Father's out on campaign and doesn't know. Mother thinks she's on a school trip. The school thinks she's staying home. In truth, she's in a cave in the mountains. Digging a tunnel with her fists, in the dark. If she can connect the southwest passages to the main burrow, she'll be able to visit much more freely.
Her steady break-scoop-pack movements make a comfortable rhythm, and she allows herself to fall into an almost trance-like state as she works.
A severely injured woman, though Eliko may not be able to determine those details in the dark, appears in the tunnel behind her.
She can tell that something approximately person-sized just appeared. She pivots, fists raised defensively, and stomps to send a small tremor to map the intruder more precisely.
Intruder is lying there. Shifts to a more comfortable position after a minute.
"Hello?"
Something in a foreign language, some three or four words.
Feels human. Words don't sound at all familiar, though.
"I can't understand you. Are you a spirit?"
Foreign language foreign language!
This is definitely the second strangest thing that's ever happened to her. Well, maybe third. Top five, at least.
"That still doesn't make any sense. I hope you don't mind if I call some friends." She taps the wall behind her several times in quick succession.
If the stranger minds she does not manifest this objection in any way. She lies there.
"Do you need- help, or anything? You probably can't see. I didn't bring a light, I wasn't expecting to need one."
Inconveniently Tarinda has no bioluminescent mods. She sits up slowly.
"Oh, you're moving. I guess that's better than you not being able to do that." Probably. In most cases.
There's a low vibration coming through the ground. "They're almost here."
Tarinda can't really do anything about that right now, for good or ill.
There's a puff of air as the wall behind Eliko collapses and something large and snuffly pokes its snout through. And then it licks her.
"Yes, hello to you too." Pat pat.
The floor shakes a bit as the badgermole steps forward and sniffs the air around Tarinda.
Tarinda holds still.
Snuffle snuffle.
Churf.
"Oh really? Well, that's good to hear."
The beast turns around and starts back the way it came.
Whurf.
"I have no idea if she can understand me..." she mutters.
"You're invited back to the den. It's this way. If you want to follow." And maybe if she starts walking the other will get the idea?
It takes her a bit to discern through hearing alone what's going on but she does get to her feet and follow, yes.
Oh good. She doesn't have to go hold hands.
Further ahead there's a faint gleam of light. This proves to be some sort of moss growing on the cave walls.
That's really helpful. Tarinda looks quite intently at the badgermole and at Eliko.
Eliko: is a twelve year old girl with black pants and a red shirt, both rather dusty. She's not wearing any shoes.
Badgermole: is quite large. Looks like a cross between a badger and a mole. Long bald tail, big furry body, sharp claws.
Fancy that.
Tarinda, if Eliko (or for that matter the badgermole) should happen to look, is a woman of no identifiable ethnicity, with a sword on her back and knives on her belt, dressed in leather boots and leggings of a mystery fabric and a tunic sort of thing that might be linen. She looks weirdly healthy, and pretty too, but has smears of blood all over her person.
Weird. But apparently trustworthy.
They get to a much larger space, with more of the large furry creatures. Eliko is immediately mobbed by several of the smaller ones, all licking excitedly.
That's sort of cute.
Once sufficient pets have been distributed, she manages to push the cubs off. She sets her feet, knees slightly bent, hands held out with palms up, and lifts. A bench-like slab rises out of the ground, and she sits down on one end.
One of the more excitable cubs rears back and claps with its front paws, creating a sloped incline next to Eliko, which it clambers up to lay its head in her lap.
That's cute and interesting. Tarinda stands back, staring curiously.
Pet pet.
"My name is Eliko," she says, pointing at herself. "These are badgermoles," indicating the creatures.
"Tarinda," Tarinda says, pointing at herself. "Badgermoles?" she attempts to pronounce, pointing at one.
"Badgermole," she says slowly, sounding it out. "One badgermole," point, "many badgermoles," sweep to indicate room.
"One badgermole, many badgermoles. One -" She holds up one finger, then holds up two and tilts her head.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," counting on fingers. Flash all ten then one, "eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Twenty-one. Thirty."
"Twenty-two, twenty-three...?"
Nod. "Yes."
"Ten tens?"
"One hundred."
Nod. She makes a gesture that might be trying to encourage Eliko.
Right, what else...
"Hand. Finger. I have two hands. I have ten fingers. A badgermole has four paws."
Tarinda nods along. Points at parts of her body and her clothes and armaments to elicit vocabulary for them.
Words can be provided.
Tarinda never seems to need to have anything repeated for her, but can't produce words Eliko hasn't given her.
Can she pick up grammar if Eliko makes up sentences with the words they've used?
Yes she can. She formulates questions and tries statements.
Good. When they run low on local objects, she starts doing little raised doodles in the ground.
Doodles, okay, cool! Tarinda can doodle too, although she does not have magic powers and has to draw with her finger in the dirt.
She draws four elemental symbols and points at the flame.
"I am from Fire. Where are you from?"
"I'm from Mars. Not these."
A sketch of a map: one central continent, a few island chains, two landmasses at the top and bottom.
"Not these."
"You are human? Not-" she hasn't translated spirit yet, it's a hard word to get to with the materials at hand. "Not-human person?"
"I think I am the thing you are, a human."
"Where is Mars?"
...Tarinda draws the Solar system and puts an arrow pointing at Mars. "This one is Mars. This one is Earth, my people were from Earth first but now live more places. That is the - up fire? that the Earth and Mars go around."
Up fire? "The sun. In the sky."
"Our sun, that's our sun. I think your sun is different. So I think I am a human but I only think it."
"Oh." Eliko considers for a moment. "How did you get here?"
"Something happened to my going from Earth to Mars thing."
"Can you fix it? Go back?"
"No, none of it is here and I do not know what happened. I need to do something else."
"Like what?"
"There is... a thing, that I have... writing..." Wobbly gesture. "About. I need to do that. Then everything will be good."
"How long will it take?"
"I don't know. If you have some things not very long. If you don't have them I have to make them."
"I should go home soon. You can come back with me if you want. It might be dangerous, but probably more interesting than staying here."
"Yes."
"Okay." She nudges the badgermole off her lap and stands up. She taps out a short rhythm with her foot. The badgermoles give an answering rumble, and a few last-second licks.
"It's this way." Back down the tunnel they came by.
"Are badgermoles... do they... do they think humanly?" Tarinda wonders, following.
"They know family. I can earthbend, so I'm family."
"That isn't what I wanted to ask."
"They're still animals."
"Okay."
"There are... not-human people, sometimes. They not from here, like you. But they're not from the sky."
"Where else is there?"
"Here, but sideways in every direction. The spirit world."
"What are they like?"
"Different. Harder to talk to than you. They- think sideways, too."
"Hm."
"A lot of them aren't nice. They mostly don't like humans."
"Why not?"
"I don't really know. Some of the books say there's supposed to be a balance and humans don't always respect that."
"Balance?"
"Evenness, kind of. Between the elements, and the world and nature."
"Why is there supposed to be that?"
"I don't know. The books don't like to talk about it. There's supposed to be an Avatar who talks to humans and spirits, but the Fire Nation killed him a hundred years ago and there hasn't been another."
"Huh."
They get to the cave entrance. There's a pair of shoes just inside. Eliko picks them up, but doesn't put them on.
"Don't tell anyone about the badgermoles. Or that I can bend."
"It's a - what is the word for a thing to not tell -"
"Secret."
"Secret. Okay."
It's a bright summer day outside, the sun beginning to get low in the sky. The cave is nestled against the base of the mountains and forested slopes lead gently down to a shimmering ocean. There's a dark smudge of smoke pressed up against it. Eliko points at it.
"That's where we're going."
"Okay."
Over the hills and through the woods, down to the seaside town they go. Eliko puts her shoes on when they get close enough to make out individual buildings. They're fairly dense, neatly constructed of brick with tile or metal roofs, but none taller than two stories. Up near the forest appears to be a residential area, and down by the water and the docks is a commercial or industrial district. There are two iron steamships tied up, the rest are wood and sail. The source of the smoke is a large building with several smokestacks. A steady trickle of workers are moving large crates out and loading them into the metal ships.
"I think you don't have the thing I need."
"You can tell?"
"Not for sure but I think you don't have it. I need a thing that thinks but is a thing."
"...No, we don't have that."
"I didn't think so. I will have to make it. But then everything will be good."
"Everything will be fine?"
"Everything will be good."
"Why?"
"Because of the thing!"
"You need more words. We should get some books."
"Books would be good!"
"We should split up so people don't wonder what I was doing in the woods to meet you. If you take that street, it leads down to the market square. I'll find you there."
"Okay." Tarinda follows this instruction.
She draws more than a few looks. Eyes bounce from her hair to her face to her multiplicity of edged weapons and then usually quickly away.
She doesn't want to look threatening, but nor does she want to look like an easy mark. She makes plenty of friendly eye contact.
No one is bored or drunk enough to start trouble at this time of day.
The market square is bustling with stalls and traders. Fish, fruits and vegetables, trinkets, clothing, sundry items.
Tarinda looks at everything for at least a half-second; if she doesn't remember it Page will. Page is working hard enough that Tarinda's body temperature is up a bit. She shucks a layer, once she's sure that will still keep her within the range of clothedness practiced here.
Most people wear some combination of short-sleeved shirt and pants or skirt. Shades of red dominate, with orange and yellow highlights and black accents.
There are a few guards in heavy plate stationed around the edges of the square. People tend to give them a generous amount of personal space.
She skirts them too, imitatively, and looks for Eliko.
She's just turned the corner at the other end of the square.
Tarinda meanders in her direction, looking at everything and attempting not to make an obvious beeline. Page is picking up lots of language around her.
She stops at a fruit stand and buys a pair of oranges, paying with a few small copper coins.
Tarinda inspects the food. Does it look recognizable like humans or not like badgermoles?
Mostly recognizable! A few of the fruits have odd shapes or colorings, and none of the fish on offer exactly resemble any Earthly species.
She edges nearer Eliko as she surveys the wares.
"Want an orange?"
"Okay."
Toss.
Catch. Peel peel.
"There's a bookstore on the next street, if you want to visit."
"Yes!"
To the bookstore, then. The proprietor is a wrinkled old man with thick glasses.
"Oh, Eliko," he says. "How nice to see you again. Who's your friend?"
"This is Tarinda. She's a traveler."
"Hello, it's nice to meet you!"
"A traveler, eh? Where from?"
"It's called Mars."
He peers at her. "Don't believe I've heard of Mars."
"It's very far away!"
"I imagine it'd have to be. What brings you out this way, if I might ask?"
"Right now I might settle down and start a - shop."
He chuckles. "It is good to see young people with ambitions. Oh, Eliko, I'm afraid I haven't gotten anything new since your last visit."
"She wanted to see a bookstore, I'm just showing her around."
"Yes, thank you!"
"Ah, what sorts of books are you looking for?"
"Do you have one that is - mm, all of the kinds of words that there are? I am learning."
"A dictionary? Yes, over here." He pulls a rather thick book off a shelf and passes it over.
"Thank you!" And she starts paging through it, too quickly to be really reading everything but making sure to look at it all.
The written language seems to consist of ideograms, which concatenate into a dizzying array of possible constructions. The book is grouped into sections by which strokes form the basis of the character.
Well that's gonna be harder for Tarinda but easy as pie for Page, who is doing most of the work right now. Look look look look.
The old man watches her flip pages bemusedly.
"I don't have any money yet, but how much would I need to buy this?"
"Ten silver."
"Hmm, okay." Flip flip. "I might need a job for a little money before I try to get really started."
"Mm. 'Fraid I don't really do enough business to pay an assistant. They're always hiring over at the factory, though. Or you look like you're equipped to do a little bounty hunting, maybe."
"Tell me about bounty hunting?"
"Sometimes a criminal escapes the guards. A bounty is posted at the board. The hunter finds the criminal and brings them to the magistrate's office for the reward."
"I don't know about that... especially because I don't have any bending."
"Most people don't. Waterbenders are all holed up at the North Pole, firebenders're in the army, ain't no earthbenders 'round these parts any more."
"Aren't there? Why not?"
"All rounded up, sent off. Or killed in the fighting. This wasn't always a Fire Nation colony."
"Oh, I see. What does the factory do?"
"Mostly helmets, I believe."
"Maybe."
"You look like a smart girl, I'm sure you'll figure something out."
"Thanks." Flip look flip look.
"So, Eliko, did you finish that scroll?"
"Yes."
"What did you think?"
"Sapesh had some interesting ideas, but I don't think he ever got off his mountain and actually talked to, say, a village mayor. He sounded very... pretentious."
"Pretentious, yes. A good word for him. But, if you look at the structure and not merely the content, it is clear that he spent considerable time formulating his thoughts. Contrast that with Debuki, who may have had his ramblings transcribed directly."
"I suppose..."
Pageturn pageturn pageturn. "What did these people write about?"
"The relation of taxation to the power structure of local government."
"Huh. What did they think?"
"Sapesh said that lower taxes would breed trust and allow for more communal government. Debuki says that taxes should be high so people are invested in stability."
"Huh!" She's still flipping through the dictionary page by page; she can't look up specific words. "Are you studying that kind of thing?"
"Eliko here is studying a bit of everything. She says school bores her. I try to help out where I can."
"What's school cover?"
"Basic things. Reading. Writing. Math. History."
"Does everybody go?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Until you're fourteen."
"How old are you?"
"Twelve."
Tarinda nods. She doesn't volunteer her age. She flips through the dictionary.
Eliko and the old man continue their conversation on rhetoric. The vocabulary is probably a little beyond Tarinda yet.
It's very helpful on advanced grammar, though. And it's distracting from her odd behavior with the dictionary. Flip flip flip.
