Hello, my friends! It has been some time since I updated this story, has it not? Then again, with as many unfinished tales as I have begun, it is difficult to split my attention equally between them all. (A little like parenthood, I suppose). I have received no requests for particular stories, and so I shall take up two classic tales that have been retold in both European cultures and America.
Well, my young friend, we're nearly to your part of the city, aren't we? Now, there is a face that I know. Come, Little One, and meet a friend of mine. Good day to you, Jazz. How are you? Ah, yes. You remember our little friend from the Archives. Thank you, incidentally, for keeping that matter between us. It would hardly do for the council of elders to begin snickering every time I enter the chamber! Well, go on, Little One: introduce yourself! It's alright, he's the mech who got you out of that tight spot last week. Ah, well. It seems my young one is shy today. Before I forget, will you take this to the central archives, Jazz? I think I shall not go in today. No, no. I shall visit my daughter-in-law instead. Sudden? Well am I not allowed to change my mind at my age?
Ha! Speak for yourself, my friend! And a pleasant morning to you as well! Well, let us keep moving. I'm sure your family is wondering where you've been. They may be out looking for you as we speak! Indeed, there they are now. How did I know? Why, child! The resemblance is uncanny! Yes, yes, all is well. Here we are, safe and sound. The cause? Oh, you'll have to ask the young one yourself. I must ask you, however, that you keep a closer watch on what your family is learning. Sparkeaters are not something to take lightly, do you understand? No, my friend, there is no need for that. I'm sure it will not happen again? I thought as much. Little One, what is it? Oh, no, my child, I do not think that at all! Humans are very brave, I'm sure you know. Yes they are. No, I'm older. Don't argue. Very well, shall I prove it?
Sam and the Trypticon
Once upon a time, and I'll let you guess where, a young man lived with his parents. Times were hard and they did not have the money they needed to buy food. So they told their son, "Sam, you must sell your car." He was distraught, of course, because even though his car was a rattling death trap that barely moved, it was his first car and he was quite attached to it. Still, Sam would rather his family had food, and so he reluctantly drove the car into town to sell it. As he pulled into a parking lot, he was met by an old man in a yellow hard hat. "Afternoon, son," he said, "Selling that car, are you?" Sam sighed and confirmed the old man's guess. "Well, I'll buy it from you for five transmitters," said the man. Sam was confused. Five transmitters? What kind of payment was that?!
Still, it was probably a better price than anything else he was liable to get for the old rust bucket, so he politely thanked the man and was given five tiny crystal radios. "Maybe I can sell these," Sam thought. The old man in the hard hat seemed to read his mind. "Not so fast!" he cried, "You mustn't sell those! Take them home, boy. If you throw them down on a clear night, you'll activate them and your fortunes will certainly change!" Now, Sam was a good-hearted young man, but he was also a little bit naïve, and did not see anything potentially worrying about the man's words. He cheerfully headed home with the five transmitters in his hands.
His mother was furious when she saw them. "Why didn't you sell it to a dealership!?" she shouted, and slapped the radios from Sam's hands. They hit the floor with a clatter, and little red lights began to blink on them. Frowning, Sam took them outside, away from his disgruntled parents. Outside, he watched in astonishment as the five transmitters shot a beacon of light high into the sky. With a mighty rumble, a long lift-tube descended into the back yard. Sam was very curious. He went inside and picked up a flashlight and a pocketknife, and headed for the lift. No sooner had he stepped inside then he was rocketing up, up, up into the air! Sam found himself inside a massive ship, so big that he looked like a little mouse alongside everything else!
Sam cautiously looked around, and suddenly heard a heartbreaking sigh. He climbed up onto a control panel to see better, and found a strange metal girl in a little cage. Yes, I know the word is "femme", but Sam lived in a time when our peoples didn't know very much about each other yet. Sam jumped across a gap to the next panel and asked, "What's wrong?" The femme looked up, startled. "Are you a human?" she asked. Sam answered that he was, and the femme cried out, "Oh, you must leave this place at once! The captain of this ship is a very wicked Decepticon named Trypticon, and he will surely kill you!" But Sam had no time to run, for suddenly the floor began to shake, and a loathsome voice echoed through the ship: Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum! I sense the blood of human scum! Be he living, or passed on, his blood will make my energon! Yes, it was Trypticon, and in his madness, he had convinced himself that humans were food for Cybertronians.
