The carnie had Thunk sit down on a well-worn workshop stool. He rummaged through one of many drawers in an enormous wooden dresser. It had six columns of drawers, filled the shed from floor do ceiling, and shined with polish. “Got to make sure you’re actually alive, otherwise this won’t work.” He came back to Thunk brandishing a magnifying glass. “Let me see that shoulder.”
Thunk spun on the stool so that his left side faced the carnie. Now that he was distracted from carrying out Todd’s orders, he noticed that the man seemed familiar. He wore a black cotton hoodie sweatshirt with faded patches sewn on in random locations. His hair was brown, and just wavy enough to almost be curly. On the back of his left hand was a tattoo of eight arrows radiating from a single point. On his right was one of a gear. “Have we met before?”
The carnie squinted at Thunk’s shoulder meat through the magnifying glass. As he looked, a faint buzzing sound filled the shed. “Plenty of cellular activity. No healing or white cell freak-out. As if the arm was still attached. Which is clearly not the case.” The man blinked a few times and looked up at Thunk. “Did you say something?”
Thunk shook his head. “Never mind.”
The man went back to the monstrous wooden dresser and replaced the magnifying glass He closed the drawer and started digging in a pile of wooden boxes underneath a workbench. “Time is funny, Thunk. I mean, you should know that, of all people.” He pulled a long box out from the pile and blew off a layer of dust. The top of the box was ornately burned with a very simple label: Arm, Left. “It’s all stretchy.”
“How do you know my name?” The buzzing in the shed was getting louder, and Thunk really wanted to be outside, looking for Sheila.
“Fame’s funny, too.” The carnie opened the box, and Thunk heard something whispering against the red felt lining. “Two people, like us, we’ve probably run into each other dozens of times, and didn’t even know it.” He hefted the metal contraption in the box, and brought it over to Thunk.
He looked from the mess of gears and pistons and dials to the carnie and to the shed’s door. “I really should be out there, looking for Shei-”
The carnie pushed one end up against Thunk’s shoulder meat, and twisted. Thunk’s body spasmed and his eyes rolled back into his head. The gears started to turn and the pistons began to pump. “Oh, yeah. I should tell you: this is gonna feel pretty strange.”
*******************
Thunk opened his eyes onto a frozen wasteland. Dunes of snow gave way to cracked ice and gray skies. The wind blew, and he could feel it lash at his exposed skin. He looked down at himself, only mildly shocked that he was nude. His left arm was still missing. His right wrist, both ankles, and neck were locked in steel shackles that had no chains. Thunk looked around, seriously doubting that he’d find Sheila here. He tried to step forward, only to find the ankle shackle holding him in place. He was trapped.
The ice under him began to rumble and shake. Thunk knelt on the ice, shielding his face with his arm. The cold below him shot into his knees, making him shiver and convulse immediately. In front of him, chunks of ice exploded into the air amidst billowing clouds of steam. Fear crept into the edges of Thunk’s mind, something that should not have been possible. Steam rolled over him, driving away the cold and encasing him in a layer of warm wetness. He stood again, the pale echo of fear turning into a pale echo of curiosity. He squinted into the steam ahead of him. He made out the female figure within just as he heard her take a step toward him.
She was as nude as he. Her skin was the color of brass, her eyes molten steel. She did not smile, she did not speak. She stepped forward, radiating heat, encasing them both in clouds of steam. Curiosity became wanting and lust, and they consumed him. He tried to reach out, to step toward her, but was held fast by his shackles. They chafed and cut his skin, sending droplets of blood to the ice that was somewhere below him. She stepped forward again, looking him over from top to bottom. Thunk’s desire burned his blood as she became easier to see. She was completely hairless, and the rivulets of water condensing and cascading down her lithe form made her skin shine as if it were actual brass.
Thunk raged against the shackles, straining to be free, until she placed the tips of her fingers on his chest. Pleasure danced on his skin like lightning. He shuddered with the sensation, letting it consume him. She stepped forward again, ans rested both of her hands on his hips. He shuddered again in pleasure, sagging against his shackles. She looked him in the eyes, and a voice sang in his mind.
“Do you want me?”
Thunk cried out into the endless steam. Yes, he wanted her with everything he had left. Her lips curled into a small smile, and she pressed her body against his. He moaned as she writhed and squirmed against him until it felt like she was burrowing inside of his skin.
*******************
Thunk’s eyes snapped open. The buzzing sound was gone, replaced with clicking, clacking, hissing, and whirring from his left.
“Success!” The carnie looked gleeful. “It works!”
Thunk jumped off of the stool and was headed to the door when he noticed that the noises were coming with him. He looked down at his left arm, made of spinning gears, creaking joints, and hissing pistons. His fingers clacked as he flexed them. There was some sort of release valve near where it was mounted on his shoulder. “How… how does it work, Mr. Weaver?” He couldn’t tear his gaze from it.
“Are you familiar with the strong force that holds subatomic particles together in the shape of atoms?” Weaver was obviously pleased with himself.
“Yeah. Todd talks about science a lot.”
Weaver’s face fell, and he stammered out, “Steam. It runs on Steam.”
