All Men of Genius

by Lev AC Rosen

  “Yes,” Drew said, nodding, “I can help.”

  “Aye,” Fiona said. “Go help Toby, love. We’ll make it outta this alive.” She pulled Drew to her and kissed him passionately on the mouth. Ashton and Jack politely looked away.

  “Yes!” Drew said, sitting up into a crouch. “I’ll head over and help Toby. Fiona, will you be all right here?”

  “I’m trying to get to Cecily’s booth, so I can’t stay,” Jack said.

  “I’m going with Jack,” Ashton said.

  Fiona bit her lower lip and looked around at the bottles of perfume oils that had fallen around her when she pulled the booth down to use as a shield.

  “Drew, are these oils flammable?” she asked.

  “Very,” he said.

  “Oh, aye, then” she said, removing a box of matches from her bosom. “I’ll be fine, then.”

  * * *

  A LOUD explosion rattled the floor below Pallas, and Violet looked out to see Fiona throwing firebombs out into the crowd of automata. One of the creatures flew back, and its arm shattered with a loud clang. Smoke started to fill the air, along with the smell of burnt flowers.

  Violet remembered Volio in the lab, working on the arms. She remembered the odd noise in the elbow joint, and how he had ignored her. She reached out Pallas’s arms toward the nearest automaton, grabbed it by the elbow, and snapped it back. The elbow broke off like a twig, and the creature flailed with its now-impotent arm. Violet smiled. Her dress was ruined, her hair a mess, and her leg bleeding, but she knew the creatures’ weakness now.

  “Aim for the elbows!” she shouted, hoping someone could hear her, and began piloting Pallas to grab each of the creatures by their arms and snap their elbows back violently. A short distance away, Drew and Toby began throwing small vials, which caused the automata to fizz and melt when they hit them. Soldiers who heard Violet’s cry repeated it, and began pushing back the creatures’ elbows. Clawed talons began flying off all around; Volio’s army began to shrink.

  Violet set her jaw and headed toward Volio.

  * * *

  JACK and Ashton had finally made it to Cecily’s booth, but Cecily was nowhere to be found. Her booth showed no signs of struggle, and the various objects made with her clay—plates, wrenches, a birdcage—were still laid out for display. Professor Curio was crouched under the booth, hugging his knees to his chest.

  “Professor!” Jack cried, and Curio looked up. His eyes had a strange appearance to them, the pupils tiny as pinheads, the color of both eyes having changed from one blue and one green to both orange.

  “Can’t talk,” Curio said, as if forcing the words out. “Trying not to lose control.”

  “Where’s Cecily?” Jack pleaded, but Curio didn’t respond.

  “Look out!” Ashton shouted as an automaton came charging toward them. Without thinking, Jack grabbed one of the plates from Cecily’s display and raised it in front of him, like a shield. The creature’s claw plunged toward the plate, and then bounced back, deflected. Jack and Ashton exchanged a look before Ashton rushed forward, grabbed the birdcage, and swung it at the automaton’s head. The automaton stumbled, but didn’t fall. Jack grabbed the wrench off the table and hit the automaton again in the head, as hard as he could. It collapsed to the ground.

  “Seems we’re armed, then,” Jack said.

  “I assure you, ’tis against my will,” Ashton said.

  “We have to find Cecily,” Jack said.

  “We’ll cuff them soundly,” Ashton said, gripping the birdcage, “and never draw a sword.” Jack nodded, but looked back at Professor Curio, who was crouched and shaking under the table, like a powder keg ready to explode.

  * * *

  A CLUSTER of automata had formed a circle around Volio and Cecily, whom Volio held firmly at the waist. He had one hand on the odd device around his neck, the other holding a knife to Cecily’s throat. Violet slowed Pallas as she approached them. Volio looked up at her machine and grinned. The duke and several soldiers were attempting to fight the automata, but they soon backed away or were knocked to the ground by the machines’ claws. Volio seemed to be looking for something, but was distracted by Cecily’s struggling to get away. Then his wall of mechanical men parted and he dragged something from the shadows. Violet felt a shiver as she saw Volio’s smile.

