Gaslit Revolution

by Jason Gilbert

  Kane stretched his hearing down to the crowd on the platform. People chattering, laughing at dull and dry jokes. When will it start? What does the President have to show us? New development?

  Don’t let him talk. Drown him out. Show him we won’t take this anymore.

  Kane focused in hard on the naysayers, recognized the voice of the young man from earlier.

  “This isn’t anything more than a celebration of them pushing us to the ground,” the kid said. “There are twenty of us, and hundreds of them. But we can still be louder. Show no fear. They want us to be afraid, and we’re not going to give in to them.”

  “Shit,” Kane said as he reeled his hearing back in. “Damn it. They’re already here.”

  “What do we do?” Tabitha asked.

  “Hope they don’t cause too much of a stir,” Kane said. “We need to stop them. I don’t know what Gentry has planned for them. Stopping them shouldn’t be too hard.” Kane stretched his hearing back down as the kid began to speak again.

  “The time for complacency is over. Did you bring it?”

  Another responded. A man. His voice was deep and resonating.

  “Yeah, right here. Can plug a rat from a mile away, you pick which eyeball.”

  Kane heard the telltale sound of a gun being readied. With the kind of range the other man was bragging about, it had to be a long rifle.

  “Start up when he gets into the mic,” the leader said. “Get the chants going, and bunch up until I can get a clear shot. When I give the word, be ready to scatter.”

  Kane felt the blood drain out of his face.

  “Oh. Fuck. Me.”

  He didn’t realize how loud he’d said it until he saw a few of the older passengers stare at him, appalled that a young lady would use such vulgar language.

  Tabitha touched his arm.

  “What is it?”

  “They plan to kill Frostmeyer,” Kane whispered, looking into her eyes. “They’re going to kill the President.”

  The passenger ramp was crowded, the people flowing off the ship and onto the dock as conversation of the upcoming conference filled the air in a clustering hum. Kane and Tabitha smiled and nodded dutifully to the women who acknowledged them, and the men who looked them over hungrily.

  “Looks like I may require an evening of hospitality at the Mermaid,” a man said from behind them. Kane looked over his shoulder, taking a cue from Tabitha and scrunching his nose flirtatiously as he batted Becky’s eyes.

  “I look forward to seeing you there, good sir.”

  Touch me and I’ll break every bone in your body, Kane thought.

  “That was good, ‘Becky,’” Tabitha said, smiling at Kane as they walked. “You act like you’ve done this before!”

  Kane didn’t respond, his mind still whirling around. Stopping suicidal protesters was one thing. He could manage that. Simple. But where had the idea of killing Frostmeyer come from? The guy hadn’t said a thing about that earlier when he’d been ranting in the street.

  The President. He planned to assassinate the President.

  Killing Frostmeyer wouldn’t solve anything. In fact, it would make the situation catastrophically worse. It would ignite open war. Bloodshed. Kane could see it now. Chaos. Rioting. Chesterfield marching a legion of Special Forces troops into Hidden Valley, killing anyone they saw. Any hope of rebellion would be gone with a single round.

  He had to formulate a plan, and he had to do it now.

  “Stay with me until we get to a good spot where you can change us back,” Kane said, keeping Becky’s voice low. Tabitha nodded as he spoke. “Once we’re down there, we need to find that kid who’s leading the protest. There’s at least twenty of his group.”

  “What about the other thing?” Tabitha asked, her tone cautious. “Killing Frostmeyer? You were kidding, right?”

  Kane ignored her as they stepped out onto the skywalk. The walkway was covered, glassed in, and loud from the throng of people in animated conversation. The railing on either side was a polished brass, the carpet underfoot a deep red. A line of people gathered in front of the elevator that would take them down to the streets below. Kane waited until the doors opened again, the lift operator motioning to people to board.

  “Order, please,” the man said. “Enter in an orderly fashion, ladies and gentlemen. Order.”

