by Wol-vriey
“I’m a reporter from the Detroit Chronicle. We’re interested in doing an article on his research into steam-powered labor-saving household devices, particularly dishwashers and sewing machines. We wondered . . .”
“I’ll let him know you’re here,” said the cat before it vanished, leaving the door open wide.
Alice stepped inside, where it was nice and warm, to wait. The log-filled fireplace, soft gas lighting, and cozy leather chairs all further reinforced Alice’s resolve to complete her murderous mission successfully.
Cheshire Cat then reappeared in a burst of displaced air. “His lordship will see you now,” it said. “Please accompany me to his study.”
***
The Mad Hatter
Lord Dudley Busybody was a plump, bespectacled, middle-aged man of average height. He was dressed in a white lab coat and a tall black hat that added a full two feet to his vertical form. The secondary purpose of this peculiar headgear (besides hiding his rapidly encroaching baldness) was to store things. Lord Busybody’s hat was equipped with drawers from which, like a magician, he could pull out forceps, Bunsen burners, test tubes, frogs and birds for dissection, knives to dissect them with, syringes and phials, acids salts and bases, poisons and antidotes, and many other things having nothing at all to do with science.
“I hear you’re from the Detroit Chronicle,” he said, after Alice had made herself comfortable on a chair beside the fireplace. “I’m afraid there must have been a mix-up; my research is mainly in robotics, you see.”
Alice looked perplexed. “Robotics?”
Lord Busybody settled into a chair facing hers. “Mechanical men. The golems of oldentime lore . . .”
His voice trailed off. Illuminated by the glowing flames, he got his first proper view of Alice’s face. That one look had exactly the effect his wife had predicted. Dudley Busybody had become visibly disconcerted. It suddenly became imperative for him to keep his lovely young visitor around for as long as possible, and to discover as much as he could about her without being rude.
Alice noticed his reaction and smiled demurely.
“Have the servants send in some tea and biscuits for our guest,” Lord Busybody ordered Cheshire Cat.
The butler, having been languidly observing its tail upon a large, soft pillow, instantly disappeared to deliver the request.
Lord Busybody leaned forward in his chair, eager to ask Alice all about her life and times.
***
The tea and biscuits were delivered by a liveried frog servant with mottled green skin, bulging yellow eyes, spindly arms and legs, and webbed hands and feet. Its uniform was black velvet trimmed with gold lace.
The frog set the tray down on the table between them, bowed slightly, and left.
“There are no teacups,” Alice observed. It seemed to her the oddest of oversights, to provide a pot of tea without anything to drink it from.
“Not to worry,” Lord Busybody said.
He reached up and rummaged in one of the middle drawers of his hat, eventually producing two teacups. He wiped the dust out of them both, then set one in front of Alice and the other in front of himself. Suddenly remembering, he reached back into his hat for two teaspoons and saucers.
He poured out two cups of tea.
“Sugar and milk for you, my dear?”
Alice nodded. For the first time since her arrival, she found herself rather disconcerted. She’d seen many unusual things in her life, but never had she seen anyone keep such things in a hat before.
Dudley Busybody handed Alice her cup of tea. “Afterwards, we’ll go upstairs to my laboratory, so I can show you my research.”
***
Lord Busybody’s lab was in an observatory on top of the mansion, similar to a castle turret. The full extent of it was contained within single large room, its windows providing a fantastic uninterrupted view of New York City.
The lab held many machines of unusual design in various stages of construction/completion. Apart from his robotics work, Lord Busybody also researched into train engines and steam-powered weaponry. On one wall was an assortment of odd-looking instruments.
“What are those?” Alice asked, pointing.
“Guns.”
“Guns? But they look so strange . . .”
He removed one from its wall bracket so she could examine it.
The gun’s barrel was nearly two feet long and several inches wide. It featured a shoulder strap, a short wooden stock, a large circular chamber, and a clunky trigger mechanism.
“What is it?” Alice asked.
“A steam-thrower. It’s meant for soldiers in battle to scald their enemies with.”
He undid some clasps and removed the top half of the weapon’s round chamber. Inside was a small kettle with a metal hose attached to it, where its spout should have been. Lord Busybody swung the kettle aside on its hinges so Alice could see the recessed furnace underneath.
“Pull the trigger several times,” he instructed her.
Alice did so, although it was very unwieldy. On each pull, a flint wheel rotated beneath the furnace, making sparks.
Lord Busybody produced a small black cube from a box on a shelf, holding it up for her to see.
“The principle is simple,” he said. “You put this coal into the furnace and pull the trigger. As you’ve already seen, the flint scrapes against the furnace, throwing up sparks to ignite the coal and bring the water in the kettle to boil. A long, continuous stream of steam exits the barrel to scald your enemies, who shortly flee the battlefield.”
Alice was impressed and said so.
“Don’t be,” the lord said. “It doesn’t even work.”
“But you just explained that it does.”