After a while, another customer comes in and the old man goes to help them.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm looking at this dictionary."
"Why?"
"I have a thing that can remember it and remind me how to say things."
"That sounds useful."
"It is!"
"Is it part of what you're going to build?"
"The thing I have knows how to build the thing."
"What else can it do?"
"It can show me pictures and put sounds in my ears but only I can see and hear them. - that sounds bad. I know exactly how it is doing it but it is doing it in a way I cannot show you. It knows a lot of things. It can remember anything I see or hear. It can do complicated math very fast. It can control some other things I have in my body for me."
"That sounds helpful."
"It is!"
"What are you going to do when you finish the dictionary?"
"See if there are good ways to make some money."
"You might have to wait until tomorrow."
"Why?"
"It's getting late. Things are closing."
"Yeah. I guess I can camp out and I won't need food urgently right away."
"Because of the things you have in your body?"
"They actually make me need food more in the long run but in the short run I can do better without than I could if I didn't have them."
"Oh. The guards don't like people sleeping on the street."
"I was thinking out in the trees."
"That would probably be better. I'll have to go back to school tomorrow."
"Makes sense. Is there anything I should know soon?"
"I don't think so? I could show you where my house is, if you need to find me."
"Okay, thank you."
"Are you done with the dictionary?"
"Yeah." She's reached the last page.
"Do you want to go now or do something else?"
"Now's fine."
Up to the residential district, then.
"I appreciate your help, by the way."
"You're welcome."
And here's her house. Not so much different from the others around it. "This is it."
"Okay. I assume you don't want to explain me to your parents."
"Not having to would be good."
"All right, I'll get out of here. Thanks!" And she skedaddles into the woods.
Woods: are woody. A susurrus of insects buzzing amongst the trees heralds the dusk.
Tarinda catches bugs, attempts to identify them, periodically in between hiking in search of shelter.
This one's a cicada with grasshopper legs! Here's a bumblebee with butterfly wings! Spider legs on an ant!
Curious! The butterbee is cute but she lets it go after she's had a good look. She will be able to look for shelter by starlight, but it'll be harder to hunt then, so she keeps an eye out for anything that is made of edible component creatures she might be able to catch. Rabbit-goats or deer-pheasants or whatever they have here.
A pheasantish bird with a long bushy tail cocks its head at her from an overhead branch.
She watches it to find out if it is part jellyfish or something.
It doesn't display any medusozoid characteristics. It does dive off the branch, snatch up a large insect in its beak, glide into the trunk of a different tree, and scamper back up.
Scampering. Huh. Well, she will go decapitate it, mercifully as she can.
It makes a sound halfway between a squawk and a chitter when she grabs it, but is not overly inclined to protest otherwise.
She gets underway on a fire. All her electronics are internal and she has no matches but she can rub sticks together real fast.
There's plenty of dry wood, at least. She can have a cozy fire going soon enough.
Good. She skins and cleans and cooks her pheasantwhatever.
It's kind of gamey. A little nutty.
She'll cope.
Something starts quietly screaming in the distance. It sounds like a mouse being murdered, repeatedly.
It might well be an animal. She will climb a tree and squint thataway.
There's some sort of bat-thing hanging off a branch. It swivels its head much further than a bat should be able to, opens its mouth- and yep, that's the source of the noise.
You do you, bat thing. Page noise-cancels the bat-thing and Tarinda sets about arranging the most comfortable shelter she can for overnight.
With the bat-thing silenced, there's not much to disturb her from doing so.
It is not the best bed she's ever had but it's all right.
Later in the night, a nearby branch snaps. Something about the size of a large dog pads quietly closer to Tarinda's sleeping form.
Page hears it coming and wakes her. She opens her eyes. She doesn't otherwise move.
The thing is a cat, with two lashing tails and a strangely elongated face. It must catch a gleam or reflection in Tarinda's open eyes, because it stops short, then sits down.
"Hiss-ss. It has caught us, the toy has. Awoken from innocent slumber by hostile intent, hiss-ss." It grins wide, revealing sharp fangs.
Tarinda looks at it, but doesn't reply.
"Hiss-ss. A quiet little stranger, it is." The cat stretches, pushing its front legs forward and displaying impressively sharp claws before pulling them back. Licking its left forepaw, it begins to clean its face. "We are wondering what it does here, sleeping so lonesome, hiss-ss."
"I didn't have a place in town."
"Hiss-ss. You don't belong here, oh no no. No spirit you, no human either. Nowhere to stay and nowhere to be, hiss-ss."
She doesn't say anything.
"Hiss-ss. We felt your arrival, we did. From a nothing comes a something and from a something comes a change. We don't trust you, we don't. Better for you to be eaten and die and join the cycle that way, hiss-ss."
She can get her sword in less than a tenth of a second from her current position. If it can disable her sooner than that she's not going to win a fight and if she goes for the sword and it wasn't going to be a fight she might invite one she doesn't need.
"Hiss-ss. The toy tenses, it does. Does it think of fighting? We hope so. It is so dreadfully boring in other respects, hiss-ss."
She holds still.
The cat pauses a moment, then gives a sort of shrug.
"Hiss-ss. We have seen, yes, and spoken. Our task is done, hiss-ss." It rises and stretches again, tails lifted into the air. They pause in their movements for a moment and a flame blossoms between their tips. In an instant, it flashes and consumes the cat's entire body. It disappears without a trace.
...Tarinda stays awake for another half an hour, watching.
The forest seems to be a little louder than it was before, but there are no further visitations.
She goes back to sleep.
The next day dawns bright and clear.
And she gets up and makes sure her fire won't spread and tromps back into town to look for work - and stop by the bookstore to see what they have on spirits.
Does she go to the factory? The bounty boards? Other shops?
She'll at least look at the bounty boards.
There's posters advertising rewards for a con man, a gang of bandits by a mountain pass, and a pirate ship.
Honestly fighting a shipful of pirates and sailing it home sounds like so much fun but under these conditions she's going to have to pass. She swings through shops looking for anybody explicitly hiring or understaffed, stopping in the bookshop early in the search.
She doesn't see anything before getting to the bookstore.
Spirit books?
There aren't many. The ones present seem to be fairy tale style, likely aimed at small children.
The proprietor smiles to see her again. "Back again, are we?"
"Yeah, I'm interested in spirits today!"
"Mm, that can be a dangerous topic. Interest in such things is... not officially encouraged."
"Oh! Can you tell me why?"
"The Fire Lord disapproves of such 'mystical nonsense'."
"Oh, so they aren't real?"
They're alone in the store, but the old man glances around anyway.
"Oh, they're real. If you ask me, Ozai's doing his people no favors by suppressing the stories. Just means people who cross them have no idea what they did wrong or how to fix it."
"Gosh. Can you give me advice for if I run into any?"
"Different sorts take different things, but in general- be polite, be respectful, don't be aggressive, don't agree to anything you won't follow through on."
"Since I'm very foreign do you think you could help me with the ways of being polite and respectful that are usual here?"
"A few bits of advice, yes." How to bow, formal and informal registers, a few standard turns of phrase.
"Thanks!" She practices bowing a bit.
"Looks like you've gotten the hang of it."
"Thanks!"
"You're quite welcome. If you're still looking for books about spirits, you might ask Eliko if she still has hers."
"Ooh, I'll do that if I see her! Thanks!"
"Anything else I can help you with?"
"Is there anything else you'd say a foreigner ought to know?"
"Hmm. If you're going to swear, do it by Agni, not Tui and La or Oma and Shu. Don't mock the Fire Lord, or anyone in the army. And if you see anyone with their hair in a high tail, do your best to avoid their attention."
"- and don't wear my hair like that, I guess?"
"That'd be wise."
"Okay, thanks!"
He nods farewell and shuffles off.
She looks around for other work. She prefers shorter-term stuff than the factory, especially anything paid by output that assumes baseline human strength and so on.
Ships down at the dock need loading and unloading. The harbormaster is skeptical she can perform the work.
"I'm stronger than I look, sir!"
"Prove it." He indicates a tall stack of crates.
She scoops up a crate. She doesn't one-hand it, that might be a bit much.
...She's hired.
She will haul crates.
She'll get some money for every ship that gets unloaded or packed up.
She will haul crates real fast.
Sometimes the captain of the ship will give her a tip, as well.
Convenient!
Based on the dictionary and looking around, she keeps an eye out for things she can easily "invent" given this starting capital. And... food and places to stay where cat spirits won't accost her paring down that starting capital.
There doesn't seem to be much, if any, automation. There's probably lots of room for innovation.
There's a bunkhouse right by the docks that does meals as well. It doesn't seem the sort of place one stays long-term, but it is cheap.
Cheap is good. Location's good. She'll need inventing space in the long run, her own room and space for tools, but this will do while she hauls crates.
By the middle of the afternoon, she has enough money for a few days of food and lodging.
That is great. She breaks for a meal - this is probably a good time to get banned from an all-you-can-eat, if there are any, or alternately win a prize by eating an entire enormous food? - and goes back to work.
There is an all-you-can-eat place. The price is about twice what an ordinary meal would cost. There are grills built into the tables. You order the raw meats and cook it yourself.
She'll pay up and put her optimized hyperefficient metabolism to work.
After forty-five minutes, she has a small audience. After an hour the owner is sending dark looks her way.
Okay, that'll hold her for a couple days. She apologetically sets down her chopsticks.
There are small noises of disappointment from her watchers. The owner shoos her out the door.
She is shooed! She waves at onlookers, smiling faintly.
The other dockworkers look at her with a different kind of respect, as word of her prodigious feat spreads.
Heh. That wasn't really an effect she was going for but all right.
She is generally friendly! She remembers everyone's names and says hi and is a very good listener.
The overall impression given is that she may look strange and have... a lot... of weapons, but other than that she seems like a good person.
Good. (She's not going to sell the weapons, they don't have ones as good here and she knows how to use these if something comes up. Something might come up.)
She will haul so many crates until she can afford a place and tools and materials to construct... a phonograph.
That may take more than one day.
Yeah, she wasn't expecting it to be instant.
But with hard work and dedication, she can get there! Eventually.
Crates crates crates.
At the end of the day, the dockmaster compliments her work ethic and asks if she'll be returning.
"Expect me!" she chirps.
Some of the other workers are going out drinking before going home. Would she like to join them?
Sure! She's saving up, though, might only have a couple.
That's the spirit!
The bar is seedy and the beer isn't very good, but at least it's cheap.
Beer has calories and those are important! Tarinda does not feel like letting it cross the blood/brain barrier; tiny risks are pretty hugely magnified in this setting. She does a pretty good giggly-tipsy anyway.
One or two of the men attempt to convince her to come home with them.
"I have a girlfriend back home!"
Aw. What she doesn't know won't hurt her?
No thanks.
Well, it was worth a try.
Sure, no hard feelings!
And she goes to the bunkhouse for the night.
The bunkhouse contains approximately 100% fewer nighttime cat spirit monsters than the woods.
Marvelous.
She sleeps through the night and gets bunkhouse breakfast and goes crate-hauling.
The second day is much the same as the first, except if she gets there early enough, she can start on fish instead of miscellaneous cargo.
Sure, why not, change of pace.
The day's catch goes to the market, and then it's back to the crates.
She would be super bored if Page wasn't doing language tutoring and audiobooks and music.
Towards the end of the day, one of the iron-sided steamships limps into port. The deck is smoking in several places and it's listing to one side.
"Water Tribe bastards," says a worker, and spits.
"What's the war about?" Tarinda wonders.
"Payback," someone else growls. "World's been kicking the Fire Nation long enough. We're kicking back."
"Gosh, what'd they do?"
"What, you been living under a rock for the past five hundred years?"
"I'm just from super far away. I haven't heard anything."
This prompts an impromptu crowdsouced public lecture on history. None of it is terribly clear, and it's often self-contradictory. Apparently at some point the Avatar made a decision that hobbled the Fire Nation economy or destroyed part of their culture and the other countries took advantage. Or something like that.
"The Avatar?"
You know, the reincarnating spirit that's supposed to keep the world in balance? That can bend all four elements? That one. Anyway, they nailed him good at the start of the war when they took out the Air Temples. Haven't seen any sign of him since.
Gosh, okay. He didn't reincarnate this time?
If he did, he's hiding, heh heh heh.
The dockmaster yells at everyone to get back to work.
Crates crates crates!
Does she want to go out drinking again?
Sure, why not.
There's a group of uniformed strangers in the bar tonight, drinking heavily. Probably sailors from the ship.
She doesn't make it look like she's eavesdropping but she super is.
"-their boats could move like that. I thought we got all the southern benders, anyway."
"We did."
"Damn that Hakoda."
"I'll drink to that. Ought to go go and burn the rest of those snow-rats off their icebergs."
"Hear Ozai might give the order soon."
"Yeah? I'll look forward to that."
"Not me. If I never see the Pole again it'll be too soon."
"Man wasn't born for that weather."
She drinks her mediocre beer and mulls.
The sailors' conversation continues on. Apparently there was a defeat at somewhere called Ba Sing Se that the army has still not fully recovered from. The western front is being reorganized. As they get drunker, their thoughts become more disjoint and less sensical.
If any of them look likely to black out, Tarinda might try to corner them in the bathroom and use that to cover some less delicate inquiries about the opposition.
It seems they're going to be decamping in a pack.
So much for that.
They break into song as they stumble back to the docks. It's probably an old favorite, given the way it extols the size of their ship's mast in comparison to others.
Cute.
She goes about her routine, saving up and inquiring after sources for phonograph parts.
The main obstacle is going to be getting all the fiddly little metal bits made. There are a few blacksmiths in town, if she knows what she wants well enough to get someone else to make it.