  Kane tugged lightly at Tabitha’s hand and moved towards the lift. A man stepped in his way, his back to him, broad and bulging through the suit. The seams on the jacket threatened to split under the strain, and the back of the man’s thick neck was sweaty.

  Danwood turned and grinned and Kane and Tabitha.

  “Evening, ladies,” he said.

  Kane fought back the urge to vomit. Danwood in a suit?

  “A fine evening, Lieutenant,” Tabitha said, giving a small curtsy as she slipped easily into her role. “I recognize you from the newspapers! Why dressed so well, good sir? Are you off duty?”

  “Not so lucky,” Danwood grunted. “I’m supposed to speak. Got run late thanks to a situation.”

  Who the fuck would want to hear anything you have to say? Kane thought.

  “Oh, my,” Tabitha said, feigning shock. “Nothing serious, I do hope!”

  “A bunch of homeless got gunned down in Hidden Valley,” Danwood said, waving his hand dismissively. “Who gives a shit? Hope some of them were Magicians. At least do us all that favor.”

  Kane’s fists tightened by his sides, his muscles tense. He hid his hands in the folds of his skirt and smiled sweetly at Danwood.

  “One hopes the stress of the day wasn’t too hard on you, my dear Lieutenant.”

  Danwood grinned at him, put the unlit cigar in his mouth in an attempt to look dashing.

  “Where might you be heading this evening, doll?”

  “The Mermaid, of course.”

  Danwood’s grin grew broader.

  “I may meet you there after the event. Stretch out, have a drink or twelve.” He looked Kane up and down, taking in the view of his female outward appearance. Kane felt his skin crawl, knowing that Danwood was undressing him with his eyes. “Hell, I could go for some private, personal attention.”

  Kane ignored the urge to find the nearest shower and gave Danwood a nod.

  “Of course. I look forward to it, good sir.”

  Danwood stepped aboard the lift, his girth taking up the remainder of space. He looked expectantly at Kane and Tabitha.

  “Ladies?”

  “We’ll take the next one,” Tabitha said, fanning herself flirtatiously. “I believe my sister and I require a powder after encountering such a gentleman as yourself.”

  Danwood was still smiling when the lift doors closed.

  Tabitha giggled.

  “I think he likes you.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Kane muttered.

  Tabitha looked at him, smiling wryly.

  “You’ve been a girl for about two hours. It gets easier when you’ve been one your entire life.”

  It was several minutes before the lift doors opened again. Kane and Tabitha made sure to be the first in, pressing to the back of the car as more people gathered aboard. The operator shouted over the conversation, asking for calm and order as he pressed the button to take the lift to the ground floor. The doors opened to a station area, the vaulted ceiling painted with clouds to mimic an orange and red evening sky. The large columns made of polished oak were decorated with carved cherubs and forestry, a burning gas light on each side. People milled about, waving down carriages drawn by clockwork horses or calling to others to inquire about dinner arrangements after the event. Kane overheard some talk about going to the Mermaid. The bar would be busy tonight.

  Tabitha led Kane towards a door marked “Powder.” The door opened and closed repeatedly as ladies came and went, each dressed in flowing skirts, blouses, and corsets. Most had their hair up, their goggles on top of their heads in case of rain. One nodded to the two women rushing in, smiling at Kane as they wen
t.

  “Becky! Good to see you!”

  Kane glanced at her.

  “And you.”

  “Will you be at the Mermaid later?”

  Kane shrugged.

  “Why not? I need a drink.”

  The woman blinked, giving Kane a look of mild confusion as she turned and went about her way. Tabitha pulled Kane through the door, led him through the small room to a stall at the end. They crowded in, closing the door behind them. Once the last lady left the room, Kane looked at Tabitha.

  “Okay, reverse the spell.”

  Tabitha’s jaw dropped.

  “But you’re so pretty!”

  “Just do it.”

  Tabitha huffed, crossed her arms in front of her, and uttered the counterspell. “Sýnið mér sannleikann."

