The Ghost Engine

by Theresa Fuller

Thankfully, the difference was mere inches. But he was finally sitting up, his weight off her. “Where are we?”

  “In one of the book stacks,” she answered, wishing her voice did not sound so shrill. She dared a glance at him then; his face was terribly pale, but his eyes glowed, alert as he looked around. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, his chest heaving from the exertion of sitting up, and if he had noticed her staring at him earlier, there was no sign of it. “You saved me. Again,” he said quietly.

  She tilted her head at him, puzzled. “You did save me, earlier.” And so he had, at risk of his life.

  “Colleagues.”

  She frowned, not sure what he was alluding to.

  “Colleagues,” he said again, insistent. “We are colleagues who work well together. You are my Enchantress of Numbers.”

  Warmth flushed over Berd’s shoulders at the compliment for that was what Charles Babbage had christened her grandmother. And now Berd understood what Charles Fotheringay was trying to say.

  Perhaps in the olden days, a knight would have rescued a damsel in distress, but if she was fighting for equality, it would be just as right for a damsel to save a knight if he needed it. Of course, she couldn’t take all the credit. In fact, most of the credit belonged to Gine. Well. She had been brave, and done her part. Small steps. Equality was a road, not a cliff to jump.

  Equals.

  Charles began to rise to his feet.

  “Let me.”

  He held out a hand to stop her.

  “I believe ‘I’ can do this.” And so saying, he stood, and looked around at the room. “I admit I’m impressed. I thought I collapsed outside. You could have left me, but you didn’t. And you obviously managed to...?” He eyed her questioningly.

  She opened her mouth to explain when Charles held one finger up.

  “No, don’t tell me. Let me guess. You dragged me here?” Despite the paleness of his face, the laughter was back in his blue eyes.

  She prepared to humour him, glad he was alive.

  He persisted his questioning, his eyes gleaming curiously. “Well, carrying me would be out of the question. Hmmm, roll?”

  She shook her head again, her stomach clenched as she tried not to laugh. He did look so puzzled. And beautiful.

  Charles knotted his brows together. He concentrated as he gestured with his hands, miming solution after solution only to discard each one. “I give up. How did you get me here?” he finally said with a wave of one arm.

  “Gine.” She smiled as she revealed the truth.

  At the sound of Gine’s name, Charles’s face darkened. “Gine! Damn him, the treacherous bastard!” He glared at her as if she had betrayed him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  BERD FROWNED, UNSURE if she had heard right, but in the moment that passed between them, he seemed only more upset. Charles grasped her hand. “Come!” he ordered, and hurried her towards the elevator. His palm was unnaturally warm and damp.

  Confusion washed through her. “But didn’t you want to come here to find the settings?”

  Charles did not answer. As if he were still recovering from his ordeal, his feet dragged. He swung his arms as if to give impetus to his movement, his face so ashen she shuddered with worry.

  “Charles, please, what’s wrong—”

  He swivelled to stare at her, and the eyes that gazed at her were fully silver. Tiny sparks of electricity glinted on his lashes.

  Suddenly, his body tensed as if he had received a huge shock. His skin shimmered as if he was being devoured alive from the inside by molten metal. His eyes were silver.

  “Charles!” She was sure she smelt smoke.

  She reached out to support him just as his grip on her other hand tightened. Belying his previous weakness, he began to crush her hand. Tears sprang to her eyes. She attempted to yank herself free from his grasp, but her hand was caught in a grip as tight as a vice.

  A thin wail erupted from her mouth. She had made a mistake. Charles was like every other man. “You’re hurting me.”

  But he continued to squeeze.

  “Charles, please!” The bones in her hand were grinding together, skin giving way in hopes of saving what lay beneath. Tears ran down her cheeks at the pain.

  Berd reached her free hand back and slapped him, hard, so hard the sound of her palm on his cheek reverberated around the room, making the water jump. But it worked. He staggered back and released her.

  “How dare you! How dare you hurt me!” Holding her injured hand to her chest, she backed away.

  Charles blinked then shook his head as if waking from a dream, horrified contrition on his face. “What’s going on?” he asked as she bent forward and cried, cradling her fingers to her chest.

  “My lady, please accept my humble apology. I do not know what came over me. I cannot express the deep regret I feel at my actions.”

  Berd stared up at him, barely able to see through the tears. His eyes had returned to their normal iridescent blue, now wide with anguish. His right hand was open in a gesture of conciliation. He took a step forward and she took a step back. At that, he dropped his hand.

  Something was responsible for this aberrant behaviour. Whatever it was, it terrified her. “I’m not staying a moment long—”

  The ground swayed beneath their feet.

  As she stumbled, Charles reached out to grasp hold of her. She slapped and shoved at him but he was stronger than her and determined to hold her still.

  “Let go! Let me go damn it! Stop this!”

  At first she thought she was causing the shift, but it was strange, because he was as powerless as she against the earthquake motions of the book stack. They rolled together, slipping and sliding along the water-strewn floor, water from the walls splashed onto them.

  “Calm down, my lady, please calm down!”

  He was trying to protect her after attacking her. This did not make sense.

