“Where are all the people?” said Largo.
Dame Karoli glanced down at the floor. “There are exactly as many people as are needed. Our Maras are clever. They do their work without assistance and, in some cases, can even repair themselves. We have a handful of operational managers and machinists to keep an eye on things, but soon, they too will be unnecessary.”
Maras taking more jobs, he thought. How long would it be before no one needed human workers at all anymore? Then what would be left for people to do but become beggars or, as Frau Heller had intimated, become cannon fodder in a new war?
They continued across the walkway and were almost at the office doors when Largo glanced down and saw a man one floor below. He wore greasy gray overalls and had a wrench almost the length of his arm slung casually over his shoulder. The plazma light from above and the glow of the metal works below gave his skin an unhealthy, sallow look. As Dame Karoli opened the office door, the man looked up and Largo recognized him instantly. It was Pietr, the jaundiced lunatic from the Black Palace. When Pietr saw him, he put his head down and disappeared behind a large array of ducts and pipes.
Largo didn’t have time to think or react as Dame Karoli ushered him into the office. His first thought was that Pietr, still concerned about his appearance at the Black Palace, had somehow followed him and broken into the factory to kill him. But that was ridiculous. How could anyone break into Schöne Maschinen?
Besides, he was dressed like a machinist. He must work here.
Largo wanted to go to Margit right then and tell her about Pietr, but he was finally in the Baron’s lair. Warnings would have to wait.
When Dame Karoli closed the office door, the sounds of the foundry almost disappeared. Soundproof, Largo thought. All the better to hide the screams when the Beast ate his victims. He almost laughed. The trip into Schöne Maschinen had already been stranger than he’d ever imagined. How much odder could it get? Somehow the absurdity of it all relaxed him.
Across the room was a pair of wooden doors, large and heavy enough to be the entrance to a cathedral. Dame Karoli knocked on one door, opened it, and stuck her head inside. “Baron? The parcel you were waiting for has arrived.” A moment later she took a step back and held the door open for Largo. He didn’t look at her as he went inside and she shut the door behind him.
Baron Rudolf Hellswarth and his office were utterly ordinary. The Baron stood as Largo came in, though he remained behind his desk, which was made of a dark wood with his family crest carved on the front—a bull’s head over a gear and surrounded by flames. There were comfortable-looking leather chairs facing the desk and a large sofa against one wall. A dictation machine and a Trefle sat on his desk. To the Baron’s right, the wall was one large window that overlooked the whole factory, yet the air smelled fresh and clean. The Baron smiled at Largo in an extremely unbeastly way. He looked like he was in his early forties, with a few strands of silver in his dark hair. He was dressed in an unexceptional dark blue pinstriped suit.
“Hello,” he said. “You must be the new man. I understand you have something for me.”
“Yes, sir,” said Largo. He took the box Branca had given him out of his bag and handed it to the Baron. As he did so, a set of golden eyes rose from behind the desk and stared at him. A moment later, a large, shaggy hound-like chimera padded around the desk and stared at him. The creature had a long, thin head, strong legs, and a graceful, tapered body. While the Baron examined the contents of the box, the chimera came to Largo and sniffed his hand. He remained completely still. Branca hadn’t given any instructions for this situation, but if he had, Largo was sure he would have been told to quietly let the creature gnaw off his hand rather than insult the Baron by screaming.
“You must be a rather special fellow,” said the Baron in a joking tone.
“Sir?” said Largo.
“Kara doesn’t usually care for strangers, but it appears she’s taken a liking to you. You may pet her if you like.”
“Thank you.” Largo held out one hand tentatively and Kara pressed the top of her head into his palm. He scratched her there and behind the ears. She sat down next to him and leaned against his leg as he continued to pet her.
The Baron put the box in a drawer of his desk and said, “How about that?”
“She’s lovely,” said Largo. “I’ve never seen anything quite like her.”
The Baron crossed his arms and watched the two of them. “Wonderful,” he said. “We breed our eugenics to be social, but the moment you add intelligence to the mix they become unpredictable. She can’t stand Dame Karoli.”
Largo gave Kara an extra ear scratch for her good taste in people. “You make chimeras here?” he said.
The Baron looked out the window at the factory. “We were one of the first companies to develop the process of creating eugenic creatures. They were as important to the war effort as cannons and bombs.”
“My friend Rainer told me about serving with chimeras, but I admit I thought he was exaggerating.”
The Baron turned back to Largo. He said, “You didn’t serve on the front lines, did you . . . ? Actually, I didn’t catch your name.”
He stopped petting Kara, but she remained against his leg. “Largo, sir. Largo Moorden. And no, I didn’t serve at the front,” he said, hoping that was all the Baron would ask about the war.
“Well, if you had, you would have seen eugenics everywhere. They fought next to the men, carried supplies, ran messages between the lines. Even their blood is compatible with ours, so they could transfuse fallen comrades.”
“That’s amazing,” said Largo. “I had no idea.”
“And we’ve kept on improving them. Kara here is twice as smart, twice as strong, and a thousand times more willful than the eugenics in the Great War. Aren’t you, my dear?” The Baron held out his hand and Kara trotted to him, where she sat down and nuzzled his hand.
