“There's a difference between trouble and getting things done. Sometimes they look the same, but they ain't.” The Marshal grunted and stretched his arm and hand and then extended it in friendship to Cassidy. “I had you wrong, Miss. St. Claire. Never thought I'd say this to a woman, but you're like me. You don't find trouble. It finds you.”
Cassidy paused, then reached out and took his hand. “Thank you, Marshal.”
“My pleasure. If you're ever out this way again, stop by. I'd be glad to share a drink with you.”
Cassidy smiled as she shook his hand. “I might very well take you up on that.”
---
Gideon and Jebediah waited in the lobby and turned as Cassidy came clomping down the stairs.
“So? Did it go well?” asked Gideon.
“Well,” Cassidy said, picking up her three bags. “We're both still alive. That's pretty good.” Cassidy adjusted her bags in her hands. She stood there, thinking for a moment, a smile on her face. “Yeah. That's pretty good.” She smiled at Jebediah and Gideon and then walked quickly and confidently out into the sun.
9
Anna walked into her small quarters. The room was fifteen feet long and ten feet wide. A small, metal sink and shower with a curtain were in one corner. In another corner was a comfortable-looking chair with a lamp and a pile of books and newspapers sat on top of a soft area rug. A simple bed with fresh linens on top occupied the third corner and the forth corner was a bureau, both with their own area rugs. An arrangement of three, glowing glass spheres hung from the center of the ceiling providing the bulk of the light to the room. She dropped her bag down on the ground and shut the door. She looked at the door, noticing a lock latch on the inside. She locked it then jostled the outer handle, finding it locked. She flipped the latch back and forth a couple of times before shutting the door and locking it. She stared at the door for a moment longer before walking over to the sink.
She ran her hands through warm water and washed her face. She leaned over the sink as steam rose up. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, enjoying the moist, warm air. She then turned the faucet off and dried her face with a nearby towel. She stood there, looking about the room, seeming almost lost in her quarters. After a moment of contemplation, she lay down on her head and wrapped a blanket around her, covering her head with a pillow.
---
The knock echoed through the room, the sound waves bouncing off the hardwood walls. Anna lurched out of bed, her eyes wide, her hair frazzled. She took a moment to compose herself. “Yes?” she said out loud.
“Miss Brown?” the muffled voice said through the door.
“Yes?”
“It is breakfast time, Miss Brown. Professor Hoffman has requested your presence.”
Anna tossed the blankets off of her and put her feet on the floor, rubbing her face to wake herself up. “Um, when, where?”
“In thirty minutes. In the dining room, if that is agreeable. Would you like a moment to prepare yourself?”
“Uh, yes. Yes.”
“Very good. I will return in thirty minutes to take you there.”
Anna yawned deeply and looked about the room then rose to her feet.
---
The dining room was small for the number of tables but attractively-furnished, looking almost like a ball room, with copious lighting. The fifty-foot-square room packed in over a hundred seats. Hoffman sat at a center table reading a newspaper and sipping a coffee. The tables around him had a few other diners scattered about the room. He glanced up over his bifocals and paper to see Anna walking toward him, dressed in her usual work clothes, her hair still wet from her quick shower. He rose from the table, towering over everyone else in the room.
“I'm pleased you came,” he said.
“Thank you for the invite,” she replied. The waiter pulled Anna's chair out and she sat down. “This is all rather surprising to find underground.”
“Yes,” replied Hoffman. “It does seem odd at first blush. But seeing as many of the people here have been here for many years, it makes sense to make their stays as enjoyable as possible.”
The waiter handed Anna a menu, she nodded. “You know what I want,” said Hoffman to the waiter. The waiter nodded and left.
“So, now that we don't have pressing business surrounding us, I think it an excellent time to acquaint ourselves.” Hoffman spoke in a low, measured tone. “I'll go first to hopefully make you feel more at ease than you were yesterday. My name is Karl Albrecht Hoffman. Obviously of German descent, but I was born and raised in New York. First in Albany, then in New York City.”
The waiter walked over with a rolling tray. He began to pour out coffee and milk into glasses as Hoffman talked. Hoffman nodded and Anna said a quiet thank you.
“My father was a printer and my mother was an editor. Their sufficiently moneyed life allowed me a number of luxuries, including an education of the highest order. I initially worked as a structural engineer, designing bridges and whatnot, but a number of years ago, the growing developments in chemistry became irresistibly interesting. Owing to the relative novelty of the industry, I quickly became a leading figure.” He paused to sip some coffee.
“And how did you end up here?” asked Anna.
“You don't become an aristocrat of a field without being... called upon, by forces that usually remain hidden. It got to the point a few years ago where nearly every damned government and society on the planet were making house calls, seeking my help for whatever cause they felt was righteous. Conveniently, in all cases, what they felt was righteous was also what paid them the greatest rewards. Funny how it works that way.”
“You're here, though,” said Anna.
“Quite right. And that's because these people truly are of a different sort. They do not seek worldly reward.”
“What do they seek?”
