Chapter 2

Divine Mechanisms

The wan light of a single globe revealed a drab concrete corridor leading straight into the city wall. Sam swung the door shut behind them, replacing the background sounds of the city with a distant mechanical hum. Weskar’s nose caught a whiff of Kibble along with the tang of oil and electricity in the warm air.

“Right, then. Here we go!” Some of Sam's bravado had evaporated, but his resolve remained. The law did not specifically ban an investigation of the machinery, but it was a Divine Mechanism of the Protectors, and their trespass would amount to sacrilege in the minds of the more pious canines. Nobody had challenged the authority of the Prefect since the Great Schism.

Five paces down the corridor, they reached a right-angle bend. Here the concrete on one side gave way to rough granite, and they found themselves in a narrow passage outside the city wall. Weskar had never been so close to the bare rock, and he ran a paw over its undulations. It felt hard and cool beneath his touch, and he tried to picture something existing beyond its implacable surface. But he had never been past the encircling walls of the city, and if anything other than rock existed outside those bounds, he could not imagine it. The city was the world, and this hard boundary delineated it. He tried to image New Hope as being inside a giant upturned pudding bowl, but what then? The real pudding bowl was inside the city, so what was the city inside? Another city? Having no frame of reference, his mind struggled to picture such a thing.

He counted his paces as they followed a row of lights along the passage. The hum of electricity grew louder, and the aromas of food and hot oil excited his nose. When they had gone far enough to be somewhere behind the food hall, they came to a larger chamber. At first they could see only the blink of a few small lights and the glinting of shiny metal in the darkness, but then the overhead light strips flickered into life, and both dogs stood and looked in awe.

A big machine sat in an alcove to their right, set into the concrete wall. It was taller than Sam, and covered in a profusion of wires, pipes and shafts. Blinking indicator lights made colourful patterns across its panels. From its location, it could only be the back side of the Kibble dispenser.

Opposite the machine, the gleaming stainless steel of a giant vat formed one wall of the room. Weskar’s gaze followed the bright metal upwards, to where it disappeared into the concrete ceiling above their heads. A pipe as thick as Weskar’s torso sloped down from the vat to the back of the dispenser.

“Wow!” There was awe in Sam’s voice as he surveyed the machine. Then he turned his attention to the dispenser, and began poking and prodding at it. “It smells like something is running hot in here.”

Weskar hesitated when he saw the Saint's paws on the machine.

“Are you sure that’s wise, Sam? Imagine if you broke it!”

“Huh! When was the last time I broke something while trying to fix it?”

“My torch?”

“Exactly, when we were seven.”

Weskar could imagine Sam’s clever mind tracing the parts of the dispenser as he studied it. Suddenly he jerked his paw away with a yelp. “Oww! I think I found the problem!”

Weskar looked over his friend’s shoulder. It was a confusion of levers, wires and shafts to him, but Sam was pointing enthusiastically. “See, this bit feeds out the allocated amount of Kibble, and here’s the drive motor. It’s getting really hot, so I guess it needs oil, at least. You can see how it’s right under the feed pipe, so the heat has been singeing the Kibble!”

Weskar didn’t share Sam’s gift for complex machinery, but he got the general idea. He spotted a cupboard in the corner of the room, and some rummaging inside produced a collection of tools and a bottle of oil. He handed the latter to Sam, who began a thorough inspection of the machine, applying the oil here and there, and wiping the dust off parts with a rag. Weskar watched with admiration, both for the Saint’s mechanical aptitude and also for his rugged physique, although Weskar would never have admitted to the latter part. Not even to himself...

Sam stepped back and inspected his handiwork, and the jaunty angle of his magnificent tail indicated his satisfaction. “That should get things running smoothly,” he said as he placed the oil back in the cupboard, “but I still haven’t had the rest of my dinner!”

They were not going to get any Kibble from the back of the dispenser, despite their close proximity to the supply. However, another doorway at the far side of the room brought them to the bottom of an open stairwell. Heavy steel stairs climbed the side of the massive Kibble vat in a series of zig-zag flights, broken by mesh-floored landings. A stirring of cooler air ruffled their fur from somewhere far above.

A hatch with a small window allowed entry to the vat at each level, and Weskar peered through the thick glass. He could see rounded Kibble lumps pressed against the far side. Sam crowded in next to him.

“Mmm-mmm, looks like we found dinner at last!” The Saint was already reaching for the recessed handle of the hatch when Weskar caught his arm.

