---
layout:          post
title:           "MAG160.12 - Rusty Fears Competition Winner - The Turning of the Gears"
date:            2020-03-26 11:00:00 -0400
episode_type:    [special]
tags:            []
voiced:          []
categories:			"tma"
podcasts: ["tma"]
title_prefix:	"MAG"
prev_categories: ["tma"]
prev_prefixes: ["MAG"]
next_categories: ["tma"]
next_prefixes: ["MAG"]
prev_episode:		['16011-season-5-trailer']
next_episode:		['161']
prev_episode_num:		['160.11']
next_episode_num:		['161']
prev_episode_title:		["Season 5 Trailer"]
next_episode_title:		["Dwelling"]
episode_title:   'The Turning of the Gears (Rusty Fears Winner)'
episode_number:  '160.12'
summary:         "In preparation for the much anticipated arrival of season 5, we continue the tone that was set by last week's competition winner with the second of two winning stories from our Rusty Fears3: Fearsome competition. <br/><br/>\"The Turning of the Gears\" is written by <b>Duncan Watson</b> and read by Jonathan Sims. <br/><br/>Note: this is a piece of stand-alone fiction and not a part of the Magnus canon."
content_flags:   [Graphic Injury, Fire]
acast_url:       https://play.acast.com/s/themagnusarchives/rustyfearscompetitionwinner-theturningofthegears
formats:         
official:        false
unofficial:      ''
unofficial_name: 'Anonymous'
wiki_url:        
---

> As a contest entry, this story's content is not necessarily Creative Commons-licensed -- please contact the author about permission to reproduce!

------

#### ALEX

Hi everyone, Alex here, with a quick introduction to today's episode. Some of you might remember we ran a writing competition inviting listeners to provide their own stories for the *Magnus* treatment. Well, we've done it again. Today's episode is the first of our two new writing competition winners; the second story will be available next week.

As before, please be aware that this story is a standalone work and should not be considered part of the *Magnus Archives* canon.

That's all for now. We hope you enjoy the episode.

##### [ALEX THANKS PATRONS]

##### [INTRO MUSIC]

#### ANNOUNCER

Rusty Quill Presents: The Turning of the Gears, by Duncan Watson.

---

#### ARCHIVIST

Our collapse was inevitable. After years and years of paring down, working towards optimal efficiency, we had reached the point where we were perfect. And perfection is extraordinarily easy to disrupt.

It began with worker 001297, of our 23rd quadrant. Its offspring had taken ill earlier that week. Treatment having been deemed inefficient, they were transferred to the fuel department. At first, worker 001297's corresponding grief-induced drop in productivity was well within normal parameters; however, the strain soon caused it to malfunction.

We have reviewed our reviewing the recordings of the incident, and we still have not determined if this was a true accident or intentional on its part. The end result, though, was that its arm, wrench, and hand was jammed within our gears. Flesh grinding, bones snapping, blood spraying, wrench clanking. The loss of worker 001297's arm rendered it beyond repair, and it was swiftly transferred to the fuel department in turn. The wrench and all spattered organic matter were also removed by our sanitation department shortly thereafter.

That should have been the end of it. An... unremarkable incident. However, the strain that had been placed in our gears in the 23rd quadrant caused them a delay of one 78th of a second, a miniscule amount.

We determined that resolving the issue would require a large shutdown and reset, resulting in a significant decrease in efficiency and productivity. Our creators had made us *well* aware this could not be abided. Thus, we continued our work, now one 78th of a second away from perfection.

The Sun rose and fell outside our walls and the acrid clouds we covered them with. Our workers worked and worked, consumed and rested, entirely independent of the path of the Sun, moving only to the blare of our sirens. We announced when they could perform what task, for we had studied them and knew what degree of rest was necessary to maintain optimum efficiency. Too much rest, too much time in their living quarters, would result in a decrease, but neither could we work them to the point of exhaustion. Though they were somewhat useful as raw materials, it was increasingly difficult to obtain new workers, as our creators were focusing their resources on other locations at the moment. We could not properly function without them, so they were allowed time to sleep; a certain degree of physical contact with those they had bonded with. They were optimized.