  * * *

  FIONA’s perfume bottles had made lovely, fragrant firebombs, but now she’d run out, and the horrible metal skeletons were still charging at her. Frantically, she looked in her purse: some more costume jewelry, some money, hairpins, spare bloomers, and one of Mrs. Wilks’s oscillation therapy devices, which she kept on her because she never knew when the opportunity to make a sale would arise.

  If the metal skeletons had eyes, Fiona would be able to look right into them. She swallowed. Her life was over, she thought. They were nearly upon her. She’d never gotten to be a famous actress, but at least she’d had some happiness with Drew at the end.

  The first of the skeletons in the charge came at her, claws outstretched. Fiona tried to kick it away. It cut deep into her shin, a sharp, cold pain, but stumbled backwards. She screamed and fell, landing next to her bag again. The creature straightened itself and charged forward again, hungry for more blood. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled out Mrs. Wilks’s oscillation therapy device and thrust it at the creature, pushing the tip of it against its metal chest. The skeleton stopped dead in its tracks, the sound of Mrs. Wilks’s device vibrating against it very loud in Fiona’s ears.

  “They work off vibrations,” said a man with a metal neck who was suddenly coming toward her.

  “Are ye their leader?” Fiona asked, scared.

  The man coughed. “What?”

  A younger, short man appeared from behind him. “This is Professor Bunburry. I’m Humphrey,” the younger man said.

  “Don’t take that device off the automaton,” Bunburry said, “the vibrations are what’s stopping it from moving.”

  Fiona swallowed and tried to sit up, keeping the device pressed against the skeleton, while also keeping an eye on the metal man, a professor. All scientists were mad.

  “Let me fix your leg,” Humphrey said, tearing part of his sleeve off and wrapping it tight around Fiona’s shin.

  “Thankee,” she said. Her arm was growing tired from extending Mrs. Wilks’s device against the machine.

  “You might be able to control the automaton with that thing,” Bunburry said. “Depending on where you put it.” Humphrey helped her stand as she kept Mrs. Wilks’s device on the automaton, and indeed, as her hand raised, moving the device, the automaton began to behave differently. First one arm swung out, causing Humphrey to duck out of the way—and then the other, and then the legs. After a few minutes, Fiona felt she could control it like a puppet.

  “We’re heading for the retiring rooms, my dear,” Bunburry said, and then coughed. “Care to escort us?”

  Fiona grinned, and piloted her new pet skeleton forward, using it like a weapon, slashing at other automata with jerky movements. She felt herself laughing a little. Was this what scientists felt? She had her puppet strike down another of its own kind with a quick movement. The metal man—whose name Fiona had already forgotten—took out another.

  It didn’t take long for them to get to the retiring rooms. The metal man nodded at her, took her puppet, and smashed it to the ground before they went inside. Fiona glanced around quickly. Where was Drew?

  * * *

  WITH the sound of metal breaking wood, one of the automata rushed the table Drew and Toby had erected as a defense. Its claw splintered a hole in the table and reached out for Drew’s throat. He stumbled back, knocking over several bottles of chemicals. And there weren’t many left.

  “We can’t stay here anymore,” Drew said, pouring some acid on the searching claw. It bubbled and hissed before melting away.

  Toby glanced around. A short ways behind them were the retiring rooms, where it looked as though a group of soldiers had set up. T
hey stood around them, rifles pointed outward, fending off any incoming automata.

  “Let’s see if they don’t mind protecting a few loyal citizens,” Toby said, pointing a thumb at the soldiers. Drew nodded and grabbed the remaining chemicals before heading toward the retiring rooms. They weren’t really rooms—more like tents, with long draperies as doorways, and chairs and water closets within. The automata were coming on fiercely now, and Drew’s shoulder was clawed by one as they ran forward. Toby managed to smash a vial on its head before it could do further damage. Someone had called for reinforcements, so more soldiers had filled the palace, firing into the wall of metal warriors. Drew tripped over a headless corpse of a civilian as they ran, and Toby helped him up, praying it wasn’t anybody they knew.

  Inside the retiring rooms, it was calmer. Many had sought refuge here, and there were sounds of sobbing and cries of pain. Valentine was tending to the wounded. Bracknell was hunched in a corner, covering his head, his pants and face wet.

