Watcher in the Tower

Argaz stood at the edge of the world, contemplating how he’d spend his final day watching over it.

The pitter patter of rain clanged against his mechanical body; its aging clockwork soaked to its literal bones made of gears and pistons.

Funny how he found the presence of water comforting. Most days he hated the rain, but today it felt right. Like an old friend come to bother Argaz one last time.

From his vantage point atop the watchtower, Argaz saw the ancient city of Atlantis—the dominant civilization of millenniums past, envy of false emperors and pretender kings—in the distance drenched in torrential rainfall. Golden towers that reached the skies, spiraling pyramids each with their distinct sound and color, great bridges that connected the city like circuitry. Its streets Argaz swore to watch over and protect. Its streets he now found empty and wet, as if swallowed by the sea.

A little adjustment to the lenses of Argaz’s glass eyes and he saw a wider view of the terrain around Atlantis, that of steep mountains and crimson dunes. His sensors detected a couple of wayward gazelles grazing nearby, along with a flock of confused birds flying in a circle.

It was the truth of this ancient city; surrounded by nothing but land at the edge of the continent, close to many civilizations that had come and gone throughout the ages. Atlantis’ wonders were tall and vibrant, free for anyone to see. If they knew how to look.

The distortion field around Atlantis acted like a haze meant to bewilder anyone who ventured close. It was a technological camouflage created by the artificers of—no, wait. It was a spell weaved by the ministry of the shamanic arts. Or was it a magical construct made by the eighth order?

Hmmm.

Who was it that built the damned thing again?

Argaz tapped at his rusty forehead with his index finger. Screws and bolts jingled inside.

Stupid, broken thing.

Argaz’s master was one of Atlantis’ greatest minds. A true visionary. But even his best creation eventually succumbed to the cruel passage of time. Argaz’s memory simply wasn’t what it used to be.

Dejected, Argaz lifted his head and stared at the shroud that covered the sky. It shimmered like a silvery prism, encasing the entire region for miles around the ancient city. It let the rain fall freely, but otherwise even light was distorted.

Oh, that’s right! The eighth order was in charge of creating Atlantis’ night and day cycle! The city’s illumination system changed to mirror how it was outside. It was almost morning.

Argaz grumbled.

If only the distortion field could interact with the illumination system. Those mages never considered how weird it was to see the prismatic shroud at night. Argaz always thought that looked weird. Not that he could complain about it anymore. The ministries, the mage orders, the artificers—all of Atlantis had long since perished. Even other mechanical beings like him had ceased to function.

How long ago was that? Argaz couldn’t remember. He was old. Very old. The last one standing in his final day of service.

For the past eleven thousand years, Argaz did his duty and protected Atlantis as its mightiest guardian—its solitary sentinel! Not once did he let a single soul get into—

Rain pooled around Argaz’s glass eyes. He shook his head and just then, purely by happenstance, he noticed something odd near the gates of the city.

Weird, his sensors didn’t detect any—

Argaz hunched forward and adjusted his lenses to zoom in closer, blinking against the rain.

Something was there at the gate. Something bright red and yellow.

Someone.

Argaz jumped from his seat at the edge of the watchtower, splashing the rain that collected on his body.

A human?

Today?

Of all days?

After all this time?

“Imp-p-possible!” his voice cracked, sounding like a broken exhaust pipe. He barely recognized it. “Intruder alert! S-Sound the alarm!”

Oh, wait. He was the alarm.

Argaz glided down the stairs of the watchtower, the boosters on his backpack puffing trails of smoke as he revved its engine.

He wasn’t about to fail his duty guarding the secret of Atlantis on his final day.

Before Argaz hit the ground, he unravelled a pair of mechanical wings from his backpack, its jet propulsion coughing out dark fumes. He bounced right as his feet hit the landing, leapt forward, then flew in the direction of the city, leaving a fountain of muddy water in his wake.

As for why he didn’t simply fly from the top of the watchtower, well, he didn’t trust the machine to work like it did in its heyday. And no one was left to fix it.

At the very least Argaz’s wings worked well enough to reach his destination.

The intruder stood in front of the city gate. A human male. Dark-haired and lanky, perhaps in his late twenties. He paced around, wondering to himself.

The man was long-faced and dull looking, wearing a bright red jacket with grey trousers that appeared too tight of a fit. The yellow Argaz saw earlier was the large umbrella the man brandished to stave off the weather.

Who was this person? The man looked vaguely familiar, but then again, all humans did. How long was it since Argaz saw one?

Argaz slowed his approach, but remained afloat, just enough to loom over the intruder.

Lost perhaps? Befuddled like the local fauna? The distortion field should’ve turned them the other away…

The intruder made sounds of glee as his right hand touched the cold, metallic steel of the gate, feeling at the runes etched in them. He looked up at its height, five times his size, then spoke to himself in a language unintelligible to Argaz.

It was a good thing the sixth order had prepared for such an occasion. Atlantis itself, as recognized by Argaz’s sensors, deciphered the language and cross-referenced it with signals heard from the outside world. Argaz didn’t fully understand the science behind such magic, but the resulting decryption should’ve loaded into his memory bank. He just hoped his old noggin didn’t fail him this time.

“How incredibly fascinating,” the intruder muttered to himself, knocking on the giant gate. “A theme park in the middle of a mountain range! Who in their right mind would build such a thing? Hmmm… pinching myself in the cheek doesn’t seem to do anything…”

A dullard. Good. This should be easy.

Right?

Argaz couldn’t remember the last time he dealt with an intruder, but then again, he couldn’t remember most things.

He was Atlantis’ mightiest guardian, however.

Argaz felt himself relax. He cleared his throat, then spoke in a loud, booming voice.

“Son of man!” he said, wings outstretched and voice echoing. “Who are you? What have you come here for?”

The intruder jumped in shock. He turned around, his expression filled with wide-eyed terror and inexplicably—

Mild surprise?

“Whoa, there!” the man said, rubbing at his eyes. “What the heck… am I seeing this right? Are you some kind of bat?”

Rude.

“Hold on… that metallic frame, those angular pistons, that boxy head… are you a robot?”

Automaton, Argaz wanted to say. He was far more sophisticated than a robot. That was a slang used by children or close friends.

“Answer the question,” Argaz insisted. “What are you doing here, son of man?"

Before the intruder could react, a symbol flashed in the corner of Argaz’s vision. The gate of the city recognized his presence as he hovered nearby, causing it open on its own.

“Crap. No, wait!”

Too late.

The intruder, who had his back on the gate, nearly fell backwards as it slid open. He took a few steps inside the city to catch himself, then marveled as multiple orbs of light lifted into the air, gradually illuminating the wet streets in a pale, yellow hue.

Atlantis dazzled into life. The towers, the pyramids, everything came into view.

Argaz zoomed in on the intruder’s feet. The man was clearly inside the boundary of the city limit.

That was it.

Duty failed.

Warning bells rang in Argaz’s ears. His vision flashed red. A thousand weapons—turrets and canons alike—turned active in defense of the city.

Death came to rain down hellfire on the unsuspecting intruder.

Except.

None of that actually happened.

Argaz stared at the empty city in bewilderment, then at the man slowly lowering his umbrella in awe. The rain had stopped, and so did all sense in the world.