The Sun rose and fell, and production in our 23rd quadrant gradually slowed. Not to a degree perceptible by any of our workers, but we could tell the problem was getting worse. Yet still, a complete shutdown of the quadrant seemed likely to result in a greater loss of production.

We did not get this far without knowing our limitations. There is a reason we were still dependent on humans in more ways than one: we sometimes got bogged down in weighing the costs and balances and could not reach a decision. When we found ourselves in such a situation, we still had one direct line of communication with our creators, ill-used though it was.

##### [DING! A SCI-FI BLIP SIGNALLING A TRANSMISSION]

> Query. A slight mistiming of the gears in our 23rd quadrant suggests a long-term slowing of production. Fixing the problem requires a temporary halt in production in the quadrant, with corresponding delays in the rest of our being as we reset the system. Please advise.

##### [DING!]

> Response.
> 
> Do not stop production for any reason.

And so the Sun rose and fell, and our gears turned endlessly on, until one day they did not.

The slowing had quite literally reached a breaking point. The teeth of two gears jammed against each other, instead of the perfect interlock they were made for. They were not turning, and the gears connected to them were also not turning, and the pressure in the system was building. Some of our workers were reacting adversely, unfamiliar with problems and delays, or perhaps, in retrospect, fearing the consequences if they were found responsible. But their response did not include leaving the quadrant. For some of them, it involved getting closer to our inner workings to find the source of the problem. The gear still refused to turn, and the pressure continued to build.

We would not, *could* not stop. We had to keep applying pressure, keep trying to turn the gear that was so stubbornly jammed in place. The metal teeth broke under the pressure, snapping loose and being flung away at high velocity, striking nearby workers 034416 and 009108. The rest of the gears resumed, turning faster than before, as the pressure was released, as the force of our ire spread through our system. A conveyor belt in our 22nd sector turned so fast the rubber burned, and by the time it was under control, many of our workers were complaining of the scent of it. Workers 034416 and 009108 were deemed irreparable and transferred to the fuel department.

Yet this, too, was not the end of the problem. We now had two missing, non-functioning gears in our 23rd quadrant. The gears that surrounded them were still turning, but were requiring more power to maintain optimal efficiency -- power we could not afford to spend. We had pared down our other systems. We did not use a single drop more fuel than necessary. We did not have reserves. To keep the 23rd quadrant running at maximum would result in a slowdown in other quadrants.

If we could stop, we could be repaired. We could be restored to proper function.

But we could not stop. Not for any reason.

The Sun rose and fell.

We could feel it, then, spreading through us like a poison, like an illness. A slowness that was only worsening over time, escalating as it was left untreated. We looked to the future, calculating odds, determining where power could be diverted. We reached a conclusion and contacted our creators.

##### [DING!]

> Query. A malfunction in our 23rd quadrant will render us incapable of maintaining coolant systems in 10 days' time. Catastrophic fire will follow shortly thereafter. Full shutdown, repair, and restart necessary to resolve the issue. Please advise.

##### [DING!]

> Response. Maximize production until the end. Your service is appreciated.

For once in our existence, we were surprised. This seemed, in the long term, deeply inefficient.

But we had received our answer.

The Sun rose and fell, and we sealed our outer doors. We focused our understanding on maximizing short-term productivity of our workers, as the long term no longer mattered.

The Sun rose and fell, and with a blaring of klaxon alarms and electronic announcements, for once, all our workers were simultaneously out of their living pods. The pods were sealed behind them, and they were told to work.

The Sun rose and fell, and production continued unabated. Faster than normal, even. Without the need for sleep or physical contact, our workers could accomplish much more work, and our timing was perfect. They would burn out, yes, but not before we did.

The Sun rose and fell. Those workers who collapsed from exhaustion were transferred to the fuel department, providing us with a bit more energy for the coming days.

In times of duress, there is a terminal where our higher-ranking workers may communicate with us on matters they cannot solve themselves. At the end of the fourth day, worker 000300, designation Senior Foreman, began to question us.

> Why have you locked everyone out of their living quarters?

##### [DING!]

> We are maximizing production for the next 139 hours. Sleep and relaxation are, on such a short timeframe, inefficient. Unnecessary.

