Terra Mechanica: A Steampunk Anthology Read Online Free PDF

Children's Tales that his mother had loved so well, and stuck it into his pack to remember her by. He left behind the family Bible—he didn't need it to reinforce his faith—that was his forever—and he didn’t need it to remember Pa by. He had the scars. Maybe things would have been different if Ma had lived.
    Chester fit in his gunny sack, and the two bags were the extent of his worldly possessions. Reading the fairy stories to Chester would give him something to do on the boat across the Atlantic.
    He spent his waking moments exploring every inch of the ship. He became a familiar face to the few living crew members needed to supervise and repair the automatons, asking hundreds of questions and helping with the maintenance. Of course, with the new steam engines and automated crew, the ocean crossing was over just as Toby began to get his sea legs.
    He landed in Cádiz, Spain and felt, for the first time, the overwhelming age of a city—the entire history of America was the blink of an eye to a city founded before the birth of Christ. One of the crew from the ship offered to show him the sights. He told Toby of a temple which had once stood on a hill at the edge of town—a temple that had fallen in the first century. Fallen over fifteen hundred years ago! Just to think of that . . .
    He felt brash and young being from America, yet to see its first hundred years . . . and he only a fifth of that himself. He couldn't understand most of what was said to him; the broken Spanish he had picked up from comrades in the war was nothing at all like the Castilian Spanish of the mainland. The ancient roadways and stone walls crushed him with their age, and Chester had difficulty maneuvering on the cobblestone streets.
    They soon moved on.
    The whole of Europe awaited him. Surely not all of the Continent bore this weight of age. There were new states fluctuating into being all the time, weren't there? And vast tracts of forest dotted the landscape, mountains rising in the distance he could retreat into if he needed somewhere less confining . . . He was eager to explore.
    He bought bread and cheese from a local market, completing his transaction with gestures as he knew his Spanish to be incomprehensible to a real Spaniard. With a bottle of beer and a canteen of water, all of his provisions were acquired. He'd spent weeks with less during the war. Chester's gunpowder reservoir now served as a handy carry-all for his food and drink.
    Hoisting his knapsack on his back and taking his gunny in hand, he started walking, helping Chester over the worst roots and ruts. The little automaton had known worse in the war. Certainly civilization had covered many of the greenwoods of legend, stone buildings comprising the new forests.
    Still, there were tracts of trees of a size and age he had never seen, and he reveled in the peace he found within them. The undergrowth was easy to navigate, giving Chester an easier time than the cobbled streets. Great forests of ash, oak, and pine towered over his head, the air redolent with the clean scent of growing. Gnarled branches showed the age they possessed, but here, the age comforted rather than intimidated him. It was a touch of home in unfamiliar surroundings. After the blood and death of the war, the beauty of nature soothed something in him he hadn't known needed soothing.
    One evening, Toby made camp at the base of a huge oak on the edge of a clearing. The tree provided a hollow in its roots to make his bed, and a patch of bare earth before the oak made a perfect fire circle. Soon, the crackle of flames punctuated the calls of the night birds heading out to hunt. Chester stood silent, the flames reflecting off his shiny brass. 'Twas all the companionship he needed.
    He toasted a chunk of bread topped with cheese over the fire, sipping from his canteen. The cheese sizzled enticingly, and his mouth watered just thinking of it. Meal for the gods . . .
    He was just about to take the first bite