And sure enough it was a blank piece of steel, reflecting only her baffled expression.
He said nothing, but stepped up to the wall, laid his palms against it and pushed powerfully. She could see the effort he was expending, but despite his best attempts, the wall remained impervious.
She massaged one frozen ear vigorously, trying to recall what had happened. “That wall. I pressed half my face into it to relieve the itch, but when I tried to switch sides, a figure appeared.”
Charles’s frown only deepened as he moved up and down the wall, shoving hard at various spots. Nothing budged. After a while, he stopped and looked at her, worry etching his features.
He would think she had gone mad to say the mysterious figure had his face, but if it hadn’t been Charles then there was only one other it could be: the second figure she had seen the time she fainted in the stables, the malevolent one. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Do you have a twin, by chance?” Berd asked, hoping desperately.
“No why?”
The blood drained from her face. So whose ghost was it? To think it had almost succeeded breaking out of the wall…
She couldn’t stop shaking as she slipped her cold hands protectively around her throat.
Chapter Six
ON THE ONE hand, Berd felt she had succeeded in her original objective: she had spoken with Charles the ghost.
On the other hand, he wasn’t even a ghost. Or dead. He was real and living, and now she was trapped inside the Engine with him.
She had just spent what seemed like an hour trailing behind him as he pushed his way through the depths of the computerscape of the Engine until they reached the vacuum tubes.
Gigantic glass bulbs two-storeys tall, and contained in each the skeleton of a tree of lightning. Blazing light and radiant heat poured out, as if the sun within could not be contained.
Again she was reminded that this was not the world she knew.
The Valley of the Vacuum Tubes was Berd’s ‘Burning Bush’ experience that lingered even with each blink or closure of her eyes. Her cheeks were still hot to the touch.
She felt she understood now, what Moses had undergone. She could empathise.
Charles dimmed the tubes through a series of switches. “Or it would be impossible to work,” he said, via way of an explanation.
Then he proposed she help prepare for the chemical reaction that would allow them to return to the real world. She had agreed, thinking it would be an excellent way to learn about the Engine, until he explained that her actual job was to inflate these...
A sigh escaped her as she looked down at the creature she was nursing in her arms. Charles had referred to it and others like it as battery beasts. Which she guessed was as good a name as anything for something that looked part-insect, part-mammal, part-who-knew-what?
The truth was that the creature in her arms resembled a honey-pot ant because of its fat, expandable belly and six segmented legs. Except, the battery beast didn’t have a hard shell like an insect, and it was surprisingly warm and furry, like a puppy. A puppy mixed with a sloth, a rather slippery sloth. She had regrettably dropped quite a few of the beasts, and winced guiltily as each had turned an accusing eye up at her.
At a distance, they resembled silvery dashes, cast-off bits of lead solder, stretching horizontally along one brass wall: Morse code.
Every single one of them had just laid there, barely moving, as Charles patiently demonstrated what needed to be done by placing his mouth on a snout and using his own breath to gently inflate the creature like it was a child’s balloon.
And every single one of them had those large, silver puppy-dog eyes that bulged with surprise if she blew a touch too much air into them. Her first two attempts at inflation had been disastrous for not only had the battery beast’s eyes bulged, but a little silvery something had emptied itself onto her pants in order to make room for the air.
Now she knew better then to inflate each beast beyond ten inches. Her current beast trembled, as she held it in her arms and a bit of saliva dribbled out the side of its snout. It smelt of burnt solder and wet dog. To think she would have to put her mouth on it. Each one seemed only fouler than the last.
Her stomach turned.
“Do you do this often?” she asked.
“Not if I can help it.” He sighed and plucked another off the wall.
If only she had a choice, but time was running out. Above, the sky was in afternoon hours. By now the people back home must have noticed she was missing but even if they knew where she was, none would know how to extricate her.
Berd gathered her resolve, bent forward, cupped one hand around the battery beast’s muzzle and then blew air into its mouth. The bag that was the beast’s abdomen bulged. They must have some sort of valve, because they never deflated. When it was about ten inches in diameter, she placed it down in a pile of others then wiped her mouth on her sleeve – her handkerchief was soaked – and reached for the next battery beast.
She found herself staring hard at it. Wide-eyed and trusting, it gazed back at her from its spot on the wall. When she plucked it away, it wriggled its six legs. It did look like an adorable, silky-soft puppy, if she could ignore the extra set of limbs, and the segments...
‘Beast’ was the wrong word for them, though they did have six legs like the ladybirds everyone loved in her garden. ‘Birds’ also seemed wrong, as they had no beak. What was it the Americans called them?
Not ladybirds, but ladybugs!
Strange how two countries that spoke the same language had different names for the same objects.
Like paraffin was kerosene.
However, ladybugs, yes, that was it!
Bugs. Battery bugs.
She picked up another beast – battery bug – and blew once more. Seeing them in a different light, and with a new name, the task didn’t seem so irksome. When the bug had inflated to the right volume, she put it next to the others.
