The Doomsday Vault ce-1

by Steven Harper

  We went inside. It was red wallpaper and rugs with designs and heavy furniture and bookshelves and big rooms with men smoking everywhere. Mr. D. introduced me around, then took me to the dining room. The tables were set with crystal and china and silver. I was really nervous now. I’d never eaten in such a fine place. Mr. D. ordered food for both of us, and then a little trolley walked up to our table with a champagne bottle in a silver ice bucket on it. Two mechanical arms from the trolley popped the bottle and poured us each a glass.

  “We have to celebrate,” Mr. D. said.

  I thought he meant we had to celebrate me joining, and I felt kind of excited-I’d never had champagne before, or anything worth drinking champagne about-but instead, Mr. D. raised his glass and said, “May you live a hundred years, Gavin, with one extra year to repent!”

  And then I remembered it was my eighteenth birthday. I’d completely forgotten. I would have made airman today. The entire crew would have made a double line on deck beneath the envelope, and I would have run down the middle while they swatted me with wooden paddles. Captain Naismith and Pilot would have greeted me at the end of the line, pulled off my cabin boy leathers and boots, and thrown them overboard. Then I would have had to climb the netting, barefoot and in my underwear, to the highest part of the envelope, where the newest airman-that would have been Tom-would be waiting with my new boots and leathers, the ones with wings on the lapel. Once I put them on, I would have climbed back down to the rest of the crew, who would cheer and feed me bread, salt, and beer. “Go up a boy; come down a man.” Then there would be a party.

  Instead, I was sitting in a strange club with a man I’d met only a few hours before, holding a glass of champagne, and seeing my shock reflected in a cold bucket made of silver. I wondered if they had champagne in heaven for Tom and Captain Naismith. It wouldn’t be fair if I had it and they didn’t.

  Mr. D. must have seen my face, because he put his glass down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Is your birthday a bad thing?”

  “No,” I hurried to say. “I’m sorry. Thank you.” I raised my glass to him and sipped. It was like drinking sour air. “It’d just slipped away from me, with all that’s happened. I’m fine.”

  “We’ll get some food in you and you’ll be right as rain, eh?” Mr. D. said cheerfully. He didn’t want to see me upset, and I didn’t want to look upset. So I nodded.

  Our lunch arrived. It was some kind of chopped chicken with vegetables over mashed potatoes, but done up fancy. For dessert, the waiter brought ice cream and a small chocolate cake. I liked that and thanked Mr. D., and he looked happy.

  “Once you’re more established, we’ll have to sponsor you for membership here,” he said.

  “Do you think Miss A. has a club?” I blurted out.

  “I wouldn’t know.” He lit a cigar and offered me one, but I thought about Captain Naismith and turned it down. “You have your eye on her, do you?”

  “Um. .” was all I could say.

  He muttered something that sounded like “ ” around his cigar. “We can’t force her to join us, you know.”

  “I know. I was just surprised she didn’t.” I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “I think I have training soon. Should we go?”

  “Of course, of course.” Mr. D. signed the check and we left. A few minutes later, we were back at headquarters, and I was in combat class, learning how to fight and trying not to think about Miss A.

  P. teaches the combat class herself. I guess she used to teach a lot of classes, but now that she’s a, she only has time for combat.

  I have to tell you, Gramps, P. may be a woman, but she scares the out of me. She has only one, and she wears a special on her, and she has this way of looking at you as if you had no skin.

  There were six of us in the class-four men and two women. We were all wearing something like black swim outfits. The women’s had skirts attached. P wore a plain version of her uniform-no medals or epaulets to grab. I was the newest student, but I’d be fine-I knew how to fight., I’d survived an attack by ing pirates.

  The class took place in an echoing gymnasium with mattresses on the floor. Everyone stood in a circle, and P. called me into the middle to face her.

  “Show me what you can do, Gavin,” P. said.

  I eyed her right arm, the one.

  “Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I won’t cheat. Though eventually you’ll have to learn how to fight me-or someone like me.”

  “Are we fighting fair or are we fighting to win?” I asked.