  In moments, the jerky movement of the book stack walking settled into a gentle rhythm. He released her then, and she scrambled to the opposite wall to get as far away from him as possible. There, she glared at him, still clutching her injured fingers.

  Charles remained on the ground; he made no attempt to reach her. “Gine’s causing the book stack to move. It’s his way of stopping us from leaving the stack.”

  “Why?” she asked, suspicious.

  “To remove me as far as possible from the Mill.” His voice was a whisper.

  “I thought you wanted to go to the Output.”

  “I needed to go to the Mill so I can reprogram him. The reason I gave regarding the settings was true. I do need them, but it was also an excuse to get close to the Mill.”

  She stared at him, the meaning hitting home.

  “You can reprogram him?” From what she understood of computers, that was impossible. “How can you reprogram a computer unless you first turn it off?”

  Reprogramming a computer required taking out physical components and either rearranging or switching them out for something else entirely, or else swapping the operational cards, which was why they had to be turned off. “If you turn an engine off, especially this one, don’t we perish?”

  He smiled bitterly. “Do you understand the term bootstrap?”

  “When a computer is turned on, it has only one instruction: to load its operating system. So in analogy, if a computer were a human being, it would be the equivalent of inserting its brain.”

  “Exactly. Hence the term bootstrap. Because it is such a difficult operation, it is likened to a man lying prone, attempting to raise himself up by his bootstraps.”

  “But once a computer has loaded its operating system and in turn loaded the application program it wishes to execute, the program runs until concluded, correct?”

  “In the earlier prototypes they did. Gine, however...”

  She exhaled heavily, seeing where he was headed with this conversation. “Is at the cutting edge of technology,” she breathed out.

 
; He snorted. “I am too clever for myself. I saw the benefits of reprogramming the Engine as it was running. Even better, the Engine stores all its old instructions. The book stacks are not what you think they are, my lady. They are the Store, but they don’t just hold the current stack of instructions, they also hold old programs. Every single program that Gine has ever executed is in storage here.”

  So that explained why there were so many book stacks. Despite her anger, she understood the impact of such an invention. “That’s brilliant. So when you turn the computer off, it won’t lose its memory.”

  “I certainly thought so at the time. Auxiliary memory I call it. Permanent memory.”

  Permanent memory as compared to temporary memory! That was indeed a breakthrough. She had never heard it done before. For a moment, the pain in her hand was gone, lost to the swell of epiphany.

  He lifted his chin. “So to explain my erratic behaviour ... in the book stacks are parts of me.”

  “I don’t quite understand.”

  “Do you remember when we were running towards the book stacks and we were being ‘attacked’ by bits?”

  She had never seen Charles so disgusted with Gine before. “But Gine wasn’t really attacking us. He was just being childish and trying to surround you with energy in the vague hope that you would imbibe some of it.” She was stunned to find herself actually defending Gine!

  But if Charles hadn’t really sacrificed himself for her, then why had he pushed her away?

  “It was foolish and dangerous of Gine. Do you not remember what happened the last time it occurred?”

  She nodded, recalling Charles’s bloody nose after the attack of the bits and how she had been injured. She was surprised how quickly she had forgotten. But the world was all madness now, so one piece of confusion was easy to overlook.

  He rested his elbows on his knees and gazed up at her through his dark hair. “I called out something to you then.”

  “Something about me not taking any energy ... about how the energy changed you.” She found herself staring down at his chest, watching him breathe.

  He followed her gaze. “The leather from my outfit is from the battery beasts. They were black once, but because they imbibed the energy, it changed them. Do you understand? It changed them.”

  Her skin prickled. “I understand.”

  “They began to take on some of Gine’s being. I can’t quite call it characteristics or traits or even emotions. Their beings merged. They became part Engine while he became part them.”

  “So are you saying that...”

  He couldn’t look her in the eye as he spoke. “I am part Gine and Gine is part me.” His voice cracked, and he dropped his head to his hands.

  Charles had never accused Gine of being anything other than good because it was as good as accusing himself. He’d attacked her because the energy was affecting him.

  “But Gine’s a child. You said so yourself. Surely we could reason with him.”

  Charles exhaled heavily. “Pray Gine stays a child.”

  That stunned her. “What do you mean?”

  “Have you ever asked yourself why Gine keeps playing games?”

  It was true. Gine had been playing game after game since she’d entered the Engine. “Why?”

  He lifted his head as he gave an ironic smile. “How else does a child learn? It’s when he stops playing games we must worry. He’s grown, and at his most dangerous.”

  And Gine was learning how to imitate people…

  “Why did Gine rescue me?”

  Charles’s back stiffened, his shoulders tensed and his hands closed into fists. Back on the train he’d done the same; she had received answers then, only it had made the situation worse. But she had to know.

  “We saw you. Remember before the explosion?”

  She had thought then that she had seen an angel and a devil with the same face. Berd looked away, and when she glanced back their eyes locked. His were wide and defenceless. And then she understood.

  “So did you fall for me then?” she asked, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Or did you simply feel desperate for someone to save you?” Was that when he had fallen in love with her? Only … was Charles in love with her...? Her heartbeat quickened. “What are the three reasons Gine created the forest of trees? I know the first was to distract you from me. And the second was to distract me from the Mill. But what was the third reason?”

