HunnieBugg
New Member
Breathing Life
Dr. Leor Bluestone operated out of an old gutted warehouse converted into a mechanical workshop, in the seedy, narrow-laned heart of Skipwall. He did not like to be bothered. He was young still - only 26 - but already he had the bearings of a much older man: bent over his papers or half-complete machines, adjusting his large round spectacles, frowning at the noise of passing motorbikes outside. He was a smallish man with olive skin and a tangle of dark curly hair onto which his skull-cap was precariously pinned, and he spent nearly all of his time in his workshop, often sleeping on a cot there, even though he did keep a small one-room apartment across town. His machinations were his constant company. They stood against the warehouse's far wall: a leaning assembly of mechanical men, in various states of incompletion and disrepair. They were his Golems - each one brought to a shambling sort of life by a symbol inscribed in Hebrew on the backs of their heads.
At the moment, it was mid-afternoon, though Leor was not aware of the time. His hours and days blurred together when he was absorbed in his work. He sat at a low metal table with the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his vest unbuttoned, tinkering with a joint mechanism that wasn't operating properly. He was in a foul mood. Early in the morning, some men in grey uniforms had pounded on his door, attempting to convince him that he should give his Golems to the military. He had shut the door in their faces, but he was certain that they would be back. Power hungry people never rested in pursuit of devices to which they believed themselves entitled. It was because of this sour start to his day that when someone again knocked on his workshop door, he responded in a huff.
"Will you get that B?" he said with a sigh, in the general direction of one of his currently-functioning Golems - an 8-foot tall humanoid thing whose purpose was mostly lifting heavy things. B made a metallic groaning noise as it trod with great clanging steps to the door and heaved it open. The sounds of the street came in through the open doorway. Since it could not speak (Leor hadn't quite figured that one out yet), it simply bowed.
"Well? What do you want?" Leor called, not looking over his shoulder.
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