  “Good question,” she said with approval. “In, we fight to win. In this class, though, we don’t want anyone to get hurt. Even our doctors can only do so much.”

  “Got it. Then let’s-” I faked a swing at her face, then punched her stomach. Or tried to. She blocked me, and then I was flat on a mattress with her fist an inch from my nose.

  “Good,” she said, and hauled me to my feet with easy strength. The other students were grinning. “Nice attempt at distraction, decent reflexes. Try again.”

  “How did you do that?” I asked instead. “Show me.”

  “Try again, Gavin.”

  “Sorry.” I punched; she swept my hand aside. I tried again and again and again, but I couldn’t touch her. Soon I was panting and sweaty, but she was unruffled.

  “Not bad,” she said. “You fight like a pirate and have some bad habits, but we can work on that. What weapons can you use?”

  “Uh…cutlass, belaying pin, flechette pistol.”

  “Handy. Rifle?”

  I shook my head. “You don’t use anything that sparks on an airship unless you’re deadly stupid.”

  “Right. Bernard, I want you to take Gavin through some basics of self-defense, better than what a pirate learns. Everyone else, pair off for sparring.”

  Bernard, a brown-haired man about ten years older than me, came forward, but I turned back to P. “Ma’am,” I said. She raised an eyebrow at me. “I’m not a pirate. I’m an airman. There’s a difference.”

  She gave me a long look, then said, “Noted. Now learn, Gavin.”

  And I did. I thought I knew something about fighting, but it turns out I didn’t know anything. uses boxing techniques from China, and they’re nothing like anything you learn on an airship. It was an entirely different way to move. A different way to think. And you have to shout every time you do something. It’s strange, but it works.

  After that, I changed clothes and met Mr. D. and Dr. C. down in Dr. C. ’s laboratory. He’s a, and he has a special alloy that can if you pump through it. He also discovered that sound travels in waves like ripples across a pond. He’s even figured out how to measure sound waves-and change them. So he’s supposed to train me in music.

  At first, I didn’t think there’d be much he could teach me, but after that fight class, I wasn’t so sure. Turned out I was right. I know a lot about “practical application,” as Dr. Clef calls it, but I don’t know much about music theory, and that’s what he’s teaching me. A lot of it is giving names and numbers to what I know by instinct. Dr. C. says we’re taming my music.

  But I really miss flying, Gramps. It’s been weeks, but I jerk awake mornings, and my back aches and I can hear the sky calling like a song I can only half hear, and it hurts. On those mornings, gravity pulls down every note I play, and I swear they shatter on the floor. Dr. C. throws up his hands. “Ach!” he shouts. “You have the hands of a brick! Go away before you break my ears!”

  This letter is getting long. Tell everyone I love them. I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit again, but remember that I’m safe and I’m doing fine.

  Love to all,

  Gavin

  PART II

  Chapter Ten

  The music box clinked through another uniform round of music. Alice put down her teacup and smiled across the breakfast tray at Norbert, who was skimming the Times, freshly ironed by one of the automaton maids. “Anything interesting?” she asked.

&nbs
p; “The uprising in India has finally been put down,” he said. “Maybe now Lord Elgin will get enough men to put the coolies in their place. Some are wondering if this will be another war over opium.”

  “One can hardly blame the Chinese for their anger,” Alice said as Kemp refilled her cup. “As I recall, the Treaty of Nanking forced them to pay enormous sums of money to England and make a number of trade concessions while England gave virtually nothing in return.”

  “It only means one thing.” Norbert set the paper aside and picked up his own cup. “More demand for weapons. I might expand the factory in that direction. Good news for us, eh?”

  They were sitting in the morning room in Norbert’s enormous house in London eleven months after their engagement. The windows were shut against a dreary April sky, but a shared breakfast tray on a small table between them sent up smells of fresh bread, butter, sausage, tea, and chocolate. Norbert sipped the latter. The breakfast menu always remained the same. The one day when Alice had suggested they have something besides bread and sausage, Norbert’s face had turned bright red and his hands had shaken. Alice quickly retracted her suggestion, and he returned to normal.

