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Ulysses Dies At Dawn

by The Mechanisms

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'The City' 02:08
Ulysses dies at dawn. At least, that’s the word on the street among those as saw what went down at Calypso’s. Now listen up, we’ve got a labyrinthine twisted task of a tale to tell and if you don’t keep up, you might get lost. First, to understand how this all goes down you’ve got to know a little about the planet we’re talking of. See, on this planet there was a city, grim old city, the sort of place the rain beats down like coffin nails and the air wafts with the cigarette stench of betrayal. My kind of town. Now this city, grim old city, starts to grow. And when it meets other towns, other cities it absorbs them, takes them into itself, until soon enough there’s no land left. So the city grows into the sea, and when there’s no sea left it grows upwards into the sky, and when there’s no sky left the city burrows inwards, into the bowels of the planet. Until soon enough, there is nothing but the city. So generations live and generations die in the warrens and the tunnels and even the lower levels of the surface, never to see the sun. And it’s in one of the deepest, most secret of these tunnels that we meet our hero. Goes by the name of Ulysses. Currently beaten, bloody, battered, unbowed. Spits out a mouthful of teeth and disdain and looks up to see four of the meanest bastards of the meanest streets of the meanest parts of the city. All immaculately turned out in pinstripes. We’ll call them the Suits. You might ask how we ended up here. I know Ulysses is. Well, it started in a bar, as it usually does. In Calypso’s – a run down old gin joint, pays its money to Dionysus – our hero slumped over a bottle of whiskey, trying to drown enough sorrows to choke a horse. And one horse in particular.
Deep in my cups and my whiskey Sometimes the screaming will cease Free-flowing tears fall unnoticed Numbness my only release Soldiers will tell you that warfare’s Just one more title for Hell I wonder if devils get nightmares Of all of their victims as well And broken horses, staring and still Broken horses, like all those I killed Broken horses, I can’t outrun Those broken horses “See, Ulysses the drunk was once Ulysses the soldier, and a high-ranking one too. And so it was they found themselves fighting in the brutal siege of Ilium some twenty years past. It was a slow, agonising war of attrition against one of the best defended districts in the city. A war that Ulysses the soldier was determined to end.” After a decade of fighting Still their defences stood firm Heartless and cunning and scheming Victory I would confirm Offering peace and departing We honoured our valiant foes A statue that I had designed them Sending a message of hope And broken horses, all that I built Broken horses, shattered by guilt Broken horses, riding me down Broken horses “Ten years into the siege, Ulysses proposed a solution. Peace and independence for Ilium, free from the city’s clutches. It was agreed, and to commemorate the historic occasion, a vast statue was commissioned, honouring Ilium’s past as famed breeders of horses, back when such beasts still existed. The statue was scanned for explosives, it was scanned for bioweapons, it was scanned for hidden soldiers. There were none. It was accepted, and joy was unconfined.” “Of course, they didn’t scan it for a soft, almost undetectable signal being broadcast. A signal of Ulysses’ design, aimed to gradually drive to madness those that heard it. After a week, all in Ilium was ripping and rending and tearing and blood. When they finally opened the gates of the district, there were none left alive. The war was over.” Sometimes it’s hard to remember The city was not always here Animals long since extinguished Roaming with nothing to fear Once they were known as equestrians Ilium honoured its past Statues are all that remain now Their riders have fallen at last From broken horses, silent and stone Broken horses, like cracked and fractured bone Broken horses, all because of me Broken horses Broken horses Broken horses
'Olympians' 02:51
And so, drunk on a cocktail of whiskey and regret, it wasn’t difficult for our erstwhile quartet of psychos to snatch a cracked and sagging Ulysses to be dragged down here. Lightless depths of the City, some rusted-out under passage lit only by an illuminated sign, glowing over the door to a long-forgotten vault. A sign that reads “Penelope”. Bam! The biggest of the Suits slams his fist into Ulysses’ face again and repeats the question. HERACLES: “What’s the code to the vault, asshole?” Ulysses responds less than cordially, so the big guy’s fist comes down again. This continues for some time. ORPHEUS: “Why is it labelled Penelope? Who is she?” This question from a pale, thin young man at the back, altogether unsuited to the rough company he’s running with. He’s answered by an old motherfucker off to one side, dark glasses hiding blind eyes. OEDIPUS: “She’s not living anywhere in the City, and there’s no record of her in the Acheron.” And everyone knows, if you’re not alive and you’re not in the Acheron, you don’t exist. A stern-faced woman at the back cuts in, ending the discussion. ARIADNE: “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we are being very well paid to retrieve whatever is inside it. And I doubt any of us want to fail an Olympian.” At this point some words of explanation are needed. See, a whole planet covered with steel and wire needs a lot of computing power to run. And there’s no processor more powerful or abundant than the brain. So you have the Acheron, an unfathomably vast network of minds, however badly damaged, plugged in and kicked back into a half-conscious hell to run the City. All ruled over by a mad bastard by the name of Hades. Now, when the inevitable reality of death is so unpleasant, you better believe people will do anything to avoid it. And in the City you can buy anything, if you have a wallet thick enough for what it costs and a stomach strong enough for what it takes. So you have the Olympians: the oldest, richest and meanest families who can afford to life forever. And Ulysses managed to piss one of them off. Shortly after the war, our hero conceived of some ill-thought-out revenge on Poseidon Industries, one of the architects of the conflict. Decided to steal something from them. The perfect diamond at the heart of the Cyclops: the industrial laser in Poseidon’s flagship workshop. Wasn’t a great plan. Just got drunk and walked in.