  “The first two reasons were to distract, but the third…” He stared at the floor. “The third was to attract.”

  “Attract what?”

  He exhaled slowly. “Not what. Who.”

  She knew the answer, but she needed to hear him say it.

  “You,” Charles answered. “He doesn’t want you to leave. When you first entered the Engine, he produced a swathe of buildings to make you feel at home; to impress you. He wants to keep you just like he wants to keep me. Here, in the Engine. Forever.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  LOVE.

  Love was the cause of Berd’s imprisonment.

  Charles, who had fallen for her from that first moment in the stable; Charles whose ‘being’ was partially merged and operational within Gine… it was inevitable Gine would also fall for her, or at least think he was.

  An engine in love with a human…

  “No! That’s not possible. I want to get out. I want to get out, now.”

  Berd scrambled to her feet, but as she flung herself towards the elevator, Charles seized her arm. He yanked her to him.

  She clenched her hands into fists, anticipating another attack. But though his grip was iron strong, it was his gaze that imprisoned her. Anguish shone in those sapphire eyes. His mouth parted, and they were sharing breath; his sweet boy scent mixed with paraffin and sweat.

  It was clear what she had to do; Gine believed he was in love with her, at least to some degree, thanks to Charles. She had to destroy that love. If that meant also destroying the love Charles had for her… so be it. It was her only chance to escape and she could not afford to be weak. She would do anything. Anything. Even hurt Charles.

  “Let go,” she pleaded.

  He released the pressure on her arm, and she jerked out of his hold and moved toward the elevator.

  “We can’t leave while the book stack is moving or we’ll be crushed,” Charles said from behind her, his voice hoarse with tenderness.

  “But Gine promised,” she said, as stubbornly as only the daughter of an earl could. “He promised to let me out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  At the door of the elevator, Berd turned to face him. “Gine thought I was a danger to you. He said that because of me, you refused to partake of any more energy.”

  “I see.” Charles’s voice was curt. “But if Gine wanted to let you go, why didn’t you take him up on his offer?”

  “Back on the train he gave me twenty-four hours.”

  Charles’s brows shot up in surprise. He straightened then flicked his black hair off his face. “If Gine’s still keeping his promise then you have twenty hours by my estimate before you know if he will.”

  Berd glared at him. “Gine wouldn’t injure me if I wanted to leave.”

  “I suspect that as soon as Gine changed his mind, all bets were off about releasing you.”

  She stiffened, stung by Charles’s accusation. This was as close as he was probably going to come to admitting that Gine was now in love with her.

  Then Charles groaned. “I thought Gine would behave honourably towards you until I saw what he did with the doppels. I curse my own stupidity for that.” He ran his hand through his hair; a frustrated movement. “Gine was trying to pacify me after I gave him a piece of my mind regarding his idiotic attack with the bits. When I saw how he was prepared to play with you, I realised what he was planning. He wasn’t trying to steal a kiss for me, but… for himself. Thankfully, you saw through it in the end. But if you’ll let me, I’ll prove my words.”

&nbs
p; She met Charles’s gaze and did not flinch. “Show me.”

  Berd watched as Charles approached the elevator. It had been waiting with its door open. Inside, he nodded at the panel of buttons.

  Eager, Berd stretched her hand toward them, just as the panel melted, like a bar of glass chocolate, back into the wall. She gave a cry of disappointment and shock. So this is what he meant. She was truly trapped. Charles was right.

  “Elizabeth.” And so saying, Charles reached to comfort her, only she whipped one hand up. “No.”

  He halted, confusion clear in his face; the outstretched hand stilled.

  Never, she mouthed as she rejected him.

  Charles lowered his hand, his face paling. “Blast you, Gine,” he muttered under his breath, and stared at the wall.

  It was done.

  Her lower lip trembled and then she was still. The price for freedom was love. It cost Berd everything in her to lift her chin proudly and feign disinterest.

  “My lady.” Charles pursed his lips, his face calm and cold as a marble statue. He nodded stiffly, squared his shoulders, and then marched out of the elevator back into the room, head held high – a lone warrior about to face his final defeat.

  Again he was attempting to be noble. A commoner thinking he could rise to her level simply with words and bows. How laughable! Good riddance! But it was false bravado. When he was gone, she sank to the floor, a deep hollowness gouging at her. She had never seen Charles so angry. So hurt. It was all thanks to Gine, who had lied and deceived her; trapped her.

  The thought she would never escape were like agonising bites that gnawed away at her. She tapped her fingers against her lips, trying to get her brain to work, trying to make sense of what she had learnt, but her mind was dominated by how dangerous Gine was. Each time he had tried to fool her, he had succeeded brilliantly. Each time she thought she knew his motives, it had been a half-truth or an outright lie.

  A loud pounding jolted her from her trance. She peered into the room. Charles had pried apart one of the wall panels to reveal a confusion of copper pipes in the cavity.

  “What are you doing?” she called.

  He arched one brow, but kept working. “I was thinking that if we can’t go down, we might as well try to go up.”