“No, your reflection in the glass.”
Jesse laughed, turning as he lowered his arms to his sides. He looked at a couple of rather uncomfortable sofas in the center of the room, arranged in a small seating area. There was a fancy oval coffee table between them and small vase of purple flowers atop it. The pair of seats was beautiful but incredibly rigid, their main purpose to keep visitors from staying too long.
A charismatic fellow was perched defiantly on the edge of the left one. Dressed in a well-crafted blue suit, crisp white shirt, and a matching tie, the man could easily be mistaken for Jesse’s brother at first glance. He was the taller of the two, with eyes the color of the sea and a dark brown beard.
“As if you don’t do the same thing,” Jesse replied.
Taking a moment to stretch, he stepped over and switched off the music then scooped up a thick stack of documents resting on the refurbished leather desktop. Lagosian Water Trade Agreement of 1797 was impeccably scribed across the top. Straightening the heap with a couple sharp taps, Jesse made his way to the seating area.
His guest that morning was a magistrate hailing from the city of Lagos. Duncan Morrison had become good friends with Jesse over the years, the pair sharing quite a few adventures – and misadventures – together.
He had come to Diablo so they could finalize a trade deal between his city and Winthrope Limited. Once complete then ratified by both mayors, Lagos would allow construction of a pipeline from its southernmost mountain spring to Diablo. This would provide the desert city with another consistent source of water, far cleaner than what was currently drawn from their pipeline to the West Coast. In turn, Winthrope would provide Lagos with high efficiency steam engines of his own design, along with several of his newly miniaturized units. Lagos would be able to retire much of their bulkier machinery and benefit from the improved technology.
“So tell me,” Jesse said as he neared the couch across from Duncan, “did you rest well?”
Duncan wiped a corner of his eye; he had arrived at the tower late the night before. Jesse had stayed up waiting for him, but sleep finally took over after a slew of factory issues plagued his own day. Reliably, Logan saw to it that Duncan was taken care of upon his arrival; greeting him, providing refreshment, then taking him to the guest accommodations. It wasn’t long before Duncan was asleep, too, still wearing all of his clothes.
“Considering how stress has made it into every facet of our lives lately, I slept surprisingly well. In fact, I would say it was the best I’ve had in a while,” Duncan replied graciously. “However, I could have done without all those delays yesterday. It was positively grueling. I thought I wouldn’t get here until next century.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, that is only three years away,” Jesse replied, his cheeky smile instantly becoming a frown when he dropped onto the hard seat.
Setting the papers on the table Jesse moved around, trying to find a comfortable position. There wasn’t one.
Duncan chuckled at the sight, grabbing a small cup of coffee from the table. After a sip, he recounted what happened over his thousand-kilometer rail journey through green mountains and past blue lakes before chugging out into the plains. Most of the tale was quite humdrum, but there were elements that piqued Jesse’s interest.
Duncan’s first stop after a long and winding trip south was the town of Bala. Once reputable in its heyday, the town had been established as one of the main railroad hubs for settlements in the Barrens. In the years that followed, conditions there degenerated and the place filled with shady characters from the wastes, grubby saloons, and bazaars. Crooked law enforcement oversaw it all, explaining how some of the town’s seedier residents easily ‘found’ weapons and ammunition for their equally seedy clientele.
Duncan waited in Bala’s station to switch lines for Diablo’s station in the borough of Comprass. The area was noisy with chatter and machinery, filled with steam and smells from a couple of food vendors set up at the end of the platforms. Behind them, cleanliness and safety notably dropped on the other side of the iron-clad exits. He wasn’t overly concerned, being armed and capable of holding his own should any trouble break out, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stay there for any longer than needed.
Finishing off a skewer of unknown meat which tasted a lot better than it looked, Duncan boarded the westbound double-decker as soon as possible. He quickly settled into a seat on the upper deck by the window, set his case in the empty one beside him, and looked out through the steam to the neighboring engines and dreary brown landscape. He couldn’t wait to be done and home where things were blue and green. Leaning his head back to relax, he closed his eyes, ready to get this final leg of the journey out of the way.
No sooner than he had gotten comfortable did the door to the carriage slide open, the conductor striding through to inform him of a departure delay. Apparently, the railcars needed to undergo a last-minute inspection, something to do with a malfunction in their defense systems, and that would take at least an hour. Duncan knew things never went so easily and pressed for additional details. Adding insult to his already mounting irritation, he discovered the maintenance crew was shorthanded, which was more than likely going to triple the wait time.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Duncan told Jesse. “The engine itself was in order, thanks to the fine contributions of an industrious man I know. Yet, there just happened to be maintenance issues with the carriages and those issues had to be addressed right then and there in ill-equipped Bala. Mere coincidence? I think not.”
“Better to be safe than sorry, though,” Jesse said, loosely playing devil’s advocate.
Duncan wasn’t swayed.
“You mean better to pad Frost’s pocketbook?” he retorted, setting down his cup then snatching the stack of papers off the table. “That man will do anything for a Gear.”
Jesse’s face dropped into a scowl but quickly recovered.
“In all fairness, you and I both have an affinity for money as well,” he continued.
