Maxwell Bouvier strolled through the town, feeling as if he owned the world.
The exact opposite was true, however. Max owned nothing but the shirt on his back and a few treasured possessions in a worn leather suitcase. He just had a little loose change in his pockets.
He slid his big hands into those pockets now, whistling merrily as he took in the sights of Bridges. He saw towering buildings, creaking steam machines, and all manner of finery in both clothes and the way with which the owners of those clothes wore them. The very air seemed to shimmer with wealth and prosperity, and Max took a good sniff of it, hoping to coax some luck into his bones.
He stared around him cheerfully, determined to make this place better than the last. A woman looked at him strangely, and he grinned at her. Maxwell chuckled to himself as she shook her head and bustled off.
One thing was for sure, happiness in general was a strange concept to Bridges. At least, if you looked as poor as Maxwell, maybe being happy was frowned upon. But Maxwell Charles Bouvier was much more than he seemed to be, and underneath his tattered cap, he carried something inside of him that was much more valuable than anything the people of Bridges had ever seen. And he hoped the Royal Air Service would appreciate it.
It was getting darker and the sun was setting in the distance. The clouds were streaked with red and orange, so that it looked like the very sky was on fire.
Although it was getting later, the streets of Bridges still bustled and jostled, teeming with bodies of both man and machine. Something in this town was always beeping or whistling, bumping or running. There was never a still moment. And Maxwell liked it.
It was quite different from what he was used to. He’d gotten accustomed to the gentle whispers and hums of machinery in the last town that he’d visited. It had been called Turnwell, and the entire town had been made of machines. It was a new town, which is why it was small, but all of the technology and machinery was very new, straight out of the inventor’s brain and into the city. There were always construction and improvement projects, and it had been unbelievably easy for Max to find work there.
But he missed the gentle thrum of engines and motors always in the background. It had actually helped him to fall asleep the first night he’d visited, and it had been the best night of rest he’d had in a long time.
However, the machines and chimneys of this city glowed all around him, twinkling prettily in the dying sunlight. In contrast with Turnwell, Bridges’ machines were more elegant, and less efficient.
The city of Bridges had to keep up appearances, after all. It was the capitol of Finchale, and it had been named Bridges and made the capitol for both physical and psychological reasons. The main attractions of the city were the gorgeous bridges that spanned the waters. Some cut over the ocean, while others crossed the many inlets that wound in and out of the land like thread through a cross-stitched pillow. Each bridge was made of a different metal or stone, and designed by a different architect.
Each individual bridge looked unique. There were a total of six major bridges in all, but hundreds of smaller versions also graced the city. Foot bridges and bridges for trains and other vehicles could be found throughout. The people were extremely proud of their bridges, and the fact that their city was named after them.
But the name “Bridges” also symbolized something else—something fundamental. If there is an obstacle in the way of a good goal—a struggle which could be overcome—then the people would come up with a solution. Rather than wading through the rivers or charging fare for a ferry, they decided to build bridges.
They arched across the expanses of water like rainbows, promises of hope and a new way of life that could not be achieved in any other way.
Maxwell supposed that each town or city had its own beauties and attractions. And he could never choose between them. Every one was beautiful simply because it was unique and different, along with the fact that it was made of metal, and metal always caught Maxwell’s attention.
At the same time as businessmen rushed home to their families, young couples started out for a night of dinner or a film. Children called goodbye to each other, waving and promising to come back again tomorrow.
Max smiled at a little girl who accidentally skipped right into him, and she grinned back, her gums missing several teeth.
Maxwell thought over his day, as he always did while he walked to find a bed.
How had it been? Who had he met? What could he have done better?
Max decided that it had been a good day. The train ride was agreeable enough. He’d met Mrs. Wilton and her two small children, and talked with her about her husband and the Air Navy and the state of the economy. She’d been pleasant and kind, always patient when her children were tugging on her hair or pulling at her skirts.
And tomorrow he was headed off to the Air Navy, to enlist in the forces and start a brand-new phase of life.
What would happen? Who would he meet? What would he do?
Max fingered the bronze watch in his pocket, thinking about the inventor to whom he’d been apprenticed, so long ago.
