Aidamovo překladatelská žumpa
hodnocení: 0+x

steelwing.jpg

buch

Buch

BUCH

BUCH.

Kovový zvuk připomínající zvon se rozléhal městečkem Supí Rokle.

Nebylo to nic zláštního. Obyvatelé města, kteří dávno zapomněli co to je spánek, tam dávali kovu jinou podoby ve dne i v noci, znali jedinou věc: pokrok.

Nevěděli co “pokrok” znamená, ani nevěděli jak to napsat, ale i přes to ho všichni chtěli dosáhnout.

BUCH!

A právě jeden z nich zrovna pracoval, starosta.

Nepotřeboval kladivo. Nepotřeba návrhy, zkušenosti a ani vzdělání. Dával oceli tvar pomocí srdíčka, věděl, že to co dělá je potřeba.

Ale především, jí dával tvar pomocí jeho pěstí.

BUCH!

Pepa Čůromrd udeřil do ocelového plátu a tím ho ohnul. Znovu do něj udeřil. A znovu. Ohýbal kov na jeho podpůrnou strukturu, nesvářel teplem, ale hrubou sílou. Kov nezahříval, zachovala se tím jeho krystalická struktura, vydržel tak víc a navíc ho potom nepotřeboval žíhat a temperovat.

Těmto konceptům nerozuměl. Přišlo mu logické, nepoužívat nástroje když mu na to stačí jeho pěsti.

BUCH!

Znovu udeřil do kovu, z každého jeho kloubu vyletěly jiskry. Kov se ohl ještě víc. Nabíral tvar. Stávalo se z kovu něco čemu rozuměl asi stejně jako člověk rozumí bohu ve kterého věří.

Dlouho čekal než natahal všechny ty součástky na své pracoviště. Několik hodin přemýšlel nad tím, aby vlastníma rukama nevměstnal nýty na špatné místo. Zvažoval své možnosti a plánoval si cestu než zvedl jakýkoliv trám nebo podpěru.

A několik dní sledoval oblohu.

Měl strach. Pepa se vždycky něčeho bál, protože vždycky dlouho přemýšlel. Ti co dlouho přemýšlí pěstují strach stejně jako farmář pěstuje pšenici.

Pepek sice měl strach, byl zmatený a hloupý, ale věděl to o sobě. A nechtěl dopustit, aby ho to zastavilo i přesto, že cítil jak se mu tyto vlastnosti v hlavě shromažďují a plní jí jako sliz.

Pepča přestal pracovat. Byla pauza na cigaretku.

Přetáhl své brýle přes kšilt a usadil je na své čepici. Z kapsy své hnědé bundy vytáhl balíček cigaret. Stálo na nich “Poddrnky” a byla na nich nakreslená smějící se kostra.

Vytáhl z balíčku tři cigarety a všechny je zapálil ručním plynovým hořákem.

Pepča si potáhl a vypustil kouř z té díry kde měl být jeho nos a oddychl si. I přesto, že byl po smrti věděl, že pokud se nebude soustředit jenom na práci s kovem tak znovu začne přemýšlet, ale už byl unavený. Pracoval čtyři měsíce ve dne v noci. Tohle byla jeho třetí přestávka.

“Pepo!”

Na druhém konci dvorku zahlédl obrovské monstrum. Osm stop vysoký kolos co vážil skoro půl tuny s roztrhanou a tlející tváří, vlákna jeho svalů vypadaly pod kůží jako lana na kterých vysí mosty. To monstrum na sobě mělo kusy látky sešité dohromady, aby připomínaly normální oblečení, protože takový kolos by se v životě nevešel do kalhot nebo trika. Často byl vidět jak v okolí města drtí auta jedním zakroucením svýma obrovskýma rukama a jak rovná budovy se zemí bez jediné kapičky potu.

Ten kolos přišel až k Pepovi a usmál se na něj, jeho zuby připomínaly náhrobky zarostlé mechem.

Byl to Úžasňák, ten nejmilejší člověk, kterého Pepík kdykoliv poznal.

Úžasňák řekl “Ahoj Pepíno! Na čempak to pracuješ?”

