Frederick's Device

Frederick was using his hammer on the thing when Perdita came up to him. Her cherubic face already coated with all manner of sweets and glaze. Her mother wouldn't be happy about it now, but when the girl fell sound asleep this afternoon , the peace would be welcome.
"What are you buildiiiing?" She said in her sing-song voice, stretching out the vowels with each tilt of her head. "It's a special device." He replied, his tone patient and instructing, never one to turn away the curiosity of a child. "Though I can't say what it does yet, that'll be a surprise for everyone, yeah?" Perdita nodded in response, waiting and watching him for a little while, asking him all manner of inane questions. His attitude never faltered, his words never became harsh. Eventually she grew bored of watching and ran off to join the other children, playing across the city square.
Many more hours passed, and Frederick grew sore and sweaty from the work. Much progress was made on it, but he still had long to go. It would be best to find his bed and come back the next day. The next day he was back at it, relentlessly hammering, sawing and constructing. A few more children came around with Perdita that morning as well. They all asked the same questions and got the same answers, and after some time they too left. Frederick smiled to himself as he worked from atop a tall ladder.
"Good... it's serving it's purpose and it's not even done," he thought, a little glee spurring him onward in his work. Another day or so and it would be under everyone's gaze. The next morning, he had a cloth over it, working in secret underneath. The design was too obvious now, they would all see it before it was finished. There was talk in the town now, folks were standing around outside the tarp, some speculating, others claiming they knew what it was already.
"I saw it this morning, 'fore he covered it," one such man said with all the authority of one in the know, "and I can say with certainty that it's a gallows. Surely the Master asked him to build it, to impose order."
"You're mad," his friend rolled his eyes and pushed the first aside, leaning close to the base to try to peek in through the bottom, "It's got to be some sort of art piece. Good ol' Fred wouldn't build anything so vile as a gallows. He's made of better stock."
Frederick chuckled to himself from under the cloth, his hands gingerly installing a delicate piece. He appreciated their interest. More talk would mean more eyes, and more eyes meant it was serving it's purpose to the fullest. Soon, they would see and they would love it. He knew it. He put the finishing touches on it, and carefully slipped from under the cloth just as the sun was going down, eager to get home and rest before the big day. When he woke in the morning, the tarp was removed, it's length torn in two as if it were ripped forcibly from below the structure. A few of the pieces were out of alignment and he quickly adjusted them after sweeping evidence of the vandals' work under the platform.
Taking a deep breath, he quietly stood upon the base of the device, waiting for the crowd to gather. He had a hard time keeping his peace, his hands jittering against his sides as he watched people slowly arrange themselves in front of it. He scanned the crowd, making sure that sweet Perdita was there, his nervous smile widening when he spotted her atop her father's shoulders. Before long, and without a word, the whole neighborhood gathered around it. Shopkeepers, miners, travelers, anyone within one thousand feet of the device was drawn in. It was as if they had found a purpose, and that purpose was to gaze upon what Frederick had built.
When the last few joined the back of the crowd he bowed deeply and introduced himself.
"...a-and this is my device." he said, with a grand gesture at the construction, "I built it for all of us. I built it for p-peace and understanding and love."
His words were a little stuttering in places, his nerves catching up to him. He looked around at their confused faces and frowned a little.
They didn't understand..., he thought, forlornly. I have to show them...
With a wave of his hand he beckoned Perdita up to the stage, her little legs slipping off her fathers neck and onto the ground before he could catch her. She stomped up the stairs and came to stand next to Frederick.
"Helloooo!" She shouted, eliciting a nervous laugh from the crowd, which spurred her to bow; an action which invited more laughter and eased the crowd.
"Thank you for joining me, Perdy," Frederick said with a warm smile, then took her hand in his own, large and work-worn, "Would you like to try it?" The little girl nodded exuberantly and let Frederick lead her up to the next tier of the device.
"Now, I want you to stand there, and look up, look at all the light and the shine and the fire. Look at the faces and the eyes." He says, loud enough for everyone to hear, and she nods, listening to his instructions and following to the letter. She focuses for what seems like eternity until there is a flash of light and in a moment she is gone. The platform stands empty save for Frederick and a small pile of little girl's clothing and shoes. He stands with a broad smile and turns back to the crowd, clearly expecting joy and applause in place of the fear and anger that is there.
"WHERE'S MY GIRL?!" Perdita's father shouts, and shoves his way through the crowd to leap onto the stage. He grips Frederick by his lapels and hauls him up, every inch of his butchery-made muscles aiding him.
"She's perfectly safe, better, even!" He says in distress, pointing up at the sky. "She's become more."
"SHE WAS ENOUGH, HOW DO I GET HER BACK?!"
"S-She... she won't ever come back... why would s-s—", he replies, but is interrupted by the butcher throwing him off of the platform and onto the cobblestones, a pool of blood quickly forming under the craftsman's head. The butcher, now joined by a few friends start dismantling the platform, tearing apart the device, breaking the delicate pieces and bits of machinery. All that he had taken so long to build. They shout her name but receive no reply, only shocked silence from the crowd.
"N-no!" Frederick weakly shouts from his place on the ground, only having regained consciousness when most of the damage had been done. It was too late, however, defeated he let his head fall back onto the cobblestones, his eyes falling on the pile of clothes that had been left behind the night previous. Eyeing them, he could do nothing but cry. He lay there, in his pool of blood and tears, and wept openly at the thought that some delinquents would get to go... a little girl... but he would never join them...

---

They never did find out what the purpose of the device was. All through his trial, and his imprisonment, he never spoke a word, his eyes only falling to the ground, gaze and mind elsewhere. They tore it apart, breaking it and burning what they could. Perdita never came back, nor did the youths that they discovered missing later. For a long while, scholars, angry parents, authorities, all visited Frederick, but he still never spoke, the weight of his heart bearing down on his tongue until his death.