Jack Faust - Michael Swanwick

by Unknown Author

  RUM BLUFF PECK'S NATURAL WONDERS AND HUMAN ODDITIES

  read the sign, the killer lizard giant king of jungle africa electrified woman the seraglio. With pictures so grotesque that nothing could be too awful to lie within. "Yes, yes, yes!" cried a sailor with South Seas tattoos covering his face. "Peep a glim at the deadliest monster ever to walk the Earth! Shake hands with the black-devil monarch of Ethiopia! Experience the horrid power of the dynamo! Behold the sickening lusts of the depraved East!"

  Rum Bluff Peck was a little man under his barbaric markings, but whipcord tough, and with the shrewd eyes of one who could get or arrange anything. While Lord Howard gaped at the canvases, Faust drew the sailor aside and tipped silver into his hand. "His lordship requires a private showing," he said.

  With a wink and a flash of teeth, the little man leaped to block the entrance with his outstretched arms. "Closed for the night!" he bellowed. "Come back tomorrow to learn the horrifying truth! Disgusting! Closed for the night! Oh, what wonders you have missed! Closed!"

  He led them within the tent.

  They stepped into a canvas room strewn with sawdust and dimly lit by a single lamp. In the gloom was an enormous skeleton, crouching and misshapen. The sailor adjusted the lamp's hood so they could see better, and with a start Faust recognized the baryonyx bones he had two years before sent men to dig from a clay pit in Surrey.

  (Doctor Abernathy sold the bones to finance an expedition to Maidstone) Mephistopheles said. (He reckoned that with the monograph written and published, they were no more than a souvenir and a nuisance.)

  "But what of its value as a type specimen?" Faust objected.

  Lord Howard turned. "I beg your pardon?"

  Embarrassed, Faust said, "I'm afraid I was talking to myself."

  "Ah."

  The sailor returned from a hurried consultation with shadowy others at the entrance to the next tent. In his hand was a hawthorn cane. Imperiously, he slashed the air with it, directing their attention to the dinosaur's slim skull. "Behold," he cried, "the ruins of the wickedest creature as ever was!" Lord Howard raised a hand toward the skull. "I must ask you not to touch them slicers, sir, which even after hundreds of years buried in the ground are still sharp enough to cut your grip-pers to the bone! Oh, how our ancestors must have pissed themselves when this monster—"

  It ate fish, Faust did not say. Note the curve of the jaw and how strikingly similar it is to that of modern fish-eating crocodiles. Fossilized Lepidotes teeth and scales were, in fact, found among the bones exactly where the creature's stomach belonged! Nor did our ancestors cower before it, for the Dino-sauria, however fearsome, were dead as dust tens of millions of years before anything remotely resembling human beings arose to vex an unwary world.

  They would laugh at him if he tried to explain. He kept his silence.

  In the next room was displayed the gigantic corpse, seven feet if it was an inch, of the African prince, frozen naked save for a few Bengalese brass ornaments, within a sawhorsed block of ice. A crescent of white bubbles obscured one nipple; a larger inverted S swirled from navel to knee. Lord Howard studied his heroically proportioned parts circumspectly, as Peck launched into yet another singsong lecture.

  (This wretch was no prince, but a Masai warrior who went wandering after the loss of his family, looking for adventure and forgetfulness. He reached the Indian Ocean and there found a European ship taking on water and in need of hands. Whereupon he discovered in himself an aptitude for sailing surprising in one who had never seen the sea before, and would have had quite a story to tell in whatever port city of the world he wound up in, had he not died of a fever that same voyage. An apt reminder of how death renders all life meaningless.)

  Then Mephistopheles gave Faust the whole experience of the warrior's life: the despair of holding his murdered son in two strong hands; the sad emptiness, upon slaying the villain who had brought madness upon his village, of learning that vengeance was not justice and that justice was to be had nowhere in the world; the wonder of seeing the ocean for the first time—It is so ugly, he had murmured, already in love with it—the satisfaction of wrapping a line about his forearm during a squall and diving into the overtoppling surf to seize a shipmate's hand and so save the man's life. All this in a compressed instant. In the stunned aftermath, he reflected that this nameless and forgotten man had led a fuller life than he himself could ever hope to aspire to.