“Yes, but at least we’re honest about earning it,” Duncan said, shaking his head.
“I like to think I am, but aren’t you a lawyer?” Jesse asked casually.
“Magistrate,” Duncan snipped, eyes narrowing.
Jesse raised his hands in front of him.
“I was just joking; no offense intended.”
“I’m highly offended,” Duncan replied, peering over the edge of the paperwork as he started flipping through it. “You owe me breakfast.”
“I had already planned on that,” Jesse said before lowering his voice to a more serious tone. “But back to Frost. I’ll be honest: it’s the reason he’s having to outfit locomotives and railcars with defensive systems in the first place that has me more concerned.”
“You mean the raiders?” Duncan asked.
Jesse nodded.
“They’ve become more brash and their encounters are getting closer to large settlements. Just last week I was made aware of one at Alum City. Rangers spotted a small band of them within three kilometers of their borders.”
“That’s certainly close,” Duncan agreed. “Any damage?”
“No,” Jesse said. “They were just watching.”
A slight chill slid down Duncan’s back.
“The closest they’d gotten before was, what, ten kilometers?” he asked.
“Yes, near Blackstone; that was another railcar attack. Thankfully they were crushed swiftly but I don’t know Duncan, with gangs getting closer and the frequency increasing, my gut is telling me that a town is going to come under attack, sooner rather than later.”
“And here we are, about to build another pipeline through those lands,” Duncan said solemnly. “All for the greater good I suppose.”
“And for Frost,” Jesse added, “since he would be providing security and defenses along it.”
Duncan scowled at the idea and Jesse shrugged.
“You did say he liked to line his own pockets.”
&
nbsp; Duncan was forced to bob his head reluctantly.
The conversation continued for a few more minutes before the duo refreshed their coffees and dove into the final revision of the agreement.
They leafed through page after page of dreary legalese, finding everything in order as they went. The task went smoothly over the next half hour, until Duncan stumbled upon some updated numbers in the appendix. They were efficiency values for Winthrope’s systems, now capable of fifty-three percent opposed to forty-three a month earlier. He made a comment about the ten percent jump, which proved to be a mistake that his rumbling stomach was quick to remind him of.
Jesse was visibly proud of the accomplishment, wasting no time droning away to explain the improvements that were made.
“I broke through the previous limits,” he said, excitedly gesturing with his hands. “If you recall – well not actually since we weren’t alive at the time – the early steam plants couldn’t achieve efficiencies more than fifteen percent. Leap to today and the large-scale steam systems in use across the world are around thirty-five percent.”
“Thanks to the work your father pioneered,” Duncan recognized.
Catching bits and pieces of Jesse’s follow-up explanation, most of it soared well over Duncan’s head. He knew that before the invention of Winthrope’s High Efficiency Steam Engines, whimsically dubbed the WHESE, the most efficient engines were also the largest. Winthrope managed to push things further, using new alloys to make the units smaller, faster, and lighter. Beyond that, Duncan’s understanding buckled.
“And that’s how we managed to bring these engines closer to the theoretical max,” Jesse said after ten minutes of solid talking, his whipping hair finally coming to rest.
Duncan was proud of his friend and knew that if Jesse could physically pat himself on the back he would have. Despite that being a conceited gesture, he also knew it was deserved. Duncan could see the effects Winthrope’s technology had – essentially opening the door to a new age of innovation and industrialization – and that’s what drew Lagos’ attention.
“I think with the WHESE at fifty-three percent and with our lower cost, we’ve effectively put the competition’s compression engines out to pasture. Now, if I can somehow convince Barro to adopt this technology…”
Jesse drifted off into solo conversation again, this time about his ingenious steam capsules.
Duncan coughed, stopping him.
“Forgive me, my friend,” he said with an awkward laugh, “but I’ve been quite lost since you began. Remember, my intellect isn’t on par with yours. I’ve poured my time and resources into women versus science.”
“I think I have more resources than you due to science,” Jesse replied.
Duncan smirked.
“But your social talents are superior,” Jesse continued, “only rivaled by those you have in the bedroom… or so I hear.”
“Quite literally that one time we were in Bravewater.”
Jesse’s face flushed with embarrassment.
“After that I think you came to know me far too well,” Duncan stated. “We really do need to find you someone to occupy the better parts of your time.”
“You know how I am,” Jesse said. “I need someone to challenge me and let’s face it, a lot of the ladies we meet are too…”
“Proper?” Duncan cut in with a wink.
“Proper,” Jesse repeated. “Just once I would like to meet one that offered a bit of a challenge instead of staunch conformity or a desire for money.”
“I’m sure there is someone out there. We just have to find them,” Duncan said, handing the documents over to Jesse. “All looks in order with these.”
“I doubt we will find her in Diablo,” Jesse said, taking the papers. He walked over to his desk. “I just need to find some balance and try not to let myself get so wrapped up in work and all the minuscule technicalities. Just yesterday I was in the middle of issues I could have delegated.”
“But then you would have been worried whether it was getting done correctly. I get it.”
“I think that’s what Father warned me about years ago, but sometimes it gets the better of me.”
