I was in my grandmother’s black car as I was about to go to the countryside for summer vacation, with a smartphone in my hand and my suitcases in the back compartment. My friends probably spend their time going to the beach, or maybe having a sleepover or maybe just having fun being teens without restriction.

I continued to scroll through my phone when Alyssa, one of my friends, sent a message about what she saw. It was a silver swan in Bowes museum. Of course my friends assume it is just another boring artifact being used for aesthetics.

“Yeah, alright. It might be an artifact but here’s the twist, what you called an artifact can actually move without electricity or battery” Alyssa said via messages.

The group chat was quiet for a while before Erika, another one of my friends replied “I need proof”

After a few minutes, Alyssa sends the video to the group chat. I watch as the silver swan moves fluidly, catching fish in a water like magic using only gears.

My other friends expressed their awe and envy towards Alyssa because of what she saw. While the group chat exploded with messages of awe, I put the phone down as I looked at the scenery through the window. The manor of my grandparents are in the view now.

“Miriam” My grandmother called my name as I got out of the car, happiness evident on her face as she welcomed me. “I assume your school year is over yet, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, granny,” I answered with a small smile on my face. Granny is the most accommodating and amicable old lady I have ever known. It is still absurd why my parents didn’t inherit her kindness and whimsical view in life.

As we walk to the manor. Grandma sets the rules about my stay. Never sneak out late, never eat late. Typical house rules until I heard one particular absurd rule.

“Don’t go to the attic” granny said to me, causing me to look at her with curiosity. “Don’t ask me why, do as I said, Miriam” Granny continued, shutting down my attempt of whys. I sighed in disappointment but I followed the rules regardless of my curiosity. That is what good girls should do, shouldn’t they?

I then take my time here, enjoying the vastness of the land my grandparents owned. The lavender field that conquered the western hemisphere of the estate while the other flowers slowly occupied the eastern side, filled with tulips, roses, carnations and peonies. I help harvest some flowers, preparing for spring festivals to be held here. As I helped sorting out flowers, the people whispered and murmured about the land of my grandparents, the only healthy land here in the countryside as some lands are dry and lacking nutrients to grow a simple plant in other acres that isn’t owned by my grandparents.

“Do you think magic is involved here?” one of the farmers told his fellow farmers.

“Are you kidding me? Magic doesn’t exist here anymore.” The other one protested, looking at the other farmer with an annoyed expression. “It is just that Don Mariano took good care of his land and his kindness brought prosperity to his land.”

“Kindness huh?” the other farmer murmured, leaning against the trunk of the tree. “Does that mean magic through values exists?” The two other farmers became quiet although the other one shows skepticism.

I just shrug and continue my work. Magic? I thought it was fictional like witchcraft and wizardry absurdity. People still believe in fairies and supernaturals? In this modern state we live in? Maybe superstition exists for a reason. The salt, the exorcism and the absurdity of human nature outside of logic and emotion.

After dinner, I walked up to my room to prepare for sleep when I noticed a notebook on the side table near the gramps’s portrait. It is an old, worn out one, evident from the daily usage of these notes. I picked it up and went to the room. I read and paused as I realized the notes are from the 18th century. The same century where the said silver swan was made. I started to read. It is all about automata, the machines that are made without using electricity or battery. Only machinery, gears, springs and ingenuity.

As I read towards the end of the book, a quote had caught me off guard.

“Knowledge is power and power comes with responsibility.”

I raised my eyebrow in confusion. I thought about powers being elemental like fire or water or whatever element it is. I thought about powers being telekinetic or teleportation. That’s deep.

I close the book, thinking about the book, the silver swan and its correlation to one another.How do automata make? Why does it still fascinate people despite the centuries gap between the past and the present? And importantly, is there someone who can still make the art of automata? Ideally speaking? Probably. Realistically speaking? Probably not. People often rely on phones to do almost everything so I doubt if there is one person who does that in the present.

When I handed the book to granny the next day, she froze.

“Where did you find it?” She asked me, horror was on her face, taken aback.

“I just found it in the hallway towards my room, gran” I said nervously, thinking I might disobey her unintentionally although in a technical sense, she didn’t make her rule about picking books and reading it being not allowed.