What exactly would he do in the Air Navy? This was something that was totally new to him, something that he’d never even thought of before.
He’d boarded a train for Bridges, not even thinking of the fact that they might refuse him. If they did…well, what would he do? He would have to go somewhere else, turn over another leaf, and start a new life in a different place with unfamiliar people and no money.
That sounded pretty impossible.
Max said a silent prayer, closing his eyes as he turned his heart to God.
Please let this happen. I need this. Mechanics is all that I am good at and…just please give me your guidance. I need your help.
His parents had always taught him about child-like faith, placing all your trust in the [Big Guy Upstairs] and not really worrying about it all that much.
The sparrows and the lilies, how God took care of them, so why wouldn’t he take care of the rest of his creatures?
Some people—when they heard his story—couldn’t believe all of the things that he’d gone through, what had happened to him.
“How can you still believe in God after everything that you’ve been through? How can you have faith that he’s taking care of you? He doesn’t seem to care that much about you.”
But Max was always in the mood to explain. His struggles were a blessing. He always had someone by his side, someone he could turn to and say, “Give me strength.”
God was the only reason Max was who he was, and had survived his trials. God was everything to him, the only thing he’d left besides the few belongings he carried around with him.
He took a deep breath, inhaling the night air. Help me.
“Do you need a room, sir?”
It took a moment for Maxwell to realize the woman was talking to him. He turned around, searching the streets for the owner of the voice that he’d heard. “What?”
The woman waved, beckoning him over. “A room. Do you need a room for the night?”
Max nodded, thinking, Well, that was fast. Thanks.
“I’ve got a couple to spare. Come on in.”
As he settled down for the night, Max realized he was feeling secure. Sure, he was in an unknown town, about to embark on an adventure that could make him the most miserable man alive.
But that didn’t matter, because he had everything he needed, a bed, a full belly, and a few prized possessions in his suitcase.
He fingered his pocketwatch one more time, thinking of the memories from years ago which he had tried to lock away.
But now he embraced his past with open arms, remembering everything. He greeted the reminiscences as if they were old friends.
If people have nothing, they’ll do anything for something.
Max had learned that quickly on the streets.
No food or water? Then do anything to get it. Steal it, beg for it, scoop it from puddles on the street.
Do anything, or else you don’t survive for long.
Maxwell shuddered a little bit at the memory of living on the streets. It had been hard. There were times when they went to bed with their stomachs complaining loudly, hunger pangs scratching at the insides of their stomachs like hungry animals.
But Cyrus had made everything a little better—life a little sweeter. In fact, he’d made the whole world a little brighter. Whenever he was around, he pointed out the beautiful things in life: the colored lanterns strung up for a festival, the lace dresses like their mother had worn, the shining pocket watches like their father had polished so carefully.
And so, when he left him, Max’s world had faded quickly back to black and white.
There were no more days of hope or evenings gazing at the sky, watching the sunset and then naming the stars and constellations their mother had taught them, doing every single thing side by side.
No, now the world was numbness and shades of gray, and there was no reason for Max to do much of anything he had used to do.
He had—just for a moment—given in to despair.
That was when Master Vincent had found him, taken him in, saved him from the solemn world of loneliness he had inherited. That’s when he dared to hope for a better life.
Master Vincent had taken a little boy with ragged, dirty clothes that were too small and an intelligent head covered in unruly curly hair, and changed Max into someone who could amount to something. Someone who had a place in the world.
He had transformed from a wretched, orphaned child into a respected little mechanical prodigy practically overnight.
All he had really needed was a good scrubbing, a bed to sleep in, and a wise man to instruct him.
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Author's Note: SO sorry it took so long to update! My laptop died and I wasn't sure if I could access my files for Fledged on there, but I luckily backed up the entire document to a USB drive, so I should be updating regularly.
I think I might do something like upadating every week or so, because this is a WIP and I can't spend all my time on it, what with school starting back up and my social life and helping out at my church and stuff. So I will try to update. At the bare minimum it will be monthly. Thanks for reading and your support! It seriously means so much. :] <3
~Raine