If you follow me on Tumblr, I've posted about my current WIP twice, although they're both just small sneak peeks. On this blog, I mentioned the idea for this WIP in a previous post, but it was still in the very early stages of ideation. So here's an entire post that hopefully gives a better introduction of Metalmade.

Metalmade is a novelette about an automaton named Yaya who has been tasked to spy on a taho-peddler to determine if he is an aswang. If she classifies him correctly, Yaya will earn the final credential that will enable her to fully take over as guardian for her creator's daughter. But the risk of misclassifying is high. If she mistakes a human for an aswang, she will lose all her previous credentials; and if she mistakes a real aswang for a human, she will potentially allow a deadly killer to roam freely.

Central to the premise of this novelette is the Filipino mythological creature, aswang. There are many variations of this creature, but in general, they are a type of monster that harms humans (ie. by eating them, sucking babies from the wombs of pregnant women, casting black magic, etc.). Aswang are usually able to pass themselves off as humans as well, so a lot of stories featuring them revolve around the suspense of figuring out whether a certain character is an aswang or not.

Initially I intended for this story to be set in a futuristic Philippines, where A.I. has advanced to the point that they have human appearances and can perform basic tasks like talking and walking. I have a full-time career in tech, and I currently work as a software engineer in the machine learning space. At first I thought, "Wouldn't it be cool to develop a classifier that can tell if a human is actually an aswang in disguise?" I was so enamoured with the premise, that this immediately jumped to the top of my idea-bank for potential stories. Even now, I occassionally still refer to this WIP as "Aswang vs A.I.".

Eventually, I decided to set the story in a precolonial Tagalog inspired world. I'm not much of a sci-fi person (which might be weird, coming from someone who works in tech), and I feel like a lot of stories that revolve around A.I. pose questions regarding A.I.'s ability to mimic or replace humans. I don't want to deal with this question, mostly because my personal feelings about the matter is very different from where the industry stands. By setting the story in an alternate precolonial Philippines where automatons exist and are powered by magic, I can sidestep that issue altogether. In fact, one of the fun things about fleshing out this world is figuring out how humans and automatons, called Metalmade, relate to one another without each one fearing the other. I really wanted to create a symbiotic relationship between them.

Back in June, I finished the first draft of Metalmade. (It took me an aggregate of only four weeks to write! Writing shorter stories sure has perks!) While I think I made a decent effort, there are a few plot holes that need patching up, which may or may not significantly alter the story. Still, I want to share with you a snippet of the first draft. Enjoy!

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Metalmade Snippet

Yaya stared at the image of the man etched onto the bamboo sheet. The surly curve of his mouth and the forbidding brows shading his eyes emanated an eeriness that even the brightness in the Evaluator's hut could not disperse. A shiver crawled down Yaya's metallic body, rattling her innards of gears and screws.

"His name is Digan," Evaluator Luwan explained, handing Yaya the bamboo sheet. "He peddles silken tofu in the northwestern area of the settlement. I know he looks unfriendly, and that makes you suspicious. But if an aswang can be detected by the roughness of their looks, you wouldn't be assigned this task."

Yaya bit her lip, scanning the text beside the image, committing to memory the known-facts about this Digan. Showed up in Takatak three months earlier. No family, no friends. His hut was far enough from others that nobody saw him at night. There wasn't much information on the sheet. There wouldn't be. The Evaluators wouldn't want to bias her by sharing what made other people suspicious enough that they would want Digan investigated as a human-eating creature.

Luwan clasped her hands on the low rattan table by which they were kneeling. The cushions against Yaya's knees were soft and plush. The textiles of warm earth tones around the room gave off a coziness that made Yaya's new assignment seem all the more dour. But Luwan simply gave Yaya a soft smile. "Don't look so glum. You did well on your last assignment." She cleared her throat. "Aside from the dead body."

"Thank you," Yaya said, cringing at the reminder.

"We'll give you records of past cases like this. Study as much as you can. Once you begin the assignment, if ever you get a strong hunch that he's an aswang, come to me right away," Luwan instructed. "Otherwise, be mindful of your decision. We had a katalonan perform clarification rituals three times last month on people who turned out to be actual humans, and the residents of Takatak are not happy. We can do better."

Well, if Yaya hadn't been feeling the pressure before, she certainly was now. A Metalmade could only fail to earn their Safety & Danger credential so many times before all of their abilities were questioned. This was Yaya's third attempt. If she failed this one, even the four credentials she already earned would be stripped from her, and she'd be made to retake the tests for them again. She doubted she could earn them all again in a month.

And sure, while it was reassuring that the fate of Takatak villagers did not rest entirely on Yaya's shoulders, her decision could still end up being the tiebreaker. Multiple people were tasked to observe the suspect, then give a vote for or against the clarification ritual. Her decision wasn't just a matter of classifying Digan correctly to earn a credential. People could be eaten if she were wrong.

-o-

Digan's face was not much better in person, Yaya noticed as she leaned against a hut across the alley from him. He had a narrow, rounded forehead that people from the mid-islands would consider unfortunate. Up north here in Takatak, it wasn't a hideous feature, although it did make his broad nose even more prominent. And his lips, which stayed somewhat downturned even while he talked, made him look as if he was permanently detecting a rank odour.

"Tofu!" Digan called out as he walked down the alleys between the huts. "Sweet, fresh tofu!" He had a deep, gargly voice, but the kind that carried well across the alleys, which surprised Yaya. She had expected something raspy and growling.

