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Entry tags:
November 3rd 1888
Date: November 3rd, 1888
Time: 10am and 1:00pm – 4:00pm
Location: The Great Hall and the Ground Floor Classroom
Characters: One of the automata (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
valdemars) and YOU/students and people with know-how [OPEN/CLOSED]
Summary: One of the manor’s automata is acting curiously and, upon its discovery, Lady Valdemar demands its immediate repair.
Warnings: None.
The day has long since begun for the servants of the household and, in actuality, it never ended for their tireless, mechanical brethren. At work, cleaning and dusting and smoothing the finest of creases from drapery, their movements are just far enough removed from a human’s as to be peculiar to the careful eye but unbroken by fatigue. That is, but for one.
The automaton must have been struggling for the past hour or so because the others have gone on ahead without it, leaving it stranded in the middle of the great hall, a soldier abandoned by his regiment. It walks sluggishly, its inner workings protesting to every step it takes and, even as it reaches its destination at the foot of the staircase, it cannot seem to find the energy to lower the hand already lifted to polish the dark wood. Its jaw falls slack.
Eventually, someone might come to its aid but for now it remains stuck gurning in a twitchy loop, arm jerking up and down erratically.
--
The morning’s humidity has yet to lift and the air in the house is beginning to stifle and yet, at Lady Valdemar’s request, the ailing machine has been carried into the classroom for inspection. It lies across one of the tables, still intermittently cycling through frenzied, programmed gestured and lying prone. The proper tools for whatever procedure is deemed necessary have been set out beside it and the students and academic minds herded in like doctors to theatre. Perhaps, thirty years or so ago, they would have had a captivated audience in the wings but times have changed and those assembled are a rather more select group than a gawping crowd.
The automaton attempts to spit out a morning greeting- its internal clock must have been unsettled- as the door closes but it gets caught up on the very first word. For several, unhinged moments, all it can do is open and close its mouth before it finally seems to get a hold of itself and tries again.
“Good mo-mo-orning- morning, sir!”
Time: 10am and 1:00pm – 4:00pm
Location: The Great Hall and the Ground Floor Classroom
Characters: One of the automata (
valdemars) and YOU/students and people with know-how [OPEN/Summary: One of the manor’s automata is acting curiously and, upon its discovery, Lady Valdemar demands its immediate repair.
Warnings: None.
The day has long since begun for the servants of the household and, in actuality, it never ended for their tireless, mechanical brethren. At work, cleaning and dusting and smoothing the finest of creases from drapery, their movements are just far enough removed from a human’s as to be peculiar to the careful eye but unbroken by fatigue. That is, but for one.
The automaton must have been struggling for the past hour or so because the others have gone on ahead without it, leaving it stranded in the middle of the great hall, a soldier abandoned by his regiment. It walks sluggishly, its inner workings protesting to every step it takes and, even as it reaches its destination at the foot of the staircase, it cannot seem to find the energy to lower the hand already lifted to polish the dark wood. Its jaw falls slack.
Eventually, someone might come to its aid but for now it remains stuck gurning in a twitchy loop, arm jerking up and down erratically.
--
The morning’s humidity has yet to lift and the air in the house is beginning to stifle and yet, at Lady Valdemar’s request, the ailing machine has been carried into the classroom for inspection. It lies across one of the tables, still intermittently cycling through frenzied, programmed gestured and lying prone. The proper tools for whatever procedure is deemed necessary have been set out beside it and the students and academic minds herded in like doctors to theatre. Perhaps, thirty years or so ago, they would have had a captivated audience in the wings but times have changed and those assembled are a rather more select group than a gawping crowd.
The automaton attempts to spit out a morning greeting- its internal clock must have been unsettled- as the door closes but it gets caught up on the very first word. For several, unhinged moments, all it can do is open and close its mouth before it finally seems to get a hold of itself and tries again.
“Good mo-mo-orning- morning, sir!”
no subject
It was possible that Temeraire had made some kind of error when he last changed the cylinders. However, anyone with the capacity for observation would easily have been able to find a way into the automaton's workings, and there were enough people in and out of the house, which was quiet late at night, that a prank, an error, or sabotage couldn't be ruled out. Did one of the servants fancy themselves a mechanic? If they were interested in learning, they could always approach one of the members of the family. The fact that it wasn't their place to ask made it understandable that they might elect not to, but it was even less their place to conduct secret midnight experimentations on their employers' property, or to tamper with it out of spite.
"No, of course not," he replied to Temeraire, his voice flat, a perfunctory reassurance. "Still, I don't like this. Please fetch the tongs to remove the plate... I think it might be better to keep a bit of distance from the thing." As he said so, he pulled back from it again.
no subject
He had encountered very little resistance as he unscrewed the back panel--if anything, it had seemed to him that something was trying to force its way out. He was certain he could have tipped the panel off with a finger, and his mentor's caution seemed to him unwarranted. All the same, he had hardly made it this far in academia by disobeying his direct superiors. With a small nod, he located the tongs and carefully levered the back panel of the automaton away from the main body.