“Wait!” the Shepherd exclaimed. “That might be too much even for you, unless you want to get crushed by a Kibble cascade!”

“You’re right! You are always telling me I think with my stomach. Lets see how high we can get!”

The metallic clang of occasional loose stair treads echoed up and down the shaft as they raced up the first two flights. By the fourth landing they were panting and their pace slowed. At each level they stopped to check the window, only to be greeted by more Kibble. However, on the fifth level, the window was empty. Sam’s tail swished with excitement. “I think we’ve found the top!” With that, he pulled the handle, and the door swung open.

A delicious aroma flooded the landing, although they could see nothing inside the darkened vat until a ring of floodlights came on high in the roof. The two dogs stood above a surreal scene. The walls of the giant vat curved around in a circle which must have been fifty paces across. An undulating landscape of Kibble spread before them, sloping down towards the centre. Far above their heads, they could just make out a vaulted roof amidst the glare of the lights.

“It’s... dinner time...” Sam’s wide eyes and awestruck voice betrayed his enthusiasm as he ducked through the door. He teetered on the brink then jumped out into space. Weskar rushed forward just in time to see his friend land neatly on top of a mound of Kibble below the doorway. He stooped, swept up a double pawful of the tasty chunks, and began to munch.

Weskar peered around beside the door and found a ladder made of metal hoops attached to the inside of the vat. He swung across and climbed down to join the fluffy Saint who was busy making up for his lost dinner.

The two dogs sat down together and chewed. “I have to say,” said Weskar, his mouth full, “This is the strangest picnic I’ve ever been on.”

“You can say that again!” Sam belched happily before continuing. “Although now that I am surrounded by Kibble, I don’t feel nearly so hungry.” He let his remaining pawful run through his fingers.

“Yeah, and now we are going to smell of it for days!” Weskar giggled, then his voice took a more serious tone. “How far up is the roof, do you think?”

Sam leaned back and pondered for a moment. “A long way! We’re near the bottom. This vat is nearly empty.”

“My thought exactly, Sam. There’s going to be a serious shortage soon. And I don’t want to think about what happens then....”

In a more sombre mood, the dogs got up and dusted the Kibble-grit off their clothes. They had both seen enough Kibble for one day, and they weren't keen to venture further, for fear of sinking and ending up in the outlet pipe.

They waded back to the ladder and Weskar led the way up to the little door, which Sam swung shut behind him. Back on the platform, they paused to shake off the last of the Kibble. Weskar stood on tip-toes to wipe the dust out of the thick soft fur on Sam’s neck. “There’s something I don’t get,” he pondered. “Dogs have lived here for a very long time, if the Structions are to be believed at all. Even that huge vat wouldn’t have kept us fed for so long.”

“You’re quite right! And I’ll bet the answer lies further up these stairs!”

After a last pat of their fur, they set off again. “At least we’re getting plenty of exercise!” panted Sam after several more flights.

“We should do this more often!” Weskar’s German Shepherd build was more suited to athleticism, and he found the climb invigorating. However, even he was breathing harder by the time the stairs ended at a platform. They were half way up the huge vat, and the shining metal continued above them.

The stairs had brought them to another cavern, fifty paces long and ten wide, with an arched roof overhead. The smooth concrete walls, painted in sterile white, made a stark contrast with the debris which lay strewn across the floor. A profusion of pipes, hoppers, conveyors, cables and electrical cabinets spread out before the dogs.

Weskar didn’t need Tech training to recognise the remains of a complicated machine, now wrecked. Crumpled vats lay across buckled and split pipework. Control cabinets sat askew, doors ripped open and circuit boards smashed. Blackened electrical cables festooned the wreckage like charred snakes.

Sam was uncharacteristically lost for words. After surveying the mess for a while, he started to explore, stepping carefully over melted conduits and twisted pipes. “Look at this, Wesk!” he called excitedly. Weskar followed him around a flattened steel vat. “This debris has all been wrenched or flung outwards from over there, near the middle. There was an explosion here.”

“Any idea what this used to be?” Weskar asked, looking at the destruction surrounding them. He thought he knew the answer, and it filled him with unease.

“I think it was the machine which made the Kibble.” Sam echoed Weskar’s own suspicion. “And it’s not going to be repaired. There isn’t anyone down at the workshops with the knowledge to fix this mess, even if we had the faintest idea of how it worked, which I doubt, or any spare equipment, which we don’t!”

