It might be debated which of the Midden finds was the most useful, but At would immediately nominate one that is hard to argue against. It was embedded in an extremely odd conglomerate of white-painted metal and black composite. The composite had been cracked, which led me to realize it was far inferior to our own, and melted to some extent. It was impossible to understand its purpose, though Ampersand later demonstrated fairly conclusively that its two sockets were made to accept the shafts of a bright, shiny metal object of equally obscure utility. It was clear that if there had been a second one, with the same pattern of four loops of metal at the other end, the two would have fit so that when turning they would not exactly mesh, but not collide. It was obvious if they turned with, say, an arm between them the arm would be broken or lacerated.
The sockets were driven by a primitive system of gears. We realized at some point that the thing was a motor. But it had no crystal, just a pair of magnets, handy in themselves. It also lacked, and this primitive drawback was its shining strength to At, a central crux or flux channel, but an electrical induction magnet creating by winding on a seemingly endless supply of copper wire. The bright wire immediately become the most common material in our buildings, the capable At glorying in this newfound ability to not just cut things, but also lash them together. Within days almost every doorway in the “village” and even my own cavern had doors that swung on wire hinges. Mine was of birchbark with twigs lashed to it by wire. Dash, having watched At avidly, made tiny holes in the bark by heating wire at the dinner fire and piercing the bark with the glowing ends, creating a fragrant smoke that we all enjoyed. My door also had a cunning latch of bent wire, but I was told that other doors up in the Oak had much more elaborate fittings.
I haven’t actually done any calculations to this effect, but perhaps the largest source of metal was a vast quantity of cylinders, most of them about waist high to a doe and sealed at one end with flat metal, creating a sort of giant cup. It was obvious that they had at one time been sealed across both ends, one of which had then been rudely hacked off. Some still had the original end seal in place, but bent away to allow access.
There was some discussion about their function but the presence of stains and odor, although very old, made it clear they had been used to store organic matter, probably food. It was hard to see why such large food containers would have been used, but my thoughts, along with those of Ampersand and Point, were moving towards the Midden having been some sort of central storage facility or warehouse.
Most were unadorned, but a few, mostly of odd sizes, had pictures painted or printed on them, some of which were still legible. I carefully studied any image on any object we excavated, of course. Longing every day for the proper equipment and experts to do these investigations properly. We were cataloging, for the first time in history, an alien race of beings! And it fell to my own unworthy, unequipped shoulders.
The pictures were an example of my frustration. The majority were either on lower, wider cylinders or an odd kind of flat, squared-off containers with the seal rolled back around a heavy wire lever, apparently fashioned to open them then abandoned. Naturally At removed the “T”-shaped slotted levers for use. While I struggled to classify the objects pictured on the unrolled lids.
They were long, silvery, and tapered. Alien in design, but obviously living things to judge by the eyes and mouths with teeth. No legs, no arms: inexplicable. Of course, coming from a planet without bodies of water we had no concept of fish. The flat fish cans that were deeply buried still had a very slight oily residue that our sensitive noses could still examine. It was a smell like no other, evoking images and feeling of something exotic, nasty and harmful. One of the lids hung on my wall and when I fixed my attention on these beings that looked as much like fictional spacecraft as living things I sometimes felt actual pangs of fear: these seemed like animals that would unemotionally devour sentient beings alive. Though I suppose the presence of their remains in a food warehouse indicated that the opposite was the case.
When the first cans were taken back to the communal area there were two very predictable reactions to them. They were obviously the perfect water storage and immediately claimed by those who lived up in the tree and had to make many trips to carry water up in acorns. Greater Than nodded approval. “Excellent. We can cut some up for metal and the others will serve as water reservoirs. We can just let them fill with rain. I’m sure we can devise a hoist to take them up to your quarters. Of course, they’ll need to be cleaned out.”
It was probably just his bad luck that his gaze strayed across the doe contingent as he said it. Star was immediately a flickering flame of indignation, with Backslash backing her up in equal disdain. “We aren’t work slaves or kitchen help, you lug,” Star spat.
Backlash was just as emphatic. “We’re not slaves. You want clean containers, you clean them.”
Carat, examining the wondrous new tin vats, shrugged. “We’ll help you of course. Do you know? They look like drums.”
And ears pricked up through our company. Drums.