Excerpt: The Airship

“I’ve been inventing.” Reaching out, she picked up a small brass bird. “Do you like my little swallow?”

“That is extraordinary.” He carefully took the creature from her and turned it over in his hands. The workmanship was exquisite and the bird was phenomenally detailed. “This is a true work of art.”

“It’s not, I’m afraid,” she contradicted him. “It’s quite a useful little contraption.” Taking the bird back, she flipped it over and unscrewed the head. Inside, Ike caught a glimpse of tiny gears, each no more than his thumb’s width in diameter.

“And it’s job?”

“It is a messenger.” She flicked a switch inside it and screwed the head back on. At once, the creation came to life in her hands. “You write your message on a piece of paper and the bird will hold it in its claws.” Reaching across the cluttered workbench, Beth picked up a tiny scroll of paper and held it in the palm of her right hand. The bird jumped from her left hand into the right, its elegant claws curling around the scrap of paper. She tapped it once on the beak and it looked at her. “Desk of Ike,” she said clearly, and before Ike could question her sanity, the gleaming brass bird leapt into the air, circled the room on flashing wings, and vanished through an open window.