Sam worked his way through the rubble back towards the stairs where they had entered, following a thick pipe. At the side of the vat, it bent and disappeared up into the roof. He seemed satisfied with his investigation. “I have no idea how it worked,” he mused, “but that pipe used to carry the finished Kibble to the top of the vat – you can see the remains of the feeder-screw where the end is broken off over there. So the vat is just a buffer – designed to keep the food supply going during maintenance, I suppose.

“But everyone forgot how this thing worked long ago, and stopped doing maintenance. Eventually something went badly wrong.”

Weskar was trying to remember how long the Prefects had ruled the city. Several generations, at least. “Whatever happened, there hasn’t been any new Kibble for a long time – maybe years – and there isn’t going to be. That means we have a serious problem. We have to tell the Prefect!”

“Agreed...” replied Sam, but Weskar detected a strange reticence to his friend’s tone. “Let’s just look around a bit more first.”

They spent the next ten minutes picking their way over or around a sea of debris and twisted metal. Sam poked at things and fitted bits together, both literally and mentally, trying to picture how the machine looked before the catastrophe had reduced it to ruins. Weskar was more interested in the little marvels he found amongst the debris. He picked up a bright yellow sign with a black lightening bolt and the words “DANGER! Disconnect Before Opening!” Wrenched off its mounting and thrown across the room by the explosion, it had somehow escaped any other damage.

At the far side, the two dogs came together again. “Figured it out, Mr Tech?” Weskar tried to make light of the sombre situation.

“Humph,” muttered his companion. “We wouldn’t have a clue where to start with this mess. Do you still believe in the Divinity of the Mechanism?”

He looked squarely at Weskar when he said this, and the Shepherd looked away. Lessons from the Structions had never excited the Saint, but this open heresy was new. The lore of the Protectors wove intricately through the fabric of canine society, and Weskar never had reason to question it before today. But now, as they looked at a sea of blackened debris, platitudes about ‘Divine Mechanisms’ seemed foolish.

“I don’t know, Sam,” he answered eventually. “Maybe it’s some kind of test...” His voice trailed off as he realised the weakness of his argument.

Shrugging off the thoughtful moment, Sam began to explore again. Weskar prodded absently at a large sheet of bent metal as he considered the implications of their situation. It canted over and dropped to the floor with a crash which made him jump, and revealed a door in the wall. Curious, he tried the handle, and discovered that it was unlocked. A corridor extended beyond it.

Sam inspected the hallway. “This heads back in the direction of the city. We had better see where it comes out – if you are done with picking though debris!”

The way ahead was long and straight, lined with the same white painted concrete as the room they had just left. It was dim, being lit only by occasional light globes in the middle of the arched ceiling. At the far end they found the sliding metal doors of an elevator. Sam looked relieved at the prospect of an easy ride back to the city.

A downward-pointing arrow embossed on the single button indicated only one possible course of action. Sam reached out and pushed it. A distant clang and growing hum accompanied the operation of the mechanism. Divine status did not apply to simple machines such as elevators, and maintenance techs were free to work on them. This one was in need of some attention, and when it finally squeaked to a halt, the doors opened only half way before jamming. Weskar slipped though easily, but Sam had to squeeze, leaving white fluff on the door edge.

The Spartan interior suggested function more than style, and the control panel offered buttons for down, up and ‘Emergency Stop’. Sam pressed the down button. The rusted door groaned and juddered before it summoned the energy to creak shut, and then they began to descend. The dilapidated state of the elevator made Weskar nervous, but the trip proved short and uneventful. The car came smoothly to a halt and emitted a cheery Ding, and the doors opened.

After the bare concrete, stark metal, and charred debris of the industrial area they had just left, the dogs were both taken aback by the warm luxury of the room they entered. Rich carpeting across the floor complimented dark wood panelling on the walls. A suit of armour stood guard opposite an ornate vase on a pedestal. The tiered globes of a chandelier lit the room with a comfortable orange hue. Directly in front of the two friends, facing away from them, a heavy desk and high-backed executive chair dominated the room.

As they stepped forward, a bookcase rumbled across to hide the door of the lift. At the same time, two burly Rottweiler dogs holding stun pikes stepped out of alcoves to either side, and the chair swivelled around. In the middle of the chair sat the Prefect of New Hope City, and he glared at Weskar and Sam with a look of extreme malevolence.