Dream d3154-s: Iron Cog Holds Still

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the gear chamber smelled of oil and old wood, and the sound of turning filled the low stone room before my eyes had adjusted to the dark.

The Relic-Watcher moved first along the wall, passing the flat of one hand near the iron cog without touching it. The cog was tall as a door, riveted at its hub, and it did not move. Beside it the wooden cog turned in a slow, untroubled rotation, its teeth meshing against nothing, the iron teeth standing wide and patient. I watched the gap between them and could not account for it.

Lano had come in at my heel and now she sat at the center of the floor, ears forward, nose reading whatever the air held. The oil smell, the stone dust, the faint cold that clung to iron in any weather. Her tail swept once across the floor and was still.

The Bedrock-Reader crouched at the base of the iron cog and set two fingers against the foundation stone beneath it. She said nothing. The Warden of the Deep Stratum came to stand beside her, looking at the same junction, and also said nothing.

The Horizon-Surveyor moved to the far wall and held the leveling rod upright against the stone to read what the chamber's floor told her about the ground below. The Tally-Reader stood at the door and counted the teeth of the wooden cog as they came around. I heard the count murmured low, no rounding.

Rurik had taken the high shelf along the east wall. He lay with his forepaws over the edge, amber eyes moving between the two cogs, the slow wood and the still iron. His tail hung straight down. Once he blinked. He did not move from the shelf.

The Anomaly-Hand traced a seam of pale cyan emission that ran from the floor upward along the wall and curved toward the iron hub. She did not touch the hub. She marked the seam's extent in her record and stepped back. The cyan was faint; you had to stand still for it to be visible. It was not warm.

I placed my own hand near the iron cog at the height the Relic-Watcher had passed hers. The metal gave nothing back. The wooden cog turned beside it and the teeth nearly met and did not. The gap between them held its width.

Lano padded to the iron cog and sniffed the base of it. Then she sat. Quieto, she said, which was all.

We kept the outgoing account open on the floor of the chamber while the wood turned and the iron stood. The Tally-Reader did not finish counting. The count was still live when the light shifted and the dream let us go.

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