“That’s because you’re good at the technical side, Jesse. It’s where you shine,” Duncan said, arriving at Jesse’s shoulder. “Look at all it has brought you and society. You’ve definitely made progress toward your goal faster than expected.”
“Yes, but if only I could do all this faster,” Jesse wished, signing the document then waving his fountain pen toward the window. “Every time I see the faces out there – particularly those less fortunate than us – it drives me that much harder, but there are so many unnecessary hurdles.”
“Human nature often sees itself in the way of progress, I’m afraid,” Duncan said, taking the pen to sign off on the agreement himself. He set it down and grabbed his friend reassuringly on the shoulder. “You’re doing this at a fine pace. Remember: all things in good time. Use those great talents of yours and push ahead; you’ve already come this far despite what the majority have said was possible. They may not like you Jesse, but who cares. I seem to recall you giving me these very same words of advice when I was struggling to get this position as Magistrate.”
“I suppose you’re right, my friend,” Jesse said.
“I’m not supposing anything,” Duncan replied, punctuated by an intense growl in his belly.
“I guess that means it’s breakfast time,” Jesse said right when the grandfather clock chimed nine o’clock. “Shall I get Logan to bring us something?”
Duncan shook his head, his eyes petitioning for another selection.
“Would it be possible for us to get some food outside?” he asked. “No offense to the inhabitants of your fine city but the closed in spaces of your buildings make me have trouble breathing.”
“Of course,” Jesse replied, knowing that the architecture of Lagos was far more open and airy. “We can go Grayson Market; it’s not but a ten-minute walk from the tower entrance.”
“That sounds excellent.”
“We can talk more about the current situation with Frost,” Jesse added.
“Certainly, but can we keep things simple so I can understand them?” Duncan asked, Jesse playfully nodding as he buttoned up his shirt.
* * *
1 This world’s equivalent of a horse but with eight legs instead of four. Powerful creatures, they have been domesticated for use as beasts of burden and entertainment. However, there are still wild and feral varieties across the wastes, the latter well known to attack trade caravans without much provocation.
JESSE AND DUNCAN emerged side by side on the paved street, the large gate to Winthrope’s property closing behind them with a resounding clang. The sun was shining brightly overhead, its light dancing off an array of metallic accessories that were spread out on a couple tables outside a nearby clothing shop. There were golden buttons, silver bracelets with gear shaped trinkets, copper brooches, and more. A sign fluttered overhead; it said ‘All Accessories On-Sale – For All Brass Take An Additional Twenty Percent Off!’
“I will never understand the desire for those kinds of adornments,” Jesse said, placing a simple bowler hat on his head. There was a pair of studded leather goggles resting on the top of it, the lenses rimmed with gold.
“If you say so,” Duncan told him, checking his pocket watch to hide a smile.
“This way,” Jesse said, none the wiser. He headed left along Chester Avenue, the breeze catching in his long, brown overcoat.
The two made their way on foot toward Grayson Market, about half a kilometer away. Since they were in one of the city’s higher-end boroughs (named Patria), Jesse figured it would be safe to travel without the need for additional security. Their own pistols holstered, they left both Logan and any security bots behind.
The narrow street grew more populated the further they went, but with carriages and conveyances rather than pedestrians rolling down the noisy center. Duncan noticed several
men speeding by; they were standing on strange devices, holding handles that were attached to a long pole for stability. Wheeled mechanisms propelled them forward, sputtering noisily as they weaved between carriages, hissing vehicles, and monocycles.
“Is that one of your creations?” Duncan asked as the odd sight disappeared in traffic.
“Don’t be silly,” Jesse said, preferring to move about on his own two feet, “though I probably factored into the design somewhere along the way.”
Unlike the poorer outer segments of the city, the people here sought any means of travel other than foot. It was starting to take a toll on Jesse’s senses and his nerves; he wasn’t a fan of crowds ever since his father’s funeral.
“You managing?” Duncan asked, noticing Jesse’s face straining.
“Yes, I’ll be fine,” he said, passing a hand over his forehead as if checking for a fever. “It’s just a headache.”
“Should be fine once you get some food in you,” Duncan replied. “Goodness knows I will be.”
They carried on, passing by even more shops and homes above them. Duncan examined it all, wishing he had a second or even third pair of eyes. He admired the craftsmanship of the stone exteriors, decorated with elegant trim around rippled window glass, pillared porches and flattened archways, and steep clay roofs with tall chimneys. It was so different from what he was used to seeing at home that no matter how many times he visited, he could always find some new facet to enjoy.
They reached the halfway point, groups of people pouring into buildings or swirling in chatty clusters in front of stalls. Stores had all sorts of objects shoved in their windows. They specialized in finery and timepieces, goggles and spy glasses, odd gadgets and steam capsule powered tools. The stands were overflowing with goods laid out across tables covered in white linen or stowed in bulging wood barrels, some overflowing. Jesse guided them past a shop named The Current Cravat where yet another sale was happening. Evidently quite popular, a line had formed out the door and down the street; the epitome of excess when those in other boroughs were struggling to stay healthy, clothed, and fed.
The Steam Tycoon Page 3