by Gin Hollan
Frank had set up watch from the outside corner of a bakery, pretending to look in the window. The girl nervously opened the case and reached inside to toggle the device on, but hesitated. Shaking her head, she looked around at the moving crowds. Was she looking for anyone specific, making sure they weren't around? There was no way to know. She pushed down on something in the case and leaned back, sighing.
Arabeth started to walk over. Even a peek inside would be better information than what she currently knew about it. Guessed about it, she corrected herself. A scream to one side drew her attention. She ignored it. The girl didn't, though, and started to run away, without the case.
The chaos widened, giving Arabeth the cover she needed. She walked as calmly as she could toward the case, moving as though it was hers and she had every right to it. Taking it up, she pushed the only toggle inside, closed it and sat down, stowing it under the bench until she thought it would be safe to pull it out and leave.
She should disappear before the police arrived. Frank will have seen her take the case, but odds were he wouldn’t come out in the open to confront her. She might need a way to explain her apparently random act of taking the unattended suitcase, but Frank was no where to be seen now.
Where could she take the suitcase to dissect it? She stood, thinking to use the somehow increasing chaos as cover. She made it about twenty feet when a hand took her arm and pulled her. Turning, she saw Sam. She frowned. What was he doing here?
"Follow me," he said, pulling her toward an alley.
"What are you doing?" she snapped. "Let me go."
"What's in the case?" he asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"That case. What's in it?"
"Can we go somewhere less accidentally discoverable?" Arabeth said.
He tilted his head and made a face.
"I'm interrupting an experiment," she said.
"You're interrupting, not participating?"
She gave him what she hoped was a scathing look. "You claim to know me, so what do you think?"
He shrugged. "So, all right. What's going on?"
Arabeth patted the case. "I need to get this to my workshop. I have to stop them." She turned and hurried towards the other end of the alley. He could follow if he needed to, but she'd lost enough time as it was.
"Stop who?" he called out as he followed. A few alleys and turns later she'd lost him. He'd think she was going to the lab in her house, and that he could get in easy. He wouldn't feel motivated to hurry.
// Chapter 18 //
UNDER LENS OF her microscope, the mechanisms were so small that Arabeth was amazed. The fact that it took a microscope to see them clearly in the first place was testament to the breakthrough in technology that it represented. Something about it reminded her of the automaton's head wiring.
"Can you explain?" Hicks was trying to look as close as he could, not having a microscope of his own to look through. "What are we looking at?"
Arabeth stood back, crossing her arms and looking smug. "You're helping the military. This would be right up your alley. The rumour is that it’s supposed to stop the war."
"By causing them to turn on each other, instead of us."
She nodded, unsure if he saw the ethical dilemma, or was amongst those who felt it was a fair price to pay in the long run.
"I take it you would rather find a different solution," he said.
"I haven't given it much thought, but yes. There must be a better way."
"What do you have in mind?" he asked.
She paused, knowing what she was thinking seemed anticlimactic. Dull by comparison. And there might not be a lot of support for it, being as it was so undramatic.
"Spit it out, Arabeth."
"Well, if it can make people violent and crazy, why can't it do the opposite? Why can't it turn them passive?"
Hicks chuckled. "Okay, let's pursue that line of logic. What level of passivity would be required for them to surrender? Would they even be motivated at that point to wave the white flag?"
"We don't have to influence the decision-makers, just the ones carrying out the orders."
"And when it wears off, what will keep them from going straight back to aggression?"
Arabeth paused. "You're saying that only violence will stop more violence?"
"I'm asking a question," Hicks replied.
"The key to both situations is that they don't find out they were manipulated. Which do you think is more likely to make them mad enough to retaliate?"
"True. If we all just stop killing each other, there won't be as many calling for blood compensation."
"Withdraw our men off the front line, secretly plant enough of these to make their soldiers put their guns down, and wait for the superiors to say it was their idea to have a ceasefire in the first place."
It was Hicks’s turn to pause.
"Do you remember why the war started in the first place?" Arabeth asked. Her grandfather’s story had long since been shelved - no one liked it when she talked about this being a city of exiles, forbidden to cross to the other side of the mountains. Hicks had heard it before and dismissed it, just like everyone else. Somehow it rang true, though. She sighed. He’d give the stock answer, and she’d go along with it.
"Resources. They wanted us to increase our trade quotas. When we said we didn't have much more to spare, they decided that was unacceptable."
"And now, both sides are depleted beyond recovery. And science has been making the wrong kind of advances to compensate," she said.
He nodded again. "True."
"So, neither side feels they can afford to stop now. And your supposition is that if no one will fight, they'll be forced to find other solutions."
"Correct.” He nodded. "What if I give you a day - twenty-four hours? Then would you turn it over?"
"To the military?" she asked.
"To the owner."
"Same thing," Arabeth replied.
"Twenty-four hours. Can you make sense of it in that time?" Hicks asked.
She paused. "Maybe. Can we make it a soft deadline, with a guarantee you get to take it when I'm done?" She batted her eyelashes at him, pretending to flirt.
