She settled down on her seat in the Dedicated Corner, bracing herself for the task that lay ahead. She was sure that she would master it; but how many unforseen stones would lie in her path? Would she, finally, step around them calmly? Or would they, as they had so often in the past, raise that dreadful pain of anger in her veins, a fury so fierce that mere human matters could seldom wake it? Or would her heart stay calm, even in the face of uniquely unpleasant foolishness?
But in any way, she had to do it now- it would have been pointless to take Seat here, only to turn back. And so her fingers found the right point, one of them sinking itself into the delicate structure.
The reaction came almost instantly. The Force she had called upon, that Ancient, Eternal Force, a Force woven deeply into the Cloth of All that Is, a Force that even helped to hold some of the threads of that very Cloth together, and that, in other ways, took part in the mysterious, horrible and wonderful workings of the Mind itself- that Force now washed through the lanes that had been laid out for it.
And with a multitude of sounds- short, sharp ones, as well as low but steady ones, but all of them sounds that none had known in the Old Days, before what made them had been carved, sounds that were strange yet familiar now- the Middle-Sized Tool that Knows the Numbers awoke and came to life.
She knew what would come; she had set the Tool to use uncounted numbers before. And so, the complex play of Lights, some of them moving among each other, did not frighten or astonish her as it might have done with someone who had never seen one such Tool before. Indeed, she knew a bit about the Tool’s inner working; not much, but enough to understand what some of its Parts were, and what part they played in the intricate Dance that was the Tool at work. She even had some very basic understanding of the Rules of that Dance. It was not much- she knew that she would never come close to perceiving what the High Masters of the Tools that Know the Numbers knew- but it was still more than what most of the people who used these Tools for their craft, or gained a bit of joy and pleasure from them every day, could have told you about them.
If she had been a vain woman, a woman of skills but without any humility, she might have found it insulting that such people, people whose Minds could never grasp even the simplest of the workings of a Tool like this, could nevertheless make use of them; but such thoughts simply never crossed her Mind. She could see that this particular Tool that Knows the Numbers was ready now, ready to be put to use. Her fingers started to dance, as they had to. Now was the time when she would fail- or succeed.
(This is a repost of something I posted elsewhere years ago, where’s it’s been auto-deleted since then. The idea was to see how modern inventions could be described in the language of legends or fantasy stories. No, it was not meant to be well-written; the turgidness is part of the point.)