The Sensaurum and the Lexis

by Richard Dee

  “I have, and I have the number memorised.” Jackson was pleased to be of use.

  “You go to the speaker office then,” she instructed. “I will seek out writing materials, stay here, drink more Cofé and write my missives.”

  Jackson entered the speaker office. “Hello,” said the girl, her hair tied back severely, a black pencil lodged behind one ear. “And what can I do for you?”

  “I would like to place a call to my uncle in Metropol City,” said Jackson.

  She removed the pencil, licked the end and held it over a piece of parchment. “Of course, sir, the person and number in the city, please?”

  “It is a Mr Fairview at the Makewright Orphanage, Metropol 27 – 1048,” he said, the pencil scratched.

  “Very well, please wait in booth one and I will make the connection.”

  Jackson sat in the booth and picked up the instrument. He could hear the girl talking to the exchange, asking for a line and getting connected to the city. As with flying, he found it hard to believe that he could talk to the city from his location. “Your call is made,” she said and there was a click as she disconnected her apparatus. “Fairview here,” said the voice in his ear.

  “Uncle, it’s Jackson, we are in Hammerham,” he said. “I’m calling to tell you that all is well, we have had an interesting time.”

  “Have you visited the places you had in mind?” asked Fairview, as clear as if he were stood next to Jackson.

  “Some of them. We had an excellent view of the area on arrival, from the flying machine. It shows things you would never have imagined. There is a lot to view in the area. We are to visit the falls of Los this after, perhaps we will visit a farm as well, they have an excellent selection of porkers, nourished on all sorts of herbs and many other substances. In turn, we fed on them at fast-breaker.”

  “And are the people friendly?”

  “They are, Uncle. The Watchman, one Silas Mountmain, has been most attentive to us. Many of the locals have nothing but praise for Mr Nethersole, one of the local landowners. He has plans for the future of this place. He employs a large number on his estate; we were told that his farm manager, a Mr Winstanley, takes folk from the city to work the land.”

  “That is interesting, and how is your good lady?”

  “She is well, thank you. She will be talking to her father shortly. I believe tomorrow.”

  “I will speak to him then and get all her news, what are your plans?”

  “We will see what happens on our visit today, it may be that we stay a little longer, or we may return.”

  “I will leave that to you, thank you for calling and safe exploring.”

  Jackson left the booth, as he did the girl replaced her instrument in its cradle. She saw him and looked nervous. “I was just getting the charges, from the exchange,” she said, almost too quickly. “That will be five sol.”

  Jackson paid her, realising that he had little money left, the bulk of it was in his quip-belt, which of course he didn’t have. He needed to overcome his fear of Jessamine’s wrath and tell her, the longer that passed, the harder it would be. He walked back to the Cofé house, where Jessamine was completing her writing.

  “I’ve written the same thing four times,” she said, “in letters to four different persons, to Langdon, to Clarry and to another two of the safe houses. I will have to hope that one arrives. We can walk to the office of the flying machine company and deposit them. How did your conversation with Uncle go?”

  “Uncle Fairview was interested, he told me to use my discretion and report when I could. He is aware of your imminent message.”

  “Then we should deposit them and repair to our inn for luncheon, to prepare for our expedition.”

  Chapter 22

  After another excellent repast, this time of porker leg, stuffed with apples and grains before roasting. “And where are you off to?” enquired the innkeeper.

  “We have been recommended the falls of Los,” Jackson answered. “It sounds like the kind of place we never see in the city.”

  “Then let me make you some refreshments,” he offered. “It’s a long walk and that porker will not keep you going forever. Prepare yourselves and I will hand it to you before you leave.”

  They changed again into their walking clothes and taking the parcel of food with them, set off, this time without subterfuge, for the falls. Jackson again set off without his belt, still afraid to mention it.

  They reached the wall quickly and turned down the path, walking beside the wall. The falls were further away than they had expected. “It’s strange that nobody mentioned it to us,” mused Jessamine, “that we were starting late in the day to visit and return before dark.”

  Eventually, they arrived and discovered that they were there alone. There was an enchanting waterfall, a glade of fine trees and a few benches arranged around a fire pit. It was beautiful and yet the air was filled with a strange, heavy feeling. There was an absence of birdsong. In the distance, they could hear the porkers behind Nethersole’s wall grunting as they fed. On what? wondered Jackson. He thought of the people in the charabanc they had seen the night before. Were they lured by the prospect of a better life? Were they even now being cut by the Professor, in the hope that his foul scheme would give him and his master some sort of power?

  “This must be a popular place in high summer,” said Jackson, “for outdoor events and such. I don’t suppose there is much else for entertainment.”

  “At least we are alone, we can slip away to the wall, and as we will be coming at it from the other direction, we are closer to that small, inner wall. We also don’t have to get past the gatehouse, or the porkers.”

  Shadows started to lengthen; it seemed unlikely that anyone would arrive now. Jessamine pulled the package of food from her pack. “It will shortly be time to go, let us eat the meal that we have been provided,” she said.

  Jack took the water bottles from his pack. “I expect it’s porker again. I’m getting weary of porker, despite the flavour,” he said.