Bought a false ID off a forging drunk Paid a hundred twenty credits for a uniform Security got better things to do with their time Ain’t nobody gonna stop me CHORUS My name is no-one My name is no-one My name is no-one And I ain’t got nothing to lose Corridor still as a dead man’s tongue Doors open with a whimper not a bang Brim pulled low against the camera’s steel gaze A head full of bourbon but it’s easy CHORUS Workshop air got an acrid burn The core lies gleaming in its place One good throw and I can be out the door Drunken buzz kills the fear CHORUS The eye is in sight Grab a length of steel Heat sears my skin But I choke down the pain ‘cause one good throw and the eye of the Cyclops is mine CHORUS My name is no-one My name is no-one My name is My name is Ulysses
Of course, drunkenly yelling out their name in triumph when still in range of the cameras was not the best plan Ulysses ever concocted. Soon word was out and the Eye of the Cyclops became the most worthless perfect diamond in existence, as no fence was fool enough to touch it. Ulysses has been carrying it around for two decades now. Still has it, much to the Suits’ amusement. In fact, the only other thing our erstwhile hero has with them is a snub-nosed laser hidden in a boot, with a single shot left in it. But it isn’t Poseidon that’s hired the Suits. You’re probably hungry for a bit more description of Ulysses about now, but I’m afraid you’ll have to remain so, as we know little more about them. Man, woman, both or neither: the records are long since lost and the only one of the crew ever to meet them in person will say nothing, save that they were black, beautiful and had a pair of cold blue eyes that couldn’t hide the things they’d seen. Eyes that are rapidly swelling shut as the big guy lets loose another punch. You probably know him better as Heracles. HERACLES: “I don’t get it. Why we can’t just kill war hero here and then get the code from the Acheron?” Ariadne, the woman lurking at the back, shakes her head. ARIADNE: “The Vault has some sort of deadlock. If Ulysses dies, it seals forever.” ORPHEUS: “So what do we do?” The delicate young man in the corner asks. Orpheus. OEDIPUS: “We do what we were hired to do.” The blind old motherfucker says with shrug. He walks up to the vault door and removes his glasses, to reveal a pair of data sockets where eyes once sat. Taking out two cables he links them to the door and, forty seconds later, the first of four locks hisses open. Oedipus is not a bad person. As a doctor he did much good work, even developed a cure for the Sphinx, a disease that accelerated the aging process to such a degree that week-old infants would die, elderly and infirm, never learning the words to ask why. Of course, those affected were generally too poor to afford the cure, but that was hardly his fault. But now Oedipus needed to leave the City, and that cost money. The sort of money a disgraced doctor couldn’t get legitimately. Still, we all have our reasons.