Largo said, “Most chimeras I see aren’t as beautiful or friendly as Kara.” He thought about the fish in the tank in Empyrean and the wolf-snake biting the Mara at Werner Petersen’s party. “They’re so often brutal and freakish.”
The Baron looked at him. “I take it you’ve seen them while making your deliveries? The exotic sort that the city’s nouveau riche love so much.”
“Yes, Baron.”
“And you don’t approve?”
Largo tensed. This was exactly the kind of discussion Herr Branca had warned him about. He’d specifically told Largo not to inject opinions into any conversation. However, he’d also said to answer questions honestly. In any case, it was too late to take anything back now.
“I suppose not. It seems cruel and a waste of all the work it takes to create such amazing creatures.”
Baron Hellswarth touched the back of Kara’s neck and she lay down at his feet. Largo watched the man, wondering if this was where the Beast would appear and bite his head off. Finally, he said, “I’ll tell you a secret, Largo. I agree with you. With the amazing range of eugenics available, why they prefer such grotesqueries baffles me.”
Largo relaxed and even found himself liking the man, though in a cautious way. He’d gotten away with one slip of the tongue. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
The Baron sat on the edge of his desk. “However, people’s thirst for ever more novel and absurd creatures helps fund research that will lead to better, smarter, and greater eugenics in the future. We’re even studying how we can apply what we learn from them to ordinary people like you or me.”
The Baron referring to himself as an ordinary person surprised Largo, but he wrote it off as a perverse upper-class joke.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Largo said. “Why would you make people like chimeras?”
The Baron held up a finger. “It’s not making us more like chimeras. It’s taking what our eugenics teach us and applying it to the betterment of humanity. Imagine a society without disease—physical or mental. Imagine if we could eliminate the wants and needs t
hat lead to crime. Perhaps heal the Iron Dandies. We might even put an end to war.”
“Wouldn’t that put you out of business?”
Baron Hellswarth shrugged. “True. But what kind of man would I be if I weren’t willing to sacrifice a mere enterprise when the lives of millions are at stake? Enough of that, though. Let me ask you a few questions.”
Largo prepared himself. He stood up a little straighter and ran through Branca’s instructions again. Short, truthful answers, but no opinions unless they were absolutely unavoidable. In that case, keep the opinions as bland as day-old porridge.
The Baron tapped a finger on his desk. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one, Baron.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what is she like?”
That surprised him. Largo wasn’t prepared for such personal questions, but he didn’t see any choice but to answer. “She’s a performer. At the Grand Dark. One of the featured players, in fact.”
As he said it, Kara came and leaned against him again. Petting her was a welcome relief and distraction.
The Baron seemed to think for a moment. “Do you like your job as a courier?”
Back to business, thought Largo. Thank God. “Very much. I get to see people, things, and parts of the city that I’d never get to otherwise. It’s fun.”
The Baron squinted at him. “Fun? Interesting. Is that really all you aspire to?”
“Sir?” he said, knowing his answer had been wrong. The whole line of questioning made him uncomfortable.
The Baron waved off his question. “Never mind. We’ll come back to that. Do you have many friends?”
This time Largo thought about his answer. “A few. Not as many as some, but more than others.”
The Baron looked at him. “Was König a friend of yours?”
Careful now.
Largo said, “More like an acquaintance than a friend. But he seemed like a nice enough fellow.”
“And do you, like König, carry a knife under your jacket?”
That surprised him, but he reasoned that might be the point. To test him.
All right, let me be tested.
“Yes, sir. The same one he carried, I believe.”
“And you have it with you?”
“Yes.”
“May I see it?”
Largo opened his jacket and handed the Baron the trench knife before he had a chance to think about it. Not thinking too much seemed to be a good idea at the moment.
The Baron stood and wandered to the window overlooking the factory, examining the knife in the light from the big furnaces. Largo thought that it looked like electric flames were dancing up and down the blade. A moment later, the Baron came back. He held the knife so that Largo could see the side of the blade.
“Very nice,” he said. “It’s one of ours, you know. See the bull’s head seal and V along the edge? That’s how you’ll always know.” He turned the knife so that the tip pointed at Largo’s midsection. “Tell me. Have you ever used the knife?”
Don’t think. Just tell the truth.
“No, Baron,” said.
“Never?”
“No.”
With a practiced hand, the Baron flipped the knife and handed it back to Largo, pommel end first. “How fortunate you are to have never encountered any sort of danger. You must lead a charmed life.”
Largo felt nauseating embarrassment because the Baron clearly knew he hadn’t been in the war at all. But he knew it wouldn’t look good for himself or the company if the man thought he was a coward. “I almost used it recently,” he blurted. “Last night, in fact. There was a man with some friends. They were going to attack me.”
The Baron now looked at him with great interest. “And what did you do?”
Largo knew that he couldn’t say, “My friend Roland saved my ass,” but he had to say something believable.
Stay as close to the truth as possible.
“I suppose I used the knife in one sense, though I didn’t have to stab anyone. I simply showed it to them and they backed off.”
