Ninety-Eight's Long Vigil Validated

20260818

Written for “Smogust’s Story Hoard”, prompt 12.

I flap down to where the researchers are waiting, a clearing within view of their tents. “Hello. My nephew said you were looking for an old dragon?”
“Yes!” Ah, the enthusiasm of a true scholar on the hunt. “You see, we found references to automata fragments having been found in these woods - they sort of look like people made of metal? I don’t suppose you-”
“Oh, those.” I nod. “I’m afraid there’s only one left, now. The poor things weather away, you see. We moved their bodies to rest in a cave not far from here. You will have to ask Ninety-Eight if they are alright with you studying their siblings’ remains.”
“Ask…” The human leans forward, eyes wide, their disbelief mirrored by the rest of the group. “You mean there’s a still functional Progenitor automata??”
“Yes. They sleep a lot, and struggle to follow a conversation, but they’re still with us. Just.” I pause as something occurs, then ask “If you have been studying these ‘automata’, could you perhaps help them? We do what we can, but…”
I sigh and hold up a front foot, waggling my clawed toes. Perfect for digging, climbing trees, and grabbing deer, useless for trying to screw someone’s hand back on.
“We’ll certainly try.” The researcher promises, their eyes now alight with determination as well as excitement. “And if this automata - Ninety-Eight, did you say?”
When I nod they continue “If this Ninety-Eight still has mental functioning and can advise us that will help a lot.”
“Then you must come meet them at once!” I flap my wings impatiently as they scurry to gather up bags and equipment. Then, parade of researchers in tow, I stride through the forest like a peculiar mother duck.
Even with having to orient from the ground it’s easy to find Ninety-Eight. The smell of sun warmed metal and flowers wafts on the breeze. As we approach their tree we find a young dragon has brought Ninety-Eight a fresh bouquet and is listening as the brassper recites trivia about each species in a slow, stuttering whisper.
“Goodness.” A researcher whispers, their voice awed. “They’re really alive!”
It’s strange to see people gazing with disbelieving reverence at something so very ordinary. If I’d had any idea that humans would find the brassper so exciting, I would have tried to get them to come help out centuries ago! Trust them never to mention it.
We wait for the botany lesson to finish, then approach. I gently boop Ninety-Eight’s face with my snout - their eyes aren’t what they used to be, and they sometimes struggle to tell us dragons apart. “Hello, old friend! I’ve brought some new friends to meet you. They think they might be able to help you, and perhaps some of the other brassper too.”
“Help…?” Ninety-Eight croaks, a whirring echoing from inside their cracked head. “They have mechanics?”
“We do!” The head researcher steps forward and uncertainly bows. “We’ve been studying all the automaton remains that have been found, as well as the writings on the topic contained in the Brassbound Library.”
“Brass… bound…” Ninety-Eight trails off into clockwork sounds.
I helpfully tell the group “That ping-ping-ping noise means they’re thinking, and you need to be patient.”
A few minutes of increasingly concerned patience later, the noises stop and Ninety-Eight asks “Is the Brassbound Library two hundred and fifty-three miles from here, bearing 122?”
“Uhhhhh…” Someone fumbles out a map. Someone else produces a ruler.
“…Yes. Yes, that looks right.”
“Ah. We called it Archive 82.”
“82?” A researcher murmurs, very excited for some reason.
Ninety-Eight asks “Did Gwendolyn’s ‘Care Of Our Clockwork Children’ survive? Can you read it? Languages have changed so much since our creators left us…”
“Oh, yes! We have with us the three major translations, and replica tools created according to the instructions and diagrams.”
“Then you should be able to help us. We were considered very simple examples.”
“Simple?” The head researcher marvels. “The Progenitors truly thought nothing of creating a living automata such as yourself?”
“Nothing at all. Our purpose was to monitor the forest on their behalf. Measuring. Managing. As such we were designed to be robust and easy to maintain. Sadly I imagine the advanced Clockworks did not last long without mechanics around to care for them.”
“Well, let’s see what we can do for you.” The head researcher kneels next to Ninety-Eight and starts laying out a set of strange metal tools from a bag. “If nothing else I’m sure you’ve got a lot of dust built up inside…”
“Not too much. The dragons are very helpful there. They can puff amazingly hard.”
I puff my chest up and modestly say “Comes with flying. You need strong lungs to stay in the air for any time at all.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good.” The head researcher says, somewhat bemusedly. “But I’ll still need to take your chassis off and inspect everything. Is that alright?”
“Please do.”
I settle myself comfortably, for while they all seem nice, and genuinely concerned for Ninety-Eight, I’m hardly going to leave such a vulnerable friend alone with strangers. Besides, seeing all this excitement is quite sweet.
Let’s hope all this reading and peering at brassper corpses they’ve done means they can help our worn friends! It would be lovely to have them pottering about the forest once more, like the good old days.

I took the prompt as “Dragons tend a robot memorial”.

Click through to see the actual art (and maybe read other stories written for the prompt).