  Jessamine unwrapped the package and sniffed at the pie which had been revealed. “It is, minced and cooked in a pie this time,” she sounded happy as she passed him a piece and took a bite. Jackson did the same, there were chunks of apple and onion mixed in with the minced meat, all bound up in a thick pastry. Despite himself, he had to admit that it was splendid.

  They ate quickly, the pie fortifying them ready for the night’s exertions, after eating their fill, drinking and refilling their bottles with cool water from the stream, they put the remnants in their packs and headed off towards the wall.

  The outer wall was easy, and it was but a short distance to the second. This part of the estate was secluded and dark. They were tempted to use their torches but the moons gave enough light to see and they were soon scaling the second wall. Jessamine was first. As her head came level with the top, she stopped and, using her left hand, waved urgently at Jackson. He understood her meaning and halted. She slowly climbed on to the top of the wall and lay flat, motioning him to continue. Once Jackson had done the same and was stretched out, head to head with Jessamine, he understood her caution. It was important that they had lain down before they were seen by any of the multitude inside.

  The wall enclosed an area not unlike the barracks that dotted the capital. A row of gas lamps on tall posts illuminated lines of low huts along one side of the wall, which formed a rectangular shape. With a bare earth square near them they were perfectly positioned to see the large group of people milling around. Of all ages, men and women, they appeared to be poor folk, dressed in tattered, dirt stained working clothes and boots.

  “This is where they have been brought,” Jessamine said, “the waifs and homeless from the city. As Silas said, they look like they have been working on the farms of Nethersole.”

  “I reckon that these are the ones that have survived the place where the porkers are.”

  “We have seen Winstanley bringing them here; we suspect his real pur
pose is not to supply farmworkers but to provide test subjects for the Professor, for him to practise something on.”

  “What can the Professor be doing? I will concede that it’s connected to his experiments but how?”

  “You heard the people last night; it’s something that involves cutting them?”

  “Could it be to implant the thing that we found in the arm?”

  “Or maybe what it contains,” he suggested. “We know they can attach wires to the nerves, it’s done all the time when the limbs are fitted. Why not go one step further?”

  A figure came into view. “That’s the Professor, Aldithley,” said Jackson.

  The Professor carried a large box on a leather strap around his neck. It had dials and levers on the face and a long, spring-like wire extending into the air that waved as he walked.

  “Who is that with him?” There were two other men present. Jessamine had taken a pair of naval lenses from her pack, now she put them to her eyes, she fiddled with the focus. “Well, well,” she muttered. “Our friend the Watchman is present, a part of the evening’s proceedings. The other must be Winstanley.” Jackson had no lenses but could see both men; the Watchman’s companion was a tall florid faced individual, large of belly. It certainly looked like the fellow he had seen in the Prosthesium.

  There was some sort of speaking trumpet, like the mouthpiece of a speaker near the Professor’s face. Jackson realised that he had seen this thing before.

  “There were a line of those boxes on the wall when I spied inside the workshop,” he said.

  “They must be the device that controls the filament, perhaps one of them was used in the aerialway sabotage?”

  “Yes, but would you need that much apparatus to send a simple signal? If the Professor is putting things in the neck of people, it will not be simply to turn them on and off. We have gone beyond that.”

  “You mean, Fairview said that the Professor was working on controlling minds, the filament was only the first phase.”

  Before he could answer, Rodney came into view and stood next to the Professor.

  “Are we ready?” he asked, his voice carrying to the watchers in the shadow.

  “Yes, Rodney.”

  “Say it, Professor, show our friends what you have achieved.”

  “Lexis,” the Professor said into the trumpet.

  Instantly all the people stopped their milling and stood still. Their faces blank they all adopted the same posture, as if held up by invisible wires.

  “Listen to me,” said Rodney. Every face turned to him. “Form up in lines.”

  To the amazement of Jessamine and Jackson, the crowd moved into a military formation, shuffling their feet till they were equally spaced. A grey clad man appeared and stood before them. “This is your leader, you will obey him and only him,” said the Professor.

  “By the left, forward march,” called the grey-clad man. As one the group obeyed.

  “Remarkable,” Silas said to Rodney. “If I hadn’t seen it, I would not have believed it, so they are now under your control?”

  “They are susceptible to my suggestions,” he said. “The Professor could explain the intricacies.”

  “This is amazing.” Jessamine showed shock on her face. “We must get this information to Langdon; it seems that Rodney has progressed from the control of artificial limbs to control of people.”

  The Professor was fiddling with the controls on top of his box. He suddenly tensed, swung the apparatus towards their hiding place and shouted, “Rodney, they are here.” He pointed at them. “There!” he screamed.

  “Sound the alarm, we must stop them leaving,” Rodney shouted. A siren began to wail, the marching formation continued tramping, ignoring the hubbub. More of the grey uniformed men came from the huts and ran for the entrances. Faces turned to look up at the top of the wall.

  “We are discovered. Come on, Jackson.” Jessamine rolled away from the shout and dropped to the ground, without bothering to climb down. It was only six feet and she landed like a feline, bending her knees and immediately running for the second wall. Lights flickered as men approached from both directions.