He laughed. "A flexible day, then. Twenty-four, plus wiggle room."
"Deal," she said, putting her hand out to shake his.
Hicks took her hand and, in a gesture that instantly made her think of Graham, he took it and kissed the back. Unlike Graham's kiss, though, this one made an impression. A good one. Blushing, she pulled her hand back. She wasn't trying to take advantage of his feelings for her.
“Eyelashes.” He shook his head. “Now you’re batting your eyelashes to get your way. I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on you.”
They were friends first. That was what made Hicks easy to be around. She didn't know what to do about this hand-kissing thing. It got in the way, clouded her thinking. And part of her wanted to give in to everything he suggested. That wouldn't work, though. Humans were fickle.
"Where's your fox at?” Hicks asked, changing the subject. “I haven't seen her for a while now."
Relieved at the turn the conversation had taken, Arabeth looked around. "She's been disappearing now and then lately. I suspect I've become dull to her. Investigating, walking, asking questions - it's all a little slow for her. She doesn't see the bigger puzzle."
"You don't suppose she's found a friend, do you?"
"In the city? It doesn't seem likely." There had been a couple trips to the country lately. It was possible Marble was craving attention from her own kind. The thought made Arabeth feel just a little bit alone. Like when she'd found out about Hicks’s military secret, or that Graham was colluding with a madman.
She tapped on the hard exterior of the dark wooden case holding the Maddening Device. "Think about the emotional damage. Let's say the device affected you strongly and the only person around was me ... and you killed me. What would that do to your psyche, over time? That's what th
is device will do. Those soldiers will kill the very people they are there to protect - their friends, maybe their family. People they care about will die by their hands. They fight day after day, relying on fellow soldiers to protect their very lives. Some of them owe life-debts. If they killed their compatriots, would they really be survivors?"
Hicks paused, then continued softly. "They would be shattered souls."
"That may be what makes this, in its current state, a permanent solution … but it's the wrong one," she insisted.
"And the passive modification? How will that be a permanent stop to the war?"
"I'll let you figure that out yourself. I have to get to work on this," Arabeth said.
She had an idea. Or two. There'd been a few inventions lately that the world was ignoring, because they would take time and money to make useful. She'd tweak them, make them faster, easier to implement. They would cure the resource shortage, if only people would listen. Her own pet project - the miniature steam device - was one example. That would be priority two. Oddly, that turned this device from something to be avoided at all costs, into something that had to succeed at all costs. At all costs? She chuckled to herself. What a silly phrase.
The thought that Dawson's killer was getting further away nagged at her. She was still convinced that man had used the violence as a cover - that it was actual, targeted murder. But if that had to be priority three, then it had to be.
She dropped the magnifiers down in front of her lanterns, intensifying the available light at her workbench. Hicks could find his own way out.
A few minutes later that there was someone pulling on the doorbell. It broke her concentration. Standing, hands on hips, she examined her progress. She'd gotten the gist of the device, and had begun a plan to invert the frequencies. It was really too bad Graham liked the violent solution. She could use his insight on this. The blend of electrical wires, gears, and coils, all at impossibly tiny scale, would take some thinking. She pulled out her camera and set it next to the case.
The doorbell rang again.
She blew out the lanterns and closed the door behind her, listening for the automatic lock to engage. The secondary, internal thunk told her it had. Judging by the time, it was probably family visiting. They liked to drop by after the evening meal. Her own stomach growled. Her arm was around her waist as she pulled the door open.
"You missed dinner again, didn't you?" Arabeth’s sister, Maralise, said as she walked past into the entry and pulled her shoes off.
"Yes," Arabeth said flatly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
"Oh, just a friendly reminder of the agreement you and mother came to last visit."
Arabeth paused. Was she serious?
"Mother has set the date for the dinner." She held out a caramel-coloured card, their mother's favourite.
"Why are you pushing this?" She frowned. She stared at the card, unwilling to take it.
"Actually, I'll be attending, and mother is inviting other eligible women, too. That may make it less awkward."
Arabeth's eyebrows shot up. "You mean you're...?"
"Yes, I know." She laughed. "I thought about what you said. I may not find a man willing to humour my disposition, but if I never look, I'll never know."
"You're looking for a man that won't want children?" Arabeth asked.
"Can you blame me? I've seen what mother and father went through with us. That's not the life I want."
Arabeth smiled. "And the broader invitation is to make sure I show up."
Maralise giggled. "Of course. You don't actually think I'll be getting married, do you? I'm too breakable."
"If you got up and moved around, worked on your body, you would be fine."
"A lady does not perambulate at more than a graceful, moderate speed. Not that you'd know, flouting your 'independence' like a badge the way you do."
"Your frailty is pride, and that's what will actually break you." Arabeth didn't mean to criticize. This was supposed to encourage her sister, motivate her, even if through anger. "I mean for you to be healthy. It's a small change. There are things you can do that will strengthen you without offending your reputation, like stretching."
Her sister huffed and slapped the card down on the table. "Be there. Early." She turned and walked out.
