“The only fun way to capture someone, Sir.”
Jasper grunted his approval and headed towards a nearby building where a horse had been tied up. He slid into the saddle and took off for the east. The Captain and his troops headed towards the north.
I waited until everyone was gone, before I spoke again, “Well, it looks like we have another immortal on our hands.”
He futilely dusted himself off and then he offered me a hand to help me up. I took it. He looked nonplussed as he said, “It appears we have two. Looks like S.O.A.R. was in the right in seeking Tesla before the government gets their hands on him. This positively connects Lovecraft to this part of our little government conspiracy. What is most troubling is what he was trying to accomplish.”
“Do you know what that is?”
“I have suspicions, but no theory yet. Perhaps Tesla will be able to cast a light on this event, better than I.”
“I'm more than a little bit worried that the government is actively in pursuit of Tesla. They have many more resources at their disposal than we do. It will make this venture infinitely trickier.”
He said, “Well, there is nothing to be done about that. We must trudge onward, I fear. We are here and at least Jasper Jackson and Lovecraft are not, for the moment. That may help things along just enough.” He smiled and mentioned more to himself, than to me, “At least, I have an ace in the hole that may just work to our advantage.”
“And what pray tell is that, Mr. Grey?”
“Why it's elementary my dear, Wendy. It's pigeons.”
···•Ͽ Ѡ Ͼ•···
We spent the next hour backtracking through the fallen city, looking through buildings for forgotten and healthy carrier pigeons. We found what we were desperately looking for in a burned and hollowed out cathedral. Most of the religions of the world collapsed under the weight of the proven existence of zombies, magic, and Werewolves- that is except for the Church of Deism. In fact, this church had been converted at some point in its history to Deism, hence, it fall to the shaker, and not by the weight of time.
Deists originally detested all organized religion and claimed magic wasn't real. But when the Civil War broke out, more and more people were looking for answers as to why God would allow zombies to exist on Earth. The Deists were the ones to claim that God had absolutely nothing to do with this. It was all man's doing. They were in their heyday until it was shown that magic was also real. That hit them hard in their belief system, and they had to adapt quickly to save their organization and their patrons.
As a result, their church split into two opposing factions. The first was the Estonians, named after Theodore Eston, founder of the offshoot religion. They were also known as the Truth Eaters by their naysayers, because they claimed to celebrate the truth in all its facets. This included embracing all the supernatural beings now known to live in the world. They even believed that God gave some people supernatural abilities to carry out God's work on Earth, like his personal vassals. This belief was not popular with the masses of Ordinaries. Unable to be financially supported by the insufficient numbers of the Users, they were forced to keep open chapels only in the largest of cities.
It was not unusual for modest congregations to meet in neighborhood houses for worship and fellowship. You could identify the houses by their symbol of the Tree of Life, which was often only a homespun, wood carved plaque that hung above their doorways. Ironically, their harsher critics called it the Tree of Knowledge, where Eve was tempted and ousted from paradise. It was a dig that the Estonians enjoyed flaunting. If they had a souvenir shop in the front entrance of their chapel, like they often times did, they usually sold items such as hair pins, tie clips, and buckles with trees or apples on them for the like-minded, alternative crowds.
On the other side of the coin, the other faction continued to be known as the Deists. The Deists employed scientists who conducted research in magic, who were able to rationalize the existence of magic by claiming it came from the earth's natural electromagnetic and radiation resonances. This logical explanation of magic was enough to draw the people in flocks to their churches. It was officially adopted as the State Church when they advocated the cleansing of magic from their supernatural patrons.
Those parishioners with magic were asked to give up their magic entirely in pursuit of a higher law of leading a natural life. The President, an Ordinary himself, publicly agreed with this sentiment despite continuing to train Users for battle in the military. It was always amazing to me that anyone with an inkling of magic would want to serve in the military. But one should never forget that the military and the government were still the dominating forces in politics. Users had aspirations for their children, and the military was one of the only options for families in higher social positions to gain political edges.
Which brought me around to Lovecraft, was he employed by the President? Was he working outside of its influence? Was he a freelance associate? Was he using the President as a puppet?
I asked Dorian his opinion as we climbed precariously up stone steps to the bell tower.
“I honestly don't know what to make of Lovecraft, yet, except he will make a challenging adversary.”
“Indeed,” I replied. “Now why are we getting a pigeon exactly?”
“Tesla is known to have loved pigeons. He will respond to a note I send via carrier pigeon.”
“Might he think contrary to this? He might think using pigeons as carriers is animal abuse?”
“He may,” he acquiesced, “But, I believe that it will at least give us an introduction to him.”
Carrier pigeons were almost exclusively used by Users now, since we could use magic to make sure the birds went precisely to their intended destinations. I rarely used them, since to keep one myself would mean a time commitment that I was unable to fulfill. It was hard enough finding someone reliable to maintain my plants while I was away. Sometimes old habits died hard, which was why there was a coop at all in this church.
I said, “We don't know for certain that this Tesla is the Nikola Tesla we are looking for. It could just be some descendant of his or no relation at all.”
