The vessel was laid out on the table in front of Indra. It was almost alive but missing something crucial – she hadn’t found it yet, but she was sure it was on the shelf somewhere. A ‘Spark’ is what some called it for lack of a better word, and it had taken centuries to find the first; locked away in a place forgotten by time.

Its discovery had changed everything. It had taken decades to begin to unlock its potential, even with scholars from every corner of the world pouring over it day and night. Indra had been there when they made their first breakthrough. One group had devised a method for extracting a fragment of the Spark and housing it in a vessel. She observed something that not many others did that day whilst they prodded and poked, and scribbled notes. The metal casing had hummed, almost in song, and quivered like a frightened animal. To her eyes it responded to each inquisitive touch with fear. She felt compelled by it in that moment, to understand a thing that could give life and song to anything it touched.

She had worked tirelessly with the other artificers and after they had all but exhausted their studies, each of them departed to their own workshops and laboratories with a piece of the Spark in hand. Indra cherished her fragment and wasted no time in working on its applications.

All her experiments, her mishaps and small successes had led to this moment, and she couldn’t find the...

“Ah! There you are!” she whispered, as if the sound of the voice would wake her creation prematurely. She pushed jars of cogs and screws aside and got on the tips of her toes to reach for the obsidian box at the back of the shelf. As the tips of her calloused fingers touched the edge of it she felt the familiar vibration. She felt cold turn to warmth and a song fill her head.

Clasped in both hands, she carried the unassuming box back to the table where the vessel waited with a patience that only lifeless things have. Its body was smooth like marble and coloured in shades of silver and gold. Indra took a moment to admire the lines of its arms, and the curve of its face; the letters that she had delicately etched on its chest, telling the story of the Spark and the world it made possible.

With a soft hiss the chest cavity opened to her touch, revealing the empty space. Using a pair of tongs, she lifted the Spark from its container and slowly brought it above the opening of the vessel. She held it there for a moment. She had only ever experienced the loss of life, and in the same way that she had meditated on death each time, she felt it was right to meditate on life.

She relaxed her grip on the tongs and watched as the Spark dropped into place. For a moment there was nothing, and then there was something. A melody hummed from the lips of the person that was now laying before her. The person opened their eyes and looked into hers with such earnest that she began to cry.

“You’re really alive. I...I had always hoped. Dreamt even. But I never thought it would happen.” she said, tears running into the crease of her smile.

The person sat up slowly, looking around the workshop with wide eyes and a half-smile. They hopped off the table and, after studying Indra briefly in her artificer’s apron, fashioned their own garb out of a discarded dust cover. Indra chuckled in disbelief as the person moved across the room in what now looked like a toga, which conjured the image of an enlightened philosopher seeking inspiration. They seemed to find it in the small window that was the only source of sunlight down there. She watched as they stood on the tips of their toes and peered through the glass. The person stood their quietly observing the world go by before turning back to Indra, “Are there others like me out there? Others that are ‘alive’ as you say?” They said with a voice that sounded smooth, and without edges. Indra hesitated.

“There are, yes. Many of them and all alive, but not quite like you are.” She said, gesturing for them to follow her as she went to open the large doors at the back of the workshop. She led them out onto the balcony that overlooked the city, a metropolis teeming with people and framed by towering buildings of silver and gold that pierced the clouds above. The person stepped out gingerly onto the balcony and stood beside her, holding onto the sleeve of her shirt. They both looked to the street below where a crowd was gathering on either side of the road. The sounds of excitement were audible as a parade passed by composed of a troop of tall, shining, metal constructs. They marched in unison, singing the nations anthem in perfect harmony as they moved through the masses. Their trail could be seen leading all the way back to a distant factory, where steam billowed from colossal chimneys.

“There are more every day, my friend. What I have spent years to craft, they can make in hours. Cruder and with a heavier touch but made all the same.” Indra said, averting her eyes from the spectacle. Her thoughts turned to all the days spent in her workshop, tinkering and toiling while time passed her by like the marching figures below.

She let out a deep sigh, “They are made without a second-thought, and yet you have been in my every thought for so many years now. I’m not even sure who I am anymore, or what I’m meant to do.”

She felt their hand come to rest on her shoulder with a reassuring weight, and their words sounded out like the last familiar melody.

“You are you, I am me, and we are all we were ever meant to be”.