Úžasňák byl očividně moc rád, že se viděl s Pepčou a že si s ním mohl popovídat. Úžasňák měl radost ze všeho co dělá, ale hlavně když to dělal se svými přáteli, což byli všichni.

Pepa mu odpověděl “To stejný co včera.”

Úžasňák se dál usmíval a přikyvoval. “Jo ták. Cože to bylo? Zapomněl jsem.”

“Říká se tomu 'letadlo'. Je to auto co jezdí ve vzduchu.”

Už to bylo po sedmé co to Pepa Úžasňákovi vysvětloval, požadné na to reagoval stejně;

vyhodil své ruce nad hlavu.

“Pepo. Pepiku, tyjo. To je… Já nevim Pepo. To je… ty jsi supergénius, Pepčo.

Pepa se pousmál a zavrtěl hlavou. “Úžasňáku, to Šéf mi říká jak to dělat. On je ten génius. Já jenom pracuju jako ty.”

Úžasňák se zasmál. “Já, ale teďka nepracuju! Jenom dělám voloviny!”

Pepíno přikývl hlavou. “To já taky, ale jenom chvilku. Pak zpátky do práce.”

Úžasňákovi opadl jeho úsměv. Jeho hlas, jehož barevnost by se normálně dala porovnat k cihle ve štípačce na dříví, zněl žalostně. “Ale Pepíku… Pepo, pokud uděláš auto co jezdí ve vzduchu… tak budeš moct odjet pryč. Jako pryč pryč. Pepo, já nechci, abys odjel. Jsi můj kamarád.”

Pepek přikývl a položil svou dlaň na Úžasňákovu obří ruku. “Taky jsi můj kamarád, Úžasňáku, ale musím. Musíme dělat co po nás Šéf chce. On se o nás stará. Vrátím se. A až se vrátím tak určitě budu mít spoustu historek, vim jak je máš rád.”

Úžasňák se znovu začal usmívat. “Jo! Jo, jo! Třeba ten příběh jak jsi nám četl, no. Ten jak jde ten kluk do školy a tam se učí kouzla a má kamarády co taky dělají kouzla. Ten se mi líbil. Kouzla jsou fakt kůl.”

Pepa znovy přikývne hlavou. “Kůly jsou fakt cool.”

Zorničky toho titána se zvětšily a zastavil se na místě. Úžasňák se poté předklonil a zvedl Pepu za jeho ramena, aby se mu mohl podívat přímo do očí.

Pepo to je ta nejchtřejší věc, kterou jsi mi kdy řekl. Jsi super, Pepo.

Poté Pepču jako nikdo na celém světě kdykoliv předtím neobejmul.


Hodně lidí mluvilo s Pepou o tom na čem dělal. Už na tom dělal téměř rok a pochopitelně se o tom letadle hodně mluvilo. Většina lidí si myslela, že to co Pepíno dělal bylo fakt kůl a, že by v tom měl pokračovat. Někteří, například Paulí, si, ale mysleli, že Pepča tím ztrácel čas.

Pepa s tím i poměrně souhlasil, ale bylo mu to jedno.

One day he realized he had not slept in nine months.

He was very tired. The airplane was nearly done. He gathered supplies, he put the things together and the whole time, he felt himself changing. Joey, like the rest of his brothers and sisters, didn't feel much. But Joey felt something. Something different. It was inside him, in his chest, in his arms and legs. It felt like the time he had tried to make battery salad, but good instead of painful.

He decided to sleep for a while. Then he would stop being tired, and he could think more about what this all meant, where he was going, and why. Maybe his dreams would help settle his humming mind.

He went to his home, which was the vault of a destroyed bank. The citizens of Vulture Gulch did not understand money, but they understood that one should probably put really valuable things behind a big steel door, and so they had decided that Joey had to sleep in there. They insisted that Joey was important, no matter how he protested.

He laid down on his mattress made of shredded tires and torn automobile upholstery. He lit his blowtorch nightlight to push back the cold gloom of the vault interior. Then he slept, his head heavy, full of thoughts putrefied by doubt.


Joey finds himself in a familiar place.

The desert yawns all around him, wide and empty. He can count the number of things that are here without even using his fingers.

One, there is the ground, made of orange-warm dirt and dust. It holds Joey up and stops him from falling down, back to where he came from.