She made a sword once. It got cut down into a montage in the canon edit but she did make the entire sword. She pokes around smithies looking for anybody who'd let her rent time.
This one has no time for hobbyists. This one is up to his ears in work, if she'll apprentice for a while he'll let her do a few personal projects. This one on the edge of town will let her use the forge at night, if she can prove she knows enough not to burn the place down.
She will not burn the place down!
Sure, okay. What does she want to do, anyway?
"I want to make some custom parts for a hobby project."
"What sort of project?"
"It's gonna look like this -" She draws him a sketch.
Headscratch. "Looks fancy enough."
"It's gonna be neat."
"If you say so. Tools're over here, mind you put them back where you found them. Use your own materials, of course. She's yours anytime after dusk until dawn."
"Thanks!"
And she comes by in the evenings to make progress. She can skip the occasional full night of sleep; she doesn't have exogenous drugs from home, but she can bounce back from abusing tea.
After he sees his forge still intact the next day, the smith is content to leave well enough alone.
Then soon she will have all the metal parts she needs for a demo/prototype model.
She'll need something to record sound on. Plastics are unknown, but wax is available.
Wax works! She buys wax and sculpts it.
She sings a song into a cylinder. An aggressively earwormy little melody, competently if not gorgeously delivered.
Her coworkers are curious about what she's been doing with her evenings.
They can come check it out! The phonograph plays her song. A backup wax cylinder can record anything they'd like to try.
...Wow. What sort of things does one even say to a cylinder?
"You could sing a song like I did, or recite poems, or tell stories! Short ones, since the cylinders can't hold much."
After some internal discussion, they decide to sing a dockside shanty.
And it is recorded to wax form and she plays it back for them.
Haha, that's great!
"I'm thinking maybe they would be good for restaurants and places like that to play music, and musicians could sell their cylinders - maybe somebody would want a booth where you can record your voice and hear it played back, people's voices sound different to themselves -"
Those all sound like good ideas. Not that they know, really, they move crates for a living and haven't before had cause to entrepreneur before.
"Do you know if there are any - invention fair or convention sort of things anywhere?"
There's the summer festival in like a week?
That'll do! She looks into getting a booth.
The organizing committee is taking applications! Name, interest, sponsor (if applicable)?
Tarinda, a new invention she is calling soundwriting, no sponsor.
She can have a side street booth. Here is the location. The committee is not responsible for guaranteeing any level of visitor count or the safety of her booth should she decide to leave it unattended et cetera.
That's fine.
She makes lots of cylinders and attempts to rush a second device.
Her workshop gets a visitor before the festival.
"Evening!"
"Hi. I heard you made something."
"I did!" She puts on the cylinder of her singing.
"How does it work?"
"Sound is really the same thing as vibration! If you have something set up to vibrate in a way that leaves a mark, sound will make it do that. And if you have something set up to vibrate according to the marks, then sound happens."
"Huh. I hadn't thought of it like that before."
"It's really cool! If you want to record something I got curtains to reduce background noise and you can buy a cylinder use. They can be reused sort of, shaved down, but then they don't hold as much, so I have to charge."
"Can you only record on one at a time?"
"I could set it up to record more than one cylinder at once! These aren't like that, they're prototypes."
"Can I see one?"
"Sure." She shows her a phonograph, sets it playing her own little song.
She watches the needle move intently.
"Can I- borrow one of the cylinders?"
"One with stuff on it or a blank one?"
"With stuff."
Tarinda hands her the song one.
She runs her fingers lightly over the grooves. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. That's all you wanted to do?"
"...I think I could make one of these. Maybe. If I practice. These bumps are very small."
"Cool. In wax?"
"No. Or not directly. Out of rock. But I could do the bumps in reverse and make a mold?"
"Oooh. That would be convenient for mass production."
"People will know an earthbender helped you if you let them see."
"That doesn't seem like it'd be good. Is it like this everywhere you could get to?"
"Like what?"
"I dunno. I've considered going somewhere else but I don't know how easily you can move around being twelve or with the war on."
"I could get to the Earth Kingdom if I had to. The fighting's mostly in the north, from here to Ba Sing Se. A ship going south would be easiest."
"Do you want to?"
"I haven't had a good reason to leave yet."
"Okay. I might, if things don't take off pretty well here. Mass production would help."
"That would be a good reason."
"If you're happy at home I wouldn't want to disrupt that."
"You wouldn't be."
"Okay."
She hands the cylinder back.
Tarinda sets it where it goes. Puts on the song. The sound quality isn't great; it'll be noticeably not just someone singing even to passersby with their backs turned.
"It's a nice song."
"The thing in me invented it to be interesting to people who are used to music here."
"...It did a good job."
"It's one of the things they're used for most, at home. Custom music. It wouldn't be very good at customizing for a specific person because it has to use me as an instrument right now but it can do styles."
"Do lots of people have them?"
"Yeah, almost everybody. I usually have mine turned down so it does less but it still does music."
"Are people here going to get them?"
"Eventually, probably!"
"What's it like?"
"It's nice. You can turn it off if you don't like it but if you have it on you train it to do exactly what you want it to, and it gets so good at it that it happens before you ask. I usually have mine off because I do a lot of things where I'm pretending not to have one and that's easier if I don't."
"What kinds of things?"
"Improvisational theater with swordfighting!"
"You were an actor?"
"You could call it that. They're related pastimes but studied differently and enjoyed by different sorts of people."
"Did you do it in troupes, or by yourself?"
"Pretty hard to swordfight alone. It was a shifting cast."
"Did you have friends that did it?"
"Yeah."
"Do you miss them?"
"Yeah. And my girlfriend."
"What's she like?"
"- she's from before everything was good."
"Was that a long time ago?"
"Yeah. Sing - that's the thing that makes everything good, it's called Sing for short - Sing can let people be dead, and as long as they're only dead in the right way, it can bring them back to life. She was dead for a long time. She had a list of things she wanted before she would be alive again, so I made sure they could all happen, and then I woke her up."
"What's the right way to be dead?"
"There's a couple. The least complicated one is frozen, as cold as possible."
"Oh. Was- a girlfriend one of the things she wanted?"
"Yes. She said before she died it would be all right for people to read her diary, so I did that."
"It sounds very strange, to die and then come back the same person."
"It's so easy to make new people on demand, that doesn't even require technology, I don't see why you'd recycle them."
Shrug. "Reincarnation wasn't my decision."
"Is everybody reincarnated or do most people just die when they die?"
"People say that everyone reincarnates but only the Avatar knows their past lives."
"If you don't remember how is it you?"
"Metaphysically? Same personality?"
"Huh. Maybe when there's a Sing here it'll figure out how to let you remember. Or something. I'm not Sing so I don't know what it will figure out is best."
"It may not be true."
"Then that's what it'll figure out!"
"I think I would like to know, one way or the other."
"Well, first I have to make it. I'm hoping I can do it soon but it's complicated. The cylinders have nothing to do with it at all, they're just something to make money so I can build more things."
"What things do you need?"
"Machines that can think. They have to have a lot of parts, very small, and electricity, which is like lightning."
"There are stories that say really good firebenders can bend lightning."
"- they'd have to do it pretty precisely."
"They mostly did it to kill people."
"That's not gonna be precise enough unless I build a really fancy electricity storer thing, but that might actually be easier, a lightning battery... I'd need a lightning bender though."
"I don't know any."
"Point in favor of staying in this country though."
"I don't think there would be any in the colonies. Either with the army or the home islands."
"Army comes through now and then but wouldn't be a good place to poach. Home islands maybe."
"You'd stand out. A lot."
"I'll do that anywhere, won't I?"
"Most other places people wouldn't mind so much."
"Hm. I don't have the things I'd need to change how I look and it would be hard to get rid of my accent."
"When you have money, you could get someone else to go."
"That's true."
"How would you store the lightning, though?"
"...with... chemistry? I'm still trying to match up all the chemistry I know to stuff here, laypeople can't tell apart different metals and substances very easily and your units of measurement don't match and Page can't use my muscle feedback as an accurate enough scale."
"I was thinking of a sort of... cage."
"Oh! No, it's not like that. You can use something like a cage to do something with electricity but not store it."
"Like- guide it? Because lightning likes metal."
"I mean, sure, but the cage structure doesn't help with that, you can just use wire. The cage is for blocking it out."
"How?"
"Uh, I could explain it, I guess, but why is it important?"
"It's not, particularly. I'm just curious."
"I know a lot of things, we'd be here all day if I explained everything and we wouldn't have gotten to one percent of it."
"Oh. Maybe later, then?"
"Maybe. Or once I'm done making a Sing you can get a -" she taps her head - "guide and it'll tell you."
"I would like that."
"Going as fast as I can."
"I should get back. I'll let you prepare for the festival."
"See you around."
Eliko departs.
The festival is in two days. There is a rash of advertisements for formalwear.
Gosh, does she need to dress up? Okay, she'll dress up. She can't afford tailored clothes but she can get fabric and sew.
The fashion for women is brightly patterned dresses with dark belts wrapped tight around high waistlines.
She doesn't want to downplay her interesting exoticness, but she can do those things with some creative additions - borders in different fabric strike her fancy.
Then she'll be recognizable without being entirely out of place, should she decide to sightsee.
Good.
But mostly she'll be managing her booth.
There's not a lot of natural foot traffic. Most of the interesting things are traditionally in the center.
With only two she can't handle that much throughput. Hopefully people who wander by will like what they hear. She has signs!
She gets a steady trickle of people who have either heard or heard about her contraptions. The chance to record your own message is a big hit.
She thought so!
She's going to Vickrey-auction off one of them. People can submit bids throughout the day.
Ooh! Many people would like to have a phonograph.
She has the rules of Vickrey auctions written up by the one that's going to be sold. Second price; everyone submits bids, highest bidder gets the phonograph but only pays the next highest price.
Some of the dockworkers place bids, as does the smith she rented the forge from. One man in a very nice outfit reads the rules, and writes down his bid with a smirk.
Good for him.
She mans her booth cheerily, eats festival foods, peeks at bids.
Festival foods include small fried birds on sticks, small fried squid on sticks, small fried breads on sticks, and fireflakes, which are sort of like cornflakes but searingly spicy.
Most bids are between what she would make for a week to two weeks of work at the docks.
Well, it'd let her switch to full time phonograph production, at least. She eschews the meat; she's been avoiding it when she can. She loves the fried bread and the fireflakes.
It seems there's going to be a firebending show shortly after sundown.
Worth seeing, if she doesn't need to be at her booth then.
Everyone's going to be there, it's the big attraction.
Yay!
A stage has been erected along one wall of the square. The show begins with a group of children in school uniforms, looking very serious. They line up in a row facing the audience and start a synchronized series of basic punches and kicks. Small jets of flame puff out with each movement. The people cheering most enthusiastically at this point appear to be parents.
Awww, cuties.
Next up is a line of teens, in military-style uniforms. Their moves are quicker, surer, more impressive.
Very nice.
The finale is two older men. Their performance is much more freeform, their moves more elegantly precise in comparison with the clockwork rigidity that came before. Great gouts of flame mix with intricate twining threads to create fanciful sculptures that dance and writhe in the air above.
Pretty! Also Page is learning a lot about firebending.
The design morphs into a dragon's head, arcing sinuously about. Someone backstage tosses a small package into the air and the dragon twists to exhale a stream of fire at it. It explodes, showering multicolored sparkles across the square, dazzling the crowd. They burst into furious applause.
Yup that sure outright breaks the laws of physics. Should be fun for Sing to deal with.
The two take their bows, and the show wraps up. There are mundane fireworks, but as a followup, they're a bit less impressive.
Pretty, though.
Is she going to announce the winner of the auction?
(It was the man in the fine clothes. His bid was more than triple the next highest.)
Yeah, that can happen with a Vickrey auction. He gets the phonograph for a steal.
He is very pleased with himself. He wishes to start a collection of recordings. Is she willing to do more in the style of the one she demonstrated?
For a fee.
Of course, of course. She can come by his manor tomorrow to discuss details. It's the big one on the hill, can't be missed.
Sure thing. She shows up.
It is, as promised, unmissable. A low wall separates it from the neighbors. Inside the wall is a garden, with a startling profusion of plants arrayed in ranks by the color of their blossoms. Tiny statues dot the path up to the main door, where she is met by a servant.
"Hey. I brought the phonograph your boss bought." It's in a box.
"Of course. Please, enter." The floor is polished hardwood overlain with richly woven carpets. Landscapes and seascapes line the walls she's ushered along.
A screen door is drawn aside, and she is shown into the room where the man waits, sitting on a pile of cushions.
"Hi! Your phonograph." She puts the box down.
"Excellent. As you have seen, I am something of a collector. It is my sincere delight to be afforded this opportunity to add a new aspect."
"Music's a great idea for a new collection."
"Yes. The melody you demonstrated will make a fine cornerstone. You were the composer?"
"Yes." It's not like Page will mind giving her the credit.
"I would like you to make more, of a similar nature. Is that possible?"
"Sure. It comes pretty easily to me."
"Excellent." He smiles. "I would like to commission a set of six, to begin with."
"You got it. Themed, like movements of a piece, or do you mean something looser by set?"
"A theme, yes! They should be connected."
"Sure. And did you have a price point in mind?"
He names a figure. More than she earns on the docks.
She suggests a fifteen percent increase.
A shrewd bargainer! He approves. Accepted.
"Great. I can have those for you in a week or two."
Does she require any materials or accommodations?
"If you want accompaniment you'll need to provide it."
"For the initial set, I think the solo voice will work best. Yes."
"All right. Delighted to be doing business with you."
"Likewise." He claps, and a servant comes to show her out.