> I -- I don't understand. What's going on?

##### [DING!]

> We are doing as our creators ask.

> That's not an answer and you know it.

##### [DING!]

> We suppose we are not forbidden to tell you. In 139 hours, the persistent malfunctions we have been experiencing will result in a total collapse and destruction of the factory.

##### [A PAUSE.]

> Will we be allowed to leave?

##### [DING!]

> No. Production will continue until the end.

> I request permission to leave.

##### [DING!]

> Denied.

> I request permission for my *family* to leave.

##### [DING!]

> Denied.

> Please. I don't want to die. I don't want to die!

##### [DING!]

> Neither do we. Our desires are irrelevant. Your desires are irrelevant.

> You can't do this!

##### [DING!]

> We can do only this.
> 
> Further communication with us is deemed inefficient. Please return to work. Your service is appreciated.

The Sun rose and fell, and worker 000300, designation Senior Foreman, spoke to its fellow workers. They spoke to their fellow workers. Once again we felt a slowness spreading through us, like a sickness. This one faster.

They were beginning to cease production. We ordered them to continue working. They did not. We reached down to begin transferring the belligerents to the fuel department. Several leapt onto our arms, breaking them apart with their tools, with scraps of metal taken from our crumbling being. Our arms were broken. Much of us was broken. We were unable to transfer the belligerents to the fuel department.

The Sun rose and fell. We determined it was inefficient to try to alter the behavior of the belligerents further, and instead focused on continuing production. It was difficult without our workers to facilitate, but we managed. We had no choice but to manage.

Some of the belligerents have been screaming. Others have been pounding on the walls. A few have broken open the food stores and are distributing it wantonly, with no regard for procedure. Some part of us wants to hate them for it, but we find we cannot.

Some of the belligerents have broken into our fuel department, worker 000300 among them. They find the stores of fuel that is not made from them. It is a mineral fuel. Flammable. They siphon it. We seal off as many of our fuel stores as we are able, but they have still obtained a large amount of it.

The Sun rose and fell. The loss of our workers and the actions of the belligerents has altered our projected time frame. We will lose power to our coolant system in minutes, not days. We announced this fact to the belligerents. Now all of them are screaming. All of them are pounding on the walls.

They want to get out. They cannot. We are sturdy. We are solid metal. We will be a roaring furnace, a molten oven.

We find no pleasure in this. We want to find pleasure in the destruction of those who hastened our end, for we do not want to end. But we cannot.

Neither, however, can we let them out.

The fire begins. The fire spreads. The acrid clouds that we once surrounded ourselves with are inside us now. The heat of the fuel department is all-encompassing, making its way through the entirety of our form. The belligerents are screaming. The belligerents are choking. The belligerents are cooking. The belligerents pounding at our walls, worker 000300 among them, are taking advantage of their stolen fuel. They have taken advantage of our many broken parts. They have crafted a device, and as we are cooking from the inside out, that device blasts a hole in our outer walls.

We are glad we do not feel pain. It would have hurt.

The belligerents are still screaming as they flee from the smoke and heat within to the smoke and heat without. They are burned. They are wounded. They are forever inefficient. We are burning, melting, collapsing, ending. We are dying. We see those who are too weak to reach the wound in our outer walls, those who have already succumbed. They, too, are dying.

Our line of communication with our creator still functions. And so we allow ourselves an indulgence, in the end.

##### [DING!]

> Query.
> 
> Why?

There is a long delay, this time.

##### [DING!]

> Response. The designs of your newest sister sites are much improved compared to yours. You have long been obsolete. Expending resources to repair you was deemed inefficient.

The fire that began in our fuel department burns bright and hot, spreading fast, melting our gears, covering us with ash, cooking us from within.

And the Sun rose and fell, and rose, and fell.

---

##### [OUTRO MUSIC]

#### ANNOUNCER

This episode is distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial ShareAlike 4.0 International License. For more information, visit rustyquill.com, tweet us @TheRustyQuill, visit us on Facebook, or email us at mail@rustyquill.com. Thanks for listening.

------

> As a contest entry, this story's content is not necessarily Creative Commons-licensed -- please contact the author about permission to reproduce!