  “Fiona!” Drew shouted. She was lying on the floor as Valentine sewed up a gash in her leg. He ran over to her and hugged her tightly, then kissed her on the mouth. Valentine looked up, then nodded approvingly.

  “I’m all right, love,” Fiona said with a weak smile. “The metal man saved me. An’ fer a while, I got to pilot one of the skeletons.”

  “Metal man?” Drew asked, looking around. He caught sight of Bunburry in a tight embrace with a redheaded girl.

  “Professors!” Toby shouted. He had been peeking his head out the curtain into the main pavilion. “I think we’d better blockade this entrance, if we can.” Bunburry and Valentine nodded. There was a scramble as people began pulling up the chairs and piling them by the entrance.

  “Is Miriam here?” Toby asked, looking around. No one answered.

  * * *

  VIOLET watched in horror as an automaton dragged a struggling Miriam out of the shadows and into Volio’s circle. A few men tried to stop them, but were thrown aside. Cecily screamed again as they dragged Miriam toward Volio, but Volio slapped her, and she fell to her knees. Satisfied, Volio approached Miriam, who was struggling against the clutches of two automata. Volio said something to Miriam which Violet couldn’t hear, and Miriam spit in his face.

  Violet wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to do, but she called out to clear the way in front of her, and the crowd parted. She faced the line of automata, narrowed her eyes, and, with Pallas’s hand, began grabbing the automata, snapping their arms, and throwing them to the ground.

  Volio looked up at the sound and drew his face into a sneer. Again he struck the device, and the automata stormed toward Pallas. In a wave they leapt at her, and knocked Pallas to the ground, toppling her like a turtle on its back. Violet felt the back of her head hit Pallas’s wall with a crack, and her vision blurred, then faded to darkness.

  * * *

  JACK had just knocked another of the machines down with a solid swat from his wrench when Curio burst out from under the table, a changed man. He was somehow larger, his muscles bulged, and his eyes bugged out of his face. Jack swallowed, unsure of what was happening. Curio leapt forward, grabbed the heads of two of the mechanical men, and smashed them together with inhuman force.

  “Is that a mate of yours?” Ashton asked, catching the outstretched claw of another automaton in the birdcage and then twisting it so the arm popped off.

  “A professor,” Jack said.

  “An excellent example of why I don’t feel a need to attend school,” Ashton said. Jack raised the plate to block an incoming blow from another automaton, then smashed it on the head with the wrench. Curio bounded forward into the fray, clearing a path of fallen machines.

  “Let’s follow,” Jack said. “Cecily must be nearby.”

  “You’re mad,” Ashton said with a sigh, and followed Jack forward.

  Curio bounded like an animal before them, heading toward a great crowd at the middle of the palace, leaving a trail of oil and smashed metal in his wake. They were nearly at the crowd when Curio suddenly stopped charging, spun around, and fell to the ground, insensible.

  “Damn,” swore Ashton.

  “Professor,” Jack said, kneeling down to look at Curio, “are you all right?” Curio didn’t respond. Jack checked his pulse. “He’s alive, at least.”

  Ashton fended off a charging automaton with his birdcage. “Well, we can’t just stand here,” Ashton said. “Can you drag him?”

  Curio had shrunk back down to regular size while they talked. Jack nodded. Spotting another overturned booth, Ashton led the way through battling soldiers and automata as Jack dragged Curio behind them.

  “Good,” Ashton said when they were kneeling behind the overturned booth, “I’ll look after him. Go see to your girl. I’d head for that crowd if I were you.”

  “Thanks,” Jack said with a nod, and clutched his wrench tightly. He ran out into the crowd, knocking down any machines that came near him with a sound blow. Just as he got to the crowd, there was a loud clanging, and he saw Violet’s machine, Pallas, charge into a wall of automata. They toppled her, covering her like a swarm of wasps. Before he had time to worry for her, though, he spotted Cecily. Volio was clutching her around the waist, a knife to her throat.