Two, there is the wind, unseen but felt on his dead skin, gentle and urging. It brings the promise of distance, whispers of places that are far, far away, and asks Joey if he would like to see them.

Three, there is the sky, colossal and unknown, blue and royal. The demesne of mysteries, that great expanse within and through which Joey knew there were things of great importance.

Four, there is the sun, hot and bright, the undisputed ruler. The king of the sky. Here it is far larger and hotter than when Joey was awake, a massive blast furnace and foundry, where all things were made.

And five, there is Joey. Small, ugly, stupid, and dead. A gross scarecrow of a man, thin and tall. Dressed the way that Joey always was, both within his mind and without: brown motorcycle boots, worn jeans, faded Ramones t-shirt, green army cap with his goggles resting above the bill, and his scarred leather bomber jacket, its woolen collar frayed and thinning. A grim caricature. A bony pretender. A ruined thing that most people on Earth would not call a 'person' at all.

Joey has no conception of people beyond the ones that he knew. But he has seen pictures, on burnt postcards and travel guides from the old gift shop, and he has heard stories from when the scrapper teams used to come back from stealing from and scaring those people. People that knew and built things, and loved one another, and had families and houses and jobs. Soft, pink and brown people, with their own dreams. Joey, like the rest of his siblings, is gray-green, dry and leathery, and tough. And he knows that every time one of the outside people saw one of his siblings, if they weren't wearing a long white coat or thick black armor, they were terrified.

The mayor of Vulture Gulch sits cross-legged in the dirt. He can feel a tide of chill, scummy waves washing all around and inside him. He is sure that when he leaves, he could meet some of the soft outside people. And he is sure that they are going to be scared of him. This makes Joey very sad. He didn't want to scare anyone. He wants to make friends, and be nice. He wants to learn, and get stories that he can tell to his brothers and sisters, and see how much he can help everyone when he really, really tries his best.

Joey wanted to keep being mayor. He had never asked to be mayor, but he helped people understand things better every day just like he imagines a real mayor does. He reads things to them so they can do better work and make themselves happy. If he leaves, he can't help them anymore. If he leaves, they will miss him, and he will miss them. They will be sad, and so will he. He will be letting them down, all so he can chase a strange desire that he cannot understand, so he can go on an adventure that could end in disappointment or frustration. Or much, much worse.

The waves of slime pool around Joey, turning the warm dry earth he had been sitting on into clammy, viscous muck. The sun dims, and he begins to feel cold. Cold, and wet and slick with the saliva of some great beast that Joey has never met and could never imagine, but he feels it all the same. Something bad. Something… horrible.

“Hello there, Joey.”

Joey looks up, and sees two more things in this place that used to be warm and bright.

One looks like something Joey has seen before. A lizard. But this one is blue, and huge, and standing on two strong legs. It has metal armor on parts of its body, and things that look like guns attached to its back and sides. One of its eyes is metal and red, but the other is brown, and soft, and looking directly at Joey.

The other is also like a lizard, but just as huge as the other one. This one is red, and has enormous wings with claws on the end. On its frilled, spiky head is a pointed hat with twinkling stars in the fabric, and in its claws are a long wooden stick and a thick book.

These two lizards are giant. They have sharp teeth and claws. And they are both looking directly at Joey.

The blue one turns its head to the red one and says, “Oh dear. I think he's frightened.”

The red one nods once and replies with a quiet boom, “Poor guy. Look at all this mess. I don't think this place is usually like this; this filth feels nothing like him. I suspect foul play, Palsinnor.”

The giant blue lizard leans its head down close to Joey's own. Joey is terrified, and wants to move, but can't. He is cold, and frozen, and can feel all of his fear and doubt writhing and multiplying within him. He can no longer see the sun.

A huge blue head touches its scaly-smooth cheek to Joey's. And Joey hears a gentle, powerful voice in his left ear. A voice like warmth and rest.

“Peace, child. Peace. I know you are scared. I know. But we will not hurt you. We only want to talk to you for a short while. You do not know us, but we know you, and we love you. Let go of your fear and hear our voices.”

The head pulls back, and Joey sees that the sky has changed. The sun is gone, and replaced with an explosion of stars all across a sky that softens to deep indigo as Joey stares. The slime has gone, and Joey is sitting in rich, soft earth, lush with grass and flowers that seem to spread out across the ground from the two huge newcomers.