  Faust roused himself from his reverie to hear Peck conclude, "—no longer worshipped by his pagan ilk, but still a source of awe to all who see him."

  Lord Howard asked, "Why is he frozen in ice?"

  "It's to keep him from stinking," the sailor confided. "He was shipped in a barrel of vinegar, but even so—!" He pinched his nose expressively.

  "He'll be useless to you, come spring, then."

  "Well, not exactly, sir, no. The plan is to render him down and gild the bones, so's we can exhibit him as the Golden Man of Peru."

  Lord Howard laughed and slapped the man on his back. Rum Bluff Peck himself wheezed wickedly, showing every tooth of the seven in his mouth.

  Faust endured all, and followed them into the third tent.

  The Electrified Woman sat enthroned like Boadicea upon a careful reproduction of the electric chair in which enemies of the state were now being executed. She was a buxom thing in a flowing gown, over which was a harness containing small electric jewels. As they entered, the hammering sound of a generator started up. "Welcome, seekers after wonder," she said, thumping her scepter upon the chair loudly enough that it could be heard outside the tent.

  The jewels pulsed and then flashed into splendor.

  "I am the Goddess of Electricity," the woman declaimed and, standing, graciously waved the scepter. It sprouted a blinding light that she directed toward her audience. Lord Howard winced when it struck him in the eye, and applauded her ensuing lecture and demonstration enthusiastically.

  The demonstration consisted largely of simple parlor tricks performed with a static generator: making hair stand on end, shooting sparks across the room, setting fire to a mouse. "Staggering sight, eh! Fills you with wonder, dunnit!" cried the little sailor.

  "I am awestruck," Faust said.

  The final tent was the Seraglio. In it were three scrawny girls in loose trousers, their arms all goosefleshed with the cold and their skin dyed brown with walnut-juice, so that they could display their breasts without scandal. They wriggled clumsily before a fat ersatz Turk who sat upon an enormous mound of pillows, hookah in mouth, ogling them with eye-rolling approval. A bored mulatto boy sat behind him, playing a hornpipe upon the pennywhistle.

  Mephistopheles whispered to Faust, who whispered to the sailor, who nodded and, while the false Pasha spoke of endless nights of tireless passion, briefly left the tent. When he returned, he had with him a small carved box and a slender pipe.

  Faust waved the Pasha silent. "Lord Howard, I have arranged a special treat that I know will particularly appeal to a man of your imaginative bent."

  "Indeed. What is it?"

  "It is called opium."

  Faust waited until the drug was bubbling and Lord Howard well on his way to the isles of paradise before dismissing the actors. The three girls burrowed into heavy clothes and scampered gratefully away, unheeded by the dreaming lord. Faust, for his own part, did not taste the drug, nor did he care to watch its slow and unexciting operation. He withdrew into the adjacent room to think.

  "Oh!" said the Goddess of Electricity. "You startled me." She crouched amid a tangle of wires, several of which disappeared into cunning slits in the back of her gown. With a smile, she returned to the slow and delicate work of unfastening her electrical harness.

  Faust seated himself in her vacated chair. The canvas walls snapped and boomed like sails in the wind. Without the heat from coursing throngs of human bodies, the gas-lamp could not come close to warming the room. He could see his breath.

  (Offer her money) Mephistopheles suggested. (She's a salt
bitch and in need of the ready just now. You might find it amusing to strangle her. Time it just before your orgasm, and the fury of her struggles will be most diverting.)

  "Spare me your suggestions."

  The woman looked up, puzzled. "Who are you talking to?"

  "Shut up." Faust did not care for the conversation of whores or carnival-workers, and was indifferent to their good opinion.

  (The Pope is holding a most opulent orgy tonight—would you care to see it?)

  "No."

  "Sir?"

  "Shut up, I said!"

  (Shall I show you Cleopatra pleasuring Mark Anthony with her mouth? Or Helen of Troy dallying with Paris and an ivory priapus?)