  * * *

  VIOLET blinked open her eyes and shoved the pain away. The automata were weighing down Pallas like a sheet of lead, but she knew Pallas could handle it. Violet had built her, after all. She pulled on a lever and stomped down on both pedals with all her strength. Carefully, using her damaged arms, Pallas pushed back up from the ground. A few of the automata fell from her sides, and the others she plucked off her and smashed into one another. Then, with frightening speed, she drove herself toward Volio. Volio hissed at her and began to run, but he wasn’t fast enough. Violet reached out with Pallas’s arm and picked him up. He squirmed, but Pallas’s giant hand held him tight. She brought him close to the bloodstained window.

  “Call them off!” Violet screamed. “Call them off or I’ll smash your head to the ground, Volio!” Volio hissed at her again, struggling in Pallas’s grip, his eyes wide with madness. There was no reasoning with him. “Cecily!” Violet shouted. The automata had broken formation and were running throughout the palace and destroying everything in sight. The sound of shattering glass was everywhere, and chemicals from various exhibits had mixed on the floor and were smoking. People screamed, trying to get away, unsure of what was happening.

  “Violet?” Cecily called. “Is that you?”

  Violet didn’t have time to worry about using the wrong voice, or being recognized. She kept a firm grip on Volio but lowered him within reach of Cecily. “There’s something around his neck,” Violet shouted. “It controls the automata. Take it and stop them.”

  Cecily nodded and grabbed the device, snapping it off Volio’s neck. Volio hissed at her, and Cecily slapped him in return. Cecily stared a moment at the device before hitting it once. The automata stopped what they were doing and charged toward Cecily. Frightened, she hit it again, but they only came faster. She tried hitting it in a different place, and suddenly they slowed down and formed a line in front of her, as if awaiting instructions. Satisfied that the automata were under control, Cecily ran to Miriam, who lay on the ground faceup, a long bloody line down her cheek.

  The rest of the palace was slowly coming under control. Violet could hear the duke shouting orders for cleanup and gathering the wounded, and a small circle had formed around Pallas, applauding. A group of soldiers ran forward and took Volio from Pallas’s grasp. He was dazed and angry looking as they put the irons on him and led him out of the palace. Violet lay back in her chair. Tears were streaming down her face, and she didn’t know why. She shook her head back and forth and wiped her face dry.

  “Ashton!” the duke called. “Ashton, come out! You’ve quite saved the day.”

  Violet shivered, pulled her hair back, and then put it up again. She straightened out her dress and tightened it. The dress was torn, her
leg bleeding, and she could only imagine what a fright she looked. She had wanted to be beautiful for Ernest. She let out a deep breath and opened Pallas, then limped down the steps into the crowd.

  “Violet?” said the duke, confused.

  “Yes,” Violet said, looking down. She blinked and looked back up at him.

  “Where’s Ashton?”

  “I am Ashton,” Violet said. Everyone around them had gone quiet as they looked on. “The true Ashton, you’ve met as my cousin. The man whom you have called Ashton, and has been your student, has been me the entire time—disguised.” Violet looked down as she declared this, and pushed a loose hair behind her ear. She raised her eyes back up to Ernest, who stared at her, openmouthed. He put his hand to his lips.

  “I wanted so badly to go to Illyria,” Violet said, her breath becoming ragged, “but you wouldn’t accept me, wouldn’t even have considered my application.…” The way he was looking at her was unbearable. Violet didn’t know what to do or say, just wanted him to say something. Anything.

  There was movement in the crowd. They stared at her, unsure of what to say or do, but then Cecily stepped forward, her hands clutching her skirts in tight bunches. Her face and eyes were red, and as she stared at Violet, tears started to run slowly down her face. “From the moment I first saw you I distrusted you,” she said, her voice shaking. “I felt that you were false and deceitful.” Cecily held her chin high, but she looked defeated.

  “Cecily,” Violet said softly, “I’m sorry.” Cecily looked at her a moment longer, then walked away. Everyone else stared at Violet in silence.

  “Has it been you, writing those letters to me?” the duke asked.

  “Yes,” Violet said.

  The duke nodded, looking somewhere above and behind Violet. She tried to meet his eyes, but he wouldn’t look at her. She tried to read his emotions in his body, but all she could see was shock. She opened her mouth to say something, maybe to apologize, or beg, but before she could think of what words to use, he turned away from her, as though he had just realized he was going the wrong direction on the street, and walked away.