The Circus Infinitus - Genesis Infinitus

by Ethan Somerville

  Del prowled the early morning streets for several hours, watching the city slowly wake up. Unlike the previous day, which had been relatively fine despite the smoggy atmosphere, this one dawned dark and cloudy, and an uncomfortable drizzle settled in not long after, turning the streets into canals of slurry. Workers did try to clear away the rubbish and endless horse manure, but they seemed to be fighting a losing battle. A lot of the cleaning wasn’t done by city employees but by private entrepreneurs; such as the block-boys who cleared paths through the mud and shit for a few farthings, the lads who collected fallen cigars for resale, the mudlarks who fossicked for useful tidbits on the low-tide banks of the Thames, and the old women who picked up dog-droppings to sell to the tanneries. The acts of recycling impressed Del, who hailed from a world that managed to reuse all of its refuse. Although on Eridon the cleaning was be done by robots rather than poor people.

  As soon as the food-sellers emerged, Del purchased some breakfast with the coins he had left, buying hot, a freshly made pie. He didn’t realise it contained meat until he was half-way through. But it tasted so good! And already he was feeling light-headed from the alien food ripping through his system. He knew from the continuing mournful growls of his stomach that he would need more. Perhaps the fellow had a vegetarian pie? But when he checked the seller’s mind, he found only thoughts of meat – recently ground of offal from old pieces the butcher couldn’t sell.

  Del’s stomach rolled, psychologically-induced nausea grinding against his hunger. As a Kamryte he had sworn never to eat meat. And offal was the worst kind of all!

  But it had tasted so good…

  He removed his hat, mopping his brow. Despite the dreary weather, he was still warm. His fingers brushed over that dreadful mark again. Before a Necronite completely gave himself over to the Dark God and was granted the vile gift of life-draining, he ate raw meat and drank fresh blood…

  How the Hell did he know so much about the Cult of Unmaker? Had he somehow acquired more knowledge during his flight through the Pit of Dark Flame?

  His stomach growled again, eclipsing his queasiness. He straightened, squared his shoulders, and walked back over to the pie-seller.

  As Del wandered the streets, heading west out of the old medieval city, he passed more food sellers hawking everything from sweet cakes, hand-made confectionaries and chocolates to fried fish, sausages on sticks and roasted nuts. He did spot some fruit and vegetables, but they were old and soft and haloed with flies. Nonetheless he purchased himself some apples. He realised he would probably have to visit a restaurant to get a decent salad!

  As he headed west, the narrow streets gave way to broad thoroughfares lined with tall, well-cared-for houses. The shabbily dressed hawkers gave way to fine gentlemen dressed like him, and ladies wearing dresses with very large padded backsides. They looked incredibly uncomfortable, but didn’t seem perturbed. Del checked their surface thoughts and realised that they considered being laced into whalebone corsets each morning and fitted with those enormous bustles normal fashionable practice!

  Mind-reading seemed to be a little easier today. He could divine emotions without too much effort, and skim surface thoughts with a little concentration. Now he was more respectably dressed, he was drawing more attention. His height and appearance attracted stares from both sexes. But when he checked the thoughts of those watching him he sensed their shame. These people seemed to experience a lot of guilt about their feelings but Del couldn’t understand why. The source obviously lay deeper than he could delve.

  That afternoon Del found himself at Paddington Station. For the first time outside of Icarus’ lab, he saw an example of the current technology; gas-powered lights illuminating the entire area. Then an enormous metal engine appeared, belching smoke and hissing steam as it pulled to a stop at the platform. It did look impressive, but he realised with a sinking feeling that it wasn’t nearly as sophisticated as that strange little cyborg’s machines. Del could see how it functioned in an instant; a simple coal-fired boiler heated steam that spun a turbine. There didn’t appear to be anything mysterious or magical about it at all. And where was the electricity? Shouldn’t those lamps be electrically powered by now?

  Icarus truly did command some phenomenal powers. Did he really know Magick like he said?