  "I am not interested in the carnality of any woman but one, and she is in Germany and I must be here. So there is no solution for my dilemma."

  The Electrified Woman had finished untangling her harness. She laid it carefully away in a trunk, then nervously slipped from the room.

  Mephistopheles said nothing.

  Faust gripped the chair's padded arms tightly. "What is it you are not telling me, devil?"

  (That you are wrong. A solution exists. But I hesitate to name it.)

  "I do not enjoy these games. Tell me."

  (No, Faust, I dare not. I fear your anger too much to put it into words. But if you will allow, I can show you. Simply close your eyes.) ‘

  He did so.

  Faust found himself in a carriage.

  He had somehow become Ulrich von Karlsbeck, a lieutenant who had distinguished himself in the recent suppression of the peasant uprisings. Though he did not cease being Faust, he felt von Karlsbeck's thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations as strongly as though they were his own. The identification was absolute.

  The carriage rattled and bumped over cobbled streets. Von Karlsbeck's gloved hand bounced upon his knee. He felt his cock stiffen slightly and, embarrassed, crossed his legs to disguise the fact.

  He was intensely aware of the closeness of Gretchen's body.

  "You are very silent, Lieutenant," she said. "Have you run out of words to say, or are your thoughts simply too martial for female ears?"

  "I was reflecting," Ulrich murmured, "that you are a most amazingly beautiful woman."

  She stiffened, and drew herself away from him. Then, seeing that he made no move to press his advantage, relaxed again. "I am a guest in your carriage. That was no proper thing to say under such circumstances."

  They had both spent the evening at a charity ball, a fundraiser for the Society for the Moral Reform of the Indigent, which worthy organization was, everyone knew, more than half-underwritten by Reinhardt Industries. Von Karlsbeck's coach had come around for him simultaneous with the news being brought to Gretchen that her driver, drunk, had disappeared along with her own conveyance. On the instant he had offered her use of his. After a moment's cool reflection, she had accepted.

  "I beg your forgiveness," Ulrich said, grinding his hand against his knee. He had danced only once with Gretchen, early in the evening, but his palm still burned with the memory of her waist. "I just blurted out what I was thinking. It was a brutish thing to do. I know you must think me a rogue or a fortune-hunter, but I assure you—"

  "No," she said, "I can see that."

  They rode on in silence. This was, Ulrich reflected, doubtless the only time in his life he would ever be alone with such a woman—one not merely beautiful and rich, but renowned for her capability and her many good works. She supported not only moral reform, but also societies for the suppression of vice, the abolition of torture, the restraint of slavery, workhouses for orphans, and improved sewage treatment. And she ran a dozen industries. He was most fearfully drawn to her. His friends would know what to do with such an opportunity.

  He, fool that he was, knew but could not act. He was aware of his own worth and virtues, tried in battle and proven in the bedchamber. But he admired Gretchen, and this unmanned him entirely.

  "Tell me," he said to break his chain of thoughts. "I have of course heard of the lock-outs at your factories, and ... I do not say this challengingly, I assure you I am no radical! But it seems obvious, given how much and how freely you spend on charity, that you have wealth enough to give your workers the raises they desire. Would that not then be the best thing to do?" He flushed. "I know I phrased that badly."

  "Clearly, you have not read Foster's essays on economics."

  "No."

  "Then I shall not expound upon the intricacies of supply and demand, nor how prices are regulated by what capitalists call the hidden hand of the market. But Foster shows that an overall raise in wages is never real: It raises the cost of production, which inflates prices so as to undo the good achieved. Further, the temporary improvement in means leads inevitably to bigger families, which in turn increase the pressure on the food supply, resulting in a net increase in human misery."

  "This is the devil's arithmetic!" von Karlsbeck cried in dismay. "These equations make a mockery of all aspiration."

  "Yes," Gretchen agreed, "the truth is harsh. However, so long as we industrialists are given a free hand, our increased efficiencies will result in lower prices and a uniformly higher standard of living, and thus shall all benefit from our endeavors."

  The carriage pulled to a stop. Von Karlsbeck jumped out and ran around to open the door for Gretchen. She stepped down in a swirl of silk, and he escorted her to her door. There was an English lantern by the stoop, and its electric light made the street before it bright as day.

