Preservation Paradox (Part 1)
This short story is an exploration of a world and characters destined for a novel. It's very much a work in progress, and I welcome your thoughts and feedback. Stay tuned for Part 2 coming soon.
Ellen secured the harness around her waist and stepped onto the first rung of the ladder propped against the side of the building, the slight increase in warmth at her temple—a setting she preferred just a degree above her body temperature—reminded her of Allyx’s presence. "Safety check, please," she murmured.
A drone whirred to life, buzzing up and down the ladder, then circled her position. After a brief moment, the pleasant voice of her assistant, Allyx, addressed her: "Put your weight on the harness, please."
Leaning back, Ellen felt the straps tighten against her body as the anchors above firmly secured themselves. Allyx's voice followed, "Harness integrity confirmed. Would you like to engage the auto-lift feature?"
She ran a hand over a rung, feeling the familiar coolness of metal against her skin. "No, I'll climb. Keep it traditional today," Ellen replied with a faint smile.
With a reassuring beep, the drone took its position above as Ellen began her ascent.
High upon the weathered roof of the stave church, Ellen skillfully and carefully worked. Allyx, in tune with every motion, provided silent support—its drones sweeping in gently, delivering materials with ease and grace while its holographic overlays shimmered against the wood, enhancing Ellen's vision. Together, they functioned as a seamless whole, each adapting to the flow of the other in silent labor to honor the legacy they worked to preserve.
The stave church was more than just a structure; it represented a deep connection to historical and cultural roots, and while the AI could analyze and predict structural integrity, only Ellen could apply the finishing touches that honored the original craftsmen's intent. The drones could replicate the ancient shingles with laser precision, but they could not match the subtlety of Ellen's experienced eye, which ensured that each new piece blended seamlessly with the old.
To Ellen secure in her harness, the contrast between the old and the new wasn't lost on her. The harness, embodying modern safety, clung to her form, a reminder of contemporary concerns for wellbeing. In contrast, the church, ancient wood marked by centuries of weathering, originated during a time when the builders labored without the assurance of safety. It was a time when risk was as much a part of the building process as the wood and nails themselves, where human spirit gambled in pursuit of architectural mastery.
In this act of preservation, there was an acknowledgment that some experiences are sacred to the human condition. Ellen's role was not just to fix and fortify, but to forge a link between yesterday and today, that the essence of the church, and the lessons it held, would not be lost to the efficiency of machines. Her presence there was an indicator of humanity's need to remember, to touch the past with their own hands, and carry it forward.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky amber and purple, Ellen prepared to descend from the ancient roof. The day's work had been satisfying, each conserved shingle a work of practical art. She approached the ladder with the familiar ease of routine, but today, something was amiss.
As she reached for the first rung, a sudden wave of fear washed over her. The edge of the roof looming. Alarm quickened her heartbeat as she peered downward her focus on the ground suddenly so far away—heights had never troubled her before, but now her stomach knotted and her legs trembled.
"Ellen, I'm noting an anomaly in your biometrics. Are you unwell?" Allyx’s voice, usually a background hum, sharpened into focus.
"I...," her voice faltered, breaths shallow and rapid. "The drop—it's pulling at me. I can't move. Help me."
"Heightened awareness of risk is natural. I suggest not looking down. Concentrate on the ladder and my voice," Allyx advised.
Ellen's gaze shifted to the rungs illuminated by the fading light. "This is a normal response and can happen at any time," said Allyx. "I'm here, and all safety measures are active. Take your time."
"I know, I—I'm stuck, Allyx. I can't..."
"You're experiencing acute stress. Breathe with my count," Allyx said. A series of soft beeps began to punctuate the still air, setting a rhythm for her to follow.
Ellen forced herself to inhale deeply, each breath a conscious effort to match the tempo set by Allyx's beeps. Her fingers, slick with a cold sweat, found the first rung, the metal unyielding and real beneath her touch. She clung tightly to it.
"Focus on the sensation of the ladder in your hands, the steadiness of your grip," Allyx continued. "There is no rush. You have all the time you need."
She took a shallow breath, held it, and then released it slowly, the tightness in her chest easing incrementally with the deliberate cadence of her breathing. The AI's presence was one of calm, guiding her through the fog of fear.
Ellen's boot sought out the next rung down, a tentative shuffle that betrayed her lingering trepidation. "One step at a time," she whispered to herself, echoing Allyx's methodical approach.
It took several long moments for her to take another step, and then another, each one a victory over the paralyzing dread. Her descent was a negotiation, a series of pauses and deep breaths, a metronome of beeps blending with the sounds of the night.
Halfway down, Ellen stopped again, allowing herself a moment to acknowledge the progress, her pulse still rapid but no longer frantic. "Why now? Why this fear?" she murmured, not expecting an answer.
"The mind's workings are complex," Allyx replied. "its fears even when unfounded are powerful. We'll address this systematically," Allyx assured her. "You're in control, Ellen."
Finally, her boots met the firm, welcoming ground, and the irrational fear began to fade into the cool embrace of the evening air. Her gaze went back to the ladder. In the fading light, Ellen felt an emptiness, a void, now that the fear was gone. She felt drawn to the high perch and the thudding heartbeat. The peril had felt real, but now absent, it left a craving for the sharp edge of risk, the exhilarating struggle of chaos and control— in a lifetime of safety, she had never felt the thrill of fear before and now she felt herself wanting more.