“We have pertinent information that is imperative that he receive, no matter who he is, he is in real danger. I'm risking the contact. I'm eager to wager that it is the Nikola Tesla though. If it is not Nikola, then at least we will be giving someone a sporting chance at surviving the assault coming his way.”
“Perhaps... we may need to recruit him anyway, whoever he is, if he has knowledge of contriving a machine that creates gates to who knows where. I know that S.O.A.R. could benefit by having such a scientist on the pay roll.”
“Precisely.” But he didn't sound so convinced to me.
We made it to the bell tower and located the pigeon coop. Dorian took out his pen and paper. Then he pulled the knife back out from his coat and punctured his finger again. Then he dipped his pen into the blood pooling on his finger. Once he was done scribbling his note for Tesla on a piece of his parchment, he methodically tied it to the pigeon's carrier capsule tied around its neck, and released the animal into the air.
I proceeded to open all the cages in hopes of freeing them before the cathedral ultimately succumbed to the city’s creeping fires. To my chagrin, all the pigeons remained in their nest, roosting for the night. I had liberated them, but they chose the safety of the known over the unknown. I looked into their eyes and saw myself reflected back at me.
Chapter 9
Tesla and His T.R.A.M.s
“They promised me a life of leisure in the pursuit of science, but what they really offered me was a life of slavery in the creation of weapons of destruction.”
-Nikola Tesla, 2232
From Dorian's Journal of Memorable Quotes to Live By
We sat down in a cloistered room off the foyer of the cathedral. At least it had a window. It would have been perfect for an escape route, if it had been larger than eight by twenty four inches. I wasn't even sure if I could
fit sideways through it with a lot of help.
I certainly didn't like the idea that we might be stuck here indefinitely, and it was making me feel more than a tad twitchy. I wanted to take off immediately, on foot no less, in search of Tesla, but Dorian would hear none of it. He assured me that Tesla was close enough to us, that we should receive a response from him within the hour. Dorian was firm in his opinion that it would be for the best if Tesla came on his own volition, before we tried to harass him on our own. I wasn't so sure. My pistol could be quite convincing.
I sat on the cool slate floor, with my legs stretched out before me, and pressed my back up against the warm stone that made up the walls of the abbey. I closed my eyes, even though I had no intentions of sleeping. With my goggles off, the smoky air made them feel dry and irritated, and I kept at the back of my mind that the fires were drawing ever closer the longer we waited here.
Dorian pulled up a chair beside me and sat down on it next to me. The compulsion to set out my weapons in neat rows in front of me was strong, but I resisted. The energy had to go somewhere, so I took off my gloves and began popping my knuckles.
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
“What?” My fingers had begun to ache from popping them so much. “Popping my knuckles?”
“No, although that does test my patience. No, rather your choice of sitting on the floor here, rather than on a chair. Also, choosing the servant's quarters over another, more tasteful room back in the Brownstone?”
“Oh, the Brownstone's governess's room? It was a perfect room to escape from, if you hadn't noticed. Just in case we were invaded.”
“There were other equally and more suitable escape rooms in that Brownstone.”
I paused. Were there? I thought back to the layout of the Brownstone and had to admit that there could have been two other equally suitable rooms. I hadn't really thought of why I chose that room above the others.
Regrettably, he wasn't done yet with me, though, “And sitting here on the dirty floor, when there is another perfectly suitable chair just over there to sit upon while we wait. You are not an animal, Ms. Darling.”
I glared at him, which was difficult while sitting on the floor, and said, “Thank you for educating me in the finer arts of being a toff, Sir Grey. Let me assure you that my father was a toff of the finest caliber. I am very well aware of the state of the floor I am sitting upon.”
He raised an eyebrow and replied, “I see.”
I was about to argue about how much he thought he could see and how he could put it in a place you couldn't see, when the doors of the cathedral burst open in a thunderous crash. I pulled a pistol from my pocket and dashed to the useless escape window. Perhaps I could shoot it larger; the walls were not in their best state of repair after all.
Dorian ran behind the door, when it suddenly burst forth from its hinges and fell inward. Dorian astutely stepped out of the way before being hit. Then a golden, humanoid automaton with white glowing eyes walked into the room. My free hand instinctively, and ever so slowly, drew out the Westington, and I pulled the trigger releasing a line of white lightening that streaked out across the dark room to compliment my barrage of bullets from my pistol. This was definitely a shoot-now-and-ask-questions-later situation.
The robot paused when the bolt hit him, blue lightening arcing around its body until the electricity disappeared entirely. In fact, as I examined it more closely, it not only seemed to be unaffected, but also seemed to absorb the current. Its white eyes started blinking and then changed from white to blue. Then they shifted back to white and started glowing an even brighter aura of white than before. It took several steps into the room.
Without hesitation, I took aim, and fired my pistol twice, sinking identical bullets into both of its knees. It buckled under the weight and hit the ground in a cloud of dust. Then the lights positioned about its hull twinkled out with an accompanying sizzle.
“Blasted bullets. Who else is still using such antiquated arms, besides the military? I knew I should have brought one of my newer models to this blasted place,” said an accented voice from behind the now stationary bot.