A short distance away, Charles was energetically attaching the half-dozen he had taken from her onto a frame he had constructed. He had explained that during their escape attempt, these vacuum tubes would operate at maximum power, and the frame would prevent the creatures from being fried, as the last thing either of them wanted was a short circuit.
But was this the truth?
She chewed a corner of her lower lip as she studied him. As a guide, he appeared trustworthy, but Charles was an enigma. A magnet. And like a magnet, he both attracted and repelled her. She told herself she was drawn to him because he was the sole living thing besides her in a dead world.
He knew the computerscape. He knew how to manipulate it, too. But he didn’t seem to understand the other figures that appeared in it from time to time, and that seemed more worrying than anything.
He had survived long in the Engine, and she was curious as to how close he had come to dying throughout his trials here. To be here all alone for a year would have affected the decisions he had made in order to survive.
When Berd had first met him, he had said something disturbing: something about the Engine pulling them in. If it had not happened to her she would never have believed an engine could pull them in. Unless he meant to say this Engine was alive. But an engine was simply the sum total of its gears and wheels and cogs.
She looked down at the bloated pile of battery bugs. Creatures alive. If the Engine had pulled her in on its own initiative, then the Engine could think. And by that, she didn’t mean thinking what it had been programmed to think, but rather thinking freely of its own accord. Exactly as if it was a sentient being.
The Engine was supposed to be a computer, the first ever digital calculating device. Only she was beginning to suspect that what she thought the Engine was, and what it actually was, were two vastly different entities.
I must find out what exactly Charles and his father have created. And whether it is finished—
“Lady Elizabeth?”
She looked up to find Charles strid
ing over. From his stance, she surmised that the reason he approached was, because he did not trust her, a woman, to finish the job.
“I am perfectly fine, Mr Fotheringay. You may continue with what you are doing.” She waved at him, trying to shoo him back to his section of the Engine opposite her. Men and their ironclad obstinacy! He was mistaken if he presumed she would allow him to supervise. She would have to explain without insulting him that she would be more comfortable with him at a distance.
In the half-shadows, his eyes appeared grey. “I was thinking that I’d like a competition.”
She almost snorted. “As you are attaching these creatures to that frame, after I blow them up, I will be finished before you. Therefore, I win. Do you not agree?”
He wrinkled his nose, amused. “You did say you wanted to prove yourself. I’ll take this pile. You have the other.” Even before he finished speaking, he had grasped three battery bugs.
Before her astonished gaze, he whipped them up to their perfect sizes and then deposited them in a new pile. He didn’t seem to mind their discomfort, let alone his own.
“That’s my first three.”
She grabbed a couple more bugs.
“Three more.” He sounded almost bored.
“Mr Fotheringay! I have not accepted any competition. And I refuse to believe efficiency is the sole measure of a man.”
He shrugged lazily, his jet hair falling over his face so that he appeared devil-may-care. “Ah, that’s only because you know I’m winning.”
She was sure steam was coming out her ears. She dropped the second battery bug, winced as it bounced on the ground like a bladder full of water, secured the first and blew it up. “There!”
“Three!” He eyed her, his brilliant eyes gleaming with unspoken challenge.
Berd longed to punch him, but propriety forbade her. Instead, she did the next best thing. She gritted her teeth, lifted the next bug and lowered her head. If only they tasted better.
“You’re doing well, my lady.”
She refused to look at him, irritated by the fact he was winning so easily. “A man of skill does not invest in a competition with amateurs and call it fair. That is the domain of a louse and a cheat and I hold you to better than that, Mr Fotheringay!”
“You’re just sore because you’re losing. But you’re doing well for an amateur.”
She shoved every bit of effort into inflating the pile before her.
“Three.” He spun them expertly onto the ground.
Three? She blew harder and then cringed as once again something warm and wet dribbled onto her boots.
***
Berd handed Charles the last of the battery bugs. It burped a puff of brown stinking air as it was latched onto the frame.
Yes, definitely solder and wet dog.
“That’s it. We’re finished.” Charles stood back, hands on his hips as he surveyed the line of bugs. “And now with the beasts all end-to-end on the frame, it will enable a full charge of electricity to elevate the platform mechanism I’ve spent the last six months building.”
“Our hope of escape,” she breathed, as his plan formulated in her mind.
Berd had to admit, grudgingly, that Charles’s competition had enabled them to complete the inflation of the bugs in less than half the time she knew it would have taken her alone. With her help, he had attached them swiftly to the frame. It pleased her that he had seen her as an equal, like her grandmother who had worked with Mr Babbage, though Charles’s personality still needed work.
What a shame Babbage had not succeeded. Had he completed the Difference Engine, or even the Analytical Engine then Grandmother could have tested her programs, and the world would have seen that women possessed intelligence and stopped treating them like children. Then she would truly have been the Enchantress of Numbers! The High Priestess and Prophetess of this New Age of Machines. Babbage had tried, oh how he had tried, and when the government grant was depleted, he had used up his own fortune. It was just not to be yet...
Charles was still adjusting a few of the bugs’ positions.
Hurry, hurry, please. Mr Fother— I mean Charles. I mean...