Sam slipped through the bars of the femme's cage and hid behind her. "There's no human here, Trypticon," she said sweetly, "Your sensors must be malfunctioning." The giant Decepticon glared suspiciously at her, and lowered himself into a chair. "Sing!" he commanded the mini-bot. For this was no ordinary femme, she had been designed to have the most beautiful singing voice in all the galaxy. She traveled from world to world, giving concerts, but the selfish Trypticon had kidnapped her and locked her away so that only he could hear her music. The crafty mini-bot sang her loveliest lullaby, soothing the monster into an uneasy recharge.
Sam crept out of the cage and used his pocketknife to pick the lock, for Trypticon was too stingy to use an electronic lock. "Go down the lift," he whispered to the singer, "And hide with my parents. I have something to do!" And he sent her away. As soon as she was safely in the lift, Sam turned to the sleeping giant. There was no way he was going to let someone like Trypticon fly about, terrorizing his people! He took the batteries out of his flashlight and cut them open with his knife. Very, very carefully, he tiptoed up to Trypticon's helm and poured the battery acid into his optics. What a rude awakening for the mighty Decepticon!
Sam jumped down from the control panel and ran as fast as he could to the lift. Roaring with pain, the blinded Trypticon stumbled after him. When he got to the bottom and out into his yard, Sam called for his father and the neighbors to shoot the lift tube down. Well, something that big doesn't hover in a yard without the government hearing about it, and besides the frightened neighbors, there were three army helicopters ready to fire. The lift tube was destroyed, and Trypticon came tumbling down with a crash! The ship floated harmlessly away, out of reach of all, but the remains of the Decepticon were confiscated by some curiously dressed men with sunglasses. Sam and his family quickly forgot the entire episode, but strangely enough, they received a large sum of money from a man in black the next day, solving their financial problems. Although, Sam still needed a car, but how he found one is another story entirely!
You see, I have stories about brave humans, too! Who knows, perhaps one day I'll be telling stories about you! Good day Little One, and next time tell your family before you come to visit!
This place is very close to my son's home. Ah, and I see there are two little rascals loose in the yard! Good morning, Sparklings! Why no, I didn't. Are you going to tell me? Really? Well, where is your Carrier? There you are! What is this the little ones tell me about some important news? You aren't jesting with me? Congratulations my dear! Does my son know yet? Oh, he doesn't. Well I won't spoil the surprise. I'm sure you are tired: why don't I take these two rapscallions off your servos for the afternoon? Right, come along, you two! We are going to the gardens. Hm? Yes, dear one, you do look like a princess today. Here now, young mech, don't say that to your sister, that isn't kind! You don't want to end up like Bad Menasor, do you?
Hm. Well, I just don't know, you don't seem in the mood for a story. Oh, alright. Apologize to your little sister and I'll tell it. Now you, give your brother a hug. Go on. That's better: siblings shouldn't fight. Go ask your great-uncle some time why we don't fight: I'm not telling that story today! Oh good heavens, no! You can't ask your sire to tell it! He wasn't even born yet for most of it! Now look, you've distracted me. What story was I going to tell? Oh yes, that's right.
Good Mirage and Bad Menasor: Or, the Talking Cubes
Well, long ago in the wilder parts of Cybertron, there lived a grumpy old mech and his mean-spirited son Menasor, and his sister's son Mirage. Now, Mirage was kind and did all the work in their home, though his uncle and cousin were not kind to him. One day, Menasor complained that his energon reserves were low (they weren't at all) and he would only be happy if he had energon from Beta's Well in the scrap yards. Well Menasor's sire ordered young Mirage to go, even though the journey was hazardous. Mirage left without a cross word, and made his way to the scrap yards.
