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today, while I was brokering a peace, they all just died, and what I want so bad is to ask them why, and what am I to do, what can I do with my life, with their deaths, but they can’t hear me, no not ever again, so I fly to Germany in silence.
“My Blood Youths — I trust that this is it, the last machine. That this will be the final model.”
A brute metallic bird stares down at the me, a molted concoction, head of gold, breast of silver and tin, a vast obsidian beak mad with razored teeth that spill out and up and across the beak and head in demented, slashing crests. The huge talons on which the monster balances are mismatched things, one side polished, gleaming, articulated iron, the other of clay, the whole construction five meters high measured from talon to razored top feathers. You hear it, but only just — within the breast of the bird, the interplay of gears, pipes, reservoirs — hundreds, perhaps thousands of reservoirs, and the blades and gears that surround them, moving so smooth. The wings neither tucked against his body nor fully outstretched, rather posed in some indeterminNN4A 6@A{QPS/ C6{W}#R6}@?I^I^^C?EZ,E,/ 5U AQ6 WCX6AQX>M #?S/53EE5WW
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“The last one, Teacher.”
“This one guided by new design principles—”
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“Manufactured along different lines—”
“To take advantage of changed circumstances—”
“The new situation on the ground.”
“To wit—”
“We still have boys.”
“So many boys.”
“Though many more have been lost.”
“Still, a number of boys—”
“Who might supply the teacher with blood.”
“A shame, then—”
A very great shame, was our thinking.”
“That almost all are dead.”
“If only they, too—”
“Could be of service—”
“It is not sufficient for them to lose their lives in our cave system—”
“When there is much more they can give—”
“When to supply the master with blood—”
“Even in death—”
“Would be the highest service.”
“We know how the master likes the blood of boys!”
“And there are, as we said, still so many—”
“So many boys—”
“All dead—”
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“So we have made—”
“Our greatest invention yet—”
“So much bigger than any seen before—”
“So much greater, and more terrible—”
“A monstrous bird—”
“Into the terrible beak of which—”
“You can feed a dead boy—”
“Or, if necessary—”
“A living boy—”
“Then rotate the crank to start up the beak—”
“And the boy will be juiced—”
“He’ll find himself well-juiced—”
“And great quantities of boy’s blood will be extracted.”
“From the dead as from the living—”
“By virtue of clockwork—”
“And chemical interactions—”
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self-renewing chemicals, replenished with each dead boy from the dead boy’s own body—”
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always be blood for the teacher—”
“As long as there are boys in the world—”
“Living or dead—”
“And the teacher has at his side—”
“This monstrous bird.”
The youths join hands and bow. I applaud slowly, each beat resounding in the central chamber. Across the floor, the blind boys awake, heads lolling, scabbed eyes rolling in their faces.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask the Blood Youths. “You must give yourselves a round of applause.”
They seem not to understand at first. I continue nodding, and at last they unlink their hands and join me, tentatively, at first, then with greater and greater vigor, then we are all three applauding faster and more giddily, until we’re brougG.Z4.5U.5SRZ 4OC^WSUUECWCZZ#/
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birds raining down, we cover our heads.
“The birds!”
“The birds!”
“The master’s birds!”
“They have returned!
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birds that cover the floor — I watch the gentle rise and fall of the chests of the sleeping birds, heads tucked under wings.
“Oh, my birds,” I whisper.
I am at the point of starting the business of recaging them, when the first Blood Youth lets out a shriek.
“But wait!”
“We must not forget!”
“The most critical—”
“The essential point—”
“When you feed the boy in—”
“It must be headfirst.”
“Only ever headfirst!”
“Feetfirst—”
“This would be a disaster.”
“Stuff the boy in only headfirst.”
“A dead boy.”
“Or a living boy.”
“Headfirst in either case.”
“There is a button here on the breast—”
“Just below the crank.”
“And if you press it once, the needle points to the heart—”
“The heart of a living boy—”
“Pressed again, the needle swings over—”
“And points to the skull—”
“A dead boy’s skull—”
“Do not be confused.”
“Of course, living boys have skulls.”
“We all have skulls—”
“Inside our faces—”
“But for the sake of the machine, understand—”
“That the skull means dead—”
“And the heart means living.”
“So feed the boy in—”
“Always headfirst—”
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