  In the last several months, Alice had learned that all of Norbert’s habits were exact and regular. Every morning when she arrived at his house for their customary breakfast together, she found him bathed and fully dressed in the same cut of business suit. He greeted her with the same “Good morning, my darling,” gave her the same kiss on the cheek, and seated her at the same chair at the same table in the morning room. The music box she had pretended to admire on the day he had more or less proposed to her played the same songs quietly through the meal. He read the front page and business sections of the London Times while they ate, commented on one or two stories, and was ready for the day at 7:20. He would return by eight o’clock, when supper was to be served.

  On Tuesdays and Saturdays, Norbert brought flowers, chocolates, or some other gift for her. After supper, he gave her the same cheek kiss and bid her the same good-bye. If she hadn’t seen Norbert accidentally cut himself with a fish knife once, she would have suspected he was some kind of extremely advanced automaton.

  As for Alice herself, Norbert had moved her to a much nicer flat within walking distance of Norbert’s house. Since he owned the flats, Alice could stay rent-free. Alice also noticed her father’s creditors had stopped calling. A secret look through the ledgers told her that Norbert had paid the worst of Father’s debts, but he still owed more than ten times the annual salary Alice had been offered by the Third Ward. This problem, of course, would evaporate the moment Alice said, “I do.”

  Alice passed the majority of her days in Norbert’s house, ostensibly to take care of her father, and she did spend a fair amount of time doing just that, of course. After Norbert had announced their engagement in the Times, he had offered to move Arthur out of that run-down residence and into Norbert’s own home, where he would be warm and the resident automatons could see to his needs with tireless attention to detail, since Alice couldn’t provide round-the-clock care even in her own flat, and a hospital was out of the question. Alice, naturally, could not fully move in with Norbert. That would be far from proper. However, her father provided a built-in chaperone, which meant she could visit at any time, even if Father spent the entire visit shut up in his room with the heat on. As long as the proprieties were observed, society would approve.

  This is what you wanted, she told herself. Father’s debts are paid, he’s happy you’re “taken care of,” he spends his remaining days in a suite of his own, and you… you have a wealthy, traditional husband-or you will very soon. Thousands of women would tread hot coals to trade places with you. You’ve won.

  So why did it feel so much like losing?

  Norbert swallowed the last of his chocolate, set his cup on the saucer with a clink, and checked his watch. “Nearly time,” he said. “Have you finished going through the household accounts?”

  Alice nodded. One of her duties as Norbert’s wife would be to keep track of domestic finances. The staggering sums she was to oversee had come as a bit of a shock. “I think I can keep the house’s books without trouble.”

  “You’re very quick,” Norbert said, clearly pleased. “This evening, then, I’ll show you the other task I’ll need you to take on after we’re married. It’s hard to believe the wedding’s less than three months away.”

  “What task is that?” Alice asked.

  “No time to explain it now,” he said, rising. “I’ll be late. You’re beautiful.” He kissed her on the cheek and left exactly on time.

  “Louisa Creek to see you, Madam,” said Kemp.

  Alice all but leapt to her feet. “Don’t keep her standing in the hall, Kemp. Show her in!”

  Louisa didn’t wait for the black-and-white automaton’s permission. She bustled into the enormous drawing room and flung her arms around Alice. “I shall never forgive you,” she cried. “Never in my life!”

  “It’s nice to see you, too,” Alice said, hugging her back. “What did I do now?”

  “It’s what you haven’t done.” The older woman held Alice at arm’s length and looked her up and down. “Wonderful dress. Blue silk suits you, darling, and I’ve never liked crinolines, either. Maybe between the two of us we can start a revolution. Hairstyle from Paris, of course-good choice. Smashing necklace. I’ll be borrowing that later. Shame about the shoes, but we’ll work on those.”

  “What’s wrong with my shoes? And what are you never going to forgive me for?” Alice was trying not to laugh. “Really, Louisa, I haven’t seen you for two months, and you’re acting as if it’s only been a day.”