  Kane looked down as his courtesan garb began to shift and fold in on itself, turning into pants and boots. His blouse and corset became his white buttoned shirt, and his long curled hair shortened, his hat appearing on his head and his goggles moving down around his neck. His frame grew to its normal size, his muscles growing larger and his face breaking out in stubble. He watched as Tabitha turned into herself, her long, flowing and wavy blond locks replacing the dark hair she‘d had only seconds ago.

  “Better?” she asked as she straightened the goggles on her head.

  Kane spoke, his normal voice a welcome relief.

  “We need to get to the conference right now.”

  “Are they really going to kill him?”

  Kane nodded.

  “We’ve got to make sure it doesn’t happen. It’s not worth the risk.”

  Another person entered the bathroom. Kane motioned to Tabitha to keep quiet, waited until the user washed her hands and left before he spoke again.

  “Come on.”

  They left the bathroom, moving quickly through the crowd at the station. Kane kept his head down, his hat pulled low as he led Tabitha towards the station entrance and onto the busy sidewalk and street of New Chicago. Carriages and clockwork horses moved towards City Hall, throngs of people flooding the ornate garden in front of the building. A large fountain graced the center of the courtyard, a statue of an old man pouring a neverending flow of water from an urn into the pool at his feet. Newsies clustered at the front steps, furiously taking notes and shouting questions to staff as police worked to urge them back and keep order. Citizens gathered in front, some wealthy, others in the upper working class that managed to make enough of a living to stay out of Hidden Valley and in the good graces of their masters. These were people that Kane often wondered about. They were loyal to the Oligarchy, supportive of the corporations taking over the government, and blind to the fact that their wages were still not enough to give them any clout or standing in the social circles occupied by the men who ruled the Northern Union.

  “People will always work against their own best interests,” Jones had said once, his tone gruff as he’d lit his cigarette. He spoke through the large cloud of smoke in the air. “It’s human nature, Kane. Tell ‘em what they want to hear, make it sound pretty, and watch the little sheep fall right in line. Especially if you make it clear that you don’t like the people they don’t like. Give ‘em someone to look down on, and they’ll let you rob ‘em blind.”

  Kane led Tabitha across the busy street and into the courtyard, looking for the protesters as he went. A small group of people gathered in the far corner of the courtyard, roped off and separated from the rest of the crowd. Kane recognized the ring leader from earlier. The kid was yelling at the cop trying to keep things under control.

  “We have a right to be here,” he shouted in the officer’s face. “It’s our constitutional right! We have Freedom of Speech!”

  “Not here, you don’t,” the officer said. “You stay over here and keep it down. You wanna hold signs and sing songs? Be my guest. But when President Frostmeyer speaks, you shut your shiteater and listen.”

  Kane moved to the rear of the protestors, Tabitha close behind him as the number of people in the square grew. There had to be over a thousand standing, waiting, all involved in a multitude of conversations. Focusing his hearing wouldn’t be impossible, but it would take him longer to drown out the noise.

  He shouldered his way through the protestors, moving to the leader up front. The kid turned away, nodding to another man as a cop he’d been shouting at moved on to take care of a few newsies that had gotten past the police tape. The kid’s eyes fell on Kane and widened as he seemed to recognize him instantly. It caught Kane off guard. He’d never met the guy before. Didn’t know him from Adam other than when he’d seen the kid preaching revolution in the street earlier.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” the kid said. “Kane Goddamned Shepherd. I didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to show up to this.”

  “It’s amazing what an idiot I am,” Kane said. “Still smarter than you.”

  “Go on,” the kid said, his stare intense.

  “You need to back the hell down,” Kane said. “Killing Frostmeyer isn’t the answer.”

  The kid blinked, his mouth opening slightly in surprise.

  “How the…how the fu—”

  “No time,” Kane said, cutting him off. “You need to stand down right now.” He looked around as the protesters gathered closer. “All of you need to clear out. It’s not safe.”

  “Kane’s right,” Tabitha said, stepping up beside Kane. “You’ve all got to leave. Now.”