Out she goes. Page has already whipped up the songs; it starts teaching them to her as she walks back to the boarding house. She starts looking into more suitable long-term housing, ideally near her forge share.
Most of the other available arrangements assume she's going to be a long-term to permanent resident.
Hmmm. She can stick with the bunkhouse if she can't get a place for a month.
There's a nicer inn off the market that will rent her a room for a month.
That is suitable.
Her room includes: a bed with pillows and sheets (changed weekly), a closet, a desk, a chair, a rug, two meals daily should she choose to make use of them, and inn-patron-only bathing facilities.
Sounds great.
Following the festival, things go back to normal in town.
Tarinda builds more phonographs, and records music. Eventually she has the suite of six for the collector.
He is pleased to have them! He also has some friends who would be interested in phonographs of their own. Are they too delicate to be shipped?
"I can box 'em up so they'll most likely be okay. Might want to insure the packages."
He has people who can handle that. Is the price the same?
"For now! They might get cheaper if I figure out how to scale up production, but for now yes."
Then he'd like three, duplicates of her original song, and blank cylinders.
Can do!
Excellent! Here, she can have some money.
Yaaaaay.
She's credible as An Inventor, now, and starts looking into prices for key supplies she'll need for her real project.
Yeah, she's gonna need to sell more phonographs. And do a lot of her own tinkering.
It takes as long as it takes. She makes more phonographs. She posts prices for recording one's own music on various numbers of cylinders to sell.
Some weeks later, Eliko comes rushing in to her workshop, slightly disheveled and not wearing any shoes.
"Are you okay?"
"My father. Saw me. I have to get away."
"How can I help you?"
"I need to hide. Figure out where to go."
"I don't have a bolthole or anything like that -"
"They won't look here. For a while. I think."
"Okay. Do you need anything?"
"Not right now. I was able to grab some things." She indicates her bag.
Tarinda nods. "I'm sorry."
"I was careless. It was going to happen eventually."
"Still. I don't know what kind of relationship you have with them, but -"
"My brothers are firebenders. I'm not. My parents chose where they wanted to put their attention a long time ago."
"That's awful."
"Maybe. Makes this part easier."
"I suppose."
"I'm going to- sit, for a bit."
"Of course. Take your time."
Into a corner. Slump. Remember breathing, breathing is important. Try to find a center.
Tarinda sings a song Page has been teaching her, softly.
That's nice.
What's she doing here? Her original plan was to run, if this happened. Grab her things, go to the docks, find a ship, leave. Act, keep momentum. Instead she's here, sitting. Waiting to react, sapped of momentum. But- Tarinda is helpful. Clever. Has plans. She wants to see the plans happen. Can't do that if she runs away. Can't stay here forever, but she is here for now. So. Wait, and see what happens.
"How far away do you need to get?"
"Out of town, at least. Maybe out of Fire Nation territory entirely."
"Do you have - what will you need - money, fake papers, that kind of thing?"
"I have a little money, enough to get out. I don't think I'd want to go anywhere I'd need papers."
"I can give you some money if you need more. Ideally it'd be a loan but I don't know where you'd get any to pay me back, or how you'd send it... I can just give you some."
"That- would be helpful."
Tarinda counts it out of slush fund. Exact amounts are not currently critical; she's building a business base off which to make more money, not an actual computer. Tarinda will not get scurvy if she lives off rice till her next commission pays.
"...Thank you."
"I wish I could do more."
"It's more than I expected- Someone's coming."
Tarinda peeks out the window.
Several somones, an older man and a pair of guards.
"Old guy, couple guards. Run or hide?"
"-I can make a hole and close it if you can move something to cover the mark up."
"Yeah, go for it."
She stands up, puts her hands together then pulls them apart. The floor below parts in a neat line, and she drops down out of sight. A moment later, the seam closes itself back up.
Tarinda rearranges the furniture.
Knock knock.
She opens up with a spoon in her mouth and a teacup in her hand. "Mmhm?"
"You are the foreign inventor Tarinda?"
She takes the spoon from her mouth. "Yeah. You want, uh, a price sheet?"
"Have you seen this girl?" He holds up a passable sketch of Eliko.
"I think she came to my booth at the festival. She didn't want a price sheet either."
"Be aware that she is a rogue earthbender, and any attempts to hide or assist such are considered a high crime by the Fire Nation."
"It's very considerate of you to let me know! Thanks."
"Hn. Be vigilant, and report any suspicious activity to the guards immediately."
"Where do people go to do that? I haven't seen a guard station or anything."
"Either one of the market guards or patrols, or at the headquarters."
"Okay, thanks!"
They head off.
She shuts the door and waits till they're out of sight before moving the furniture again.
The hole opens up, and Eliko lifts herself out before resealing it.
"Could you hear in there?"
"Not really. I could tell you were talking."
"They've got a recognizable sketch of you. Wanted me to report any suspicious activity."
She bites her lip.
"The docks probably won't be safe then. If they're looking..."
"Yeah. They might ask people to take off face-concealing things, too, so you can't just make do with a scarf and high heels."
"-wait. They know I'm an earthbender, earthbenders stay on the ground. They'd expect me to go inland, not on a ship."
"I guess they might expect that hard enough not to watch boats, but they expect you to be on the run."
"But if I can get there, then I can get out."
"It's your risk to take. I'd be screening the harbor if I were looking for you, though."
"Could you- scout?"
"Yes, but if they think of it after I case the place..."
"Then I'll be in trouble. But I can't stay here."
"Okay, I'll pay my old co-workers a visit."
"Thank you."
"Hope it helps."
And she goes to the docks to say hi to her friends and look for soldiers.
Her friends are pleased to see her!
The guards are still at their usual couple spots. They don't seem to be any more numerous or suspicious.
Then she'll just catch up briefly with her friends and swing back home to report this to Eliko.
"That's- good. Then I should move sooner than later."
"I guess. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Not unless you want to come with me. I'm sorry I couldn't make the molds for you."
"It's okay. Maybe write me a letter once it's safe, if you can?"
"I will." And she's off.
And Tarinda gets back to work.
A few of the posters with Eliko's face go up around town over the next few days. There's a medium-sized reward for capture of a fugitive or information leading thereto.
Tarinda carefully does not behave in any irregular way with respect to these posters.
There are more guards than usual lurking around her workshop.
A merchant wishes to acquire a large-scale contract for the distribution of her phonographs, as well as their production, if she's amenable.
She's amenable! Especially if this means she can work on other projects and have phonograph money rain down upon her.
That's how it'll work out in practice.
Marvelous. Then she can get underway on some groundwork for circuits and chips and such. Can she acquire all the odd materials this will call for?
The precious metals are, unsurprisingly, expensive. Purity of other materials is going to be a problem. She might need to augment her income stream.
Okay then. She'll invent the sewing machine.
Sewing machines are very popular. It doesn't take long before she gets a couple offers for production and distribution.
Tarinda,
I made it safely out, as you might surmise from the fact of this letter's existence. Though I understand now why the dock was unwatched. The journey by sea was, shall we say, less than pleasant. I did not realize how much the lack of solid earth beneath my feet would affect me. I suppose one might call it seasickness. I traveled south for a few weeks before disembarking and turning firmly inland. If I never need to travel the ocean again, it will be too soon. The village I am staying at now is quite landlocked, and not hostile to me. In fact, they rather appreciate my talents.
Even here, word of your invention has spread, though no one has seen one firsthand. When I mentioned that I knew you, it caused quite the stir. The villagers have undertaken a collection in order to purchase one of your phonographs and a collection of recordings. Please find the request and the funds enclosed within. The circumstances of my departure did not allow me to take one of your pricesheets, so I fear I may have misquoted the total.
Lastly, a personal request, if I may. You have doubtless noticed the container of soil and wondered as to its inclusion. If you would take it to where we first met and leave it as an offering of sorts, I would be deeply grateful.
Yours in health,
Eliko
Tarinda counts up the money in the package.
It's the price of a phonograph when Eliko left, plus the amount she was loaned.
Eliko,
Phonographs have gone down in price point since your departure! Find enclosed also a sewing machine, my latest, and a copy of the instruction manual. I'm glad you survived your displeasure with the sea and will be happy to bring the dirt where it goes, or as close as I can get without inventing a better shovel.
Yours, Tarinda
It'll be a while before the package can reach its intended recipients, and longer before a reply can be expected.
Yup. That's snail mail for you. Tarinda adds refinements to the sewing machine and works on groundwork for computers.
Buying from the Fire Nation in quantity is going to get expensive. Many of the best mines are still controlled by the Earth Kingdom, and they are reluctant to allow the fruits of their labor to cross national borders.
...she sends Eliko a followup letter with some cash and a shopping list.
It takes a while, but eventually she starts receiving a trickle of shipments containing her requested materials.
Along with that comes news from the capital. The Fire Lord's son, Prince Zuko, has been disgraced and exiled, sent on a futile mission to find the missing Avatar.
Poor guy.
The best thing she can do for anyone is get Sing done faster. It's not a good idea to fret over individuals she hears about, at least not unless they're old and dying and there's no way she can solve it before they're gone, in which case all she can do is suggest dying somewhere really cold.
She finds a good time to go for a hike and put the jar of dirt where Eliko wanted it.
The mountains are cold this time of year. The caves, of course, are dark regardless of the season.
One of the creatures comes to investigate before she makes it all the way in.
She puts the jar down - opens it, after a moment's thought - and takes a step back.
It sticks its nose in and snuffles. Then it churfs, and tips the jar over. The contents spill out, including what seems to be a lock of hair. It flips the clump onto its back with a stomp, and turns to shuffle off.
Awww.
And she goes back home.
Before she can get there, something about the world twists. With no perceptible sense of movement, she's no longer in the place she was. The air is warmer, more humid. The trees are green instead of bare, overhung with vines and tangles of moss bursting with vitality.
...concerning. She stops in her tracks, but turns her head to look around her.
There rise the mountains behind her, the trees crawling further up their slopes since last she saw. Before, the forest sweeps down to the edge of the sea uninterrupted by the presence of a town, though it grows brownish in the region in which there ought to be one. Strange animals and birds chatter in the background, hidden from sight but quite audible.
"Hello?" she asks softly.
A bright pink, slightly translucent bunny with butterfly wings flaps carelessly into view. Its gaze crosses hers, and it startles.
"Eep! She's here!" Its voice is soft and squeaky.
She bows politely. "Hello. I'm so sorry to bother you, I'd like to get out of your way, but I'm lost."
"Oh my. Oh my. I must go tell Koh at once! Oh my."
"Koh?"
"The Face Stealer, yes. They did ask to be told. Oh, you should wait here." It flutters away.
"Excuse me - please -" she calls after it.
Aaannnnd it's gone.
"Is there anyone else here perchance?"
If there is, they don't care to answer.
In the distance, something is rumbling.
Tarinda tries stepping back whence she came, placing her feet in exactly the same places.
The world stays the same.
The tops of the trees sway, as if brushed aside in the wake of some great beast's passage.
She has her weapons. She doesn't reach for them.
She times a bow to reach its lowest point when whatever-it-is comes into view.
Whatever-it-is proves to be an enormous centipede creature. It circles around and around, coiling its body up. It brings its face, a blank white mask, level with Tarinda's.
"Well well well well well." The mask blinks, and is replaced with the visage of a young boy. "What do we have here."
"Please pardon me, I didn't mean to intrude."
"No, of course you didn't. No one ever does. But even the best of intentions cannot change the fact of the matter."
"I'd be happy to leave if you'd be so kind as to tell me how."
Blink. Now an old woman.
"Kindness. And what have you ever done to deserve such? Humans. You are all the same no matter the point of origin. You take and you take and you take, and always demand the world bend to you."
"I - apologize."
"And with two simple words, all the wrongs of the past millenia are wiped away. No. It is not so easy."
"In - what way is it difficult, please, I don't understand."
"Once, there was one world. Now, there are two, and this dies to feed the other. Dies, for the greed and ignorance of humans."
"I'm sorry, I don't think I follow."
"You do not? Have you been too busy with your plans of disruption to care what it is you seek to overturn?"
"I looked for information on spirits and the spirit world but didn't find very much."
Blink.
"Your distractibility is not an excuse," her own face hisses at her. "You could have looked harder."
"- I'm sorry. Perhaps you have suggestions?"
The face blinks to a different woman, and the centipedal coils settle in closer around her.
"Let me tell you a story. Once, there was a world, fresh and pure, where life of all sorts flourished. Then the humans arrived. They were weak and small and few in number, and it seemed they would fade from the world as easily as they appeared. But a foolish few decided that they did not wish for that to happen, and so the humans were offered shelter on the backs of the lion turtles. There they stayed, festering, until they grew numerous enough that the lion turtles would not support them all. Rather than accept this limitation, they began to spread, casting themselves across the land, heedless of any who lived there before them. This would have been again their death, except that one among them found the great World Spirit, and bound it to their will, forcing it to serve their race above all others. The world was sundered, and the humans took the World Spirit with them into their world, leaving us here bereft, to weaken and die as the destruction they wreak upon themselves is reflected here."
"Thank you for telling me that story."
Blink. A man's face.
"And now you have appeared by yet another rent in the fabric of the world, with your body full of human thoughtlessness and your head full of grand schemes."
"How do you know things about me?"
Blink. Her face, again.
"I can smell it on your breath."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
Blink. A child.
"You do not need to."
"Is there anything you don't know about me but might like to?"
Blink. A cat's face.
"I might like to know," they purr, "what it is you intend to do know that you are aware of a wider context for your actions."
"I'll look harder for information on spirits, and I'll make sure that when things change spirit needs are included, because you seem to be people too."
"And if your change is our death by its very nature?"
