very_sharpe | Twilight Tinkering

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steve cortez

Twilight Tinkering

A small plume of smoke billowed out into an alley between buildings downtown, followed shortly by a laughing, sooty man wearing a black canvas apron over otherwise smart-looking clothes. A formerly white button-down shirt and a pair of deep blue trousers. Thomas laughs, taking his leather gloves off as he looks back to the door he's just escaped through.

"Well, back to the drawing board on that one, then."

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"Whoa!" Steve rushed forward when he saw the smoke. "Hey, Guy! Are you okay?" He'd been taking a walk, getting used to the city. There was so much to see, even though it didn't let them leave. He'd seen the gentleman come out of the smoke, and all he'd thought was 'HELP HIM'.

Thomas turned toward the man and he pushed his hair back, a little ruffled but in one piece. "I'm alright," he assured. "I ah... seem to have caused a chemical reaction. Do you by any chance know how to turn smoke alarms off? I'd hate for the fire department to actually come for nothing."

"Uh, yeah," he said, though he wasn't sure he did. He stepped into the place, waving the smoke out of his face. He drew up his omni-tool and held it up to one of the alarms. It screamed once more, then silenced, and the others followed suit. His omni-tool deactivated, the orange glow fading from his hand and forearm. He coughed a little and grabbed a nearby towel to wave the smoke away a bit better.

"What the hell were you doing?" he asked with a laugh.

"That's fantastic," he said, watching the man work with the odd tool. Thomas used a rag to bat smoke out and threw open a few windows in his workshop.

"I ah.. I was trying to see if I could make dragon puff a bit of smoke? But I was experimenting with things to combine and seem to have created a lot of smoke."

Thomas coughed, but the workroom was quickly clearing out thanks to the windows and the doors being home. The clear air revealed dozens upon dozens of mechanical sculptures and tinker toys of all sizes.

". . . Wow," Steve said as he took a look around. "Well, at least you're okay, right? Maybe lower the concentration next time." He began looking around, actually taking in the sights. "Hey, wow. This stuff is really good."

"I'm fine," he assures. "I've had more noxious fumes than that fly into my face. The mix is safe, just... awfully smokey, apparently." Thomas looks down at the bowl he'd been mixing in like it might reveal the answer to him. He looked up and offered a smile.

"Thank you. It's inventory for my shop - through there." He gestured to a door further down. "I hope to open it early next month and wanted to be sure I actually had things to sell. I suppose I can't just depend on commissions."

"So you just build things, huh?" he asked. He bent to get a better look at some of the little things, not willing to touch. "What sort of commissions do you get?" He wondered if any of them moved, or if they were simply models, like Shepard's.

"None, yet. I haven't really advertised this particular skill to anyone," he admitted. "But if people are interested after I open, I like the idea of that challenge. A few people that have seen pictures have asked for pieces. The butterfly is popular."

He gestured to a smaller piece sitting on the desk. It was a butterfly, held in the air by a thin pole attached to the body. When Thomas turned a small crank, the butterfly's wings flapped.

Steve grinned. "Hey, that's great," he said sincerely. Steve loved little mechanical marvels like these. No eezo, no engines. Just clockwork and human ingenuity. "Where'd you learn this stuff, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I suppose I taught myself. Lots of time to fill when you live practically alone in the middle of nowhere. Father and Mother didn't approve our socializing with local children, so it was just my sister and I. I made toys for her."

Thomas realized that might have been a bit more of his life story than asked for, but there it was.

"Oh, manners." He grabbed a cloth to wipe off his hands, then offered one. "Thomas Sharpe."

"Steve Cortez," he replied. He straightened up to grasp Thomas's hand. "I'm kinda new here, I'm still adjusting." "Your shop is great, Man."

"Oh, this is just the workshop, really. The proper storefront is still coming together, but it will be ready soon. I'll have a proper opening just after Halloween, I think. It's remarkable what an occasion it is over here."

"No kidding," Steve agrees. "Back where I'm from, or, when I'm from, I guess, we had a lot of other things going on." He shrugs a little. "Halloween wasn't really a top priority, so it's . . . kind of impressive to see it all around this place." And it really is everywhere.

"There were celebrations in the countryside, I suppose, but not quite anything like I've seen here - never so large or pervasive. I rather like it." Thomas smiles and does his best to finish cleaning his hands off. "I can't believe how quickly time's passed. I've been near nearly a year now."

"And no sign of heading home, huh?" Steve asks. He's not exactly of a mind to stick around, if he can help it. He's got things to do, places to fly. Maybe once the Kodiak is up and running again, he—

The Kodiak. Thomas is a tinkerer. Maybe he can help Steve get the parts he needs to get it moving again.

"No, I'm afraid not," he says with sympathy. Thomas knows that most people that come here probably want to find a way home, back to whatever people they left behind. That isn't so for him; the only person he would want to go back to is here. "For me being here is a better alternative, but I know that isn't so for everyone."

"Well . . . the conditions here are better than home," he admits, but it's plain he doesn't like what he hears. "I guess I'd better just get used to it." He huffs a wry laugh. "It's not so bad, really."

"It takes some getting used to," he says with a wan smile. "But it isn't so terrible... Strange things happen here, though. I should warn you of that, at least. Entirely unpredictable."

"What d'you mean?" he asks. "What kind of strange things?" He's a little wary now, but also incredibly curious. He's seem some weird things in his own home, his own timeline. How different could it be here?

"Oh, ah.. Well, let's see. Several months back people had their deepest, darkest secrets on their backs. Couldn't see it themselves, but other people could. A bit mortifying, actually." Thomas tried a laugh, but it wasn't quite there.

"You're kidding," he says. "How— Was it written, or— or projected somehow? Did it happen to you?" He realizes how the question sounds and immediately winces. "Sorry, no, hey. You don't have to answer that."

"We have no idea, but you could take off as many layers as you'd like and it was still there on the skin. Or you could cover it up, and it was there on the back of whatever you wore." Thomas shook his head. It had been disconcerting. "Yes, it did happen to me. But I should rather not tell you what it said. It was... unflattering."

"No, I understand," he assures. "Forget I even asked, that was really uncalled for." He smiled wanly and cleared his throat. "What else goes on here?" He can only imagine, but he's almost afraid to be curious.

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