  Del joined the end of a queue at the ticket-office and bought himself a first-class ticket for the train. He didn’t have enough coin on him so he coerced the clerk into seeing a five pound note in his hand. He expected the mental manoeuvre to cause a headache, but he experienced only a momentary weakness and a sudden twinge behind his eyes. I must be stronger today, he thought, his confidence rising. He took his ticket and headed for the train, looking forward to a ride on this fascinating transport.

  First Class travel truly was luxurious, with private compartments and large, comfortable chairs with high backs. He was joined in his travel by some of the beautifully clad ladies and gentlemen he had seen on the streets before, and a tall, distinguished looking fellow with an impressive set of graying mutton-chop side-whiskers sat down right beside him. He had a cane with a silver knob on its end and gave Del a smile.

  Del smiled back.

  The man said something, and Del had to slip into his mind to find out what. He’d supplied a greeting.

  “H-hello,” Del managed. Then he had an idea. He didn’t feel he had the strength to maintain an entire conversation through mind-reading, so he carefully searched his neighbour’s surface thoughts for the words he needed. “I … am from … abroad. English … not good.”

  “Ah, you must be a Frenchman!” the man exclaimed. “I thought I recognised that accent. I took French in high-school.” He lowered his voice. “I failed dismally! Languages were never my strong point. Not like numbers! So forgive me if I don’t inflict my fumbling schoolboy French upon you!” He stuck out a gloved hand. “My name is Nicholas Gordon.”

  Del understood what the gentleman was saying, but now he didn’t have to respond, he could simply nod and smile – a much easier task than trying to dredge up the right response! “I … I am…” He tailed off. Did he supply his real name? “Mr Delfay,” he finally managed. He stared at the proffered hand and realised he was supposed to shake it up and down. What a peculiar custom.

  The train moved away from the platform with a mighty hiss. Del came from a world where vehicles were compact, built from durable but lightweight materials. This machine was a massive, heavy beast that expelled noxious fumes from every orifice. It squealed and rattled as it thundered along, and its occupants seemed to mirror its emissions as nearly all the gentlemen within Del’s compartment lit various pipes and cigars!

  Mr. Nicholas Gordon also lit up a pipe and unfolded a newspaper. Del couldn’t read the tiny print, but it did contain interesting drawings.

  Small oil lamps illuminated the carriage so it would not be plunged into darkness on entering a tunnel. Some modern mining techniques must have been used to create this passage, Del thought. Unfortunately, because the few non-smokers in the car had opened windows for air, the powerful draught in the tunnel caused the lights to gutter and die. The blackness was illuminated only by the glow of the pipes and cigars. Several men swore and cursed the railway.

  Almost immediately Del felt a hand on his knee! He was so stunned he couldn’t move. Who was touching him? The hand moved upwards towards his crotch. Someone was taking advantage of the dark to have a good grope! Del figured it was probably Nicholas Gordon beside him. He lifted a hand to push the old man away, then stopped himself. The touch was persistent but gentle – the man wasn’t trying to hurt him.

  The darkness was no barrier to Del’s psionic sight. He slid back into Gordon’s surface thoughts and realised that he was the culprit. His emotions blazed a fiery desire for the handsome young fellow seated beside him. And there it was, the ever-present guilt all these people seemed to suffer from whenever they experienced physical longing. What was it all about? Del took a deep breath and delved deeper.
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  It seemed Mr. Nicholas Gordon was a wealthy industrialist who lived in St James with his wife and two children. But he had long ago lost all desire for the woman he had married. (Del wasn’t sure what ‘wife’ or ‘marriage’ meant, but assumed the lady was some sort of life-partner) Gordon had purchased an apartment in the seamy east-end of London where he could indulge his passion for young men. He was headed there now, having told his wife he was on his way to his ‘gentlemen’s club’.

  Del withdrew, realising the man was still fondling him. And he had responded to the touch! Then the train emerged from the tunnel. Gordon removed his hand with admirable swiftness and Del had to drop his hat into his lap to hide the hard evidence Gordon had left behind. He understood only half of what he had found in the man’s mind. Desire made sense, but why did it have to be conducted in such secrecy? Why did Gordon maintain a life-partner he no longer loved?