"I don't think it could be, though maybe learning more will suggest otherwise, but maybe humans can go live on another planet instead of this one."
Koh's face hisses, and they launch their body at her-
-but she finds herself back in the familiar, cold forest instead of being hit in the face by several tons of face-changing centipede.
It's probably good that this happened before she set her sword against it.
She tentatively goes home.
She makes it there without further incident.
Enclosed is a transcript of all of the conversations I have had with spirits, with accompanying descriptions of circumstances. It seems like it might be essential to my project to know more. Anything you could find and any directions of research might be useful.
At the same time, completely destroying my chances of success if something actually kills me seems like a bad plan. I'm going to invent a writing machine - your language is such that it won't be suited for words, so it will be a limited version mostly oriented around numbers - and then I'm going to write up a very long document with it made of zeroes and ones, plus a handwritten spec document describing the circumstances it needs to work. I'll send it to you in installments. It needs to stay safe until a thinking machine is invented, whether I'm still around or not, and then it needs to be run. This is a long shot and I'll try as hard as I can to stay alive but I think at this point it's worth the redundancy just in case. I will also send you your own typewriter so you can make copies in addition to the carbon paper version I will store elsewise, but it's very long and it might not be reasonable to expect anyone but me to type that much. Please let me know if you need anything to make it more probable that the document survives in the hands of someone who will run it when the thinking machine is invented.
The first encounter sounds like a nekomata. They often prey on unwary travelers. The second was Koh the Face Stealer. He's supposed to be the oldest spirit, and not very pleasant, as you saw. The stories say that if you show an expression to him, he learns your face and your character. The face seems straightforward. I am less sure about what is meant by character, nothing is very clear. It might be a synthesis of thought and recent action, but this is speculation on my part. From your description, I would guess that you were pulled into the spirit world for that meeting. I have never heard of that happening and do not know how or why it did.
His story about the beginning of humanity was quite interesting. Lion turtles are extinct now, or nearly so. There has not been a sighting in centuries. They are recorded as being large enough to carry a village on their backs. The part about the World Spirit is in reference to the Avatar, who carries it through their reincarnations. I have never heard anything about it being forcibly subjugated. I will attach a list of titles that may be relevant. I was forced to abandon the few I had when I left. The bookseller may have reacquired them. For the others, you may not be able to find them easily, but short of visiting the archives at Ba Sing Se options are limited. Or Wan Shi Tong's lost library in the desert, since we are on the topic of spirits.
I will do my best to safeguard your documents when I receive them.
Tarinda invents a typewriter in the time it takes for the mail to turn around. It does numbers and some number-related symbols for math and prices and suchlike, so copies of it will be useful to people other than herself.
She gets all the books recommended that she can find and suggests the bookseller write to his supplier for the others. She packs Eliko a typewriter and six pages of carefully page-numbered binary. She looks a a map for an idea of how much traveling she'd have to do to make a good go of looking for the library.
The bookseller has about half the listed books. He'll see what he can do about getting the others, but can make no promises.
The Si Wong desert takes up a good portion of the southeast of the continent. It would be two to three weeks to get to the edge from where she is, and then however long it would take to search.
Any of the books narrow the library down at all?
Wan Shi Tong, He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things, is said to possess a library containing at least that many books. It lurks hidden within the sands of the eastern desert, and only those who bring a tribute of new knowledge are permitted to peruse its shelves. If a worthy seeker sees an owlcat flying in the desert at night and follows it, it may lead them to the library, for owlcats are favored of Wan Shi Tong.
...worth a try when she has the seed code written up.
She puts four hours a day into it. It's so boring and if she gets a number wrong she has to trash the page, that's what she can sustain. She mails a week's output at a time to Eliko so a lost package won't be too much of a setback but she doesn't wind up spending hilarious amounts on shipping.
She reads the books. She learns local musical notation, publishes writeups of her songs and works on a musical notation typewriter.
She receives a very official looking letter written on fancy paper with fine calligraphy inviting her to give a demonstration of her inventions to the Fire Lord's court.
...this is not really likely to be conducive to her work.
She asks the bookseller if it's likely that this invitation is actually a command.
Things like that usually are. She could find life in the Fire Nation becoming very difficult if she refuses.
Ugh. Okay. She will pack up a phonograph and a sewing machine and a typewriter and see about traveling to the court.
Happily, there is a ship in the harbor right now that is headed that way! It may have been the one that delivered the letter and also might have been waiting for her!
Which suggests that not showing up would in fact have gone poorly! She gets on the boat.
It is a very nice boat. It has a coal-fired engine.
Her cabin is spacious and well-appointed.
At least she's being comfortably shanghaied.
The Fire Nation capital is situated in the caldera of an ancient volcano. There is a switchback road leading down the side of the mountain to the large harbor and surrounding districts, which is protected by a seawall.
She can hike up a volcano with her appliances but she'd rather hire a cart if she can. Hauling them would attract attention.
As luck would have it, there is an escort of soldiers waiting to meet her, conveyances and all.
What a lucky person Tarinda is.
Her books say that those with excessive luck- good or ill- were once said to be spirit-touched.
The leader of the delegation, a woman in fine clothes, after a brief pause to take in her rather foreign appearance, hopes she had a pleasant journey.
"It was surprisingly lovely!"
"That is indeed good. The Fire Nation bears a somewhat unjust reputation for xenophobia, but we are always welcoming of those who have worth to offer." They start up the wide avenue which leads from the harbor to the mountain road. It is separated from the infrastructure surrounding the docks by walls dotted with towers at regular intervals.
"I've found all the citizens I've met to be friendly so far!"
Smile. "Yes, precisely. You have worth, and that is recognized."
"Your assessment is very kind."
"And not only in the colonies. There are several at court here who have watched reports of your... prodigious output with interest."
"I wasn't aware I was being reported on."
"It does behoove the capital to keep an eye on interesting happenings within its territories."
"I guess that makes sense!"
"We simply wish to be sure that all hands are turned towards the success of our nation."
"That makes sense too."
"Tell me, how is it you came up with such ideas? The physical recording of sound. Truly, it is unprecedented."
"You ever watch water ripple or - grains of salt dance on a table, when something makes a loud noise?"
An immaculately groomed eyebrow lifts. "I have not taken more than passing note of the phenomena."
"Oh, well, I thought about it a lot, and you can make things that move easily, and watch how they move, or make them move through things that they'll leave marks on - and then it turns out you can make that process go backward! But it would have just been a lot of messing around with string and wax if it hadn't turned out that way."
"And the sewing machine?"
"Well, first I thought a lot about how you could get a machine to make the motions a person does, sewing, but I didn't get anywhere at all! And then I was like, what if we'd never had hands or needles, and had to invent sewing."
"An unusual thought."
"So I've been told."
"What of the most recent, the... typewriter?"
"It's a curiosity, really, there are too many characters for it to be useful for anything but writing down sums."
"The accountants are quite excited about the efficiency gains that the standardization of records can offer."
"I'm glad to have been useful to the accountants, then!"
They come to the base of the mountain. The road takes a right turn to climb perpendicular to the slope. The incline is manageable, but the path is quite long in compromise.
Tromp tromp tromp tromp.
Once they crest the summit, they see the city laid out in the caldera below. It's laid out on a regular grid, with wide streets and gleaming buildings, dotted with open plazas and greenery. In the center is the palace and grounds.
"What a lovely city."
"The capital is the pride of the Fire Nation. I would be pleased to show you around, once you have recovered from your journey."
"I'd like that!"
"Good." They descend into the city.
A small villa has been reserved for her use during her stay.
"Gosh. How long am I going to be here? Should I have packed more stuff?"
Smile. "Your needs will be seen to."
"Sure, but what about my wardrobe? I often make my own clothes, you know, what with the sewing machine, testing it out."
"If you find yourself missing something, you can send back for it."
"Suppose so. Gosh."
"I will return in two hours. Please, refresh yourself."
Her belongings are deposited by the door, and her escorts leave.
Okay. She... takes a bath, okay, and sees what there is in the way of clothes suspiciously already present in her size, since she didn't pack more than a couple outfits.
The clothes approximately fit, but aren't tailored exactly to her.
That's something! She dresses up nicely.
After a couple hours, there's a knock on her door. The woman is back to show her around town.
"I'm excited to see the sights! What-all is there?"
There's the market, a couple parks, an underground hot springs, the arena, the Royal Firebending Academy, and of course, the palace itself.
She will be happily toured about.
Her presentation is in the palace, tomorrow evening. They show her the hall where it will be, and ask if she requires any further preparations to be made.
"I'm not sure what I'm presenting or to whom or for how long!"
Her inventions, to a selection of nobles, generals, and sages. They would like to see each in action, and get an overview of the underlying principles. Was this not in the letter? She may have to speak with the scribes.
"It said that I'd be demonstrating them for the court, but not who the court consists of, or how much detail they'd want! Anyway, I'll need paper and ink if I'm going to be typing very much, cloth and thread if I'm going to be sewing much, wax cylinders if they want me to record something..."
All these things can be provided.
"Okay then!"
She's going to miss an installment of seed code to Eliko, isn't she, she doesn't want to inquire too conspicuously about how to send mail from here.
Probably.
She's escorted back to her villa, where dinner is waiting for her.
They're too kind. She eats dinner.
As darkness begins to fall, lampposts in the street flare to life. The city quiets as residents return to their homes and their beds.
She gets some sleep.
Her presentation isn't till the evening; she'd like to see if she can find a good library as long as she's in a big city.
There is a library. Unclear if it's a good one from outside. It seems to have a reasonable selection, at least. Her trip there is unhindered but not unobserved.
That's okay, she can just say she's a huge nerd about spirits.
The library has children's books in which spirits feature, but no serious scholarly treatises.
Oh well. She browses other sections. Chemistry?
Lots of work on combustion and exothermic reactions.
How stereotypical.
She browses most of the day and goes to collect her devices for the presentation in the evening.
Her escort's back. Would she like help carrying them?
Sure, why not.
Then she can get to the hall efficiently and a little ahead of time. There's paper and ink and wax cylinders and cloth and thread ready.
She loads paper and thread and cylinders into her various devices.
The room fills with about twenty people or so, all looking fairly important. The woman from yesterday gives a short introduction, announcing Tarinda as the foreign inventor, here to demonstrate her capabilities.
"Hello everyone! Which invention would you like me to start with?"
How about chronological order?
Sure! Would anyone like to record themselves on the phonograph?
An older man with a sword at his side volunteers.
"On my signal," she says, and she cues him when it's ready to go.
He presses a hand to the table next to the phonograph for balance as he recites a passage from a play lamenting the fragile beauty of spring.
And when his time or his passage is up, whichever comes first, she makes the necessary adjustments to play it back.
The audience is suitably impressed, and he returns to his seat. Where his hand was resting is a small tile with a picture of a flower on it. It's unlikely that anyone else can see it.
She - well, Page - notes that but can't correlate it with anything and dismisses it for the time being. She opens up the workings of the phonograph, explains in broad terms what each section does.
The audience is particularly interested in the mechanism driving the revolution of the cylinder.
She's managed that by simple clockwork. It has to be wound every now and again.
Notes notes.
Next?
Here is the sewing machine! She passes the needle around so they can get a look at the double eye.
Interesting. And what is the purpose?
She opens the front of the machine and turns the wheel of the machine very slowly so they can see how the parts go, pointing them out as each enters play.
Impressively intricate. How well do the mechanism scale?
"I guess you could have big sewing machines but you'd have to turn the wheel pretty hard!"
With an engine, perhaps?
"I'd worry about getting your hands caught under the needle if you ran it with an engine!"
Quite. Several of the audience smile.
Typewriter! Here is how it works. Numbers, symbols for mathematical operations and currency and such, but she could make different kinds! Maybe one for musical notation!
One with a specialized vocabulary, perhaps?
If you didn't need many characters!
There's some mutterings about standard order sets and encodings.
Yeah, she's glad she didn't go with the telegraph. "Is there anything else I can help you folks with?"
That's enough for a strategic picture. Details are for the engineers. She's dismissed.
"All right, thanks so much for your time!" she says, and she packs up her things.
Her escort's here to take her home!
That's terribly kind of them.
It would be terrible if she were to get lost, after all.
There's dinner, again.
Yum, yum.
"So that went well. I guess tomorrow I turn right around and go all the way home, I hope they thought it was worth it!"
Actually, they'd like her to stay and consult on further research and development.
"Wow, I don't know that I'd be any good at it. Can I have a few weeks to think it over?"
They would be glad to host her, of course.
"My friends'll wonder where I've gone, though, and I didn't pack to stay forever."
Her things can be retrieved, and her friends notified.
"You'll make it sound all sinister and they'll worry that you're kidnapping me or something! And somebody'll overlook something in my place and it'll take weeks of turnaround to get it."
As loyal Fire Nation citizens, they will understand. Unless she has something hidden, it's unlikely that anything will be left behind.
"I don't see how this could be so urgent! Inventing takes a while, and organizing people makes it way slower, that's why I've always worked alone. If you want me to consult with a bunch of folks a few days aren't going to make any difference on the timetable."
She's already here. So.
It doesn't seem as though she's going to change any minds tonight.
She noticed. She laughs it off and goes to sleep.
Page wakes her up at half past three in the morning and she has a look at how guarded her house is.
Two by the front, no sign of others.
So if she went out the back window, what route would she be looking at to get down the mountain, assuming she's prepared to scale it?
She'll have to sneak through the streets. They're lit but not patrolled as far as she can tell, and there's no one out at this hour. The caldera wall by the path she took in is quite steep. Climbing that would be an endeavor. The opposite side has a gentler slope, but that puts her firmly on the island's interior, away from the harbor.
