The Vapor Engine

One year earlier

A rough-hewn wooden table, illuminated by flickering gaslight, was the pedestal for miter and butt joints—precisely crafted samples of craftsmanship that laid Nathaniel’s foundation for understanding the intricate balance between structure and beauty. His mentor, Theodore Larkin, an old woodworker with decades of skill etched into the lines of his sun-creased face, hovered nearby, narrating a lesson that transcended the craft.

“A joint, whether a miter or a butt, Nathaniel,” Theodore mused, “is only as strong as the consideration behind its use. You must understand the materials—the way they breathe, bend, and age.”

Back then, the workshop was Nathaniel’s sanctuary, a place of learning that soothed his otherwise restless spirit. Theodore’s teachings were more than just about woodworking; each session was a parable about the connections in life, about holding together disparate pieces in harmony.

It was Theodore’s untimely death—dubiously labeled an accident in the bustling workshop—that first set Nathaniel on the trail of the Mechanist Brotherhood. There was something sinister lurking beneath the veneer of the city, and Nathaniel was determined to bring it into the light.

Present day

The surface of the River Thames mirrored the glint of the crescent moon as Nathaniel worked deftly in the bowels of an abandoned shipyard. His gloved hands pried loose a section of the floorboards with the efficiency of a master craftsman.

“Every piece matters,” he whispered to himself, a mantra from his mentor that echoed reassuringly in his mind. He tossed the boards aside, revealing a hidden mechanical aperture—a perfect mitered edge—not unlike the joint constructions Theodore had used to teach him the balance between strength and elegance but perverse in its purpose.

The sound of a wire snapping taut shattered the stillness. Alarms screeched into the night as Nathaniel hurled himself backward, narrowly avoiding the cascade of steam-powered automatons that burst forth like a swarm from their resting places. The Mechanist Brotherhood was on him again, their mechanical monstrosities bracketing the thin veil between life and the artifice.

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Dodging and leaping over the automaton’s swipe, Nathaniel’s pulse pounded, instincts honed by his training quickening his movements. The shipyard transformed into a theater of chaos, gears grinding and metal clanging in symphony with his hurried heartbeat.

Beyond their reach, Nathaniel knew rested the Brotherhood’s device, the Vapor Engine—a diabolical machine modeled to transform atmospheric aether into a volatile force capable of manipulating time and space. The knowledge he sought illuminated his path, like the bioluminescent trails of sea creatures long-buried beneath the city's maritime history.

Breathless, he reached the engine’s core, finding its assembly eerily reminiscent of that L-shaped countertop in Theodore’s workshop, precisely mitered but twisted into unions of gleaming steel and copper. Nathaniel's hands, seasoned with the memory of a life once shaped by wood and a fatherly craftsman’s teachings, now dismantled and reconfigured the intricate components with deliberate care.

The high-pitched whine of the Vapor Engine reached a crescendo, then, with a final, decisive split like a finely cut mortise, the machine sputtered to a halt, disarmed forever. As silence reclaimed its dominion, Nathaniel stood steady, his frame silhouetted against the latent, dying glow of the machine.

The looming specter of the Mechanist Brotherhood was quelled, but Nathaniel knew he would remain vigilant. In the end, it was not just the memory of Theodore that demanded justice but the resilience of life itself—a harmonious joint as delicate and unyielding as any in woodworking.

He turned away, the distant gaslights of London flickering like will-o'-the-wisps guiding him back through the labyrinth of time and memory, back to a city reborn from its flirtation with uncertainty. As he walked on, Nathaniel pondered the essence of joints, of pieces that held and were held—a testament to the integrity of the spaces between the edges.

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The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: The Hidden DANGER of DIY Wood Countertops: Why IKEA and Other Brands Recommend Professionals

storybackdrop_1737274646_file The Vapor Engine

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