Berd quelled her impatience by stroking one of the bugs with a finger. “They are curious little creatures, aren’t they?” She glanced at Charles. His hands looked strong from this angle.
He continued to fuss.
Surely he must have heard her. “I did wonder what you meant when you mentioned batteries. I had been working hard to clean up the Engine and had not noticed any batteries.” If only she didn’t babble when nervous.
He grinned at her. “It would be good to see Father again.”
His father…
She struggled to speak before the words strangled her. “Your father had cleaned it up. But the Engine had been left awhile when I got it. It was dusty. A couple of moths had laid eggs within ... Charles, I’m sorry, but your father died of grief a year after you disappeared.”
The second the words left her mouth, she wished them back. She should have picked a better time, but there was never a good time for such news. She could not delay any longer.
For the longest moment, Charles stood unmoving, pale golden light bathing his face. His eyes widened, then shut.
Her heart twisted. She knew what it was like to lose a parent – both parents. She turned away, intending to leave him to his grief, when she heard tiny pulsing noises.
In the open distance beyond the Valley of the Vacuum Tubes, the air above a silver block quivered. As she watched, a stream of bright white dots rushed round the corner. They shimmered, dazzling like a thousand miniature suns as they streamed in the direction of her and Charles. Beautiful…
So far in her limited experience in the world of the Engine, she had discovered that beautiful things were often dangerous. And these objects resembled suns. Beautiful miniature suns.
In her world, if she came close to a sun she would be burnt to a crisp. And across the computerscape, thousands were coming at them.
“Mr Fother— Charles.”
Charles glanced at her and then at the point where she was staring. “What the devil— Ah, bits.” Some unreadable emotion crossed his face and then he stirred, lord of the situation once more. “It looks like we’re going to have a bit of fun.”
“You’re making a pun at a time like this?” She grabbed his arm in order to flee only he shrugged out of her grasp.
“My father loved puns,” he said.
The suns resembled swarms of glowing bees. And bees stung.
She licked her lips nervously. “Maybe if we stole away, the creatures wouldn’t notice us.” She stepped back but he was no longer next to her.
Charles’s voice rang out in a summons. “Here!”
Her heart skipped several beats and she rounded on him. “Mr Fotheringay, what did you just do!”
His eyes were wild as he answered. “It’s Charles.”
His father’s death must be affecting him. Pray he did nothing foolish. “Charles, please...” She reached out one hand, trying to soothe him.
He took another step away from her. “I commanded them to come to show you they’re not dangerous. Look, bits are fun. Little binary digits. Just watch what I do.”
Binary digits. They were what she needed in order to start programming. Only these resembled the silver shards that had stabbed the ground. “They look most dangerous.”
“Nonsense,” he scoffed as he strode towards them. “All one has to do is toggle them. A bit, you see, represents a value. One or zero. On or off. A bit is like a switch. Actually they’re exactly like switches. Flags.”
Flags! So she was right. They did have something to do with programming.
The swarm was halfway towards them, a silver lightning bolt snaking around the open space. They looked anything but safe.
“I do not think this is such a good idea. Charles, please.” Waves of cold bathed her and she touched his elbow again.
“Watch this.” He spread hi
s arms wide, as if about to invoke a spell.
Blast! Boys could be so annoyingly stubborn! They should be able to admit when they were wrong!
The glowing silver bits circled him, whorls of liquid mercury. If Charles was a celestial planet, they were his spiralling rings.
Berd hugged her shoulders where she stood a few paces behind him, petrified, not wanting to watch, but unable to tear her gaze away. The demented ringing of a thousand bells rung by lunatics vibrated the air and tickled the tiny inner hairs in her ears as they swarmed Charles. It was madness in a melody, and she was being shaken to death by invisible hands. He must have a death wish.
“Fun,” said Charles, as he flourished an arm, full and confident of his power, only his eyes glistened. He turned to check she was watching, and then flicked the nearest bit.
The creature exploded in his hand. His smile vanished. And his mouth opened in a surprised yell of pain.
No! He was being attacked! That was impossible, surely; he was the lord of this world. The creator himself! But if the creator of this world could be attacked, then no one was safe.
She raced towards him.
Charles was shaking his hand from within the swirling cloud, which had lifted a bit to swirl furiously above his head. “Blast! Blast! Blast! Must have been the lightning, because those blighters have a lot more zap than I expected.” Then he calmed. “Look here, old chaps, I simply wanted to show this young lady what you’re capable of.”
This wasn’t the time to have a discussion with one’s attackers. Despite her fear and the incessant pain in her head from the noise, she ducked under the circle of bits and grabbed his arm. “Charles, I beg of you. Stop! You will be killed.”
“Nonsense, princess. Just one more.” He threw her a look of utter self-assurance, extended his hand and swatted another bit.
A brilliant burst of white and yellow light exploded from the tips of his fingers. The smell of singed flesh soured the air.
His countenance creased in agony. “Stop it, you blasted fools! Stop.” It was the surprise on his face that convinced her something was seriously wrong.
The Ghost Engine Page 6