Dorian stepped out from the wall, into the man's view, and said, “Nikola, how very good it is to see you looking so... alive. Please allow me to do the honor of introducing to you the expert sharpshooter who took down your bodyguard.
“This is Miss Darling.” He then eloquently gestured with his hand towards me. There I stood, more than mildly abashed for still holding my smoking guns. Then he turned to me and said, “Wendy, this is the Nikola Tesla.”
I tried to curtsey, as much as I could holding my too-hot-to-put-away guns. Then opted to just say, “Pleased.” However, I scowled at Dorian and said, “I see you are already well acquainted.”
“Do not jump to any hasty conclusions, my dear. Tesla and I know each other from back before he knew me to be immortal. I was only another interested investor in A.C. current business back then.”
Nikola spoke up and said, “Quite right, madam. I was most surprised to receive Dorian's note only an hour ago.
“As you can imagine, I was most eager to meet with him since I know of so few of the ageless. You see, I thought him dead some than two hundred and fifty years hence. But to find you, as well, is the real delight. I have met no women who share the same... affliction.” Judging by the look in his eyes, I would say that his curiosity was most clearly piqued.
I didn't need this kind of attention, but I also didn't need to make an enemy of him, so I asked, “So, you are not angry with me for breaking your automaton?”
“No, not at all. I have, let's say, more than several of these beauties, so I won't miss one. Besides, she is repairable, should I choose to come back for her. I am excited to learn of another weakness that can be corrected. My T.R.A.M., excuse me, that's short for Technological Remotely Automated Machine, had performed superbly until you blew her knees out.
“I am proud to say that she was able to absorb your Westinghouse's charge by turning the bolt of electricity into something that it could absorb and store in her backup battery. Lucky for both of you, I turned off her kill switch before coming in here, or you would have had quite a challenge indeed on your hands.
“Now let's see, while it is such a delightful challenge getting here without being detected,” then he turned to Dorian and asked, “What precisely is this reunion all about?”
Dorian removed a card from an inside pocket of his coat and extended a graceful hand over to Tesla. He said, “I am here to offer you an opportunity. Think of this as an opportunity to create your machinations and investigate your scientific fancies. Quintessentially, this is your chance to create whatever your imagination leads you to create without intrusion or duress. The Society of Arcane Revelations offers you a very well appointed place on their science division.
“You needn't have a worry again, whether the government is in pursuit of you or some other nameless villain. Indeed, from direct observation, you are at the top of their list for capture. We know about your Earthquake Machine, and I can tell you that they know of it as well, Tesla. Your little exhibition could be made to be quietly forgotten and dismissed, if you choose to join the Society. What do you say, Nikola?” Dorian's little oration sounded rehearsed. Did S.O.A.R. script this rubbish? Of course they did.
Nikola took the card and skimmed it with little care. He then looked up at Dorian and then me. His stare lingered a little too long on me for my liking, but then he handed the card back to Dorian. “Sorry, I cannot accept those terms. I have eluded the government with success for over two hundred years. I independently fund my own warehouse, which more than enables me to work without interruption and most especially without the aid of an outside influence. No, Dorian, I cannot accept this Society’s terms.”
Dorian cursed. Then he said, “Tesla, don't be a fool. Your life is in extreme danger, whether you choose to believe us or not. The Society has deep pockets with long arms. They can protect a life as n
o other agency can, including your own.
“Certainly these automatons are ingenious contraptions, but you don't know who is after you. We just saw H. P. Lovecraft with the Secretary of State. Let me state this in no uncertain of terms: they will not give up on you until they have you. And, they will use you for whatever convoluted evil that they are devising. They have already mastered some perverted side effect of your shaker machine.
“Come with us now and choose to live another day.” I noticed that Tesla did not deny ownership of the shaker machine.
“Or stay and die? How very dramatic of you. Sounds like you are already trying to be my foreman. This is precisely why I have not joined up with organizations such as your S.O.A.R. Ach, don't look surprised Dorian that I already know all about your Society. It is no friend of science, unless it suits them and their whims.
“You promise me a life of leisure in the pursuit of science, but what you really offer me is a life of slavery in the creation of weapons of destruction. While I may not be a man of means or power, I am leading a life of integrity, truth, and science.”
Then he turned to me and his eyes flashed as he asked, “And what of you Miss Darling? Are you the carrot before this horse? Are you going to try and convince me to join your precious S.O.A.R. with more pretty words or will it be with only your pretty face? Why exactly are you here?” he accused.
“What were your motivations with creating the shakers, Mr. Tesla? Many innocent people have died as a result of your machine. Is that not a weapon of destruction?” I asked.
“That, ma’am , was an unfortunate consequence for the greater good.”
Dorian drew his attention, before he could defend himself further, by asking, “Why?”
While he started to address Dorian, I slipped my Widow around to the front of me and slipped in a blue, sleepy dart. I interjected with an answer to his question, “I was sent to be neither your whore, nor your best friend.” Then I blew. It landed in his throat, a perfect shot actually. He seemed surprised and pulled it out.
Tesla's Revenge Page 10