Arabeth would rather have her eyeteeth pulled out, but with such a large number of guests attending, it would embarrass her family if she didn't. She heaved a sigh. One evening. That was all it would cost her. One evening, then it would be over.
Did Hicks truly feel affection for her, or was he like Arabeth’s dead husband - just after her patents and her grandfather's schematics? She hadn't solved the puzzle to get into the room that held her grandfather's books, but he could probably do it in a short time - if he learnt it existed and where. She'd die before that happened.
That room was a gift to her - a final puzzle before her grandfather went beyond. The lock had proven too complex, though. Still, it was hers. There was a rumour it existed, but she would never admit it. And she would never give up.
Arabeth could barely sleep. The mystery of the Maddening Device was slowly unwinding itself in her mind. In the morning she'd take some pictures, but she wasn't sure the camera could focus well that close up. She'd have to try modifying the lens, somehow.
Waking, she was happy to see Marble sleeping on the foot of her bed. She moved over to sit beside the creature and took a few minutes to give her some dedicated attention, petting her, scratching her head and chin, and checking her paws to make sure they were in good shape.
"Where have you been, silly girl? Don't go wandering so far." She hadn't realized how worried she was about Marble's temporary disappearance until just then.
"You stay close today, okay?"
Marble sat up and yawned, swishing her tail a few times before jumping down and walking to her empty food dish.
"Good choice. Breakfast time." Arabeth added some dried food to Marble's dish and went to fry her eggs.
Dinner was at four p.m. and she had a stack of things to do before then, not the least of which was getting more details on the Maddening Device.
Considering the rush on everything, Graham's house was the best first stop. He was much more experienced in fluid integration and signal transmission.
"He's not here," Daisy said. "I'll take the suitcase, if it's for him."
"Thanks, but I'm just looking for information,” Arabeth said. “When will he be back?"
She held tight to the case. Leaving it anywhere was too risky. Even her house wasn't safe. People seemed to come and go at will there. When she changed the lock, the locksmith would still give her mother a key, against her instructions. Too many people respected the power her parents held, and reputation was everything.
Checking a clock, she saw dinner would be soon, and realized it really would be good to get it over with. Showing up a bit early would convince her mother she was taking it seriously, and that should put a pause in the campaign to get her re-married.
But dinner. She felt angry at the very notion. Her family had a lot of nerve making this request. This demand.
// Chapter 19//
ARABETH HADN'T GONE home to change, so she arrived in her usual leather coat, cotton pants, and cotton shirt. Maybe she should have, out of respect for the men involved, but she was in too much of a hurry. Too much was at stake.
Immediately a servant swept her away into a spare bedroom.
"Your mother has clothes ready for you." The woman smiled as she held her arm out, palm up, towards a semi-formal emerald green dress with a subtle sheen.
Moments later, suitably attired though a little odd as she held the suitcase from earlier, Arabeth stood at the entrance to the drawing room, looking for her sister. The room was warmly lit by several tall glass standing candelabras that circled the room. In the center sat two long tables, each identically ordained with a long, deep green table cloth and short floral center pieces. Eight chairs, four to a side, s
at evenly spaced, already taken by the other guests.
This was to be a quiet dinner. Thankfully, she'd talked her mother out of the restaurant idea. Payment for food or gifts given publicly was viewed as causing someone to feel indebted to you, and even suggests you are "eliciting immoral favours." Prostitution. Her mother knew this, so why she’d suggested it in the first place was one more thing Arabeth couldn’t understand about the situation. Maybe her mother’s mental gears were slipping.
Including herself, there should be eight women and eight men. One of the men seemed to be missing. Maybe he’d chosen to stay away from this odd dinner. She spotted her sister on the window side of the room. To Arabeth's surprise, Graham sat, not far from Maralise, reclining comfortably on the far side of the room.
"Perfect." She smiled their way, walking over.
With a bare nod to the others she passed, Arabeth slid the small suitcase under her place at the table and sat.
"I had no idea you'd be here. I went by your workshop with a question earlier," Arabeth said to Graham.
"I'm a little surprised myself, to be honest. I didn't realize you were available. Two years passes rather quickly, it seems." He cleared his throat. "What is your question? Perhaps discussing that will smooth out the awkwardness of this situation."
She glanced at over her shoulder at no one in particular, then slid the small suitcase over to Graham.
He popped the latches, looking puzzled.
"Strange thing for you to have. And I can't tell if you're brave or desperate to be packing it around in the open like this," he said.
"How do you mean?"
"This is a prototype I had been working on for the army, to help stop the war."
"Our army? They're testing it here." She shook her head. "That's wrong. We have to stop them, no matter who is behind it."
"We can't, but now that you have my prototype, I think things are going to get very interesting." He closed the case and set it down, sliding it back to her.
"Can you explain a few details for me? I understand one group of gears is to generate power and the other is to adjust the range, frequency, and direction. The wiring is all about power, but there's a six-inch rounded glass tube, about a quarter-inch wide, filled with a blue oil. That I don't understand."