Joey no longer feels cold, but cool. Not slimy, but clean, and refreshed.

The red lizard snorts, producing a short flash of fire from its nostrils. “I've pushed it out. It's not gone, but I've put a lock on it. It won't bother him for some time. It's the best I can do until he puts the pieces together.”

The blue one nods. “Thank you, Dathrun.” It regards Joey, looming, its sapphire scales and burnished armor sparkling in the starlight.

“Listen to me, Joey. Do you understand me?”

Joey nods silently, afraid of sounding stupid in front of these very smart lizards.

“Joey, you must not let your fear overtake you. It is natural to be scared. Going out on your own is hard, and the world is full of scary, strange things. But you are special, and you are loved. You have a beautiful heart, and a soul as bright as the sun. You have so much potential, child. You have to be brave, and believe in yourself. Your people are counting on you to see many things, to learn great lessons, and lead them to where they were meant to be.”

Joey frowns. He looks down at the ground and says, “But I'm dumb. I'm really dumb. I don't know how a lot of things go, or how to do stuff, or where I should go or what to do. I don't know how to help them.”

The red lizard says, “Nonsense, Joey. These are your brothers and sisters. These are the Black Iron Boneheadz of Vulture Gulch. Are they not heavy metal? Are you not heavy metal?”

Joey looks up and blinks. “I mean, they are, mostly. I don't know if I am, really.”

”If they are heavy metal, Joey, then they can take care of themselves while you are gone. They are strong, just like you, and you must have faith in that. Trust in them, and in yourself.”

The blue continues, “You are more than capable of this, Joey. I know you can feel the heat within your chest. You want to go. To see. To discover. You cannot stay here and idle away the years, wondering what it all means. You say that you are dumb. But it does not take a vast wealth of knowledge to do the right thing, to be the best person you can be. And most importantly, you are aware of your limitations. You know how much you do not know. That is wisdom, Joey, and you must use it well. Your curiosity, your passion, your wisdom and your kindness will carry you and your family so far. All you need to do is decide to take the first step.”

The red growls, “Use your strength. You are Mayor of Vulture Gulch, and you were given that title for a reason. Your people are capable, but they need direction. They need someone to show them the way, to happiness and a life that they deserve. Do not acknowledge your fear. Do not doubt. You are their champion. You did not choose to be, but you are, and you stand at the edge of something glorious. Go to it, Joey. Go, and win your people a place among the stars.”

The blue stands tall. “Go, Joey. We know that you will do your very best, and you will succeed. Go, and discover all that the wide world has in store for you.”

The plants have grown from horizon to horizon, bringing sweet smells and color to what was once a bare wasteland. The stars shine above, each a precious and scintillating jewel. And Joey feels an old feeling, once again.



"Go, Joey. We believe in you."





Joey stands in the wide vacant lot at the end of Gold Street and sighs heavily.

Behind him are the results of his work.

An airplane with broad, sweeping wings rests on fat tires, shining gray and bright in the desert sun. It is enormous. It is haphazard, unpainted, messy, and in all likelihood extremely dangerous. It is inelegant, clumsy, misshapen, and a flagrant mockery of aeronautical engineering. Made of aluminum beaten into shape with Joey's own two hands, equipped with four massive propellers molded painstakingly from the finest scrap metal the Mayor could find, with powerful engines handcrafted night after sleepless night, it was a dreadful Frankenstein's monster of twisted metal and rust.

It was also an airplane. And Joey had never been more proud of anything in his entire life.

He had found a book in the small library some time ago that had pictures of airplanes in it. He had tried to design it as close as he could to his favorite picture, which was labeled B-17 Flying Fortress. He didn't get it exactly right, but he thought it was close enough.

In its cargo bay and cockpit he had placed supplies. A big black motorcycle, armored, turbocharged, and rigorously tested, so he would have something to ride on the ground. Six or seven flamethrowers that Joey had enhanced himself, adding axe blades to the heavy ends and extra barrels and fuel canisters for better coverage and weight. He didn't know where he was going, but he wanted to be safe when he got there.