When he came to Beta's Well and leaned down with the bucket, he caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. It was an old, old femme, so covered in rust that her original color was unrecognizable. Instead of turning aside in horror, Mirage asked, "What can I do for you, Grandcarrier?" The old femme smiled and said, "Give me a drink of energon from the well, youngun." Mirage hastened to obey and held the bucket for her as the ancient femme drank her fill. Light came back into her optics and she straightened her shoulders. "Follow me, youngun," she said, and ambled off into the scrap heaps. A little nervous, Mirage followed. As they went, they came across two arms battling each other in mid air. "Don't you pay mind to those," said the old femme, hurrying Mirage around them.
They went a little further and came to two helms, knocking against each other. "Don't you pay mind to those, either!" said the old one, and ushered Mirage into a little hut. "Now, youngun," she said, "You've got a good spark. I want you to go to the shed out back and look at the rows of cubes. Some will say to you, "Take me!" and others will say to you, "Don't take me!" If you obey them and break them open as you go, your troubles will be over before you reach your home." So Mirage went to the shed and saw shelves and shelves of little cubes. On the right side of the room were plain black cubes calling "Take me, Take me!" On the left side of the room were beautiful gold and silver cubes calling, "Don't take me, Don't take me!" Obediently, Mirage took a handful of the little black cubes and started for home.
When he was a third of the way there, he opened the first cube. Out popped an armor upgrade that left him shiny and healthy for the first time in many cycles. About two thirds of the way home, he opened the second cube. Out came piles of precious metals! Surprised, Mirage gathered them up and kept going. When he had nearly reached his home, he opened the third cube and out popped an pretty femme, looking as surprised as could be. She smiled at him, and he at her, and together they carried the precious metals home. When Mirage's uncle and cousin saw Mirage coming up the path, radiant as the son of a king with riches in his arms and a lovely femme at his side, they raged and stamped their pedes.
Mirage's uncle confiscated the wealth that had been given to Mirage, and made him tell them where it had come from. Young Mirage was honest, and so he told the story in its entirety. His uncle turned to Menasor. "You go down to that well," he ordered, "And wait for the old femme. You too shall have riches!" Menasor whined and complained, and dragged his pedes all the way to the well. When the old femme appeared, he greeted her politely enough, with a bucket of energon already drawn. The ancient one was suspicious, but motioned for him to follow her. The greedy mech hurried after her until they came to the two arms fighting in mid-air. "What's wrong with you?" he asked rudely, knocking them down. The old femme scowled but didn't say a word. They kept going until they came to the two helms knocking into each other. Menasor gave them each a vicious kick, sending them flying into the piles of junk. The old femme's optics darkened.
When they came to her hut, she did not invite him inside. "Go to the shed behind my shack," she said, "And pick three cubes." She warned him not to take the ones that said, "Don't take me," but when Menasor saw that these were the most beautiful, he thought that she must be hoarding them for herself. So he took three of the gold and silver cubes and started for home without even thanking the femme. Halfway home, he decided he was tired of waiting and opened the first one. Out came a vicious cyber-dog that clamped its teeth into his leg and would not let go. Angrily, Menasor dragged it with him most of the way home, then opened the second one. Out came a swarm of scraplets! The cyber-dog fled in terror, and Menasor followed suit. When he got to his front door, he opened the third in the sight of his sire. Nothing seemed to happen. When Menasor opened his mouth to say so, rust and bolts came falling out.
Horrified, the grumpy mech took Menasor and moved to the city to find a medic. No matter what they tried, for the rest of his days rust and bolts fell form his mouth every time he spoke. Mirage, on the other hand, became the pretty femme's sparkmate and lived happily ever after.
You know, I think that's the seventh time I've told you two that story. You really like that one, do you not? Yes, I like it too. Who was I with earlier? Oh, that was a young human friend of mine. No, no you go to a different school. Well, what would you like to do today? Your Carrier needs her rest: once your new brother or sister comes, she'll have little enough of it! You want to go and visit your sire at the capitol? Well, I don't see why not. Provided he isn't too busy, we'll stop by and say hello. Remember now, Sparklings, you're not to tell him about the new sibling: that's your Carrier's job. Oh indeed? Well one of these days you're both going to be too big to ride on my shoulders! Oh, could those optics get any bigger? Very well, up you get! Come along then, next stop, the capitol!
Is there any particular story you want to hear? Let me know!