The Engine What Runs the World

by Quinn Buckland

  “Not that my death would give them pause anyway. I know I sound like some angst-riddled teenager, but I assure you this is not the case. My family has a secret that can’t be repeated out loud. It’d shock the world to its very core. As dramatic as it may be, it is true and I will not speak it nor will I write it. It’s too much to fall into the wrong hands. This is why I need to go, this is why I may get kidnapped, and this is why my time at home is coming to a close…. one way or another.”

  “Fuck,” Smoke swore.

  “In any case, I’m signing off now. This is Blue, bye.”

  Smoke massaged the area between his eyes, frustration was beginning to build. It was confirmed she had left home of her own free will. If she had been picked up along the way it could make things a little easier. Lift drivers were more observant if someone was being brought to the underground against their will. The problem was how far she could get before being picked up.

  Through Marla, he knew she would have no skins, or at the very least a quite limited amount so she wouldn’t be able to leave the immediate area; all she’d be able to do would be to go further down. He sighed in frustration as he ran his fingers through his thick black hair. He didn’t want to have to go searching the lower levels. If he could avoid the Cartel leaders of the fourth below he’d be more than happy. Somehow he didn’t think he’d be so lucky.

  Smoke cracked his knuckles, and then placed his fingers on the keys of the typewriter.

  From the desk of Private Detective Smoke Callahan

  Month: 07Day: 07Year: 4324/1594 New Era

  Name: Marla LangJob Number: 0006543

  Job: Missing girl, Blue Lang

  Job Details: Blue Lang, missing for a week. Sister seems to believe Blue to be kidnapped, though upon reviewing the evidence presented it is clear that she had left home of her own free will.

  Described to be age 16, 19 hands high and slightly under 9 stone. The image provided shows long black hair, narrow eyes and straight teeth. She doesn’t seem to have any real distinguishing marks on her face.

  Extra Notes: This case seems to be filled with red flags.

  Starting with the fact that Marla was unable (unwilling?) to talk price and seemed to be close-lipped on a few matters, let alone angered by having to answer others gives me cause for concern. The lack of clues they’d given is also alarming. If the price is right I’ll take the job, but if I continue to meet resistance I may have to turn it down out of principle. I’ll have to wait and see.

  Something that concerns me is the contents of the evidence presented. I would have a hard time believing the family didn’t go over what they’d brought me. They would know Blue ran away. Why would Marla try to sell me Blue was kidnapped? There are a lot of questions that need answers.

  Smoke cracked his knuckles and pulled the paper out of the typewriter. He placed it in the folder along with the evidence Marla had given him.

  He grabbed a bottle of mulch liquor and took a large drink. The alcohol burned as it flowed down his throat and left his breath tasting like the mossy booze. He pulled the image of Blue from the folder and took one final look before slipping it into the inside pocket of his longcoat. It was possible this would be a difficult case that could take an awfully long time to complete, especially if she made her way to the lower levels in the underground.

  He yawned as he left his desk and walked to his bookshelf. The books that lined his shelves contained secrets of the human body, practical information about lock picking, subterfuge and secrecy. He had a few books that explained the psychology of the human mind and how people think. There were books that outlined the history of the world reaching all the way back to the 21st century, aptly named the ‘Age of Interest’.

  He picked up The Age of Interest then continued to browse the titles. He soon found the book detailing a list of the major families of the tower. He grabbed the book and walked to his bedroom. He placed the books on the bedside table. He would need to research the Lang family, provided they were even mentioned in the book. It could wait until the morning however.

  Smoke locked his front door and placed the heavy shutters over his windows, blew out the candles that lit his front room, and made his way back to the bedroom. He undressed and crawled onto his foam mattress.

  He opened The Age of Interest and flipped through the pages detailing the history from two thousand years prior. He enjoyed looking at the pictures of the people of interest: the superhumans, the vampires and werewolves, all those creatures that no longer existed in the world. They fascinated him to the point that he wished he could have seen one, at least once in his lifetime. Yet he was thankful he hadn’t. Those days were dangerous, and many people had lost their lives while the heroes fought the villains and the hunters stalked the creatures.

  The only upside would have been the magic. While not accessible to the majority, it had been used quite prominently to shape the world and the cities within. While a small trickle of the original magic still existed, the users were very few. Smoke retained some of that magic, though his abilities were limited and weak.

  He soon slept - the book still open on his chest.

  2

  The pass to the second above arrived two days after Marla had given him the case. He didn’t waste any time after receiving the pass to getting everything ready to go to the surface.

  A day later Smoke stood in the center of the tower on the surface floor. He could see everything was polished white and immaculate. The room lacked any distinguishing markers or scents, making Smoke uneasy.

  He pressed the pass to the sensor and proceeded to push the button to the second floor. He smiled as the lift opened and he walked inside. Smoke marvelled at the advanced technology the tower had in comparison to the surface and the underground.

  The underground allowed anyone to live on any floor provided they had the skins; though many lived on lower levels due to inescapable poverty. People were able to move freely between the floors, provided they had the skins to survive; no keys or passes required.

