Think walked up and down the isles of the empty library, pacing as he read about an animal called a hamster. "Most hamsters are strictly solitary. If housed together-" He read, spinning on his heel and walking the other way. "Syrian hamsters typically live no more than two to three years in captivity-" Think looked up from his book and thought about that, He had lived three centuries in what one might call captivity. If he were an hamster he would have been dead long ago, he closed the book and put it back on the shelf. Leaving the library and walking along the road. He had left Bike at home, because he felt like giving him a break. What would dying feel like? Some say it's Dark and nothing is left. But there are some who might describe Death as beautiful, and a new chapter in our life. But what is it really? He heard clicking and the dainty pings of metal on metal, he turned and looked through the glass window focusing on the gears, What if being alive is like being a machine- you do the same thing over and over again and then, when the machine stops or you break- everything stops and then you are thrown out or salvaged.?
His thoughts were interrupted by an irregular tapping noise, echoing slightly. He looked up to see Dream, his best friend in the world, grinning at him waving her hands around excitedly. Think blinked at her, smiling lightly why is she so happy? There isn't anything to be happy about anyway.
Dream excitedly jumped behind the counter, quickly shoving something onto a shelf out of sight under it. Think rolled his eyes and walked in the colorless door, a faint jingle echoed over the sounds of gears turning all around. He loved the shop, he was so curious about how Dream managed to put the gears together in such an enchanting way. "How are you?" he asked out of habit, walking to the corner and kneeling so that he could better see the new machine, it was mostly springs, how on Cog does she manage to do that? Think mused, rubbing his chin.
Dream watched him fondly, smiling as he inspected the complex box. To her it came easy, it took hundreds of years to learn what she knew, long nights of study and experimentation, and many pinched fingers.
Think was aware of her watching him, "Do you have any books about this kind of thing?" Think asked, standing up and walking to the counter.
Dream was taken aback by his question, and the honest look on his face. "What?" she asked bluntly, thinking that somehow she didn't understand the question correctly.
"Do you have any books about gears, springs and the like?" he sighed, slowly drawing out the words.
Dream pushed away from the counter, pulling a small screwdriver from her belt and twisting it on her index finger nervously, "Books? Think, you can't be serious."
Think shrugged, taking a book from his bag and showing it to her. "yes, a book, a bunch of paper that has words on it. "
Dream turned on Think, gritting her teeth. "I am not stupid Think! But apparently you are, you know Books are against the rules! "
In her fury she marched up to Think, inches away from his face. "If you think the Council can hurt me for learning things from books then you over estimate their power. They are only Cogs like us, they can't hurt me." Think retorted, taking a step back and putting the book back in his bag.
"Good bye Think." Dream growled, her excitement and eagerness to show Think what she had done had vanished. Think shrugged, giving her a nonchalant look and he left.
Later that night, under the cover of darkness Think rode Bike to the nearest library. Curiosity burning inside his chest as the little contraption's weak light flickered, but continued to shine. The shadowed library spooked Think to such extents that if he ever dropped a book he would jump out of his socks, He had read most of these years ago, but some remained untouched and coated in dust.
Airplanes, how they work. Think read the cover over and over. "What is an airplane?" Curious he cracked the book open, the spine groaned with the stiffness of the years.
A long, thin barrel-like machine, with straight panels stretched across the hole in the barrel met his eye. He was fascinated, "The Camel Fokker." he read aloud, turning the pages, eagerly inhaling every word, every last bit of information.
When he had finished, the Great Star was growing brighter. Think quickly shoved numerous books about aircraft into his bag and took off down the street, hoping nobody came out and saw his books. He could get "Forced" whatever that meant, by getting caught with such manuscripts. Why have libraries if you aren't supposed to read the books? What is wrong with reading?
Instead of trying to fix things with Dream, Think used old parts from toys to make a model airplane. He wound the key, expecting the contraption to fly. The gears clicked, and they began to whir as the plane taxied around on the table, not going in any particular direction, definitely not up.
Think picked it up, squinting at it and scratching his head. "What did I do wrong?" He spent the first hours of the morning puzzling over what went wrong, not eating or sleeping like a good Cog should.
As he stared his arm slowly dropped to the table and his eyes closed, talking asleep just as fast as he had become engrossed in Aeronautics.
YOU ARE READING
The Worlds of CogTeen Fiction
Deep in the depths of the universe is a world, connected to our own through every human's minds. Welcome to Cog, where imagination is born. Join Think and Dream in their struggles to bring something more to life in their world of make-believe. Here...