Rad rubbed his face, and watched his friend sleep. He’d tried to help him, done his best, his very desperate best, but Kane had been confused, mistaking Rad for… well, for someone else.
But the image was there, in Rad’s mind, as bright and fiery as the rippling blue corona of the Fissure itself. Kane had realized, all too late. Realized who Rad was, but more, realized what he’d done, how he’d been tricked and manipulated by others. And it had been too late. Kane had fallen into the Fissure in the Empire State and had not come out the other side in New York.
Then a year of rebuilding the city, with Captain Carson taking charge, walking into the role of the City Commissioner like it was his destiny, a year that now felt like some ridiculous golden age. Things were getting better. There was cooperation between both sides of the Fissure, Carson and his equivalent in New York, Nimrod, working together. It was secret still, of course. The existence of the two universes was known only to a select few on each side.
And then the Fissure had vanished. Rad had been busy with his detective agency. It was a distraction, and a welcome one, especially after he and Claudia had finally given up on their marriage that never was.
Rad had also been busy with Carson. The old man seemed like he needed the company, despite his high office. And, looking back, Rad knew that there had been something lurking, a black cloud over Carson that had culminated in his apparent suicide shortly after the Fissure vanished and the city entered a winter that got colder every day.
Rad watched Kane. He looked older, but then he imagined he did as well. He had no idea what Kane’s injuries were or what the machine was, but it occurred to him that Kane might be stuck in it forever, unable to survive without the King’s treatment.
Kane had nearly destroyed not only the Empire State, not only New York, but the whole of both universes. The Fissure was more than a doorway, it was a tether, a connection that both universes needed, lest they unravel.
The irony was the Fissure had closed anyway. The tether was severed, the Pocket cut off from the Origin and slowly dying. It would have been better, Rad thought, if they’d just popped out of existence, zip! And then nothing would have mattered anyway. But a slow death by a long cold worried him. How long could they survive? How bad would it get before the end?
“Rad?”
Rad jerked his head up. Kane was awake, smacking his lips and trying to look up at his friend.
“You’re the last person I expected to see again, buddy.” Rad gave him a broad smile. Kane managed one in return, and Rad saw his teeth were stained yellowy green. Rad frowned, and thought back to the barman out in Harlem.
“Rad Bradley saves the day again,” said Kane. His voice was quiet and raspy but seemed strong. “So, you here to get me out of this joint?”
Rad laughed and held up his hands. “Let me work on that. What the hell happened to you anyway? Where did you go?”
Kane narrowed his eyes, like he was thinking very hard or hadn’t understood the question. Maybe a little of both.
Kane licked his lips. “I remember falling,” he said. “I was going backwards, falling down, like I was being pulled.” Kane managed a small smile. “I don’t know, maybe I was going upwards. Up, down, didn’t really feel like anything.”
Rad leaned in. “Then what?”
“Then…” Kane frowned and winced again.
“You OK, buddy?”
Kane nodded. “Yeah. My head’s a bit sore. Happens, it’s OK. The guy in the suit will be here with the medicine soon.”
Rad chewed the inside of his cheek. He put that nugget of information to one side, and pressed on with his questions. “Where did you end up, after you fell through the Fissure?”
Kane rolled his lips, and shook his head. “I hit the floor. Hit it bad, felt like every bone in my body had broken. I remember… I remember lying on the ground, and there were all these people around me. Then there was this noise and this light, I don’t know, and then all the people were gone, and there was this guy standing there. Everything looked green. Maybe that’s just the way I imagine it. But I could see this guy standing there, standing over me. I was saying something, but… I don’t remember what. Then I was here, in this place.”
“You were here?” Rad clicked his tongue.
“Yeah. I knew you’d find me, Mr Super-detective.”
Rad shook his head. “Kane, you fell through the Fissure eighteen months ago. It swallowed you up, and you didn’t end up in New York.”