She reviews Page's memory of the slew of boats in the harbor: what's the range on size, sketchiness, and obvious Fire insignia?
A solid majority are obviously nationalized. Very few seemed illegitimate, and they were heavily weighted towards medium-to-large size ships.
Can she run there and back tonight if she wants to real bad and eats half the food in the house afterward?
Assuming she doesn't run into any problems on the climbs, probably.
She lets herself out a back window and along the streets, listening carefully at intersections, running silently. She climbs the lip of the caldera to get a look at how policed the road is; no point doing unnecessary mountaineering.
There's movement in the watchtowers.
Is the road lit?
Yes.
Well phooey. She climbs down the dark volcano slope.
The ships are quiet in their moorings. A few have night guards shuffling around on deck.
Anything new in the sketchy and not super nationalistic department?
There are different ships than when last she was here, but nothing that stands out as particularly promising.
Can she figure out the destinations by looking at them, are they written down somewhere?
Maybe in the harbormaster's office, or on board the individual ships.
She attempts to sneak a peek at the office.
The door is locked, and nothing of interest is readily visible through the windows.
She can pick it, if nobody's watching.
The door is sufficiently out of view to allow this.
Right, in she goes. Where are all these boats going?
Most of the military ships are on a stopover from their patrol schedule, for rest and resupply. The civilians seem to be mostly inter-island traders, with a few whose routes takes them through the colonies.
Anybody heading directly colonyward from here?
Nope. Seems the ship that brought her here was an aberration.
Well heck.
She heads back and climbs back up the mountain to sneak back to her graciously provided house and eat a whole lot to replace the calories used in so doing.
There's a knock on the door shortly after the city has properly stirred to life.
Tarinda is still wearing her nightclothes when she gets to the door.
It's the man who volunteered to test the phonograph yesterday. He's carrying something rigid and rectangular in a briefcase-sized bag.
"Ah, did I wake you? I am terribly sorry."
"I'm up, I'm just not very up." She could cook up stimulants in her various biologically impossible compartments but she doesn't feel a need to be bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning. "I wasn't expecting you."
"The Fire Nation rises with the sun, as they say, but you are a foreigner. Would you prefer I returned at a later hour?"
"That'd be great, I haven't had breakfast. What's it going to be about when you're back?"
He smiles gently. "Nothing too serious. I thought I might trouble you for an early morning game."
"Ooh, a game. Okay. I'll see you later." She yawns, and shuts the door.
He's back a few hours later.
She's wearing clothes and has eaten a lot of breakfast! "Who do I talk to about food, or a stipend to go to the grocery store with, or whatever, do you know? I have a really fast metabolism," she says as she waves him in.
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the terms of your stay here," he says, setting his bag down on a convenient table. "Though I do imagine that if you ask the guard, you will receive an answer."
"Guard it is! So what's your name? I'm Tarinda, I don't know if people are calling me that or 'the foreign inventor' or something."
"A mix of both. I am Piandao. Colonel Piandao at one point, though I have grown to disprefer that title. The people of my village and my students call me Master Piandao, which I can stomach more readily." He takes a gameboard out of the bag and unfolds it. Four triangular faces surround a central arena, and the whole is covered in a grid of squares. "Do you know pai sho?"
"I've never played! But I learn pretty fast."
"Then I am honored to be your teacher." He takes the pieces out from a compartment tucked into the board while he explains the rules. It's something like a combination of go, shogi, and dominoes. The tiles are decorated with artfully painted flowers, animals, and elemental symbols signifying their rank and abilities. The starting position is determined by drawing one of the tiles randomly. For their first game, it's a fire tile, so they set up their pieces in three groups of four.
"It is said that pai sho is the oldest game in the world, and that it was taught to humans by spirits who had been playing it long before their arrival."
"Any spirits in particular?"
"More than a few. Pai sho is played across the world, and every school has its own favored history, usually one that has some bearing on their philosophy of the game. My master said that it was the suncats, Agni's favored servants, and that we should honor their brilliance with the blaze of our own attacks. The great players of Ba Sing Se would likely tell you of the Mountainsoul and the importance of deep consideration. If you were to visit the poles, you'd hear about snowsprites, and plans within plans. At the Air Temples, when they were still inhabited, there would be an invocation to She of the Laughing Zephyr and He of the Solemn Mistral for a favorable initial draw."
"Wow. I wonder if that's true or if someone just thought the story would sound cool when they invented the game."
"As with many legends of this sort, I suspect there is at least of grain of truth within. Certainly, I find it plausible that the game was as popular with spirits as it is with us today."
"Well, it does look like fun."
She doesn't let Page help her win; she does authentically poorly for someone who knows all the rules but has not played before.
Piandao keeps a running strategic commentary going throughout the game, discussing both his moves and hers.
"You did well for your first game."
"Thanks!"
He begins shuffling the pieces.
"Do you have much of an interest in spirits?"
"Yeah, I think they're really interesting! But it's hard to find good information. Do you know much about them?"
"I am no shaman or Avatar, but as much as anyone you're likely to meet here, yes."
"Well, don't tease, tell me stuff!"
"Is there anything in particular you would like to know?"
"If I wanted to find Wan Shi Tong's library what would you suggest I do?"
"The lost library of the desert, hm. Invest in waterskins. Don't bother with hiring a guide, even those who have visited before are only allowed to find it again if Wan Shi Tong wishes it. He desires more than anything else to possess all the knowledge of the world, and demands a tribute of new information from any who wish to read his books. Having a particularly interesting tribute to offer may in fact be the best way of finding his library."
"How can he tell in advance that someone has that?"
"A spirit's way of looking at the world is... different than a human's. They can often perceive things that we are blind to. I know not how or why."
"Well, thanks for the advice, I hope I get a chance to implement it one day."
"You do intend to go looking?"
"It seems like it'd be an adventure! With a library at the end of it! Of course, I don't know how long my presence will be required here."
"Speaking personally, I do believe it would be a waste to keep you here indefinitely."
"Do you think so? I suppose it's keeping me from inventing more things."
"As in pai sho, one must never be so eager to seize a potential advantage that you neglect to consider the full range of consequences."
"Maybe they'll be done with me soon."
"If you have not yet been told explicitly, the reason you are here is to improve and expand the Fire Lord's arsenal of war machines. It is unlikely you will be released until you either do so, or provide enough reason for the others to feel confident enough in your loyalty that they do not believe you will run."
"I was afraid of that. I don't know anything about how to make things explode! I make nifty little gadgets."
"Making things explode is easy. Delivery mechanisms are harder."
"I don't know how those work either."
"Would you leave, if you could?"
"Yeah, I'd rather go back to what I was doing."
"Even knowing that doing so would greatly anger the highest echelons of the Fire Nation?"
"You said 'if I could'. If they're not gonna let me, I really can't, can I?"
"I think someone as creative as you could find a way."
"It would probably be really hard to invent things on the run!"
"Could you not return to the land you came from?"
"No, I can't. I wish I could."
He starts setting up another game. This time is the tigerdillo opening, a tight cluster with two "fangs" projecting forward.
"Why not, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Iiiiit's complicated."
"Fair enough."
"Do you have anywhere else to go?"
"Besides where I lived last week? I don't mind camping and could probably find someone to crash with eventually."
"To make friends in foreign lands is a valuable skill."
"And I'm quick with languages when that comes up!"
"A pity that these are such troubled times, with relationships between nations strained as they are."
"Yeah, I've noticed that."
"How much recent history are you aware of?"
"Bits and pieces. I haven't had a comprehensive education."
"If you tell me what you do know, I can attempt to fill in some blanks."
"Uh. For some reason, the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom have been at war for a long time."
"More than a few gaps, I see. Well then. Let us begin at the beginning. Long ago, the Fire Nation was composed of many warring clans, and had little attention to spare for the rest of the world. The first Fire Lord united us, and his son turned his attention outwards. The Avatar of that time, who was originally an Air Nomad, intervened and stopped the fleets before they could reach the Water Tribes. Reeling from that summary defeat, the Fire Nation turned inwards once more. The world passed through three further Avatars: Water, Earth, and finally, Fire. This last was Avatar Roku and in his youth, he was a friend of the royal family. He and Sozin were said to be very close. But after Sozin's ascension to Fire Lord, that ended. Sozin became enamored of the idea of spreading Fire Nation culture to the rest of world. Roku opposed this. As the Avatar, he had a duty to maintain balance, and that balance included the separation of the four nations. They quarreled, and Roku left the capital after destroying much of the palace.The two did not meet again until Roku's death, when a volcano erupted near his home. The Fire Lord went to assist, but was unable to save his friend. After that, he resumed his preparations for war, which he had only halted and not dismantled. A short time later, a comet appeared in the sky, and the power of all firebenders was greatly increased. Sozin used this to launch a strike on the Air Temples. He did not intend to let another Air Avatar disrupt Fire Nation ambitions."
"Wow. That's a really narrow view of spreading a culture."
"Yes." He sighs heavily. "It is unfortunate, but that was the legacy he was graced with. This has ever been a military culture. Sozin lived for twenty years more after the comet, which we named for him. During that time, he was fairly conservative with expansion. Perhaps he feared the Avatar would yet show up to rebuke him. When he died, he was succeeded by his son, Azulon. Azulon was more adventurous than his father. No Avatar had shown themselves yet, after all. His target was the Water Tribes at the poles. The South Pole was easily subjugated, and all benders, all potential Avatars, were rounded up. The North Pole was more resilient, but he still pushed them back into a single city."
"Is that how the heredity of bending works? It won't just pop up on its own?"
"It's not something that is well understood. Bending ability does manifest very young, and the army does do sweeps periodically to catch any new talent."
"How young?"
"Between three and six, typically."
Piandao plays a few moves in silence.
"Things are really different where I'm from," she says.
"Oh?"
"Better, I think." She sighs. "What's working for the Fire Nation in the - capacity I've been solicited for - like? What kind of budget, what kind of team, what kind of discretion with both -"
"If you can deliver results and show a willingness to work, you'll mostly be left to your own devices."
"What kind of results, though?"
"I imagine that's still being discussed. The Fire Nation currently patronizes one other person like you. He lives on top of a mountain in the northern Earth Kingdom and provides blueprints for a new or updated war machine every eighteen months or so. But his style of invention was larger than yours, before he was recruited. I'm not sure how the precedent will adapt."
"It might not be so bad if they gave me enough money and time, but if they're going to freak out if I don't have anything that explodes in a year..."
"They might be upset, given your recent rate of output. But I think they would not be incapable of being reasoned with. Sozin's comet isn't due to return for three years and that is their real deadline for finishing this invasion, I think."
"Three years is really optimistic too, to be honest, I don't know anything about weapons. I do gadgets."
"Hm. Let me show you a different opening." He clears off the board and places a single tile in the center. It's the same one he left on the table at her presentation, a white lotus.
She doesn't not notice, exactly, but the significance is totally lost on her. "All right."
"This is not something you will come across in casual play. The White Lotus opening is used only by a select group of people, an organization that crosses the boundaries of nations, as a way for us to recognize each other."
"...okay."
"Our goal is to support the balance of this world, and protect its people. The Avatar's long absence has made our task much harder. Our reach is wide but not deep. You have the feel about you of a person who could change the world. You do not want to stay here and design weapons for the Fire Nation and I do not think you should. I can't make it safe for you to go back where you came from. I can help you leave the capital and evade the initial pursuit, and I can give you the means to contact the White Lotus in other parts of the world."
"- oh. I'd appreciate that. Uh, I don't think I have a great handle on the concept of balance as it's used here, can you tell me what that means to you?"
"Balance is... harmony. Everything in its place, so that the world moves smoothly."
"Could you expand on that please -"
"How so?"
"What makes a place be a thing's place? What things are harmonious and what things are disharmonious? What do you mean by smoothly? I can't overstate how different my home is. You may need to get very basic."
"For me, it is something that is felt more than known. It's difficult to explain, and I am no sage. The capital is harmonious. The harbor approach is not. The Air Temples are harmonious, the walls of Ba Sing Se are not. There is a natural order to the world, and it is good to preserve that."
"Hmm."
"Diplomatic relations between nations are part of the balance, and trade, the sharing of ideas. But war, invasion, these things are not."
"One time in my homeland someone invented something so amazing that everything was different the week after it was done - everything - and it was all better, too, it was a really good invention. But some people thought it wasn't a good idea for an invention to change that much that fast, they would have rather things were worse in every way except being more natural."
"...I am not sure I can quite imagine something like that. But sometimes the balance changes. It changed when humans appeared. I would not say the speed of the change is of primary importance, but the character thereof."
"And it's nothing to do with being natural?"
"'Natural' is- the base, a guideline. Humans too are part of the world, even with our unique power to change it. We must be responsible with that power, but not afraid of it."
"Hmm."
"Making everything better is a strong claim, but taken at face value, well. There wouldn't be much room to argue with it."
"Inventions can get really amazing!"
"I don't doubt it."
"And I could probably invent things faster if the Fire Nation wanted to give me a bunch of money to do it with but if they want weapons and in a hurry I'm not their girl."
"I take it then you would prefer to leave?"
"Yeah."
"The main docks are heavily watched. It would be difficult to slip through unnoticed. It would be less so in the smaller villages. You might think about taking some time to sightsee while here in the Home Islands. To further your appreciation for Fire Nation culture."
"I sure do appreciate Fire Nation culture," she agrees. "I don't know how I'd pick a boat, though."
"In Paochen village, on the northwestern coast, there is a tea shop whose proprietor is a great fan of pai sho. He keeps several boards at his tables. Show him the lotus opening. He will find you a ship."
"Okay. Thank you."
After the game wraps up, Piandao takes his leave.
Tarinda keeps an eye out for opportunities to mention her interest in traveling and seeing more cultures. For inspiration.
