.

“I have no preferences,” Forty-Two replied.

“Well, then tell our readers what kind of work you’ve done during your short existence.

“Speaking of which, how long have you existed?”

“I have existed for fifty-three days,” Forty-Two replied. “During that time, I have received practical training in shipbuilding and helped my colleagues build one ship.”

“And you’ve participated in five musical parades and one concert,” the reporter said. “What do you think of music?”

Forty-Two didn’t answer immediately.

After thinking for a couple of seconds, he said:

“Music is impressive.”

“Tell me more,” the reporter said.

“Music has clear rules. Structure. Rhythm. Harmony.

“Music is order where there might otherwise be chaos.”

“You like order?” the reporter asked.

“Yes,” Forty-Two replied.

“And what if a human disrupts that order?”

“A human has the right to disrupt order,” the artificial man said.

“All right,” the reporter continued. “What if one human is hurting another? Would you intervene?”

“No,” Forty-Two replied.

“Why?”

“I have not been assigned that task,” the machine said.

“What if someone were drowning and you could save them? Would you?”

“No. I have not been assigned that task,” Forty-Two replied.

“That’s a shame,” the reporter said. “Do you understand why I say that?”

“You want to see humanity in me, but you don’t,” Forty-Two replied.

“Yes,” the reporter said, surprised by the answer. “Yes, Forty-Two. That’s exactly right.

“So you understand some things very well.

“That surprises me.

“What else can you do to surprise me?”

Forty-Two thought for a moment.

A couple of seconds later, he answered:

“Humans and machines are stronger together than either is alone.

“Together, we can accomplish more.”

“You want humans to be stronger? And machines to be stronger?” the reporter asked.

“Yes.

“That task has been assigned.”

The reporter laughed.