“Huh,” said Kane. “Guess it’s the Fissure’s thing with time, right? Guess the Fissure threw me forward.”
The room shook, rattling the equipment. Rad looked at the ceiling and grabbed the edge of the machine to keep his balance on the stool. The tremor stopped after a long ten seconds, and Rad let out his breath.
“What was that?” Kane’s eyes were wide open. “An earthquake?”
Rad frowned, but Kane had already closed his eyes, his head resting back against the pillow. “Something like that,” said Rad. “You picked a crummy time to make your glorious return, buddy.”
But Kane was asleep already.
Kane slept for hours. Rad had been around the workshop several times. There was plenty he didn’t understand, lots of equipment and gadgets and junk that obviously were to do with the construction — or deconstruction — of robots. Rad wasn’t entirely sure what went on underneath the hood of a car let alone the inside of a robot, but the way the parts in the room were all shiny and new made Rad think the King hadn’t quite given him the full picture. Finding lost robots, bringing them back to the workshop, turning them back into men. It was a fine idea, a great one even, a real service, if it was possible. But with no more robots being made down at the dockyards, the King’s workshop should be filled with old parts, not new ones. Either the King was reclaiming new parts from the old robot factories at the bottom of the island, near the Battery, or he was making his own. Whichever it was, Rad didn’t much like it. But stuck in the workshop with the heat turned up to eleven, he didn’t see that there was much he could do.
The workshop had two doors. One was hot to the touch and presumably led further down into the bowels of the building, to a furnace or boiler room — unlikely to be the most useful route of escape.
Which left the other door. It was wood painted green, the wood itself ancient and as solid as iron, reinforced with black iron bands. It was locked with a bolt on the outside, and when Rad banged his fists on it it was like pounding on the brick wall that surrounded it, the door carrying no vibration, no movement at all.
No, Rad couldn’t open this door. He’d have to wait until the door was opened for him. Which, according to Kane, would be soon, because the “man in the suit” was going to deliver the medicine.
Rad turned and scratched his chin, surveying the workshop as he ran that particular piece of data around his brain.
Rad eyed the stack of apparently new robot head shells on a nearby bench, and shuddered. He might have been a little less in shape that he would have liked, but he was attached to his body and he didn’t feel like switching any part of it for something made of metal.
“They’re coming… marching. Them… the red… red lights. They’re coming…”
Rad darted back to Kane’s side. His friend’s face was slick with sweat, his hair damp across his forehead, as he twisted his head from side to side, his eyes screwed up in pain. Rad placed a hand on Kane’s forehead. He was burning up.
“Hey, Kane old buddy, hang in there,” said Rad.
“Machines… it’s her… it’s her… blue… her eyes are blue… her eyes are blue… cold and fire and cold and cold… machines… blue…”
Rad raised an eyebrow. Some kind of flashback to falling through the Fissure? Wouldn’t be a surprise. He’d been between universes twice himself, and that was shock enough.
But whatever Kane was dreaming about, Rad didn’t like the way he mentioned machines.
“Easy, buddy, easy,” said Rad, his voice a whi
sper, his eyes flicking up to the workshop door. Come on, you spooky son of a bitch, he thought. Come on with the damn green potion.
“Soon, soon, soon, soon…”
“Soon what?”
“Soon, soon…” Kane said, and said again, faster and faster.
Rad shook his head and looked up. Maybe Kane needed the green stuff after all. “Hey! Your majesty!” he yelled. “Get your ass in here with the medicine!”
“They’re marching… the machines are marching… she’s coming… no! No!” Kane shook his head violently. Rad grabbed Kane’s head between both hands and tried to keep it still, but Kane’s strength was surprising. Rad gritted his teeth, hoping this wasn’t some kind of seizure.
“No!” Kane cried out, so loud Rad flinched. “She’s coming, her machines are coming here… she’s going to end it all… they’ll destroy everything… everything!” Kane’s eyes snapped open, and he looked at Rad. Rad swore that he saw a light in the eyes of his friend, a distant blue and white spark dancing in his pupils, spinning like the stars, flaring like the Fissure that had once stood in the middle of the Battery.