“That is an excellent question, and the answer is, I'm not sure. It is of a higher ideal, and I have seen things that confirm this sufficiently to garner my support.”
Anna thought for a moment. “So, you are not a prisoner here?
“Not at all.”
“But, you were snatched from your house. Your window was damaged.”
“That was not a kidnapping, it was a rescue. Forces, I guess is the best word to describe them, were converging on me and I needed evacuation. Up till that time, I had happily been doing my work at home, but after that, it became apparent that others would not allow that to continue.”
“What others?”
“Oh, everyone. The United States government in this specific case, but as were the British and French. The Germans, too, oddly enough. I think they felt some sort of claim to me because of my stock.”
“Why have so many of the others been kidnapped?”
“Well, many of them were rescued, like me. But the others... well... When you are trying to challenge a set world order, you must sometimes fight against the very people you seek to help, because they don't know any better. And the extant system will use that ignorance and fear as a weapon to sustain the status quo. Less than desirable methods are thus sometimes necessary.”
Anna didn't respond, nor did she look Hoffman in the eye.
“Tell me about yourself. We're going to be working together for some time, so I'd like to know something other than your name.”
Anna was hesitant. “Um. Well... My parents were both scientists. They didn't call themselves that, though. They still liked to refer to themselves as philosophers. My brother and I were taught as you would expect a pair of scientists to teach their children. They moved us from New York to San Francisco about eighteen years ago. Then both of them died when my brother and I were eleven. Cassidy knew our father and took us in.”
“Your brother is your twin?”
“Yes.” Hoffman waited for Anna to continue, but she didn't.
“Do you get along?”
“Yes.”
“How is your relationship with Miss St. Claire? She is quite the.
.. character.”
“Good. She is like a mother and a sister.”
“Micro-dynamics is a rather esoteric area of specialization. Why get into it?”
Anna shook her head slightly. “I don't know.”
The waiter walked up from behind Anna and stood next to the table.
“Have you decided, Miss Brown?”
“Oh, um. Just bacon, eggs, and toast,” Anna replied.
The waiter nodded and walked away.
“That will be here soon. That type of food is always done quickly.”
“Will they kill me if I don't work?” asked Anna bluntly.
Hoffman looked back at her, his coffee cup stopped inches from his lips. He put the cup down. “No. I'd wager not. They're not like governments or kings. I am sure that they have resorted to... dirty... means to achieve their ends, but they are not monsters. No one here has ever been injured before. Anyone who doesn't want to work is simply set aside, but most choose to work because what they work towards is of a greater nature.”
“Yes,” Anna replied. “They have given me the speeches about that. I don't know what to make of it.”
“Well, if you are conflicted, perhaps my thoughts can help you decide which course to take.” Hoffman put his hands in his lap and put his head down, breathing deeply. “Have you read On The Origin of Species?” he asked, looking up.
“Yes,” Anna replied.
He nodded. “Then you know that we are little more than over-grown monkeys in fancy clothes.” Anna nodded. “And going further back, we are little more than overgrown microbes — a fungus with a mind. We have spread out over the planet, destroying everything in our path. Britain once had lush forests covering the island. They were decimated and burned to keep people, who nevertheless died and have long since been forgotten, warm. We rape and pillage, burn and plunder. But at the same time, we are no different from other animals. A wolf, given the ability, would completely eradicate a population of deer. The only thing keeping the wolf in check are natural mechanisms that it cannot overcome. Our ability to overcome is becoming greater. That which was thought to be a limit is, in the end, discovered to be an artificial boundary created by ignorance. We will one day travel faster than sound, travel to the moon and other planets, perhaps even other stars. We may be a fungus, but we are a great fungus, indeed. We have potential.
“But as we progress to that beautiful utopia, we are focusing an immense amount of our growing energy on methods of destruction that we wholesale turn against ourselves. We are not a foolish species... in some ways, at least... when the crossbow was first invented, nations throughout Europe tried to ban it, calling it too vile a weapon and one that threatened the fabric of society. One wonders what those people would have thought of warships and five-hundred-pound bombs. At some point in the near future, we will create a weapon so perfect that it will threaten the existence of Earth itself. That cannot be allowed to happen. While you may not be informed of everything happening here, know that this is the goal — the salvation of mankind.”
Anna dropped her gaze to the table as the waiter wheeled the tray of food up to the table and began placing their plates down.
“So I hope that you decide to work with us. I can appreciate any hesitation, and there is always the money to consider. You will be paid in both experience and significant riches.” Hoffman thanked the waiter and placed his napkin in his lap. Anna still wasn't looking at him. He picked up his fork and began to eat his scrambled eggs with beans.
“What exactly are we building here? I mean the end product.”
Hoffman looked straight into Anna's eyes. “The future, Miss Brown. The future.”
---
The loud, wet, guttural snores echoed out of Cassidy's open maw. They popped out of her throat with her gagging on a few, making choking sounds that seemed as though she were trying to form words. She was sitting on one of the chairs, her feet on another chair, her head tilted onto the back of the chair. Jebediah sat behind her on the couch, trying to read a book, staring at her with wide-eyed, disbelieving annoyance.