Her guide stops by in the middle of the afternoon to ask if she needs anything.
"I was wondering what kind of vacation schedule I'm working with! Around when I got recruited here I'd just started running out of inspiration, you know, it would be useful for me to bop around learning how people in various parts of the country live so I know how to invent stuff for their use."
A few days traveling should be all right. With an escort, of course. She wouldn't want to get lost.
Oh, naturally. She comes up with an itinerary that will put here where Piandao suggested.
They can leave tomorrow, then.
And she'll be at the village two days later.
She sightsees in a perfectly inoffensive fashion and plays pai sho with the tea shop fellow.
His eyes widen in recognition as she lays down her tiles, and he follows the lotus with her. It turns out a pair of her guards are his niece and nephew, and he uses that connection to get them to partake in a pot of tea while they play. By the end of the game, the group of soldiers is slumped over the table, snoring.
"Uh, are you going to be in trouble over that?" she says.
"Not as much as they will be in when they wake up tomorrow." He chuckles. "Come on, let's get you to that ship."
"Thank you so much."
"You are welcome."
There's a rowboat on shore, which will take her to the larger vessel standing off in the distance.
She hops aboard.
Row row.
The crew of the ship proves to be somewhat... piratical. The captain wants to know if she has anywhere in particular she'd like to be dropped off.
She has ever looked at a map. She asks for anywhere in the general area of a geographical feature reasonably close to both Eliko's new home and the desert where Wan Shi Tong's library lives.
"Thanks! Is there anything I can do to help you guys out while I'm aboard?"
"Just stay out of the crew's way. And don't go poking around the hold, that stuff doesn't belong to you and is none of your business."
"Sure thing."
The trip is quick and relatively peaceful, at least, if not so comfortable as the way she came out.
The village they put in at is a rambling collection of wattle and daub houses with thatched roofs, set up on stilts to keep them above the swampy river delta. Raised wooden paths serve as walkways between.
To the northwest is a dark and imposing forest, the southwest is more open, the land filled by rice paddies and distant hills.
How exciting.
Tarinda bids the pirates a polite goodbye and sets out toward Eliko's village; she should be able to get there without having to stop and sleep and this way won't be trackable directly to it.
Over the hills and through the fields.
Eliko's village is on a plain, surrounded by farms. Three larger roads converge there. It's the middle of the night when Tarinda gets there.
She doesn't want to camp out in the wilderness lest a spirit visit her. If there are barns or benches or any of that sort of thing she'll catch a nap, Page ready to wake her before dawn.
There's a barn over there. The ostrich-horses chirp sleepily at her intrusion.
Good night, ostrich-horses. She naps.
Morning dawns bright and clear, with rustling of feathers and stamping of hooves.
Time to sneak out of this barn and go looking for Eliko!
Seems like this village gets up later than the Fire Nation towns she's been in before. There's not much activity at the crack of dawn.
That's all right. She wanders, learning the layout.
Farms on the outskirts, buildings and houses clustering in the center around a large, dusty square where the three roads intersect. An old man ambles out and nods a greeting.
"Hello there. You're out early."
"Didn't sleep very well. Do you know where Eliko lives?"
"I do, yes. I suppose you'd be Tarinda, then?"
"I am! Was I expected?"
"No, not at all. But I didn't think there would be too many strangers asking about Eliko by name who match the descriptions she had of you."
"Makes sense. What's your name?"
"Chen Lee. I am the mayor of this village."
"Oh! It's very good to meet you, Mayor."
"Likewise. Eliko is likely to sleep a few hours more yet. Is your business urgent?"
"Not especially. I don't mind waiting."
"Allow me to offer you a cup of tea, then. And perhaps something to eat, as well?"
"That's very kind, thank you."
"This way, then." He leads her back to his house, a little ways up the street. It looks like the ground floor serves as an office space, while he lives above. He puts the kettle on and offers a tray of biscuits. "Two days old, I'm afraid. Didn't have the chance to get out to buy some yesterday."
"That's all right, hunger's the best seasoning!"
"True enough. I also have fruit, boiled eggs, some bacon if you'd like..."
"That all sounds wonderful, although I don't know enough to guess if it'd be putting you out..."
"Oh, it's not trouble at all." A couple eggs and a few pieces of fruit are added to the tray, and bacon goes on a frying pan to sizzle.
Om nom nom. "Thank you so much, this is all delicious."
"You are quite welcome. What brings you out this way?"
"Eliko! I was on a boat, and they asked me where I wanted to go, and I thought, gosh, I could go visit Eliko."
"She didn't make you sound the type to travel lightly."
"The trip kind of dropped into my lap."
"For business or... personal reasons?"
"You know, I'm not sure how to characterize it?"
"To put it another way, are soldiers likely to follow you here?"
"I don't think so."
"Good." He nods. "I am sorry to be so blunt, but I must be concerned for the safety of my village in times like these."
"It makes sense. If I thought I was being chased I wouldn't have come here."
"In that case, we are happy to host you."
"Thanks!"
"So, tell me about yourself. Eliko said you were a traveler. Where did you grow up?"
"A place called Mars. It's really far away, and very, very different from here in just about every way possible."
"Did you like it there?"
"Yes."
"What made you decide to travel?"
"I didn't. I got lost."
"That must have been quite an adventure."
"I guess you could say that."
"But not one you're eager to repeat?"
"I would like to get home one day."
"Home is important. I hope you make it back."
"I hope so too."
"I think Eliko has found a home of a sort here, a place she can belong."
"That's good, I'm glad. What has she been up to?"
"Helping out in various ways. She's one of the most talented earthbenders I've seen, and clever as well. She sits in with me on my business when I ask, or keeps an eye on the market. Cleared some of the fallow fields after last harvest, Ah, and she volunteered to take care of those bandits along the east road the other month."
"That's great, I'm glad she's finding things to do and helping you out."
"Yes." He glances out the window. "She should be up by now, if you want to see her."
"I do. I didn't have a chance to send advance warning."
"Well, I'm sure she'll be pleased to see you regardless." He gives her directions to Eliko's house and bids her farewell.
And Tarinda goes looking for Eliko.
Eliko's house is a modest one-story affair, a little ways from the mayor's house.
Knock knock.
There is a long pause. The door cracks open and Eliko peers out. She blinks.
"...Tarinda?"
"Hi."
"What... are you doing here?"
"Fire Nation got interested in my inventions, decided they wanted me making weapons, and weren't offering enough timeline and resources that I could just build other things on their dime instead. Somebody offered me a ship out, I took it, I got dropped off a hike from here but I don't think anyone's actually going to follow up, that was just a precaution. Didn't know where else to go."
"Uh. Okay. Do you want to come in?" She opens the door wider.
"Sure, thank you. I don't need to stay, I don't want to inconvenience you, but I thought I'd stop in and explain the lack of coded letters."
She steps aside to let Tarinda enter. Her house is simple and neatly kept, with many bookshelves and books. In one corner is a desk with the typewriter set up on it, a stack of blank pages to the right and a box of finished pages below.
"I'm going to need a new place to get back to work and resume sending those. I can't just do it all now, it's too long. I'm probably going to have to build another typewriter from scratch, all new molds and everything..."
"...I finished the phonograph molds. For the records."
"Oooh, that's awesome! Good sound quality and everything?"
"Yeah." She goes to a cupboard and takes out a stone cylinder in two parts. "It fits together with a pin," she says, demonstrating, "the wax goes in hot and then when it cools you take it apart."
"Neato! Was it really hard to figure out?"
"More- fiddly than hard, to get all the details right. And the join has to be very smooth, or the wax gets caught in it."
"Well, once phonographs are more popular here you can make a business out of it."
"...I don't think I'd want to do it as a business. It's- not very interesting, now that I've worked out how to do it."
"Fair enough! Reinventing things isn't usually what I'd do with myself either, it's just pretty important right now."
"Are you going to go back to doing that?"
"Probably. I haven't wanted to invent things that'd be too useful to the war, I don't want to escalate it, but some stuff I need to get through to be where I have to be is unavoidably useful. Not sure how the calculus on that changes now I'm in another country, do you suppose the Earth Kingdom likes kidnapping inventors too?"
"Probably. But they might be less... unified of purpose about it."
"Can you elaborate?"
"The Fire Nation all works together, following the Fire Lord. But no one outside Ba Sing Se has seen the Earth King since the last one died; he stays holed up inside the walls. The lords and the generals run things locally and the ones not right on the front lines spend more effort politicking against each other than helping the war."
"Okay, so if one picks me up I can probably at least negotiate for one who can give me five years and a big budget and some research assistants and then when five years are up it won't matter any more."
"Probably."
"I might want a bigger city than this for materials access, although I guess I don't know how good earthbending is for ores and such."
"Earthbenders can't bend metal."
"Yes, but maybe you could find it by its - density or something, and get it out, by moving the rock around it."
"I think I could do that. Maybe not many others could, I don't think a lot of people practice in the right way. But the soil around here isn't good for mining, it's the wrong sort. Or you'd have to go very deep to find anything."
"A lot of what I might have the most trouble finding is the sort of thing that you don't have much use for yet and accordingly don't mine, which might be found in different conditions, but yeah, maybe there's nothing here."
"I don't think I can usefully look for something without knowing what it is already."
"Well, I can tell you the exact densities and so on, but yeah never having seen it can't possibly help."
"What sorts of ores would you be looking for?"
"Some of them didn't appear in the dictionary I've read. Uh, do you want an impromptu chemistry lesson?"
"Okay." She drags the chair from the desk over to join the one already at the table, and grabs paper and writing utensils.
Tarinda draws up the periodic table of the elements, with numbers in lieu of symbols made of letters Eliko doesn't know. "These are the chemical elements in order of mass per atom. An atom is a very tiny amount of - one of these things; if you have a tiny amount of something else, it isn't an atom, it's several atoms or something smaller than an atom which isn't a substance like we conventionally understand it. Some of them are found in more or less pure form, like, say, gold -" she points to gold. "Others you mostly find in compounds, mixed with other kinds of atoms. Water is made of two of these and one of this." Point point.
"One and eight. Is air on this?"
"Air's a lot of different stuff. I don't have a complete chemical analyzer on me but Page would have noticed if it were weird enough to affect my physiology so it's probably like air from home, which is mostly this which doesn't do much, and some of that which is the thing you need to breathe, and a little bit of this which doesn't do much, and some of a compound of both that and this which is what you breathe out and plants need, and bits of this and that and this and this and a compound of that one and this one."
"And earth is probably also a compound, right? But more than one, because there are different sorts of earth."
"Yup! Mostly compounds. Dirt has a lot of organic stuff in it, which is full of this one in various forms and mixes, and there's tons of kinds of rock but the most common one on the planet where my ancestors are from is one of this and two of that."
"But fire isn't made of any of these. It's a different kind of thing."
"Yup. Fire is a chemical reaction. Fire's approximately what happens when you add this," she pokes oxygen, "to something. If you do it fast. If you do it slow that can be, like... rusting."
"Huh. Okay."
"And this one near fire explodes," she pokes hydrogen, "so it's funny that the two of them make water."
"That is odd."
"Yup. Compounds. Anyway. Things I'm going to need include -"
She produces a shopping list of sorts, naming the substances or things similar when she has words for them.
It's all very interesting.
"I can see if I can find anything around here. I don't think I'll be able to identify it in advance though."
"A lot of it I can't use right away anyway, the end result requires so much precision manufacture that first I have to invent tools that will let me invent tools for it." Sigh. "So don't consider yourself in a terrible hurry or anything."
"All right."
"I'm still going to need money. I can reinvent the first three things, sell them here, but after that I'm going to need more stuff. Obvious options include primitive versions of the thing I need in the long run, like calculators - machines that do math for you. Maybe telegraphs."
"What do telegraphs do?"
"Communicate at a distance. You need to do it in code, at first, it can only do various lengths of "on" and pauses in between."
"So like a messenger hawk, but faster?"
"Much faster. It can take more time to encode the messages than for them to get where they're going."
"Does it take much infrastructure?"
"Yes. Wires, leading from where you're sending to where you're receiving."
"So you'd need to set up before you can do anything with that."
"And it'd be particularly difficult to do across the ocean without my helping in a way I needn't, so that should also help."
"So what are you going to do first?"
"First I need to get all the code written down. It's a desperate long shot that if something happens to me your grandchildren will find a bundle of binary in the attic and decide to run it through optical character recognition and run it, but it's the best backup available and something might happen to me and then I'm stuck somewhere plastinated waiting for those grandchildren or worse. Then... I don't wanna give the Fire Nation any help finding me, so no sewing machines or anything else they'll recognize on a large scale. I'm torn between telegraphs and lightbulbs."
"Lightbulbs?"
"Light without fire."
"Ah."
"Lightbulbs themselves aren't a huge deal but they require generating electricity, which is."
"What's the best way to do that?"
"I'll need magnets, and wires, and something that moves, like a water wheel."
"And then what?"
"Then the moving thing spins the wires around the magnet and the wires have electricity in them and I can make the electricity do stuff, such as lightbulbs. I'm oversimplifying. I don't actually know all of this, Page will help me along when I have the prerequisites."
"Oh."
"Yeah, sorry, I'm not nearly as smart as I look."
"Sometimes I think that not many people are."
"If you say so, but I have more advantages than most of the people around here."
"And you use them better."
"A lot of that is the advantages too. I'm not an inventor! I like recreational swordfighting and doting on my girlfriend! Page is doing a lot of work in here, you just can't see it."
"You didn't have to pretend to be an inventor."
"Yeah I did, the things I need have to get invented at some point and it's way less complicated and faster to invent them myself."
Shrug. "If you say so."
