ed and his two companions found themselves sitting in Great-uncle Faisal’s cosy living quarters. Family pictures covered the walls and a much younger Tinks was in several of them. A kettle boiled on a wood-burning stove that looked as if it hadn’t been used in years, and the Ticker that was Mr Cogsworth rummaged away steamily in a cupboard for some teabags. As he did so, Whiskers continued scampering between his legs like an excited puppy.
“Do forgive me, it’s been an age since I’ve had to brew tea,” croaked the machine.
Aside from the comfy chairs and pictures, the rest of the room had been given over to become a workshop of sorts, with a similar appearance and organisation to the Tinker’s.
“Home from home, eh, Tinks?” whispered Ned.
The Tinker smiled so wildly it looked as though he might hurt himself.
“Tell me, Mr Cogsworth, where is my great-uncle?”
“If you don’t mind, sir, there are a few things I should discuss with you first. For one, the reason that he asked to see you.”
Mr Cogsworth closed the cupboard and his shoulders sagged. “I’m so sorry, I’m afraid we don’t seem to have any tea.”
Ned had had Whiskers all his life, and he must have seen hundreds of Tickers since discovering the Hidden, but Faisal’s invention really was quite unique. The only Ticker he had ever heard speak was the Central Intelligence and the thought of it doing so made him shudder. Mr Cogsworth, on the other hand, was rather polite and moved with a certain slowness that made him seem almost gentle.
“Can’t Faisal tell me himself?”
“Of course, but before you see him, you really must hear what I have to say.”
And at that, Mr Cogsworth moved rather stiffly to one of the armchairs before sitting down with a rusty groaning of his springs.
“Do you know why your great-uncle left Gearnish?”
“My father wouldn’t speak about it, but I later found out that it was not under the best circumstances.”
Mr Cogsworth’s bulb-like eyes dimmed. “You’re quite right. You see, Faisal was one of the very first to really push advances in Ticker design. He was way ahead of his time and within a few short years his creations were being produced all over the city. Great advances were made by your great-uncle and later by others. But his focus soon turned to the pursuit of AI – artificial intelligence. He wanted the machines to think for themselves. He envisaged a future where Tickers might replace farmers, doctors and factory workers; food and medical attention for everyone. The Central Intelligence was his very first experiment in that field.”
The Tinker’s face turned to ash. “Great-uncle Faisal? He-he developed the Central Intelligence?”
“Yes and no. When he published his findings, the ruling Gears who ran the city immediately went into production, despite his warnings that they weren’t ready. Furious, he locked himself away to continue his studies till, more than a year later, he came upon something. He realised that AI, by its very definition, was dangerous in that a creature without a soul could not truly determine right from wrong. But it was too late, the Central Intelligence had already been built, and it quickly set about automating the city’s factories – seemingly without any problems. Only your great-uncle foresaw what would happen.”
“And then, Mr Cogsworth? What happened then?” demanded the Tinker.
“Your uncle expressed his concerns to anyone that would listen, but those in charge did everything in their power to ridicule him; to make sure that his findings were thrown out as nonsense by anyone he took them to. A broken and discredited man, nearly at the end of his days, he left Gearnish and came here.”
The Tinker looked truly devastated. “Well, it’s just awful – poor Great-uncle Faisal, all those years locked away in this museum, and for what?”
Mr Cogsworth’s metal face rippled into a smile. “To crack the AI problem and learn how to undo the machine that his research had helped create.”
The Tinker’s little brow wrinkled. “And did he?”
“Oh yes, Tinks, he did. He knew that without a soul, an AI was just a set of numbers, a code. But your great-uncle is a very tenacious man. He discovered – with a little magical assistance – a way to duplicate the soul, to make a digital copy, so to speak, the first of which he put into a wind-up mouse.”
At this Whiskers leapt on to the automaton’s lap, his little head bobbing up and down happily. Ned’s eyes grew wide – surely he wasn’t talking about his mouse?
But before he got a chance to ask, Mr Cogsworth continued. “After many years, he went on to further his findings, in me. You were right, Tinks, I am indeed a bigger deal than the Auto-chewer.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Cogsworth, I’m not sure I understand. And where is he? Why can’t he explain all this himself?” demanded the Tinker.
“Oh, but he just did, Tinks. I am your great-uncle Faisal, and the one thing capable of bringing down the Central Intelligence.”