Coppercoil Shade

Blue-white arcs moved along a telegraph wire that wasn't there anymore. Below them drifted a human outline made of copper loops. Each coil turned around empty space, with soot hanging at the joints. Rain passed straight through.

Our lamp battery warmed. The coils tightened. Ferris fired the crank unit, but its charge left the barrel before the shot reached the Shade. It passed around the loops and came back through the wet path under our boots. Every copper trail tag flashed.

We threw the tags into separate puddles. The current split into harmless branches.

A dead machine's remembered circuit governs it. Anything storing or guiding charge can be drawn into that circuit. Wet ground with hanging wire and scattered metal offers many routes. It tags the most conductive body first, then shares incoming energy across whatever is connected. Powered tools and electrical attacks strengthen it.

Tightening coils warn of a large release. Scatter the conductors or ground them separately before it happens. Dry wood and glass obstruct it, as do broad charcoal-ash beds. Without charge it dims and follows the nearest warm machine, abandoning its ground.