Little children clinging on their mothers' skirts approached Digan. They gripped tiny wooden cups or coconut shells, while theirs mothers counted beads from their pouches. The group gathered around Digan, and he lowered the twin buckets to the ground. From one, he scooped thin slivers of silken tofu, which he dumped into the cups and husks. The other held a divided container for the sago pearls and the thick palm-sugar syrup. Digan added both to the tofu.

He seemed aloof. He failed to look his customers in the eyes. When the mothers handed over their beads, Digan stared at their hands or their bellies, but never their faces. The women and children didn't notice, focused as they were on the tofu. Discomfort itched at the back of Yaya's neck.

Digan picked up the pole on which the two buckets were hung, and placed it over his shoulders again. He continued down the alley, calling out, "Tofu! Sweet, fresh tofu!"

Yaya followed him down the alley. Northwestern Takatak was lively this morning. Farmers from the inland plains were trickling into the large settlement of Takatak to trade, and this neighbourhood was closest to the rivulet. From here, the traders could make their way to the heart of village where the main market was and pay tribute to the leader of the settlement, Datu Lungti. With plenty of new faces to greet, the peddlers and cooks and weavers and woodworkers were busy saying hello, trying to get the farmers to part with some of their goods before reaching the large market.

Up ahead, Digan paused his shouting and dashed into the slim space between two huts built close together. Yaya perked up. She looked around, hoping to see what spooked the tofu-peddler. There were only a handful of people in the vicinity, most wearing a sash with the pattern that marked them as working-class residents of Takatak. One had the dark brown threads of a slave. The only person of note was a katalonan, who didn't need the light blue threads on her sash to mark her as a shaman. The loop around her neck bearing several crocodile teeth pendants already identified her as a shaman of power.

Yaya followed Digan into the path between the two huts. Nobody else was in the passage except for arrogant, clucking chickens strutting beneath the huts. Before she could take another step, Digan paused a few paces ahead of her. He released a heavy sigh and put down his pole with the tin buckets. Was he tired then? Did he just want a moment of respite?

To Yaya's surprise, Digan turned around and looked at her. "It's tofu," he said. "Humans eat it." His talking voice lacked the punch that his calls possessed. In fact, the hint of exasperation in it made him seem almost approachable, like they could talk about the weather.

Now that he'd noticed her and made it known that he did, it would be odd for Yaya to shy away. She approached him, and he opened the tin buckets. "This is silken tofu. There are many types of tofu, and this one is smooth and soft. The small pearls there are sago. They're chewy and don't have much flavour. The syrup is sweet. You bring me a cup, I fill it up, and you pay me depending on the cup's size."

Yaya blinked. Did he think she wasn't advanced enough to know silken tofu and how to buy it?

Almost as if sensing her thoughts, his eyes travelled down her sash. Stitched there were the yellow threads for her Object Recognition accredation, the maroon threads for her Arithmetic accredation, the black for the Analytics accredation. Finally, his eyes swept over the deep green threads for her Social Mores accredation. His eyes narrowed in confusion, his mouth drooping even more. "If you wanted to buy tofu for a human relative, surely you could have flagged me down by the coconut seller."

So Digan had detected her pursuit the moment she started it. He was quite observant, then. Many people followed and approached a tofu-peddler. Would an ordinary human tofu-peddler notice a single Metalmade following them? Or did he notice only because he's secretly an aswang? Aswang had heightened senses compared to humans.

Yaya realized that Digan was actually expecting an answer. Her head gears churned faster, her Ember Core glowed with renewed vigour. A wheezing sound and a green light rushed from the aperture that split her face vertically through her left eye. Images and words flashed through her awareness, answers fitting into the spaces carved by questions. In this intense state, a Metalmade couldn't move, but they could vaguely absorb their surroundings. Digan's face had resolved into mild worry. Some Metalmades were reported to burn out their Ember Cores and perish during a particularly vigorous processing.

Before she could come up with an answer, angry warbles came from the chickens behind them. Yaya's processing staved off, and she turned around. She saw the katalonan from the alley enter the passage between the huts as well. Digan snatched up the pole, and hauled it over his shoulders. He rushed through the passage, and disappeared behind a different cluster of huts.

So it really was the katalonan that had bothered him. Huh.

The katalonan approached Yaya with a calm smile, seemingly unfazed by Digan's behaviour. "Are you lost, little friend? Do you need help getting back to your human relatives?"

"No, thank you. I can find my way." Yaya returned the katalonan's kindly smile, and went back out to the alley. There was no point telling her that Yaya knew exactly where her only human relative was and that it would take a long walk to the center of Takatak to get to her.

But why did Digan run away from the katalonan? While aswang had cause to despise shamans for their ability to identify them as aswang, they could only do so after a clarification ritual, which was a long and elaborate process that discerned whether the soul imbued in the being was human or otherwise. Aswang tended to behave calmly around a katalonan; it would only ruin their disguise otherwise. Anxious fleeing had been a tell only in three previous cases.

Yaya shook her head. Perhaps Digan was simply a human who had some quarrel with this particular katalonan. Perhaps he'd sold her bad tofu. Perhaps she'd sold him bad medicine. His reaction was odd, but a single instance couldn't tell her much.

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I hope you guys liked that! Stay tuned for more!