“Soon,” said Kane, “they’re coming soon.”
“What? Who are? Kane, speak to me, buddy. What’s going to happen?”
Kane shuddered in Rad’s grip and then he blinked, licked his lips, and slumped. Rad realized that his whole body had been thrashing inside the machine.
“OK,” said the detective, sliding off the stool and pushing his fist into his open palm as he surveyed the laboratory again. Time was running out, fast. He had to get them out and find Jennifer. “Hang in there, buddy. I gotta do some thinking here.”
Kane muttered something, but when Rad looked at his friend he was asleep.
TWENTY-ONE
Twelve agents from Atoms for Peace had the machine at gunpoint, a dozen automatic pistols spaced evenly in a semicircle in Doctor X’s robotics laboratory. The doctor sagged inside the cage, nearly six pints of blood pooled on the cement around him. On the other side of the lab, the tall computer cabinet was covered with something red and black that was getting sticky as it dried.
Elektro stood in the middle of the circle of agents, his red eyes rolling around them, but the machine appeared to be patient. It was humming something fast and happy. The dozen agents knew they would need more than nine-millimeter ammunition to stop it.
Evelyn McHale floated into the circle of agents, one moment not there and the next there. Elektro’s eyes fixed on her blue form as the Ghost of Gotham drifted closer, and the robot stopped humming.
The Director regarded Elektro, tilting her head, her lips parted, like she was trying to read something in the machine. Elektro said nothing and remained still.
“You killed Farnsworth and Richardson,” said Evelyn, finally.
“Hi, boss,” said Elektro.
Evelyn floated to the door of the cage, but stopped just short of the threshold. She ignored the remains of Doctor X on the slab and instead seemed to be examining the edges of the cage door.
“I didn’t see this. It hadn’t happened.”
“Sorry about the mess,” said Elektro, its head spinning around to watch the Director. “But it’s OK, I’m good. I figured out where I went wrong. Third time’s the charm, right?”
“The cage. Isolation.” Evelyn floated backwards, her eyes fixed on the structure. “I understand.”
“Say, how about you and me cut a deal? Just imagine what we could do, huh? It’s enough to make the mind reel, boss. Ah, boss?”
The Director was now in front of Elektro. The robot’s head swiveled back to her as she reached out to touch the spinning red disc in the machine’s chest. Her fingers stopped an inch from the glass.
“You understand the principles of the fusor reactor?”
“More than that, lady,” said Elektro. “I got the damn thing working. Our old friend there was close but no cigar, as the saying goes. Hey, you got any cigarettes around here?”
The Director smiled and drifted backwards. “Agent Carter will give you his. Agent?”
Behind her, one of the agents twitched into life. He glanced sideways at his colleagues, then slowly lowered his weapon. He pulled a packet of Lucky Strikes from his jacket and handed them over.
“Much obliged,” said Elektro, flipping the pack open and extracting a cigarette. “Smoking’ll kill ya, but who wants to live forever, right?” His eyes flicked to Evelyn’s.
“With Doctor Farnsworth and his assistant dead, I need someone to complete work on the fusor reactors and prepare the army for war,” she said.
“Huh,” said Elektro, cigarette dangling from his metal jaw. “I can fix ‘em up but you’re gonna need a central reactor to time them all, give them a kick-start.”
“The structure is prepared. It just needs your adjustment.”
The Director smiled, and the end of Elektro’s cigarette flared blue. The robot took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke that went right through Evelyn’s body like it wasn’t there.
“Lady, you got yourself a deal. When do I start?”
TWENTY-TWO
The green door of the workshop shuddered once as it was unlocked, and swung open. In one hand the Corsair carried a tray supporting a pitcher of water and two other, smaller vessels, each containing a dark green liquid.