I thought myself an orphan I clawed my way up from the streets To earn the rank of doctor Equal to any I should meet I couldn’t know my fame Arose from sly Olympian winks And soon I’d match myself Against the riddle of the Sphinx CHORUS Four legs in the morning Two legs in the day Three legs in the evening As body and mind decays A mad disease Striking poverty In the slums no-one cares about In its host Causes rapid growth In a week they shall die Infants then Look as aged men But have not learned the words to shout An old withered corpse yet a child CHORUS Many years I spent In experiment Dissecting its chemistry Endless tests Finally yield success With the compounds I need A consequence Baleful oxidants Of Olympian eternity They need to know what it leads to CHORUS FATHER: Oedipus Come don’t make a fuss Your research takes a dangerous path Take a pause Find another cause This will end in your fall OEDIPUS: Whoe’er you be If you threaten me I warn you will feel my wrath Don’t interfere with my calling CHORUS x2 Soon the Olympians knew Just what their immortality cost They feigned their contrition Mourning the lives that had been lost They swore they’d find a way That wouldn’t lead to loss of life They showered me with riches And introduced me to my wife
Of course, when the identity was revealed of the man Oedipus killed defending his lab, not to mention his beautiful wife’s provenance – ignorant or not, there’s only so much scandal a public can take. HERACLES: “Looks like you got in there pretty easy. Remind you of your mom?” Oedipus says nothing, but strengthens his resolve to get out. Doesn’t matter there’s nothing beyond the City save the automated colonies that feed it and the empty black. Doesn’t matter he has to work with scum like this to afford it. He needs to escape. ARIADNE: “Impressive. But we still have three more locks to go.” Ariadne’s voice cuts through the air. See, there are two ways to get into Penelope’s vault. The first is with Ulysses’ passcode. No luck there. But Ulysses did leave instructions for another way to get it open, after they were gone. HERACLES: “What’s in there? I heard it’s some kind of weapon.” ARIADNE: “We don’t know for sure. According to the will whatever it is can bring down the Acheron and overthrow the Olympians.” HERACLES: “Yeah, right.” ARIADNE: “I don’t believe it either, but our employer wants it, so if our friend here won’t open the door, we proceed with the trials.” Four trials: a trial of wits, a trial of strength, a trial of song and a trial of love. The suits picked to tackle each one. As for why Ulysses had designed such a high-minded security system, well, that was a long time ago. A young, idealistic Ulysses. Before ten years of war and twenty years of dulling the pain. Twenty years of Sirens.
Sirens 03:14
CHORUS Come my way and stay my honey Lay your body down next to me We can chase away your worries Sleep in peace and serenity CHORUS Stroke the spun gold of my hair I’ll give you joy too strong to bear The fury of a beast untamed The softest pleasure the sweetest pain CHORUS Touch my lips as red as flame I’ll give you power hard to contain For one night you’ll reign supreme There’ll be no battle you cannot win CHORUS Drink from my cup and soon you’ll find Your soul no longer remains confined So let the lotus set you free Soar above life’s travesty
If you asked the Ulysses currently kneeling in front of the Suits why they’d created the trials, I doubt they could tell you. Still, the coding problems and logic puzzles that formed the trial of wits have been silently solved by Oedipus, so next up is the trial of strength, which is a rather romantic way of describing the act of turning a big iron wheel. OEDIPUS: “I believe it’s your turn, Heracles. I do hope it isn’t too confusing for you.” HERACLES: “Yeah, maybe I should practice by snapping you in half, you plug-eyed freak.” Now Heracles is an interesting case. Bastard son of the scion of the most powerful Olympian: Zeus. See, Don Zeus has something of a taste for women from the lower levels, and enjoys toying with the offspring that result. His favourite trick is to offer them a place in the family, contingent on the completion of a suicide mission or two. Most barely last a week, but Heracles? Heracles is too mean, too tough and too stupid to stop. So he just keeps going.