  Gordon had lifted his paper and resumed reading it as though nothing had happened. But his cheeks were flushed. Del stared pointedly at him until he turned to look at him. He did not drop the paper. Their gazes locked. Then Del smiled at him and gave a subtle nod.

  Nicholas understood and smiled back. Then he returned to his paper, although Del could tell not a single word was sinking in. Del directed his attention back out of the window as the train rolled up out of a cutting and shabby East End buildings began to sweep past. When the train stopped, Gordon got up and glanced over his shoulder at Del. It seemed he wanted him to follow, but not too closely. More secrecy. Something very strange was going on here. Eventually he followed Gordon out, wondering how to phrase his question. If only he could understand him as well as Icarus!

  He couldn’t even walk beside Gordon as he headed for his hidden apartment. It was as though the old man feared someone was watching him, and kept ahead of Del at all times. Here, the streets were even filthier and narrower than those in the old city, where Icarus hid. Towering tenements crammed with poor workers and foreigners lined the alleys. Washing-lines were strung above their heads like spider-webs and the gutters were clogged with filth. But slumming aristocrats like Gordon must have been a common sight because the tall man with his bushy graying hair scarcely raised an eyebrow. As he followed, Del noticed various taverns, pubs and brothels with young ladies lounging outside, clad in extremely low-cut dresses. They all looked pale and underfed and cast desperate eyes at Del. He sensed no enjoyment in them whatsoever, and the thought of making love to someone so dead inside made him feel ill.

  Gordon also led him past a group of young men in hand-me-down gentlemen’s clothes loitering outside a café. Some were drinking and smoking. It was obvious they recognised the old man by the way they looked hopefully at him out of the corners of their eyes, but they didn’t call out and wave. When they noticed Del following him, they turned their backs, resuming their conversation. Del realised they were all male prostitutes, known as rent-boys. But he couldn’t figure out why they weren’t openly suggestive like the females.

  Keeping a respectable distance behind Gordon, Del followed him down a side-street. Gordon gestured surreptitiously towards a doorway, then continued on past. Del realised he wanted him to go in by himself. More deception. He pushed the doorway and it creaked inwards, allowing him to step into a narrow, musty-smelling corridor. Several doors led to a mouldy laundry, a privy and a couple of storerooms. At the end a set of stairs led up. Del followed them to a first-floor landing where Gordon finally met him. Del tried to phrase a question in the humans’ clipped language; “Why … why all this … secret?”

  Gordon either didn’t hear or didn’t want to, and took him up another two flights of stairs to the third floor. He produced an impressive ring of keys and unlocked the only door there. Only when they stood in a small, but surprisingly luxurious apartment did the industrialist sigh with relief. “Why all the secrecy?” he queried. Del had to slip into his mind again to understand him. “Surely you understand the situation here. We have a very strict, moral monarch who believes strongly in marriage and family values. Prostitution is illegal, but far more acceptable than sodomy, which can land you in prison.”

  Del didn’t understand all the words, but got the gist of what he was being told. How could expressions of love be … illegal? On his world the maynari who sold their bodies to aliens were frowned upon, but their activities weren’t unlawful! “It … it is not so … where I come from,” he managed.

  “Yes, you Frenchies can get away with a lot more on the continent, I daresay. Would you like a drink? I’m in sore need of one!” Gordon crossed to a large cabinet, where he opened a door and drew out a large bottle. “Brandy?”

  “Er – yes please. Do … you have any food?”

  “Food? No, but we can go out for dinner later, if you like. I know several restaurants where we won’t be bothered.” He poured himself a liberal snifter and downed a good half before supplying Del with a drink.

  Del didn’t realise the beverage was alcoholic until after he’d copied Nicholas, draining a good percentage of his glass. He started to cough and splutter. As a Kamryte he didn’t drink. And human alcohol seemed far more potent than Eridon, as it flooded his system and sent him high almost immediately. He removed his cloak and flopped into a chair.

  “My goodness lad! That’s 180 proof! You shouldn’t have gulped it down that fast!”