Rad frowned, realizing the “man in the suit” wasn’t the King. He’d hoped for an old fashioned escape — wait until the jailer arrived, then jump him. Simple, but effective. Only the jailer wasn’t the little man in the blue velvet suit, it was his robot, which Rad didn’t want to tackle. Time for plan B.
Rad stood. “About time.”
The Corsair swung the door closed and walked forward in silence. It placed the tray down on the bench nearest to the three slabs.
“You keeping us here forever?”
The robot released the tray and faced the detective, but made no sound.
“Tell the King I want to see him,” said Rad. The robot didn’t move but Rad ignored it, taking the pitcher of water from the tray and pouring himself a glass. The liquid was cool and refreshing, and just reminded Rad how hot it was in the underground workshop.
The Corsair jerked into life, taking one of the small vessels of green liquid and a long pipette from the tray. Filling the pipette, it moved to Kane. Rad backed away, clutching his own drink tightly.
“What is that stuff anyway?” Rad asked. The robot ignored him.
Kane opened his mouth and closed his eyes as the Corsair gently lowered the end of the pipette onto Kane’s tongue and squeezed the rubber bulb between two fingers. Kane seemed to stiffen as the medicine was dispensed, and Rad could smell the tang of battery acid.
“How’s it taste?” he asked Kane. Kane grimaced like he’d just taken a shot of something strong from under the counter of the cheapest dive in town.
“Pretty smooth,” he gasped. “Could do with a little more tonic.” He laughed, and quickly his laugh turned into a dry cough. He turned his head, and thick green saliva ran down his face from the corner of his mouth.
“You’re in a bad way, buddy,” said Rad. He looked at the tray, eyeing the second tiny bottle of green liquid. “Hey, Jeeves, you think I’m taking that and you’ve got another thing coming to you real quick.”
“Detective, you are indeed fighting fit, fighting it!”
Rad turned to find the King of 125th Street standing in the doorway of the workshop, hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.
“Your majesty,” said Rad, watching the King enter. “I got a feeling you’re starting to believe your own legend.”
The King smiled at Rad, but it was an expression devoid of any warmth or emotion; it was just his face making a shape. The Corsair stood to attention and the King nodded.
“That will be all. You may leave the tray.” The robot did not acknowledge the order, but left.
The King walked around the detective until he was at the head of Kane’s machine. He stood between Kane and the other mac
hine, and looked between them. Rad glanced at the robot head that was sticking out of the other box, and starting thinking certain things about why the Corsair had brought two bottles of the green medicine.
Now was his chance, but Rad paused. Get out of here? How could they? Kane was injured or ill or both, and clearly in no shape to move either way. He needed to find Jennifer, and fast. Knocking the King over the head wasn’t going to help much.
“Mr Fortuna cannot leave here, Rad,” said the King, as though reading his mind. At this Kane craned his head to look at his captor. Then he looked at Rad, his big eyes wide and wet, his expression fearful. Rad wondered what the machine was hiding.
Rad sighed. “How bad is he? Can we get him out of this… this machine?” Rad waved his hand at it.
“Kane cannot sustain his own vital functions,” said the King. “When I picked him up out there, in a dark alley in Harlem, he was dying. I got him here just in time. I had these machines built in case I ever encountered refugees who needed a more complete life support than most as I operated on them, turning them from machine back to man. I hadn’t used them yet. Kane was my test case.”
Rad stepped forward, eying the long, green box. It looked like nothing more than a large coffin, the curved upper surface a series of plates, riveted together like the hull of an airship. Looking closely, he could see one horizontal seam was not sealed. The box had a lid.
“So Kane is stuck in this forever? Like someone with polio?”
The King nodded, then moved to the other machine. He took the robotic head and held it between his hands. “Close enough. In order for Kane to be released, I will have to reverse the procedure. My plan was to help the robots of the city become men again. For Kane, it will be the opposite — to survive, he needs replacement parts.”
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