Her host sighed. “In theory, yes. And it works in the larger models I designed for my sister Victoria, Queen of Hearts, but . . .”
“So why not here?”
Lord Busybody studied her intently. “Before I explain, I must make it clear that none of this, no mention of the steam-thrower, must appear in your paper – this is all classified military research. To print anything . . . even the slightest hint that this weapon exists would be considered high treason by her majesty. You’d likely lose your head. Remember, we are at war with Texas.”
Alice gulped at the thought of the guillotine. “Okay, I’ll keep it to myself.”
His lordship pulled a handkerchief from his hat and mopped his brow. “The problem is the limited amount of water a man is able to carry, coal as well. For a large machine it’s easier – part of the steam created from burning the fuel can be slaved back into energy and used in ferrying the fuel. For foot soldiers, however . . .”
He pointed to a large metal tank hanging on the wall nearby. The leather straps attached to it indicated that it was meant to be worn on the back. “See if you can lift that . . . no, don’t take the gun off just yet.”
Alice tried and gave up almost immediately – the thing was impossibly heavy. Lord Busybody next pointed to the box he’d taken the coal from. “Lift that,” he said.
Alice did as instructed. It was quite heavy as well. “A soldier would have to carry all this with the gun? He’d never get anywhere!”
“Exactly. Coal is heavy, water even more so. Then there’s the problem of actually loading the coal into the steam-thrower.” He reached into his hat and pulled out a long metal tube. He began inserting coal cubes into this as if they were mints, pressing them down into a spring-loaded chamber.
“A coal magazine,” he said, handing it to Alice. She took it from him and nearly dropped it on his foot.
Lord Busybody laughed. “It’s supposed to slot into the side of the weapon, automatically reloading the furnace as fuel is expended.”
Alice nodded. “I see what you mean about it never working for humans . . .”
Lord Busybody helped her off with the steam-thrower and replaced it on the wall.
“How about making a flame thrower instead?” Alice asked when he was throug
h.
“Hmm? What do you mean?”
“Well, if the gun shot fire instead of steam, all you’d need would be coal – the water element could be eliminated altogether.”
Dudley Busybody’s mouth hung open. Alice imagined that he took her for a dunce.
“Of course it probably wouldn’t work, either,” she backpedaled. “I’m no scientist, just a reporter!”
“No no no! You’re a genius, my dear.” He smiled at Alice, eyes gleaming behind his spectacles. “It should work. I’d be able to dispense with the boiler, the magazine also. All I’d really need would be a stick of coal and a mechanism to feed it into the furnace at a constant rate.”
He led Alice across the laboratory. “I could even do a smokescreen maker, based on your principle . . .” he thought out loud as they continued the tour.
“A smokescreen maker?” Alice was beginning to understand why her host was so often referred to the ‘Mad Hatter’.
“You must humor him, dear,” Lady Busybody had impressed upon her. “He reels off one deluded flight of fancy after another, sometimes for hours.”
***
They stopped at a large metallic object on a table.
“Meet Crank,” Dudley told Alice.
Crank was six feet long (six feet tall when standing). The mechanical man was made entirely from brass, its disparate plates and parts joined together by bolts. Its head was round, with grills for its mouth and ears and a pair of dials for eyes. Both eye-dial indicators lay at rest on their side.
The robot’s chest was open, split down the middle with both halves swung out on hinges. Its innards were large clockwork mechanisms linked upwards and downwards, front to back, and side to side.
Sticking up out of the robot’s chest was a thick metal shaft. The shaft’s lower end was connected to a spring, which in turn was connected to a central gear that drove all the rest. The upper end of the shaft was attached to a crank handle.
Lord Busybody shut Crank’s chest and wound up the crank. After a moment or two, there was the slightest sound of the spring starting to uncoil, and then the robot’s eye-dials flickered up to the middle of their displays.
“
“Crank, meet Alice. Alice, meet Crank.”
“
“Fi . . . fine?” Alice stammered. She had no idea what to make of all this.
Meanwhile, Lord Busybody had walked over to another table. “Please come over here, Miss Sin.”
“Please call me Alice, sir.”
“Alice it is then,” he said, visibly pleased.
Alice walked over to join him. There was another, much bulkier, robot on this table. Its torso was thrice the size of Crank’s. This one was made of iron, not brass.
Crank got down off his table to join them as well.
“This was my prototype,” Lord Busybody explained. He opened the robot’s chest, revealing the large boiler within. “I was working to miniaturize a Texan design stolen by one of our spies. Alas, it never worked. No, I don’t mean that . . . It worked all right, I suppose, but the problem was the same as with the steam-thrower – i.e. the coal and water required to power it weighed more than the machine itself.”
“So what good is the original to the Texans, then?” Alice asked.
It was the robot Crank who replied. “
“‘The bigger the better’, or so they say in Dallas,” Lord Busybody added. “They’ve definitely got a complex about something!”
Alice nodded, understanding what he meant.