Granny’s face went from horror to confusion and then to resignation before she let out a sigh.

“I know you’re curious about that rule, Miriam” Granny said, looking at me like a teacher looking at the student after the unintentional brawl between misunderstanding and pride. “And you might think about sneaking around and climbing to the attic.”

I paused before I decided to chuckle awkwardly, nervous and fearful of her wrath. I stammer a bit before I slowly nod in admission. Since that day, I became curious about what’s inside the attic and why granny is firm about that certain rule.

Granny sighs again before she looks at me as she says “That book came from the attic, Miriam.” She said finally. “Mariano, my dear husband… Was an avid collector of those machines.”

That shocked me, my dead gramps being a collector of those automata? That’s new but it also kind of makes sense considering my gramps being a mechanic and loves cars according to granny.

Granny then pressed a certain button on the hallway before a stair descended from the ceiling. “That’s the stair to the attic” She mumbled before she went up. I follow her not because I obey her. I follow her because I am curious.

The attic was dark, dusty and old, evident of the fact that it wasn’t being used or visited for a long time. The moonlight shines from the window, creating an ethereal absurdity of the scene or maybe a frozen time. Granny stood at the center of the attic, her eyes filled with nostalgia and solemnity.

“I remember him repairing some things back then, Miriam.” she said as she looked at the certain thing that was covered in white sheet. When she removed the cloth, it revealed a young girl with a pen with an eye so eerie it might be mistaken for a ginger horror doll that is popular today.

“He loves machines, Miriam. Whether it is a car or a simple pulley or even a slide.” Granny continued talking “the house died the moment he died. It felt empty, hollow… like a plant being stolen of water and sunlight.”

“It might be seen by people as magic when they notice the green pastures of our land, the enormous amount of harvested flowers and such but the truth is that your gramps always used his ingenuity to solve problems, Miriam. He made wells that made an equal distribution between each area, collaborating with fellow farmers about suitable fertilizers for the flowers and created some equipment that made harvest and planting easier and better than most farmers did from our time. It is as if your grampa is ahead of his time.”

I continued to listen to her as she pressed another button to turn on the warm light, revealing the 3 automata gramps probably collected. I accidentally rotated the gear at the back of the little girl, causing it to move suddenly and her hands began to move as if she had awakened from her sleep. I watched in awe as she began to write something and a sound of a music box appeared while granny smiled solemnly.

“She’s… Writing” I murmured, my face in awe.

“I know” my granny answered as she stood beside me.

“Why do I feel like this girl is a puppet yet a kind of puppet with her mind on her own?” I ask granny, causing her to chuckle softly

“Yeah, she has a mind on her own.” Granny said as she nodded in agreement.

“Do you think she will continue writing or something?” I ask granny curiously.

“Probably. As long as there is someone guiding her or protecting her” Granny answered with a small smile on her face. “And that someone might be you.”

I look at my granny, really look at her tired but bright eyes. Her posture, tired yet composed. “Do I have to “wake them up” and probably do things their way?”

“It’s your choice in the end, Miriam,” Granny answered honestly. “Do you understand the significance of knowledge?”

I paused, contemplating. Knowledge. Such simple word yet hold a heavy emphasis. What I know in school or in the chat or from the murmurs of the farmers or in the old notebook I found or the machines I discovered in the attic might be used for the benefit of everyone or harm to someone. I now understand the significance of knowledge… similar to power. The power of influence or deciding the future both in me and in people around me. The power of knowing and using what I know in dictating my present, my choice and possibly the future. That’s why power comes with responsibility. The act of knowing has come with the fact that you’re responsible for whatever happens later in your life.

I thought about the silver swan Alyssa sent to our group chat earlier. Then, I look at the girl writing now moving in the attic, now awakened and functioning like a machine without dependence on either electricity or battery. The sound in the attic is full of melody from the music box. The girl was writing, a chariot “walking” and a boy drawing before I heard a bell from the nearby church at the south part of the manor. It is also said that gramps made that bell according to one of the farmers I was talking to earlier. I then look at my granny, the one who knows my grandfather well and the keeper of the machines despite her whimsical perspective in life. I then smile, knowing the responsibility, the burden and the decision about the future of automata before I said.

“I do.”