  “Best way to handle absences,” Louisa declared stoutly. “And I’m never forgiving you because you still haven’t called on me. Not once, even after you get back from having your wedding dress made in Paris! You got back two weeks ago, darling.”

  “I have no excuse. I’m a terrible person, and I throw myself on your mercy.”

  “Noted,” Louisa sniffed. “I won’t even mention that you didn’t even send me a postcard and that I learned about your arrival by reading the Times.”

  “I’ve been planning!” Alice protested.

  “Is that what you call it? Show the dress. Now.”

  “I can’t. It’s being shipped, and I do promise to let you know the moment it arrives so you can see it.”

  “So you say.” Louisa plumped herself into a chair. “Tell me everything. How was Paris?”

  “Wonderful! I’d love to go back for our wedding trip, but Norbert wants to visit Spain and Italy.” Alice took a seat of her own. “I’ll have to leave Kemp behind again-the Papists shun automatons that act human. He almost popped his gears when I told him.”

  “My position is to ensure Madam’s physical comfort, regardless of human spiritual concerns,” Kemp sniffed. “It is difficult to do so from across the Channel. Shall I bring the tea?”

  “Yes, Kemp,” Alice said, and he stalked out. “Anyway, the dressmaker sews everything by machine, so she could make the dress almost overnight. It’s incredible the times we live in, Louisa.”

  “Yes, yes, very interesting.” Louisa leaned forward. “Norbert went along, didn’t he?”

  Alice colored. “Well, yes. But in a different train and he stayed in a different hotel, and I hired a maid who was with me every moment we-”

  “So is he a good man, then?”

  “Oh. Well, yes. So far. He doesn’t shout or order me around or-”

  “I meant,” Louisa interrupted, “is he any good where it counts, darling? In the bedroom.”

  “Louisa!” Alice put a hand to her mouth. “Honestly!”

  “Don’t come over all shocked with me, darling. I practically fed him to you at that ghastly Greenfellow ball, and then you offer yourself up to him like a tabby to a tom and don’t even drop me a card. After all that, you can certainly tell me if Norbie measures up after two months in Paris.”

  “Louisa!”
Alice flushed and tried to regain control of herself. “We haven’t… All he’s done is kiss me. On the cheek.”

  “How English of him. Do you want some advice? There are a number of ways to stoke a man’s furnace, if you-”

  “No, no. I’m… I’ve read quite a lot, thank you. And planning has kept me busy, in any case. I think Father’s on pins and needles.”

  Louisa paused, and her tone became more tender. “How is your father?”

  “As well as can be expected,” Alice said, feeling on safer ground.

  “Don’t do that,” Louisa admonished. “Everyone needs someone to talk to. It’s why the Papists invented confession. How is he really?”

  The safer ground had shifted. “Not well.” A bubble of anxiety rose up even as Alice said the words. “I was hoping that moving him here, with good food and warm rooms, would improve his health, but he’s only gotten worse. It’s as if he’s decided to let himself go, now that I’m engaged. Oh, Louisa, I don’t know what I’ll do when he… when he. .”

  Louisa looked misty herself, and Alice wondered why-she had met Father only the one time. She reached over and patted Alice’s hand. “It happens to us all,” Louisa said. “When the end comes, you have Norbert and me to help you through it.”

  Kemp entered with the tea cart, the sound of the wheels muffled by the thick Persian rugs. He had already drawn back the drapes from the two-story windows to let in early-spring sunshine, which spilled across perfectly matched red velvet furniture, meticulously placed end tables, a perfect settee, and a fainting couch pulled just close enough to a square marble fireplace. And it was just one of dozens of what Norbert called “cozy little rooms.” Just one could have swallowed up the cold-water flat she had shared with her father, a fact that followed her every evening when Kemp accompanied her home to the new flat.

  At first, Alice had spent these little walks glancing nervously over her shoulder for the grinning clockworker, but he hadn’t appeared; after a few weeks, she had finally stopped looking. Alice had spent a large part of one day fruitlessly checking back issues of the Times for any mention of him. Now she was wondering if he had gone completely mad and died, as every clockworker inevitably did.