Incidentally, the war between New York and Texas was being fought over the coalfields in Kansas. Situated right in the middle of the country, Kansas was a nebulously ill-defined patch of territory split between the two American queendoms. Neither of the two sister monarchs had paid much attention to Kansas, or bothered laying a proper claim to it, until ENORMOUS quantities of Earth’s most precious fuel were discovered there. Geological surveys reported the entire region to be one massive chunk of carbonized vegetation.
Alice thought it very odd that the two queens, blood sisters, were unable share the coal of Kansas, which by all accounts was more than sufficient to last another three hundred years. Maybe, she reasoned, when you had a queendom to rule over, you simply put the wellbeing of your subjects over that of even your own family. She hoped that this was in fact the case, and it wasn’t simply the usual sibling rivalry, each of them just wanting to have more than the other. But then, if it was their subjects they were most concerned with . . .
“So, the Texans build huge war machines,” Lord Busybody continued, “while we counter them with smaller, faster designs that use less fuel.”
Alice nodded again. The robot on the table appeared mightily unwieldy. It also looked very dangerous. Judging from the high-caliber six-shooters soldered into its palms, bandolier belts running down each arm, she truly hoped she never came into contact with its original Texan version.
Surreptitiously wandering off for a time, Alice began checking the shelves for bottles of sulfuric acid, essential to the plan hatched between her and the duchess. Something caught her notice. It was a small metal box with a mirrored surface. There was a long silver tube attached to one corner, the tube ending in a large paper clip. But for the clip, Alice would’ve thought the box simply a woman’s vanity case.
Try as she might, however, Lord Busybody refused to disclose to her what it was.
“A scientist must have some secrets,” he said. “And this one . . .” He ended the sentence with a sly smile.
Which only left Alice doubly curious.
***
The laboratory was rather cool that time of day, so they returned to the study for some more tea to warm them up.
Raising her third cup to her lips for a sip, Alice suddenly keeled over. Her teacup flew through the air and into the fire, exploding against the hearth with a sizzle of steam. Alice fell out of her chair and crashed onto the floor. She lay unmoving, her eyes closed, her breasts rising and falling with her breath.
“
Lord Busybody was beside her in a flash. He removed a stethoscope from his hat and applied it to her chest. Once he was certain that she wasn’t in any mortal danger, he straightened up and faced Crank.
“You’re right – she has fainted. Possibly the stress of her journey. Help me move her upstairs, to Marie’s room.”
Together they lifted her limp form.
***
Alice did her very best to make her faint appear as convincing as possible. Once laid comfortably upon Lady Busybody’s bed, she feigned a deep sleep, listening as Lord Busybody and his robot discussed her.
“
“I don’t really know. She’ll have to stay here till she’s better, at any rate.”
“
“There’s no one here but you, me, and the servants. The kids won’t be home from boarding school for another two months, maybe longer if this infernal war doesn’t end before their holidays. They’re not traveling home from Europe while a war is on – I don’t care what Marie says!”
“
Silence. Then Crank’s voice again. “
More silence. Finally, Lord Busybody replied. “She’s just nice to have around, okay? I like her.”
“
“Feels like twenty years. Anyhow, she’s too young for me . . .”
Alice repressed her physical reaction to the suggestion.
“
OU MEAN YOU’RE TOO OLD FOR HER, YES.”
“Yes that must be it. It’s true, isn’t it? There’s no way a beautiful young thing like this could ever love an old fuddy-duddy like me.”
“
“You’re certainly right about that. However, I sincerely doubt that anything so strange will ever come to pass.”
He coughed to clear his throat, then laughed. “Just listen to me, Crank – thinking of making a fool of myself with this young filly; one ride on her would put me in my grave for sure!”
“
Lord Busybody sighed. “I really do wish Marie would get over this foolishness of hers about Victoria’s throne, and come back home, and to bed . . .” Alice felt his cool hand, first on her forehead, then on her wrist to take her pulse. “Anyhow, we’ll just see how our young visitor does. If there’s no improvement by morning, I’ll have Dr. Jones come look her over.”
Thinking it appropriate, Alice faked a few light snores.
“
“Let’s go, Crank . . .”
Alice made some more fake snores, louder now. She waited till she heard the door shut before opening her eyes.
This won’t be hard after all, Alice thought to herself, smiling wickedly. Apparently, Lord Busybody was already fantasizing about screwing her!
Chapter 4
The Seduction of the Mad Hatter
By next morning, Alice was much improved – so much so there was no need to call in Dr. Jones for further evaluation of her condition after all. She also graciously accepted Lord Busybody’s offer of lodging – at least until she felt fully recovered.
She remained in Lady Busybody’s room. The connecting door to Lord Busybody’s chambers was locked from Alice’s side, but her host had assured her that she could summon him any time she liked, if she felt any distress that night.
To keep up the pretense of her illness, Alice spent all day in bed, venturing downstairs only once for dinner. Though wary of Cheshire Cat teleporting into her room and discovering her plans, Alice took full advantage of the day, making preparations for the coming night.