Favoured Son 03:35
ZEUS: “Come in, lad, come in. I’m told you’ve a right to call me father.” HERACLES: “Me and half the city, way I hear it. Mum says hi.” ZEUS: “Come on, kid, don’t be like that. I do keep an eye on my…” HERACLES: “Bastards? You don’t seem much like a family man.” ZEUS: “Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong, my boy. In fact, I’m making you an offer here and now to join your family.” HERACLES: “Become an Olympian?” ZEUS: “Claim your birthright. There are just one or two jobs need taking care of first, though. To prove you’re worth the favour.” ‘Twas nigh a hundred years ago When first I met my father He embraced me close And asked if I would rather Live forever or die The paupers of the streets They have their meagre years And so into the Acheron With the ferryman A short and mortal span But the rich they can Escape eternal drudgery Son, what do you say? I can pay your way If your part you’ll play In service to the family As the favoured son. Buy a life eternal with these bloodied hands In service to the family as the favoured son. ZEUS: “Nice work boy. I hear you’re making quite a name for yourself. Oh, and congratulations on making me a grandfather.” HERACLES: “I need to talk to you about that. I’ve been your errand by fifty years now, but my children…” ZEUS: “Sorry, kid. Offer doesn’t extend past one generation. Immortality’s expensive.” HERACLES: “Then I guess this is where you and I part ways.” ZEUS: “Going freelance? That’s just too bad. I’ll be here if you… change your mind.” So as the decades passed I proved myself an asset The thunderbolt of Zeus And soon the fates would have it My violent habits grew The screams and spurting blood Were mother’s milk to me They cradled and delighted ‘cause I’m the one he chose Against adopted foes Steadily I rose And showed the world my pedigree Service with a smile Laughing all the while Murder or defile To make my father proud of me As the favoured son. Buy myself my Freedom with these bloodied hands In service to the family as the favoured son. HERACLES: “What the fuck have you done?” ZEUS: “Me? Way I hear it, you’re the one that went crazy and murdered his children.” HERACLES: “I…” ZEUS: “Look, I took the liberty of having the charges dropped. Of course, that kind of influence doesn’t come cheap. We’ve got some jobs lined up, though, to help you pay off your debt. Welcome home, son.” When I awoke I found my home A charnel house, my children Butchered bled and carved Their little limbs asunder And strewn across the floor One task then another Paying off my pardon No time my tears to smother So if they won’t retreat Flood the fucking street But shoot them in the feet If they try to run away When they go to ground Burn their houses down More will come around In penance for my family As the favoured son. Buy myself redemption with these bloodied hands In service to the family as the favoured son.
Don’t feel bad for Heracles, though. He always was a nasty piece of work. But the wheel is turned, and the second of the four locks slides open with a click. ORPHEUS: “Is it my turn now?” Orpheus asks, staring at the small microphone situated in the door. HERACLES: “Yeah. And don’t screw it up this time.” See, Heracles and Orpheus had worked together before, backing up Jason on the Fleece job. But things had gone south pretty badly. ORPHEUS: “Me? Hylas was your fault. If you had stuck to the plan he’d still be here.” Heracles is crimson with rage. He had been very fond of Hylas. Ariadne cuts him off before things escalate. ARIADNE: “Calm yourself. Now. Orpheus has a job to do, so let him do it.” Heracles takes a breath. HERACLES: “Alright, but only out of respect. Your dad helped me out once.” ARIADNE: “Don’t give me that bullshit. We need the brat if this door is to be opened, so let him sing.” Orpheus takes out his lyre, and does exactly that.
I’m not a gambling man I don’t know how to play this hand I was dealt by force Thought I could speak easy But you just bent my words right back on me Then I broke the law CHORUS Now here beneath the rust The skytrain rattles round overhead The raindrops fall through dust And shatter on the ground black and dead I never should have placed my trust in the City The vulture town that picked me clean “And all at once, as though answering the call, the vault is filled with music.” I’m not a lawless man I always trusted in your plan I was dumb like that I chose the straightest path But all the landmarks moved as I walked past Now I can’t look back CHORUS I’m not a fighting man I never act on wrath’s command But I know you do I’d rather run than stand You’d rather force my hand than understand That I’m not like you CHORUS
'Hades' 01:41
And so the third lock opens. Silently, this time, leaving only one more to be dealt with. ORPHEUS: “I can finally pay Hades.” Orpheus barely whispers it, but it’s enough to prick the ears of both Heracles and Ulysses. Neither says a word, but the pieces are falling into place. Orpheus’ story isn’t unusual: a broke young musician with a dead fiance, just another life chewed up by the City. This broke young musician didn’t accept that though. Didn’t care that he didn’t have the money to have a mind from the Acheron rebodied, or that those as were came back wrong. He needed his true love. There has rarely been a more curious combination of towering spiritual strength and pathetic emotional weakness. So he went to Hades. Here I should mention that Hades was no stranger. After all, the Mechanisms had been in the City a long time, having our own brand of fun. And our quartermaster, Ashes O’Reilly, felt right at home – decided to seize control of the Acheron and make the ferrymen dance to a different tune. Took on the name of Hades. And so “Hades” took those foolish enough to venture to the Acheron – Ulysses, Heracles and Orpheus – and decided to have a little fun.