There was also a box of keepsakes, mementos, and gifts that the people of Vulture Gulch had given him. Some containers of Chef's best oil soup. A bowling ball that Awesome thought was hilarious for reasons that he tried to explain, but couldn't because he kept laughing so hard whenever he saw it. A copper chain with a pendant in the shape of a cactus flower, given to him by Flower so he wouldn't forget her. Joey had said that he could never forget her no matter what, but failed to explain why that was.

Those people and more, all those people that he had grown and learned with, the ones that he loved with all his heart, were standing before him, gathered in a small crowd. Work had been stopped for the day. Making super rad cars was rad, but the Mayor flying into the sky to go on an adventure, to bring back amazing stories to tell?

That was fucking metal.

Joey cleared his throat, and said to them all, “I don't really know what to say. I pretty much never know what to say, I guess. I'm not good at talking. Or a lot of other stuff.

“I'm sad to go. And I know that you're all sad too. But I'm not going away forever. I'm going to go and see what's outside. I'm going to go there, and I'm going to try to figure it out. I'm going to see what the Boss wants me to see, and what I want to see, and what I want the rest of you to see one day too. I'm going to go meet the whole world. And I don't know when I'm going to come back. But when I do, I promise, I'll have some amazing things to tell you.

“Build cool things while I'm gone so I can see them when I come back. Be safe, and be nice to one another. Goodbye. I love you all.”

The crowd exploded into cheers of different flavors. Some, like Awesome, cried. Others, like Chef, howled wordlessly into the sky, not having the words for how proud and excited they were for their Mayor and friend. Some raised a chant, echoing an idea that someone had had not long ago when Joey's plan was discovered. A new name for their Mayor. They shouted it again and again.

One, unnoticed by the rest, merely watched, and waited.

Joey didn't look back. He climbed into the airplane's belly through the bomb bay door, and hit the switch to bring it up. It worked. He had checked the electrical system over three thousand times.

He went up some stairs just thick enough to hold his weight, through some rooms he had made to hold some things, along the central aisle. He entered the cockpit.

Joey did not understand how he knew that he could make this plane fly. But he built it, and he knew.

He flipped switches and let power flow into the plane. Little lights came on, in different colors, all taken from different sources. A Christmas tree light below a label that read “OK YOU CAN FLY NOW” flickered to life. There was a big switch there.

Joey hit it. He didn't have to pray, or hope. He knew it would work.

The four huge propellers coughed, then roared, spinning up and reaching speeds so fast that Joey couldn't even see them anymore through the cameras. He looked ahead through the cockpit window. Gold Street was, unusually, completely clear of cars or wreckage. And just wide enough.

He let go of the brake, and the huge airplane, the massive, absurd work of a restless year, thundered down Gold Street. It lurched, it juddered, it creaked and complained, but it held together. Joey had poured all of his determination into this machine, and he could feel that it wanted to scratch the sky as badly as he did. This was going to work. This was going to work.

He pulled up.

The wind and air swept over and under the great steel bird's wings, and it left the earth behind. It shattered the chains that held all things hard to the ground and roared in defiance against gravity. It rose, higher and higher, the buildings and crumbling ruins falling away below.

Joey saw the wall that the men in the white coats had built. And for the first time in his life, he did not care about it at all.

The one they now called Joey Steelwings rose above it all, and flew on toward his destiny.



Addendum 3885-03: On 2 May 2018, an unmarked makeshift aircraft visually resembling a World War 2-era B-17 Flying Fortress took off from SCP-3885, using the town's main avenue as a runway. After investigation, it was determined that personnel assigned to Subsite 3885 had noticed this vehicle periodically during its construction by a single SCP-3885-01 instance, but did not take action, citing disbelief that SCP-3885 instances possessed the mental capacity to successfully construct a functional aircraft. Subsite 3885's administrative staff have been formally disciplined on charges of gross negligence leading directly to a containment breach.

The aircraft in question was observed flying due northeast. Foundation recovery assets have been dispatched to recontain the SCP-3885-01 instance or instances onboard.

No other SCP-3885-01 instances within SCP-3885 have cooperated with Foundation investigative personnel, and as a result, the aircraft's destination, and purpose, are unknown.






Není-li uvedeno jinak, obsah této stránky je pod licencí Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License