“How the hell is she able to sleep through her own noise?” he asked. “It's ear-piercing.”
Gideon sat in the chair at the rear of the car, looking out at the tracks disappearing behind them. “I dunno'. She was near a large number of pretty big explosions yesterday. She may be deaf.”
“If only she were mute as well.”
“HACK!” Cassidy belted out. “COUGH!” She opened her eyes wide, blinking them wide and slowly in an attempt to moisten them. She then attempted to lift her head, stopping abruptly before making much progress. “Ow! Oh, god... ow.” She then cricked her neck into place, massaging it with her hand. “Agh... Was I snoring?” she asked.
“No. You were pretty quiet,” said Jebediah.
“Here,” she held her hand out. “Give me another swig of that magic liquid of yours.”
Jebediah reached into the cabinet and pulled out one of the bottles, handing it to her. “You're lucky that I don't seem to have much need for it.”
“What time is it?” Cassidy asked as she took a quaff, making the standard array of horrific faces afterward.
“Almost five,” said Gideon.
“Time to Houston?”
“About ten to fifteen more hours,” said Jebediah. Cassidy sighed and shifted in her chair. “Calm down. We've made it this far, we'll get there soon enough.”
“I don't know,” Cassidy said, scratching her head. “I'm feeling anxious. The events of the past week allowed my mind to stay occupied, but now I'm thinking about how it's taken us nearly two weeks to get here. Two weeks without my friends. Two weeks where the scent could go cold. If we lose them now, I don't see how we could pick them back up.”
“We won't lose them. We have a team in Houston and multiple agents in New Orleans. They aren't going anywhere. I can't assure you any more than that, but trust me, things will be fine.”
Cassidy nodded and yawned. “You eat?”
Jebediah shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
“Gideon,” Cassidy said loudly, “you eaten?”
“No,” Gideon replied. “They don't start serving dinner until five.”
“Ooh. Perfect timing,” Cassidy said, getting up, or at least attempting to. She bolted her back into various positions as she tried to straighten, groaning as she did so. “I hope the food is good.”
“I hope the waiter doesn't try to kill us,” said Gideon.
“That's funny,” replied Cassidy as she walked out the door. “I was hoping he would.”
---
George sat at his work table, just fiddling with a small set of differential gears. He turned them one way, then another, looking down with tired, bored eyes. Professor Jacobson walked up behind him.
“Didn't take long for ennui to set in,” Jacobson said.
“No,” replied George. “It's not that... They took Anna away. You were right. They're housing special people somewhere.”
“I'm sorry,” Jacobson said. After a moment of silence, Jacobson spoke again. “Remember, they won't hurt her. She's not here, but she's still safe.”
George nodded. “Yeah... I don't know what they're hoping to achieve with me. If they planned on doing this, if she was special, why take me? I... especially now... I don't feel at home.”
“That's because you aren't home. No matter how nice they make it. No matter how many toys they give you.”
“I don't understand how so many of these people can feel at home. How are all of these people happily working?” George asked, watching a group of men work on a large siege vehicle nearby.
“Some of them don't. Look at me. Look at many of the others who sit quietly at their tables, achieving little.”
“Yeah, but so many... so many. They're so content being here. I don't understand.”
“I can answer that,” interrupted Frederick Stein, who had been hidden behind a large shelf.
“God dammit, are you following me?” asked J
acobson.
“Don't flatter yourself,” Stein said dismissively. “I can answer your question, dear boy, and just wish you had asked sooner. I don't know if this will help you in your current existential crisis, but may it be of some use regardless. Everyone here is working happily because they are free to work here. No one will judge them. No one will try to stop their work.”
“Yes, but they are not free to leave and someone will try to stop that,” said George.
“I suppose it's a comparison that each individual must make. Is the oppression of the outside world worse than the oppression of being here? Apparently, for many of these people, the answer is yes.”
“What oppression, though? It's not like these people are revolutionaries or something. They're just scientists.”
“And what do scientists do, my boy? They discover new knowledge, and the world has a nasty habit of being antagonistic to new knowledge. And woe be the scientist who is working on something that may be of use to some government somewhere. They never leave you alone.”
George thought on that for a moment before shaking his head. “I just don't have that experience.”
“Then you live a charmed life,” replied Stein.
“Actually, he does live a charmed life. He's more or less under the protection of Cassidy St. Claire and St. Claire Industries,” said Jacobson.
“Ahhh,” replied Stein. “A charmed life, indeed. Well there are many here like that, as well, but for them, the promise of a greater purpose is mostly sufficient to at least allow them to work.”
“Maybe I'm a cynic, but it didn't very much affect me. It just sounded like the sort of clap-trap that a politician would spew,” said George.
“Good man,” said Jacobson. “The high-falutin' language had no effect on me, either.”
“That's just because you're a misanthrope who worked only for his own aggrandizement,” said Stein.
“And you're an idealist who ignores the failings of his employer because it suits you.”
“Yes, I'm an idealist. I wear the badge proudly, dammit. If you don't work for an ideal, then why work?”
Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III Page 44