"Sing is smarter than a human. It needs something much better than a human brain to run on and right now there aren't even machines as smart as bugs."
"But there would be eventually, right? If you just wanted to, type the code up and then do something else."
"Every day later Sing wakes up here, more people die in ways it can't fix."
"You don't know them."
"...so?"
"So why does it matter so much?"
"Because if they're gone forever I'll never get to know them, no matter what!"
"I don't think most people are that interesting."
"Give them a few hundred years in paradise."
"...I suppose you'd know."
"I mean, I find lots of people who don't need that long. And there's people I'm just never going to be close to, but they'll be good for somebody who'll be good for somebody etcetera and we all weave together even if it's only a little."
"So like elemental balance?"
"I don't understand the concept of elemental balance so I couldn't tell you."
"It's like... the elements are part of a bigger whole, and separating them makes them weaker than you'd expect if you divided the total by four. The strengths of one cover the weaknesses of another. It's why the Avatar can be so much stronger than any other bender, or any four benders."
"I don't think of it that way at all but if the metaphor works for you roll with it, I guess?"
"Okay."
"It's - everybody who dies is music I will never get to hear. And music my loved ones will never get to hear. And music their loved ones will never get to hear. And even if it's not to my taste, which plenty of music isn't, I can still be happy that my family and friends have richer experiences, and they can be happy that their family and friends have richer experiences."
"Ah."
"So I have to go as fast as I can. And it's still possible I won't make it in time to save anyone alive today, depending on how many setbacks I hit."
"Do... you need me to help in a different way than I have been?"
"I don't think so. I mean, you could if you wanted to, but you're not literally the only person I could ever tell."
"Well, if you decide to go look for Wan Shi Tong's library, I'd like to see it too."
"I will likely do that at some point! But after I've got all the code written down."
"You can use my typewriter if you want."
"Thanks!"
"Need anything else?"
"Place to crash'd be nice."
"I'll go talk to the innkeeper."
"Thanks."
"I'm going to take care of some other things while I'm out, too. Uh, make yourself at home." She grabs a piece of fruit before leaving.
"Thanks." Tarinda finds the typewriter and gets a few pages in while Eliko's gone.
She gets back a few hours later, slightly dirty and a basket of food under one arm.
Tarinda's got a lot of typing done in that time. "Hey. You're almost out of paper."
"So I see. I... probably should have seen that coming."
"I didn't use it all in case you need some."
"Thanks. I talked with the innkeeper, they'll hold a bed for you, and meals if you want them."
"I appreciate that! And I'll be able to pay everyone back sooner or later."
"I'm not sure they'd believe that part."
"Yeah, fair enough. I got my startup capital before doing manual labor, I can do that again if I need to."
"I hope you don't."
"Me too, the returns aren't anything to write home about."
"So... what is your plan for now?"
"Pick something to invent, collect or earn money for materials, invent it, sell it, repeat."
"Here, or somewhere else?"
"Probably it'll eventually make sense to move to a city."
"Gao Ling isn't far from here."
"Have you been?"
"Once. There's an earthbending arena there."
"Sounds fun, though more relevant to me would be the state of industry and engineering."
"I think there's a foundry there. But the Earth Kingdom doesn't really do that stuff on the same scale as the Fire Nation."
"Nobody does it on the scale I need. Good economic policy and human capital are as important as whether I need to bring it two hundred years forward or two hundred and ten."
"Human capital?"
"People who might want to work for me or make stuff I can use, who are smart and creative."
"That makes sense. What decides if economic policy is good or bad?"
"It's complicated because all of it interacts and there's tradeoffs but for my purposes low trade restrictions and low tariffs are good."
"Gao Ling might be good, then. You shouldn't go to Ba Sing Se, it's big and has a lot more people than anywhere else, but it's very hard to get things in and out."
"Gao Ling it is."
"I don't know who to talk to there but you can probably figure that out."
"Probably. Thanks for the suggestion."
"You're welcome. Do you want more paper for today or...?"
"Nah, I can't do too much at once or my error rate goes up and stuff."
"Okay. I'm going to go back to my reading, then."
"Enjoy."
Tarinda collects startup funding and heads to Gao Ling. She rents workshop space.
She invents the telegraph.
There is a foundry in Gao Ling and it does have wire drawing equipment, but they're not prepared to produce it in the quantities she'll need to connect multiple cities.
She'll start with across the city as proof of concept. Only as many stations as she can find staffing for. Page assists her in the very best spaced repetition curriculum for the station monitors.
Most of her hires are children and young adults who either don't have much else to do or are attracted to the shiny newness of the telegraph. Her initial round of recruitment will get her enough people to staff three locations.
Then people can send information around in her made-up phonetic representation of the language! For novelty and any applications for the service they happen to think up - emergency services, business applications, whatever.
A lot of the initial message traffic is just the kids sending mostly nonsensical messages to each other. Whether this is because of their inexperience with the cipher or in-group joking will no doubt become a subject of much future scholarship. The Bei Fongs, a major merchant clan, begin having their daily local reports delivered via telegram. Others in the city who are slightly more constrained in their resouces are more skeptical of the system's usefulness compared to simple couriers, as the time savings over single-city distances does not seem to warrant so much investment. There are additionally questions of privacy; a courier can deliver a sealed letter, but are there similar options with the telegraph?
Well, you could always encrypt the message before you submitted it for delivery!
Grumble grumble that sounds like a lot of work grumble.
The Bei Fongs are interested in getting telegraph stations in other cities. It is correct that the transit time will remain low over longer distances, yes? What do they need to do to enable this?
They'd just need to invest in wire of the right sort and its installation! She has the figures here for each of the point to point pairs they have in mind.
Excellent. They'll start with the line out to Li Ran while they work out extended logistics. They're also interested in getting some of their own people trained as telegraph operators.
Sure thing. They can work out fees for that.
Fees are paid. Does she have facilities for the training?
She can probably find space to rent if it's going to be a big class!
The Bei Fongs are paying for four students in an official capacity. Several others have expressed personal interest and are willing to front their own costs.
Then she can do a whole classful in a rented room. Page provides the finest in spaced repetition.
One or two of the people who chose to attend seem to pick it up more easily than the others.
Good for them! Bellcurves: a thing.
After one class they come to her with a proposal for a way to directly encode the written word, without having to take a phonetic detour.
"Hmmm, that's a good idea, although it does mean that anyone who learns to transmit this way has to know all the characters that might get used first and makes it harder for laypeople sending messages to do amateur cryptography with phonetic transforms. There's no reason you couldn't use this code between yourselves, but I'd want to see it in practice before declaring it the standard."
People should just not say something they need to hide, that just needlessly complicates the exercise. But they will practice the code. And maybe work up a reference book.
The class has all learned the standard code by the time the inaugural intercity line is completed. Most of them haven't picked up their fellows' alternative.
She will turn them loose! And manage her money as best as she (well, Page) can.
She's building up a respectable amount of wealth and influence. By the time a proper wiredrawing facility is up and running, she's on the invitation list for all the best parties.
That could be handy! She'll go to some parties and see what there is to see.
Lots of fancy robes and canapes. Very elegant dancing, sometimes to live accompaniment, sometimes with a record player. Bending displays, different from the ones she saw in the Fire Nation, more like wrestling matches. The daughter of the main branch Bei Fongs is a small blind girl, and her family seems to dote on her.
Poor kid. Tarinda might not be in time to let Sing fix that.
She dances and eats canapes and wears nice robes and watches wrestling.
And life goes on.
Tarinda gets enough capital to invent cameras, and then the photocopier. By this time she has typed up the entirety of Sing's seed code in binary, in the hopes that one day when there are computers someone will OCR the assembly code and run it for fun, as a failsafe if anything happens to her.
She runs the binary through the photocopier. Flips through it and has Page check it for errors; it's fine.
Packs it up, packs up some other gear, and tromps out into the desert.
The desert is vast. And dry and more than a little hot during the day. And sandy, lots of sand. The fastest way to travel through the desert is to engage the service of a sand skiff and a team of native earthbenders to power it. They call themselves sandbenders, for their specialized manipulation of their particulate environment. As a whole, they have a reputation of being somewhat shifty, and there are persistent rumors that they either strand people and rob them or hold them for ransom.
She'll go on foot, or maybe on a camel-related creature if she can snag a camel-related creature. She doesn't have a good counter for sandbenders surrounded by sand.
There are camelephants available for hire. The desert traders also employ some sort of giant beetle to haul wagons, but they're unwilling to negotiate.
Camelephant it is! Hi camelephant!
The camelephant has one long trunk, two tusks, two humps, four stumpy legs, and a surly expression. It doesn't seem as enthused about the expedition as Tarinda does.
Well, it doesn't have to be, long as it'll go where she tells it.
That it will. Camelephants aren't as quick as ostrich-horses, but they have better stamina and need less water. The desert awaits!
It's kind of fun, in a moment to moment tedious but really aesthetic way.
She goes looking for the library.
There are lots of dunes in the desert. And at least theoretically, the library could be behind any of them. But for the first week, there's nothing behind the dunes but more dunes, except for one time there was an oasis and a group of sandbenders stopping for a rest.
She waters herself and her camelephant. She listens to smart music, and sings along sometimes, and has Page drill her on the local language - she's still relying on it a lot for complex conversations - and on the ones from back home she doesn't want to forget. She keeps looking.
On the thirteenth day, she sees a strange spire on the horizon to the northeast.
Promising! She goes that-a-way.
Upon closer inspection, the spire seems to be the pinnacle of a greater structure, buried beneath the sands. There's no way in at ground level, but it looks like there are open windows above, closer to the tip.
Can she climb in through one?
The facade is ornate enough that there are plenty of handholds and the windows are more than big enough to accommodate her.
There's a stairway down, leading into darkness.
Welp. In for a penny.
She leaves the camelephant outside and descends.
The stairwell is dark until she's gone down almost twice the externally-visible length of the spire, and then, abruptly, the walls flare out wide into the roof of a vast indoor space, brightly lit and packed with shelves, all filled to bursting with books.
She's not actually sure if they have the "quiet in the library" norm in this world. Better safe than sorry. She neither shouts nor sneaks; she plants solid footsteps and hums a little, roaming the stacks.
There is a feathery rustle, and a great owl stands in front of her, black wings tucked in and white face tilted curiously.
"Another seeker comes, and this one different from the last. I am Wan Shi Tong, far traveler, He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things. This is my library. For what knowing do you wish, and with what knowing shall you pay?"
"I've actually come in the hopes of contributing a text!" she says.
"Truly?" He hops closer. "Present it, then."
She presents it! "I think it will probably be unlike anything you currently have."
He takes the book in a wing and flips it open before him.
"Unlike indeed, for if a thing is to be included in my collection it must bear meaning. These... scribbles do not."
"It does bear meaning, but it bears it only to a class of device which has yet to be invented in this world. If placed on a powerful enough such device, it can unfold into a thing which can think."
"Hah!" The owl laughs. "A pretty tale you spin. You would have been better served by writing that. There is no cipher to contain a living mind."
"It doesn't live, but it does think. I come from a world where things like this are common, and that is the most powerful one."
"To live is to think. But this, if it is indeed as you say, is lock without door or key. It has no purpose and therefore I need it not."
"The devices haven't been invented yet, but they will be. I hope to do it myself, but if I can't, I want to make sure that this code survives somewhere in the world, so that when there are computers which can run it, there is still some small chance that will ever happen. Is this the wrong place to put some precious information that needs to survive for hundreds or thousands of years?"
"I am He Who Knows Ten Thousand Things, and this is my library. There is no place here for a thing I cannot know, and I cannot know this. It has no context and therefore no meaning."
"Would you like me to teach you about computers?"
"A foolish question. If you wish to offer that knowledge in tribute, then do so."
So she starts explaining computers.
He finds them quite fascinating.
She can go on like this for a while. Page is helping. She doesn't mention Page in case Wan Shi Tong wants to grab it out of her head and try to archive it.
"So this... book is a recipe, or a series of instructions rather than a cipher in the traditional sense."
"Yes, exactly."
"Hmmm." The owl contemplates the code. "No. Unless it is accompanied by the algorithm with which one is to decrypt it, I cannot take this."
"It does have instructions that I think would be good enough for any interested person with any computer they knew how to use."
"Hm?" Flip flip flip. "Ah, I see. Then yes, I will accept this." The book vanishes out of his wings.
"You are free to ex-" Wan Shi Tong freezes suddenly. Shakes his head as though trying to dislodge an insect buzzing in his ear.
"- Wan Shi Tong?"
"You-"
"What is-"
"Have you-"
He starts shaking uncontrollably. The library groans ominously.
Tarinda looks for sturdy things she could hide under if it collapses, edges towards the stairs in case those stay usable.
"IT IS IN MY HEAD! I CANNOT-"
"- I didn't know! I just - I just wanted the text to be -"
He shrieks, in pain or fear or anger. The shaking intensifies and bits of the ceiling start flaking down, followed by streams of sand.
Tarinda runs for the stairs.
The ceiling starts caving in for real. A rising tide of dust and sand and debris pursues her as she runs up.
She's fast, and she needs to be to get out. Up she goes, up up up, please be okay camelephant -
The spot of daylight is just ahead and the sand is nipping her heels but she's there she's out-
And then the tremors stop.
She doesn't trust that, spirits are weird. She keeps running to the camelephant.
The camelephant seems entirely unaffected by the subterranean collapse. As does the landscape, actually.
And then there's a subtle wind over the desert. Blink and you'd miss it. Afterwards the plants are in slightly different places, the dunes angled this way instead of that. The sunlight a little gentler.
In Tarinda's eyes there pops up a notification: Updating... (You have automatic spirit guide updates turned on.)
And then everything was good.
