The short fever of revolution began when the artist' guild struck a powerful bargain with the industrial conglomerate. The deal was as follows: 'We design your machinery to be cheaper and more efficient and you promote our artists, those of whom we approve, to popularity. Create an appetite for whatever it is that we want to serve. Then we both get control. Control. We control appetites, you enforce the feeding. Dollars and cents from dolls and gents. And they will think, over time, that it was their idea.'The beautiful soul of mankind is found in the need for freedom, however. And freedom flowers in the most embarrassing places that fear and control can imagine. Which makes for a tight fit for liberty, as they have poor imaginations and a grip empowered only for what they have a grid to comprehend.
When artists find that walls are being built around them, fear and control find that they have a superior headache with which to deal. When those artists have access to the very machinery that works to build those walls. Biomechanics can be a real problem when wielded by free individuals.
The sleek machines were beautiful for only a short period of time. Souls robbed from precious men and women and becoming the consciousness of said mechanics covered in the black soot of boilersmoke, pressing steam into an energy source, powering these sentinels of control.
The market was held on the underside of the massive bridge that once linked the mainland city of Bywater with the island city of Singleton, now severed by the last civil war. The market is called Black by the authorities and William's part in it was considered highly illegal. The promotion and sale of wares unapproved by the GuildCon government. Soap, handwoven textiles, and wilted fruit sat side-by-side with firearms, booze and assassins for hire. It was filthy and silent.
William sold his goods. Schematics and sketches sold to anyone desperate enough to build a biomechanical device, then pilot or wield it. But, William felt the tide of revolution rising. He watched as the pathetic and impoverished lost the will to live. As crime bosses took over and policed the dark places. It is the very way that he earned a living. Until he lost a leg. Now, he looked past his table of wares despondently, considering an attempt to find out what was left on that little island city just a few miles away.
The short clipped step of a little man in a brown homespun shirt announced the arrival of Helmut.
"Mister William?"
"Yeah?" William shifted his eyes to see the pathetic little man.
"I have really great news." He seemed to shiver, a lethargic blink of his told me that the 'news' was neither really great or news at all.
"Lemme guess, Boss Turnic wants me to off somebody? I can't." I tapped my leg. I won't.
"No sir. A man at the gates wants to meet with you. Looks pretty important. He said that if you wouldn't come with me to give you this," He laid a carton of dark brown eggs on the table, "Said that he wants to buy your schematics. Also, wants to hire you to make something you might be interested in."
William was interested. He took out a small egg and held it out to Helmut.
The little man's serious face cracked slightly into a grin, his eyes giving the slightest lift at the edges.
"Thanks."
"Take me to this man. What's his name?"
"The Dapholio, he calls himself."
"The Dapholio."
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