Holding Their Own: The Toymaker Read Online Free PDF

landscape, but Hack knew these were mostly for cooking, not environmental control.
    The toymaker was led directly to the main square, an expansive, open area used for communal activities and annual ceremonies. The inventor had been here before, one of thousands who attended a lavish dance hosted by the tribe each summer.
    This was a different place now. The hundreds of Natives, sporting the full regalia complete with ornamental clothing and painted faces had been replaced by men and women who were clothed in casual blue jeans and western shirts. Instead of smiling faces and welcoming nods, Hack sensed concern and worry in the locals’ expressions. The thundering drums of the ceremonial mega-dances had been replaced by the anxious cadence of hushed voices. As soon as Hack exited his cart, everyone fell silent.
    “Grandfather, thank you for coming,” greeted one elder, approaching with an extended hand.
    Another gent came forward, Hack soon learning that the man was the missing girl’s uncle, a respected position in the Native American family hierarchy. “Did you bring one of your metal hawks, Grandfather?” the relative asked.
    Yes, he’d brought a drone. No, Hack didn’t need anything. After a polite exchange, he went straight to work. Removing the flying machine from his cart, he strode briskly to the center of the square.  The residents gathered around, struggling to satisfy their curiosity while still trying to maintain a respectable distance.
    He didn’t need to explain the drone, most of the villagers already having seen his toys in action.
    While he ran through a short pre-flight checklist, Hack couldn’t help but note the surreal contradiction of the unfolding events.
    Here he was, readying to deploy technology that hadn’t existed just a few years before. His “metal hawk,” as the older members of this tribe described it, was equipped with infrared sensors, proximity detectors, and state-of-the-art battery technology.
    Yet, he was surrounded by an ancient society living in what many of his own race would describe as primitive conditions. The new was helping the old tonight.
    But it wasn’t a one-way relationship.
    When his supply of food had been running low, Hack approached a nearby pueblo and offered a trade. He would purpose one of his flying machines to locate game in the surrounding mountains, in exchange for a portion of the hunt.
    The tribal leaders had been skeptical at first, but a quick demonstration had quickly brought them to an agreement.
    With his flying eyes, Hack could pinpoint herds of elk, sheep, and deer. On a few occasions, he’d even identified roaming groups of cattle that had escaped their home range during the apocalypse. Cows meant milk and meat. With his toys scouting overhead, the hunters could save days and days of time wandering the mountains. The supply of meat doubled.
    And then there were the Raiders.
    New Mexico’s remote environment and hostile terrain didn’t grant immunity from vagabonds, wandering groups of desperate refugees, and nomadic, criminal gangs.
    Some came from Santa Fe and Albuquerque, abandoning the larger cities that had become hellholes of strife and anarchy. Others had only been passing through on the interstate, suddenly finding themselves trapped without fuel or resources.
    To the tribes, history was indeed repeating itself, many of the local nations finding their lands, animals, and gardens beset by hostile strangers roaming the countryside. Assault and murder against the Native Americans quickly became everyday events, reminiscent of abuses suffered as much as 400 years before. 
    It was during one of those early “hunting flights,” that the toymaker’s screen revealed a group of armed men working their way toward a pueblo, their long guns clear on the computer’s display.
    Given the early warning, the tribesmen had been waiting in ambush. The resulting gunfight had been brutal, one-sided, and necessary.
    A murmur drifted through the crowd