  A bell chimed as the steam hydraulic lift came to a halt and the doors opened. He stepped out of the lift and walked forward into a perfectly white hallway, the only distinguishing marks being the red stripes where the walls met the floor and ceiling. Smoke had to wait for a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the light and the oddness of the hall.

  Once Smoke started down the hallway he could see small black symbols on the walls. They were few and far between; the mansions in the tower were just as long as they were wide. He looked at the symbol on his card, six black crescent moons in the shape of a floral circle. He had yet to come across it, instead seeing arrows in the shape of a tree, a cylinder shape and what looked to be a man in a cowl.

  He’d turned several corners before finally coming to the desired symbol. He pressed the card against the floral pattern and watched as the symbol lit up with a brilliant red hue. He could hear a chime ring throughout the residence through the hidden door.

  Soon the ringing stopped and the door opened, revealing a male house servant. He was dressed in a black livery uniform with thin scarlet trim. He was a young man - couldn’t have been more than twenty. “Can I help you?” he asked with a soft voice that told Smoke he had recently been taken from one of the lowest levels of the underground and had yet to feel any sense of superiority.

  The boy looked nervous, the sweat beading from his forehead as he awaited Smoke’s reply.

  “Yes, I’m Smoke Callahan. I’m expected,” he said, bringing his thumb to his chin. A hand sign for the servant to know he was under Smoke’s protection while he was around.

  The servant nodded as his demeanor eased and spoke, “Please wait here while I confirm this.”

  Smoke placed his hands in his jacket pockets as the door closed behind the servant. He let out a long drawn out sigh. He didn’t like waiting, especially for people of the tower who he believed had nothing better to do.

  Several minutes had passed before Marla
opened the door. He knew the servant would have informed Marla or any member of the household almost immediately. This was a power play and he knew it. They’d make him wait and show him how much more important they are than him. He’d play their game for now, though he could see the power moves becoming tired and his patience growing thin in the near future.

  “Mister Callahan, please come in,” Marla said with a false grin.

  The male servant came to Smoke’s side as he entered the household. “Your jacket and hat sir?” he said in his soft voice.

  Smoke obliged the servant, for no other reason than to prevent the servant boy from a scolding or a beating after he’d left. People from the tower were reputable for getting rid of servants, even if the fault was with the guest.

  The removal of his jacket and hat was to show to the servant Smoke had his interests in mind. He didn’t want to be rid of his personal effects, but he could do without them as well. He pulled the closeglass, voice imager, and a small onionskin notebook from his pockets. Stealthily he watched Marla and her reactions to his items. Her demeanor was calm and remained unchanged to the untrained eye. He noticed the small and swift furrowing of her brow and the tips of her mouth move from a slight smile to a mild frown and back in a matter of moments. She didn’t think much of him and seemed inwardly disappointed he hadn’t caused any faux pas as of yet.

  Marla smiled slightly as she asked, “Can I get you something to drink Mister Callahan?”

  Smoke shook his head, “No thank you. I should start my investigation. If you could lead me to her room I-”

  “That can wait,” she said a little more forcibly. “Come, I want to speak with you first and foremost.”

  Smoke shrugged and followed Marla toward a study that dwarfed his entire house. She approached a wooden counter showing several decanters filled with varying types of alcohol. He pressed his lips together and took in a deep breath from his nose. This was going to be a test of some sort. It wasn’t one he was familiar with and as such wouldn’t know what to do at any given moment. Marla poured a golden brown liquid into two tumbler glasses with two cubes of ice each. She handed him one and watched for his reaction.

  He passed the glass under his nose and covertly sniffed the liquid for any noticeable traces of poisons or concoctions. All he could smell was the strong odor of the whiskey. He knew his suspicions towards a possible poisoning had been unfounded, but the test had been a force of habit from his early years.

  He gave Marla a coy smile before taking a sip from the tumbler glass. The taste of the whiskey was exquisite, the best he’d ever had. He wasn’t surprised a rich family had good whiskey, but instead that such a taste could even exist in a whiskey. He had the test figured.

  Marla laughed as he purposely sighed in pleasure. “It is good,” was all she said before taking a sip from her own glass.

  “I apologize,” Smoke said, making it seem as if he were trying to hide embarrassment. “I don’t typically lose myself so quickly and easily.”

  Marla smiled softly at Smoke, “Do you know why I brought you in here Mister Callahan?”

  Smoke shrugged, “I have my guesses, but I’m not thinking they’re particularly correct, unless, perchance they are.”

  “There are three reasons. I’ve already seen two of them.”

  Smoke raised an eyebrow as he took another sip of the best whiskey he’d ever had.

  “I wanted to see you make a faux pas so you’d relax. I knew you’d be on guard the whole time here and that just makes for dull company.”

  “Fair enough,” Smoke replied, now hiding resentment.

  “Besides,” she continued, “If you’re rigid, you could miss something. You’d be too busy trying to be composed and proper.”

  She wasn’t entirely correct in her assumptions though; the alcohol could dull his senses and relaxation could result in his mind getting lazy. Being on edge could have the same result - she was right about that, but the overall mood he was in wouldn’t have affected his job. He chose not to voice his opinion and instead asked, “What’s the next reason?”