  Jackson had followed Jessamine; however, his landing was not so smooth, he felt a shooting pain in his ankle. Hobbling, he set off across the grass.

  It was only a short distance but, halfway across, a shout went up behind them. “We are seen,” said Jackson, and they increased their pace. Bright lights came on and crossed the air, painting bright circles on the wall. Then they caught them and focused as they attempted to dodge.

  “Keep going,” said Jessamine as they heard the flutter and whine of shots from a gas-gun. The range was still too great, the guns inaccurate in the hands of the running men. They climbed the outer wall as shots chipped the brickwork. They could hear the baying of hounds.

  On the other side of the wall they stopped to catch their breath.

  “We are safe for a moment, till they get around,” panted Jessamine. “We need to get back to the inn and hide.”

  They could hear the shouts of the men on the other side of the wall. “Get a ladder,” “How did they climb?” “Did we hit any?”

  “Silence!” called a strong voice. It was Nethersole. “Who were they?” he asked.

  “I suspect that they were the two strangers, from the city,” replied the voice of Silas. “I have been following them. We need not search; all their possessions are left at the Lost Quarry. We can apprehend them when they return, as they surely must if they want to get back to the city.”

  Dismay fell over Jackson, like a black cloak. Of course, Silas would know where they were staying. How could they return and retrieve their possessions? The tickets for the Aero were there, together with all their clothes. And his belt. He had a sinking feeling; he had failed to protect his belt. If he ever got back to Langdon, he would have to admit to losing it. Before that, how could he hide the fact from Jessamine?

  “Come on,” said Jessamine, breaking into his despair. “We must go the other way then.” She pulled an object from her belt and glanced at it. “This way.” She set off into the trees.

  Chapter 23

  Jackson followed her, deeper into the woods. He understood that they could not return to the town, but where were they heading and how could they get the message to Langdon? How could they find safety? They were heading in the wrong direction, following whatever it was she held in her hand.

  They plunged through the night, through fields and over streams, blundering in the dark as clouds hid the moons. Jessamine never faltered, changing her direction at intervals. Jackson, feeling the pain from his ankle found it hard to keep up and fell behind. “Stop,” he said after an hour or so, while they were sheltered by a thick hedge. “My ankle is hurt.”

  Jessamine came back to him. “We will rest here a while then, let me see.” She felt for the joint. Jackson tried to take his boot off, impatiently, she stopped him. “No keep it laced, if you remove it, your ankle will swell and you’ll never replace it.”

  She relaxed a little. “We have put several miles between us and Rodney’s men; they may have not expected us to come this way. My guess is that they would have followed Silas’s suggestions and gone to the inn. We can sleep here till dawn and then assess our options. You rest first, Jackson, I will keep watch.”

  Jackson crawled into a thick patch of bracken, pulled off his pack for a pillow and despite his fear and alertness, slept. He was woken by a hand on his shoulder. It was still dark. He moved his leg, his ankle hurt, but no more than it had.

  “I will sleep now,” Jessamine said. “Keep a good watch.” She wriggled into the bracken and made herself comfortable.

  Jackson peered into the lightening gloom, day was coming and they were alone. He realised that he needed Jessamine now, more than ever. She seemed to have a plan; he would have to be as useful as he could, even though he had no clues on how to live in the wild. He thought himself very much a child of the City and felt out of place. Close by, St
rigine hooted and he jumped. Then, a large Elaphine passed him by, his antlered head swinging around as he searched for scent. Jackson kept still and the beast moved away. He saw nor heard any human pursuit. Perhaps they would be safe after all.

  Jessamine awoke as the sun rose between the trees. She stretched and smiled. “’Tis day and we live, we will be safe from pursuit, once they find we are not at the inn, they will not know which way to search for us. They cannot look in all directions.” She stood, looking again at the small object.

  “What is that, in your hand?” Jackson asked.

  “It’s a lode-arrow,” she said. “The same as a ship on the sea has. It shows me the pole and the direction of sunrise, you have one in your belt.”

  She passed it to him, a red needle swung as he held the case. He realised that the needle was still, it was the case that moved.

  “We head west,” she said, “away from the sunrise, away from the town.” She took the lode-arrow and placed it back in her belt.

  His belt; Jackson had still not told her that he had mislaid his belt. That had been a perfect opportunity. He could have lied and said that it had come off in the pursuit. When could he tell her? The longer he left it, the worse it would be. To deflect her mind from the belt, he mentioned another thing that had been bothering him. “What I don’t understand,” he said, “is how they knew we were inside the wall?”

  “Someone must have seen us,” she replied, “either coming over the wall or when we hid.”

  “That is not possible,” he persisted. “We had no inkling of followers while we walked or ate. Once over the wall, we were in shadow.”

  “Does it matter now?” she asked. “Perhaps Silas followed us to Los and saw us go over. We were found and that was that.”

  She pulled a small parcel from her pack. “Here’s the rest of the food from the inn. We should eat it all, it may be a while until we can eat again.” They fell on the remnants of the pie and devoured the crumbs.