The Sixth Machine
1/2/17
Scene I
The sixth machine landed amidst a blizzard the likes of which had not been seen since "0h one" as one Old-timer said. His name was Sal.
Debra McCann, she had interviewed a bunch of Oldtimers at a local watering hole the night before. She was no stranger to bars. Her dad owned one. There, when she was still in middle school, she dreamed about becoming a country singer. Might have happened too if she hadn’t been a Westinghouse Finalist in high school. She was all set then to fast track through a double major in astrophysics and bioinformatics then on to a Ph.D., teach, research, win a couple of Nobel Prizes, have a few happy babies along the way.
Didn’t work out that way.
Debra got hooked on journalism, the journalism of science.
Wrote a couple of books. Folks said she was the next Malcom Gladwell.
Snow clouded her vision.
Something else clouded the town’s vision, their thinking too.
People started repeating themselves.
You could hardly tell trees from telephone poles.
You could hardly tell telephone poles from trees – and vice versa.
Something clouded the thinking.
Something clouded…
By now all the branches had been torn off by the voracious winds. Leaves were the first to go.
The biggest accumulations were to the West. In the West Country people remember that “anomalous hurricane which caused so much harm to people and things.” They called it Hurricane Tom, A Hurricane whose name was not often mentioned out of the fear it invoked.
Night was fast falling; flying cactuses were even more of a menace. What was truly odd was that unlike wind-borne cactuses, tree trunks and telephone poles were as straight as an arrow totally unaffected by the maelstrom.
It became obvious in a thrilling, horrifying sort of way: Machine Number Six was using the poles and trees as anchors in its landing. Then it landed. Its colors were transformed into the most brilliant oranges, purples; the dessert was no more. It was now lush pasture, farmland and forest.
The chaos was not nature. It was the force of the spacecraft's descent to the dessert floor.
Rumors circulated. Creatures from the Sixth Machine were scooping up the weak, the slow, freezing them for a late dinner, turning them blue. The alien monsters were licking their chops in anticipation of the icy blue treat.
Of course there was not one shred of evidence here.
Then it landed.
Its colors were transformed into the most brilliant oranges, purples; the dessert was no more.
Scene II
White light as brilliant as the reflected moon on the snow emanated from The Sixth Machine.
In fact at first, Debra thought it was just snow and moonlight.
Night was falling faster than the snow. You could hardly make out the trees – or the telephone poles for that matter.
In the light of the moon, the swirl of the storm, there seemed to be Saturn-like rings around the moon.
The blizzard let up. Stars appeared.
A comet always seemed to accompany these events.
Oddly enough, there seemed to be an eye on one side of the comet. The color, the predominant color of the speeding fireball was the same as a distant and brilliant orange star which Debra never before noticed.
There was a connection between Machine Number Six, this star and the comet. Suddenly the Sixth Machine was invisible.
All that could be seen of it were brilliant lights illuminating the new forest floor – and the orange glow of not one, but two comets. One almost looked like a new sun.
People watched in awe from the banks of a newly created fresh water river.a
Great winds blew.
For a moment, an instant, all color disappeared.
The sky revealed stars not seen since before the dawn of the Industrial Revolution.
The Machine reappeared. Now in a geometric concentric sort of receding electric green squares.
****
Saladin checked his figures. He was adept at all the latest apps and had mastered Excel when he was six years old. Still, he like to double check the end results manually. Slide rule and calculator were his constant anachronistic companions until he was sixteen. Now at sixty-six, his mental math was faster - faster than a speeding comet he joked to himself, reflecting on how when he was a child, he fantasized about being Superman.
At school he called himself "Sal." Better to blend in he thought.
The Sixth Machine Scene III
The battle begins. Some people hysterically thought the Machine had destroyed humanity by firing on the puny refugee ship carrying the pathetic human king of Tartarus. Chaos was not pleased. He unleashed Thanatos.
That was just so much fodder for a comic book superhero movie.
The Sixth Machine Scene IV
As the snow clouds lifted, you could tell trees from telephone poles.
At first radios began to work again, the Oldtimers said, then TVs, then desktops, then laptops, then cell service.
Vision cleared.
Thinking was enabled.
People stopped repeating themselves.
Skies were clearer.
Over snow capped mountain ranges, rivers unpolluted flowed majestically in pristine valleys. Eagles and bears rejoiced.
All moved forward in the increasing crystal clarity of great family love.
From a great distance a dot moved into view.
Sal recognized her as she got closer.
Debra spoke into her cell, recording bullets for tomorrow’s feature, maybe her next book.
Sal handed her a gift: an early radio. At least it looked like it, until it started playing a detailed explanation of the first five machines, the hope they had for humanity even in its seeming compulsion to destroy itself.
Debra thanked The Old Timer as she boarded her helicopter thinking that was another strange encounter.
Something about seeing the Sixth Machine inspired effortless mastery. She thought about an aging musician she once knew.
Something about seeing the Sixth Machine inspired effortless mastery. She thought about an aging musician she once knew.
The moon reappeared. The forest bloomed. The Machine was gone.
Structures emerged in the glowing night sky.
Make it stand out.
The comet reappeared.
The sky grew dark.
Debra for no reason at all thought of a Tibetan monastery where the masters levitated.
All was quiet in the new dawn.
A family began to build a home in front of a sheltering tree over which the sun was emerging.
People went to the sea, looking for a last trace of the Machine.
Sal said, “If these aliens are so damn smart, why can’t they figure out, agree on whether they want to be called The Sixth Machine, Machine No. 6 or whatever.”
Debra smiled, “Well, they like to fix things. Maybe The Sixth Mechanics.”