  She ascended a step, then turned. "I am promised to another man," she said, "and I have sworn to be faithful to him forever. You understand, surely?"

  He let out a breath, surprised at his own disappointment. "All too perfectly," he said. Then, gallantly, "I pray you, do not tell me this fellow's name. For then I would hate him, and that would be dishonorable. He upon whom you smile is the most fortunate of men; let not my envy mar his bliss."

  Gretchen blushed.

  "Close your eyes," she said, "and I will kiss your cheek."

  He obeyed, and she bent her head down to his. Her lips brushed his skin in a kiss that was swift, chaste, sisterly.

  He opened his eyes. "Thank you."

  Without warning, she kissed him full and fierce upon the mouth. He felt her tongue deep within him. Then she whirled, and disappeared into the house. The door slammed after her.

  Shaking his head in a complex mixture of wonder and wry admiration, Ulrich von Karlsbeck walked stiffly back to his carriage.

  (There) said Mephistopheles (is your solution.)

  "She is faithful to me." Faust could still taste her mouth, and feel the moistness of her tongue. "You heard her say that."

  (That means less than nothing. A woman does not make such a protestation unless she has been considering its alternative.)

  Faust slammed the chair with both fists. "She is faithful!"

  (Indeed, and has been for more than three years.)

  "Is this your solution, then—that I should watch my Gretchen weaken, grow corrupt, and fall into whoredom?"

  The corpse-form Mephistopheles wore was showing signs of deterioration. Elbows and knucklebones poked through rotting flesh. One cheek had sloughed away from the skull, leaving a grinning patch of teeth. (It is a common thing for a man jaded by his wife's attentions to send her to the tavern to bring home another man, so that he might watch—far commoner than you imagine, for many a woman who would otherwise remain chaste will obey such an injunction. What would be licentiousness done on her own impulse is rendered sweet obedience to her husband's commandment. In this way are many marriages preserved.)

  "I will not listen to such filth."

  (Oh, you fickle and faithless creature! Have you forgotten our bargain? You may do whatever you wish, but you must always—always!—hear what I have to say, in all matters great or small. Otherwise—) He left it hanging.

  "You waste your time."

  (To Gretchen the pleasures of the flesh are but the o
utward expressions of love. She is young, and must obey her body. If she does so at the urgings of a pleasant stranger, her love will focus itself upon him; if by your direction, she will feel a proud subservience to your will. That is your choice. You have no other.)

  "All that proceeds from your mouth is twisted and vile."

  (I have had my say) said Mephistopheles. (See to the lord-ling.)

  Lord Howard sat alone on the pillows, a dreamy smile on his face, a trace of drool running down his chin. Rum Bluff Peck looked up when Faust came in. "It's up anchors for me," the sailor said. "If ye don't want your friend froze to death, ye'd best bing 'im aft."

  "I'll send Lord Howard's coachman for him in an hour or so." Faust added a touch more silver to ensure the man's cooperation. "Watch over him until then. Make sure he takes what remains unsmoked with him. He'll be wanting more in a week or so."

  "It's no easy cargo to find," Rum Bluff Peck said with transparent cunning. "I hove up this load by chance. 'Deed, sir, I was staggered ye even knew of it."

  "He'll pay whatever price you command."

  The sailor was only a stopgap, for he would be dead in a year, stabbed in a tavern brawl over a woman he had met but minutes earlier. By then, however, Reinhardt Industries would be shipping their elixir of laudanum. Faust would be careful to send Lord Howard a case, with his compliments.

  Long before the case was empty, he was confident, a certain seat in Parliament would be filled by a cousin or younger brother. One who lacked his noble kinsman's gift for rhetoric.

  * * *

  The air was cold and clean away from the carnival. Hooves thundered and the sledge's runners made a crisp sound slicing across the ice. On the seat beside the driver, Mephistopheles had shed the last scraps of flesh and was now but bones and a few grey rags. The factory-lights of East London shone like stars between his ribs. The open hearths of the steel mills glowed ember-red under the billowing smokestacks.