The Baron went back and sat on his desk again. He said, “So, you were in danger, but you restrained yourself and thought your way through the problem. Good for you. A cool head will take you far in this world.”
“Thank you, Baron,” said Largo. He felt relieved but not good, knowing he’d barely wormed his way out of the situation.
“Back to your job as a courier,” said the Baron. “You say that you enjoy your job because it’s fun. Is that the limit of your ambition? Fun forever without challenge?”
Damn. You’re as bad as Branca. Always leading me down dangerous paths.
“I’m not sure I understand the question,” Largo said, stalling.
The Baron sat back and opened his hands. “What are your goals? Tell me this: if you could do anything you like, work anywhere, accomplish anything, what would you do?”
Kara nuzzled Largo’s hand and he stroked her head. He said, “If I could do anything, I suppose I’d learn more about chimeras.”
“Just learn?”
“I mean learn enough to work with them. How they’re created and cared for. How, as you said earlier, they’re improved and made even better than they are now.”
Largo hoped that was the right answer. He’d confessed something he hadn’t even admitted to Remy because it was too foolish to bring up.
The Baron took a cigarette from a box on his desk and lit it with a gold lighter that emitted not flame but a small arc of plazma. “Why don’t you do it?” he said. “The university could give you a good grounding in the subject.”
Largo looked down at Kara. “I have very little education, I’m afraid. My mother taught me to read and my father taught me numbers. The only books we had were ones Mother found in the trash or lifted from the market.” Largo’s hand froze on the chimera’s head as he realized that, again, he’d said too much. I just confessed that I came from a family of paupers, idiots, and, worse, thieves. Branca wouldn’t just fire him, he’d throttle him and toss him in the trash out back.
However, the Baron didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t care. Instead he said, “Did you know that aside from producing armaments and eugenics, we’re one of the largest Mara manufacturers in the country?”
Largo kept his eyes down. “No, I didn’t.”
The Baron puffed his cigarette and set it in an ashtray. “I only ask because we have apprenticeship programs in all of those industries. There aren’t many openings, but intelligent young men with cool heads are always in demand,” he said. “You’d learn the eugenic process from the bottom up. I could put in a word for you if you like.”
Was this another test? Maybe to see if he was foolishly gullible, or loyal to the courier company? Who cares? he thought. The possibility of what the Baron said felt like the face-off with Andrzej, but in a good way. It seemed like a moment on which his whole life could pivot to a new direction. Just as he knew that he’d use the knife if Weimer or the others at work ever came at him again, Largo sensed that this was not a moment to be afraid.
“That would be incredible, Baron. Thank you.”
Kara licked his hand and went back to lie down at the Baron’s feet.
He said, “You understand that there’s a lot to learn before you actually get to work with the eugenics themselves. There’s a great deal of book study, and you’d spend your first few months in the lab mainly sweeping floors and scrubbing incubation tanks. But slowly, if you kept up with your studies, you’d be allowed to help in various procedures and taught the basics of eugenic design and function.”
“I would sweep all of Lower Proszawa if you asked. I would do anything,” said Largo.
The Baron smiled. “It takes years of practice to become a scribe—a somatic artisan—someone who works with eugenic creation. However, many have done it, so there’s no reason that you couldn’t too.”
Largo stood dumbly, grasping for words
. “I don’t know what to say.”
The Baron walked back behind his desk and sat down. “Don’t say anything now. I’m sure I’ve kept you too long as it is. You’ll have other deliveries to make.”
To hell with the other deliveries, Largo thought. I’ll stand here all day and night if it will get me closer to an apprenticeship.
“It was good meeting you,” said the Baron. “Let’s talk about this more on your future visits.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“Good day, Largo.”
“Good day to you too, Baron.”
Kara trotted to him for one last pet, then went back and lay down by the desk. Largo went to the outer office still excited by what had just happened. Dame Karoli eyed him like someone who suspected the fish in a butcher’s window had gone bad. He almost laughed at her. Nothing could break the sense of elation he felt.
“Did you make your delivery to the Baron?” said Dame Karoli.
“Yes. Very successfully too, if I do say so myself.”
“Then you’re dismissed. I assume you remember the way out.”
Largo pointed. “Yes. I believe I use the door.”
Dame Karoli gave him a dark look. “Don’t get above yourself, young man.”
He gave her a broad, comical smile. “Forgive me, Dame Karoli. I meant nothing by it.”
“Of course not. Go now. You’re wasting my time and the Baron’s air.”
“I’m afraid I can’t. Someone needs to sign for the Baron’s delivery. Is that something I should ask him about, or is it more in line with your duties?”
Dame Karoli held out a hand and Largo gave her the receipt book. She signed the page and tossed down the book. Largo put it in his bag and gave her a little bow. “Thank you. Have a good day.”
She turned to a filing cabinet and didn’t reply. Largo went out along the metal walkway and pushed the button for the lift.
Have a very good day playing with papers. Someday you might have to call me Herr Moorden, professional scribe. I’ll make a chimera cat like the ones at the carnival, but larger, and it will follow me around like Kara follows the Baron. It will come home with me at night and sleep at the bottom of Remy’s and my bed.
The Grand Dark Page 16