ULYSSES Hades, Hades Hear my petition please My name is Ulysses I seek to bury my fractured memories In the war, in the war The horrors that I saw Saddled grief to my core I can’t take it any more HADES Ulysses, Ulysses You come here on your knees Begging for my release But I warn you it ain’t that easy In your mind, in your mind The horrors are too entwined The only peace you will find Is in the refuge you yourself designed HERACLES Hades, Hades I guess you managed to catch me My name is Heracles I was sent here your dog to seize Of my tasks, of my tasks This was to be the last But I know there’s more they’ll ask So if you’re going to kill me, do it fast HADES Heracles, Heracles You’re tired that’s plain to see I might just set you free But you gotta do one thing for me I’m inclined, I’m inclined To send you to a friend of mine He’s got a job I think you’ll find Will pay the debt to which you’ve resigned ORPHEUS Hades, Hades Hear my reprise Drifting gently on the breeze As I beg for my true love’s reprieve All are hushed, all are hushed for the song of Orpheus On my own I am lost I need my love back, whatever it costs HADES Orpheus, Orpheus You bring your song to us I can release a mind if I must You’ve got the payment required I trust You are poor, you are poor What you need you can’t afford But if you can thrive outside the law I know a job that pays what you need and more ALL Hades, Hades, to your terms I will agree ULYSSES I’ll find the vault HERACLES I’ll do the job happily ORPHEUS I’ll find the money for my love ALL Then I shall be free
And so Hades helped engineer the situation we now see, both for personal amusement and as a favour to… Well, we’ll get to that. Right now, it’s time for the last lock, the trial of love, and who better for it than Ariadne, famed for her love to Theseus? As it turns out, almost anyone. A small chamber beside the vault slides open. ARIADNE: “And what is my trial?” Her contempt is thick as Oedipus plugs in to analyse it. He lets out a short laugh. OEDIPUS: “To open the door, one of our number must prove a love stronger than life, and sacrifice themselves without hesitation, reluctance or fear.” There is silence, save for Ulysses’ slow laughter. ARIADNE: “I have to die?” OEDIPUS: “Quite. I’m sure your fee will be paid to Theseus, who you love so unreservedly.” Of course, Ariadne had no intention of dying, nor any feeling for Theseus except hate. Alas, no-one had known what the trial of love entailed, and she’d been playing the spurned lover so long she had believed herself up to whatever it might have been. But this? ARIADNE: “No.” Theseus, as it turns out, was just a sap Ariadne had been using to try and regain the societal standing her family had quickly lost when it was revealed her parents had created the Minotaur: a beast that had stalked the City since its founding, plucking the still-living brains from its victims for the Acheron. Ariadne had given Theseus the deactivation codes, in the hope that their marriage would regain some of what had been lost, but Theseus took the credit and publicly jilted her. No, she couldn’t die yet, not when the Ulysses job paid so well. She had a dynasty to rebuild.
You engineered the beast that stalks the streets Making deals with a monster so much worse Playing games with lives and bringing down his curse Mother, Father You brought our name down low Where the city once lay at our feet now I’m working with these lowlifes just to eat I reap what you sow Your one true child CHORUS My family will rise again We’ll reclaim the power that we used to hold The Minos name reborn From the ashes bright in letters made of gold Long we’ve remained in shadow And in far-forgotten tales never told My family shall arise Once again I tried to right your wrongs That for so long Had cast their dark horned shadow over my life Plucking minds from tear-streaked backstreets dripping strife He promised freedom From the infamy you wrought You built Labyrinth on blood and pain And Theseus I thought could hide the strain But release can’t be bought From the ties that bind CHORUS So Theseus hunted for your Minotaur With the strings of code I gave it wasn’t hard To find it and deactivate its guard It tried to fight it But programming won out after all Collapsing in a sparking metal heat My preening hero claimed all credit for the feat Completing my fall In dishonour I am tied CHORUS Mother, Father, you’re both long dead And I’m betrayed by the one I was to wed There was no love there, my heartstrings long since cut The Minos noble name lies in the mud But not for long
It doesn’t look like the last lock’s being opened any time soon. And so the fifth Suit emerges from the shadows. The one who gathered our motley band together, played Zeus and Poseidon off against each other, and even managed to talk Hades into helping him assemble them. Daedalus. Lot of tales about Daedalus. That he trades as an Olympian under the name Hephaestus. That he had his own son killed for getting too ambitious. That he designed the Acheron as the original architect of the City, back when it was still known by its true name: Labyrinth. And he wants whatever is in this vault. If it can break the Acheron and challenge the Olympians, it belongs with Daedalus. DAEDALUS: “Open it.” His voice gives no options. There is silence, finally broken by Orpheus. ORPHEUS: “I’ll do it. Just make sure Hades gets the money.” DAEDALUS: “Of course. Just get it done.” So Orpheus steps into the chamber, a dull whirring begins inside of it. But he can’t see it through, though, can he? Flinches, looks back, and it doesn’t work. Steps out and the door’s still closed. But it does give Daedalus an idea, as rhetoric about sacrifice and resolve actually operates on quite a simple motion sensor. Can’t tell the difference between the brave and the tied-up. He makes an announcement. DAEDALUS: “There will be a 33% increase in fee for three of you, as soon as the fourth is bound and used to open the door. I leave the choice up to you.” All at once everything is guns and desperation.