  “You two are full of shit,” the leader said, his tone angry. Challenged. “There’s no way we’re leaving. We came here for a purpose. We need to be heard, to make our point. And killing Frostmeyer is the best way to get things across.”

  “All I heard was ‘We’re here to start a fucking war that will end with Hidden Valley being a memory,’” Kane said. “You’re going to get a lot of people killed. You’re not thinking this through.”

  The kid stepped closer to Kane, met his stare as he put his face close enough to almost touch nose-to-nose.

  “I know what the hell I’m doing,” he said. “Do you?”

  Kane saw something in his eyes. He’d seen that hunger before, but not in someone looking for a fight. He’d seen a similar look recently, but it’d been combined with the look of someone who had an agenda. It clicked in his mind, filled him with anger at both the kid and at himself for not seeing it sooner.

  “Back up,” Kane said, his fists clenched. “You’re out of your league, here. Chris.”

  The kid flinched, stepped back, a smile on his face as his skin rippled. His clean-shaven face changed, a beard growing instantly as his shaggy blond hair grew down to his shoulders. His build changed, growing skinnier as his clothing shifted from dirty shipyard garb to faded trousers and a blue button-down shirt.

  The newsie looked at Kane, grinning.

  “How’d you guess?”

  “That you were a Magician? I didn’t. I figured you’d just had a bath for a change. You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that. Practicing magic in broad daylight in the middle of New Chicago? They gotta be made out of brass.”

  Tabitha glared at Chris.

  “You’re a jerk,” she said. “And you’re leading these people into a trap. Listen to Kane and clear out!”

  “What’s she mean, Chris?” one of the men said from the group.

  “Nothing,” Chris said. “All of you check your amulets. Make sure they’re activated just in case. We do this clean, like I said.”

  “I’m going to stop you,” Kane said. “This is your last chance. Don’t make me—”

  Danwood’s voice carried across the square, the crowd growing quiet as he spoke.

  “Ladies and gentlemen: we thank you for your attendance this evening.”

  Kane looked past Chris as the newsie turned around. Kane saw Danwood on stage, staring down hard at a paper on the podium in front of him. He cleared his throat. Kane grinned as the Lieutenant struggled through the notes like a fifth grader taking his turn to read aloud. />
  “This is a special night for New Chicago,” Danwood said in clear and graveled monotone. “Change is coming that will better the city. Renovations of older neighborhoods, and restructuring of city operations and infrastructure will ensure progress and prosperity for all citizens. The New Chicago Police Department is fully cooperating with and supports President Frostmeyer in this endeavor. Thank you.”

  Danwood turned away from the podium awkwardly as a group walked down the steps behind him. Kane recognized Gentry immediately, the serpentine smile on the old man’s face as he offered a chair to a middle aged man with black hair highlighted by gray on the sides.

  Frostmeyer.

  Chesterfield joined them, decked out in his polished brass armor. He carried his helmet and mask in his arm, his black hair slicked back and his face clean-shaven. The man was large, muscular, standing a good foot taller than Gentry. He had a scar down the center of his face, stretching from the top of his forehead to the bottom of his chin as if he’d gotten a knife to the face.

  Probably before he’d realized he was a Blood Priest.

  Frostmeyer nodded to Chesterfield and Gentry before standing up again. Danwood nodded to the President, left the podium, and took a seat next to Gentry. Frostmeyer stepped up to the podium, cleared his throat, and addressed the crowd.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

  Kane looked back at Chris and the others. They began to grumble, some of them stepping forward, tense and fidgeting. They were ready to start shouting, start their protest.

  Kane shook his head. No. Chris held up a hand, backing the others down. He glared at Kane, his posture and expression determined, anticipating.

  Frostmeyer continued.

  “We have a lot of wonderful things planned this evening. Shall we begin?”

  Chapter Ten

  “I urge you to consider the times,” Frostmeyer said, looking out over the crowd. “I urge you to reflect on where we are.”