  Del no longer had the control to keep reading Gordon’s mind. But he no longer cared. He swept off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. It suddenly seemed very warm in here. He pulled the cravat from around his throat.

  Nicholas Gordon stared at him with undisguised lust. He hadn’t realised that the boy’s hair was so thick and luxurious. He had never seen such long, shiny locks. He had to run his fingers through them and stepped around behind his chair. As he stroked the young man’s hair, marveling at its silkiness, his new companion sighed and leaned against him, closing his eyes. He wished the lad hadn’t gotten himself quite so drunk, but he seemed willing. He stood up, facing Nicholas and allowed him to start unbuttoning his waistcoat. He gave a lopsided smile and slipped his slender hands around Gordon’s neck. For this first time, the businessman noticed his long fingernails. How odd, he thought. Then the young man came in for a kiss, and Nicholas forgot all about his fingers until they found their way into his trousers and started working on his throbbing erection. The lad might have been slim and so youthful he lacked body hair, but he was very experienced, and employed several French methods of giving pleasure before allowing himself to be taken on Gordon’s sumptuous four-poster bed.

  Nicholas couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced pleasure like this … or the last time he had climaxed twice in a row. His ecstasy seemed somehow enhanced, as though he was experiencing not only his own excitement, but his new companion’s as well. Was that even possible? He collapsed on the bed afterwards, convinced his was about to have a heart-attack. “Truly I die!” he gasped. “I have never felt the like! Who are you?”

  Del rubbed his forehead. At least his alcoholic giddiness was starting to wear off. He had merged thoughts with Nicholas during sex, like all Eridons did, and was able to answer the question. “I am … Mr. Delfay,” he said again.

  “Yes, but what is your first name?”

  “Er-" Del was at a loss. He still didn’t want to give his real name so he supplied the first to pop into his mind. “Omadon.”

  “Adam?”

  “Yes, Adam!”

  “Adam Delfay … truly, you are beautiful. You have done things to me tonight that I never thought possible. Shall we get some supper?”

  “Yes please!”

  The two men enjoyed a late dinner at a nearby restaurant that seemed full of male couples, mainly older gentlemen with their younger companions, although Del did spot some women. The same-sex couples seemed able to enjoy themselves without fearing scrutiny. Del put away a prodigious amount of food, and when Nicholas admitted he couldn’t finish his plate, Del cleaned it for him. But he di
sdained the wine that came with his meal. The food made him light-headed enough, although he sensed the strange sensation was starting to ease. He was finally getting used to the food.

  “When was the last time you had a good square meal?”

  Several million light-years ago, Del thought, but simply shook his head, his mouth full.

  Nicholas took him back to his apartment where they made love again, and once more during the night. It seemed Gordon couldn’t get enough of his new companion. Del thought he had finally found a comfortable new place to stay, and someone who could help him start a new life in the city. But when dawn came, Nicholas was rousing him and hurrying him to get dressed.

  “My cleaning lady will be here soon – she mustn’t find any sign that I’ve had a companion here!” Nicholas urged.

  Del couldn’t believe he’d slept so long. The brandy, enormous meal and all that sex must have really worn him out. But as he scrambled into his clothes, he wondered what he was going to do today. He’d thought Gordon would allow him to spend the day simply resting – something he hadn’t done since his arrival.

  It hurt, trying to mind-read so early. “I … I thought … I could stay here.”

  Nicholas took his face in his hands. He looked close to tears. “Sweet boy, I would dearly love to keep you here, but that’s impossible. No-one must know you were here. No-one!” He fumbled through his pockets. “Here, take this.” He pressed a couple of bank-notes into Del’s hand.

  Del found himself ushered out onto the landing with instructions to leave out the back on his own. Offended and still bewildered from the previous night, he picked his way down the steep, narrow stairs. He could hear people already stirring in the other apartments. Straightening his hat, he stepped out into the cool morning. Now what? he wondered miserably as he set off with no real destination in mind. He could hang around these East End Streets all day in case Nicholas returned, perhaps loiter with those rent-boys in case another rich industrialist came past, seeking a companion. He knew with his angelic looks he would have no trouble ensnaring another man.