Thomas Cooper III's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Thomas Cooper III traced his finger along the crumpled map spread across his wooden table. The mountain villages of Gelsimealus sat scattered like forgotten coins across the peaks. Each one struggled alone, cut off from the others by steep trails and dangerous passes. Thomas wanted to change that. He dreamed of building a trade route that would connect them all, bringing goods and people together. His blue eyes sparkled as he imagined merchants traveling safely between villages, carrying supplies that could save lives. The work would be hard, maybe impossible. But Thomas grinned anyway and rolled up his map. The next morning, Thomas climbed the ridge behind his village. He needed to see the path with his own eyes. His boots kicked loose stones down the slope. Wind whipped through his messy blond hair. Below him, the trail twisted between sharp rocks and narrow ledges. No cart could cross this ground. No pack animal could carry enough supplies. Thomas sat on a boulder and pulled out a small notebook. He sketched rough wheels, then crossed them out. He drew a flat platform. His pencil stopped. In his mind, he saw something different. A vehicle with a smooth body the color of red desert sand. It would need power to climb steep hills. Strange curved panels could protect cargo from mountain storms. Thomas added more lines to his drawing. The design looked almost alien, like a space ship built for rough ground instead of stars. He closed the notebook and stood up. This vehicle could work. It had to work. Back in his workshop, Thomas hammered metal sheets into curved panels. Sparks flew as he welded the frame together. Three weeks passed. The red desert sand vehicle took shape in front of him. It sat low on thick wheels with a motor that hummed when he tested it. Thomas loaded crates of supplies into the back. He drove it up the steep trail behind his village. The vehicle climbed without trouble. He steered around rocks and through narrow passes. At the highest peak, Thomas stopped and looked across the mountains. He needed one more thing. A central place where all the villages could meet and trade. His eyes caught movement in a tall tree nearby. Purple leaves shimmered in the sunlight. Tiny lights blinked between the branches like fireflies. Thomas walked closer. The tree was huge, with thick branches that could hold buildings. He pulled out his notebook again. Windows here, a chimney there, stairs winding up the trunk. A treehouse glowing with those strange lights could be seen from every village. It would be the heart of his trade route. Thomas smiled and started sketching. Two months later, the treehouse stood complete among the purple leaves. Neon fireflies danced around the windows at night. Thomas stood at the base of the tree and looked up at his work. The building had turned out better than his drawings. But one problem remained. The villages were too far apart. Traders might arrive and leave without anyone knowing. Thomas walked through the clearing and found an old stone tower covered in thick alien vines. A monkey in worn armor sat on top, chattering at him. Thomas climbed the stairs inside. At the top hung an ancient bell, green with age. He pulled the rope. The bell rang out across the peaks, clear and strong. The sound carried for miles. Thomas nodded. When traders arrived at the treehouse, someone would ring this bell. Every village would hear it and know the trade route was open. He climbed down and patted the monkey on the head. His dream was ready. The mountain villages could finally come together.