Torn Suits 01:47
HERACLES “It ain’t gonna be me…” OEDIPUS “I’m not going down.” ARIADNE “I won’t let you kill me.” ORPHEUS “Oh, please no!” OEDIPUS I will escape this world Leave its rotten edifice behind HERACLES I’ll buy myself forgiveness My family to avenge ARIADNE My family will rise again ORPHEUS I’ll buy my true love back ULYSSES All right, Daedalus. You want to know what’s in the vault? I’ll show you. “And with that Ulysses casts the eye of the Cyclops high into the air and fires the last shot of his laser. The beam hits the spinning diamond and it splits across twelve axes, cutting the suits down. Daedalus takes one in the shoulder and one in the leg. Oedipus gets a beam in each eye. Never saw it coming. Heracles takes the lion’s share as three beams slice through him. Another one slices through Orpheus’s pretty throat. Even Ariadne gets one right in the heart. Which leaves three for Ulysses. One. Two. Three.”
'Sunrise' 01:44
And just like that it’s over. The Suits lie dead or dying. Daedalus is alive, but in no state to move. And it won’t be long before Ulysses joins the rest of them. Limping over to the door, our hero types in seven letters: ELYSIUM. The door slides open and reveals the rich green leaves of a tree, standing sunlit in a golden field. Daedalus doesn’t understand. Can’t understand. How a young Ulysses found the last relic of the natural world and hid it, leaving only a thin passage up to the surface to let in the dawns light. The naïve hope that it might become a symbol of finality and freedom from the Acheron’s grasp. The loss of Penelope, buried here as the first to once again die a true death. Hades could have told Daedalus, if he’d thought to ask, but it’s too late now. Thoughts of revolution are long gone, and Ulysses now simply seeks to rest. The vault door closes, never to reopen. And as the weary hound, once more at its master’s feet after so long, lays down with the sunlight warning its fur, breathing its last – even so did the eyes of Ulysses close forever.
Elysian Fields roll out before me Sunlight dapples through the leaves And plays among the oak tree As I wait for my release Lying here amongst the flowers I can rest my weary bones In the earth with my beloved I will find my final home Long ago I sought to share it That death might not be mine alone But the Labyrinth-spawn, they could not bear it They shall not reap what I have sown Resting here upon the soil As dawn fills my heart with light Beside my wife and far from toil Sunrise breaking through the night No-one shall pull me from my slumber My mind to plague with thoughts of life Forever free of pain and hunger As I leave the city’s strife Sleeping here bathed in sunshine I have found where I shall lie I have found my heart’s true calling Elysian fields where I can die Elysian fields where I can… THE END


Ulysses Dies at Dawn. That's the word on the street, at any rate, if you talk to anyone who saw what went down at Calypso's Bar the other night. Who is behind the thuggish band known as the Suits - Heracles, Ariadne and the others? What is Ulysses's secret? And what is hidden within the security of the Vault?

This is the second studio album by The Mechanisms, written 2012-2013 and presented at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in August 2013.


released July 16, 2013

Recorded, mixed and mastered by Jimmy Hetherington @ PCE Audio.
"Penelope" artwork by Ruth Wilkinson.




The Mechanisms Oxford, UK

The Mechanisms: a band of immortal space pirates roaming the universe in the starship Aurora. Some say they’re from a steampunk future, others claim they’re from a cyberpunk past, a few even whisper that they may be from a dieselpunk alternate now. They are all correct. ... more

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