  “I wanted to show you what you could have when you find my sister. The money we’ll pay you could give you the finest of whiskeys, rums and spirits.”

  “And the third reason?” Smoke asked intrigued.

  “To tell you I’ve looked you up. I know you’re the kind of person who befriends hitmen and whores. You’re the sort of man who knows slavers and members of the Cartel. To be fair, I did this before I hired you.”

  “If it makes you feel any better it’s all on the level,” he said. “As a private investigator there are many times I need to go into deep and dark locations and do some not–so-nice things. It pays to have friends and acquaintances that can help.”

  “That kind of help is never free though,” Marla said as she leaned against a table that looked to be made of hard wood.

  Whoever she had hired to investigate him must have done a poor job. There were parts of his life she didn’t seem to know, including his abilities. If she wasn’t aware of them, he wasn’t going to give them up either. It was best if she believed he only knew people from the lower levels; even more so if she didn’t know about what he could do.

  “True, but the odd favour or small skin stipend I’d pay doesn’t mean much to someone like you. You’re looking for results - I can guess by any means necessary.”

  Marla began to laugh, “You’re certainly not far off Mister Callahan,”

  “Please, call me Smoke,” he said looking to the doorway, wanting to get to his work.

  “Your connections are exactly why I came to you. You’ve got people who know things, people who see things. You’re not afraid to do what needs to be done no matter the cost. I need to know the man I hire is going to do whatever it takes to find my sister.”

  “It’s good you came to me then,” Smoke grinned. “Now, about my payment.”

  Marla gave Smoke a sly smile, “My parents will discuss that with you when they arrive. Until then, I’m sure you have questions you’d like answered.”

  “Very well,” Smoke huffed as he opened his notebook. He pulled a feather pen out from his back pocket as well as a small wax-sealed inkwell. He broke the seal and dipped the feather pen inside. “Did you read Blue’s diary and listen to the voice image before delivering them to me?”

  “I did not,” she said with a confused look. “My mother gave it to me to give to you. Was there something in there?”

  “Oh there was something there alright,” Smoke said as he scratched notes into his book.

  “What was it?” Marla asked.

  Smoke returned the same slyness Marla had given him earlier, “I believe that should be something I discuss with the people who are actually paying me.”

  Marla scowled, “They don’t care as much as I do about finding Blue.”

  “Nonsense darling,” a woman’s voice said from behind him.

  Smoke turned to see an early middle-aged couple enter the study. The woman reminded Smoke of something from one of his books. She was dressed in a tight black dress with a long white fur coat. He couldn’t tell if the fur was actually real but based on the odour, he assumed it to be genuine. She held a long black cigarette holder with a half-burned cigarette in the end of it.

  The man was dressed in the way Smoke would have imagined, not to the same stereotype his wife portrayed, but close. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and black tie. “You must be Smoke Callahan,” he said with a large, toothy grin, “I’m Row Lang and this is my wife Mullholland.”

  “It’s an honour to meet you,” Smoke said shaking Row’s hand.

  “You’re here looking for clues as to what had happened to Blue?” Mullholland asked.

  Smoke nodded, “I was just asking your daughter questions.”

  “I’m sure we can shed some light and give you an idea as to where to begin.” Row said with a smile.

  “Alright,” Smoke began, “But, before we begin, there is the matter of my
payment.

  Row nodded, “Explain.”

  Smoke frowned, “I may have a long way to go, and I may have to pay a lot of people off to keep an eye out for her. So, there will be a payment upfront, and then the rest of the fee to be paid in full before I deliver her to your home.”

  Row nodded and looked to his wife, “Dear,” he said, “what do you say to paying Mister Callahan six hundred upfront?”

  Smoke almost choked when they mentioned the number. He’d never had a job that paid so much, much less that much upfront. Mulholland lowered her chin, “It’s a good price. I’d say his full payment should be a million skins for finding her. Two for delivering her alive.”

  Smoke cocked his head, “I appreciate your offer, but that is much too much.”

  “Nonsense,” Row chimed. “Two million if Blue is alive, a million if she’s dead. If you can’t find her, you just keep the six hundred.”

  “What’s to stop me from taking the six hundred and running?”

  “Your reputation,” Mulholland replied.

  Another power play. This was all posturing and no substance. Marla hadn’t been far off when she had said they care less about Blue’s safety than her. Although, she seemed to care more for her appearance than her sister as well. If they actually had any real concern he’d have investigated and been gone already. Row and Mulholland wouldn’t have kept him waiting, Marla wouldn’t have forced a drink on him. This case looked too strange and with the two million skins added into it, it was way too good to be true.

  “No,” Smoke said, “I will not take your case.”

  What do you mean you won’t take the case?” Row said, his face growing red.

  “What I’m saying is - there has been no part of this case that hasn’t aroused suspicion, right from day one. This is way too obvious a parade, a show for the neighbors who will start asking questions. I won’t take the case.”

  The Lang family stared at Smoke stunned. He doubted anyone had ever spoken to them in such a manner. Pride filled Smoke and gave him a sense of delight.