It didn’t take us long to drag the mechanical contraption out of the attic and clean it up properly. We set it up on the dining room table and Joseph filled the inkwell while I located paper to place into the spring-loaded holders on the corners of the small desk. As soon as we were done, we stared at it in silence.
I looked at Joseph and noted the smile spreading across his face.
“Now what?” I asked.
“You ask it a question.”
“And?”
“And it answers.”
I frowned at the small wooden boy. “Are the answers broad or something? It can’t possibly understand us.”
“Watch this,” he replied, a twinkle of excitement sparkling in the corner of his eye.
He cleared his throat and directed his question at the clockwork writer. “How do I get rich?”
I visibly flinched. “What kind of question is that?”
“It’s a perfectly valid one. Father left us with practically nothing but debt and junk. Look at us. We are out here only a day before the bank is to reclaim our summer home, digging through the attic hoping to stumble across something of value. Now we have the chance to re-write our story.” He pointed at the boy with his quill poised over the blank page. “He can rewrite it for us.”
He turned back to the boy and repeated his question. “How do I get rich?”
The clockwork boy sat perfectly still.
We looked at each other and I shrugged. “Maybe your question is too open ended.”
Joseph nodded and looked at the small wooden boy. “Where can I find some money?”
The clockwork writer jerked into action and I jumped even though I had been half expecting it. He wrote slowly and steadily. We watched in anticipation until he finished and resumed his waiting stance. Joseph removed the paper from the desk and read it out loud. “Visit the Old Lady today at precisely seven minutes past the hour of three. Take only one.”
He stared perplexedly at the doll seated at the desk. “What is this?”
My mind raced as I worked out the solution and then my face broke out into a massive smile. “I think he means the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street.”
Joseph held his hands out and shook his head, indicating he still didn’t understand.
I had to use words he would know. “The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street is another name for the Bank of England.”
He stared at the paper again and then at the clock on the mantle above the dining room fireplace. “Seven minutes after three? That’s in an hour.” He grabbed the mechanical doll and lifted it from the table.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Hiding this in our old room. And then we are going to see what is so special about the Bank of England at seven minutes past three.”
Imagine my surprise when we arrived at the bank a couple of minutes before three only to discover stacks of gold bars on display in an effort to prove everyone’s money was safe with the Bank of England. So safe, they saw no disadvantage to leaving stacks of gold bars piled up out in the open for everyone to see.
We stood just inside the door and I struggled to keep my mouth from hanging open in shock. How had the doll known about this? Joseph nudged me in the side with an elbow and whispered. “He said to take only one. Do you think he meant only one gold bar?”
I tore my eyes away from the glittering bars stacked waist high and focused on the several armed guards standing around them. I nudged Joseph back hard with the sharp point of my elbow and whispered loudly. “He didn’t say anything about guards with guns.”
“Let’s wait and see what happens in seven minutes.” Joseph winked and strode deeper into the bank, walking around the edge of the bank interior, his gaze fixed to the bars of gold in the center.
The clock on the wall above the front door ticked away the time and, as it slowly swung past the five minute mark, my heart rate increased to match each twitch of the second hand as it juddered ever forward towards providence.
Joseph took one last look at me and then moved towards the stacked bars in the center of the room. A guard eyed him suspiciously and I glanced up at the clock. In less than thirty seconds, it would be exactly seven past three o’clock. I looked back at Joseph who was standing his ground as one of the guards broke from his post and started wandering closer to my brother.
I couldn’t take my eyes off what was about to transpire between the guard and my brother when I collided with a young boy carrying a bag of coins.
The bag took that moment to split open and coins rained down noisily on the polished marble floor around my feet, echoing loudly throughout the bank lobby, and turning every head in my direction. The boy cried out as he watched his life savings spread away from him. I bent down and started helping him scoop up the coins. I glanced up to see Joseph walking past the guard, tipping his hat as he walked up and bent down to help me scoop coins into a pile.
The boy’s father bent down and started sliding coins away from us. “He has been saving for five years. You better hope we recover every penny.”
I smiled weakly. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t see him there.”
The father scowled at me. “Watch where you’re going next time.”
Joseph stood and pulled on my shoulder. “You’ve caused enough trouble. We should get going.”
Before I knew what was happening, I was ushered through the bank doors and into the street. I followed as we rushed around several corners until Joseph ducked into a dark alley and paused, looking around to ensure we were alone. I stopped next to him and the smile across his face threatened to tear at his cheeks.
“Why are you smiling?”
He glanced around surreptitiously again and then lifted back the lapel of his frock coat. I caught an unmistakable glimpse of bright yellow before he slapped his hand against his chest. I stared at his chest for a moment and then looked at his eyes. “Is that …?”
“Yes,” he laughed, his hands visibly shaking from excitement. “I didn’t hesitate for a moment. As soon as I saw the minute hand click to seven past I reached for a bar of gold. I heard all the commotion, but didn’t look until I had tucked the bar out of sight.” His eyes shifted back and forth quickly as he looked into my eyes and gripped my shoulders. “I don’t know how you did it, but thanks to your distraction nobody saw me. We did it.”
I shook my head, unable to fathom what had just happened. “But I — I didn’t do it on purpose. I wasn’t looking where I was going. I …”
Police whistles blew out in the streets and men ran from every doorway into the view. They poured from the public houses and private residences in response to the rising alarm and headed as one towards the Bank of England, all shouting and blowing their whistles to alert other officers nearby that something was amiss. Joseph squeezed my shoulders and released me. “Looks like they finally noticed it missing. Let’s get out of here and back to that doll. I have more questions.”
The Light of the Moon
by Michael Tierney
The carriage finally reached the end of the hot, dusty drive up from the valley and pulled to a stop in front of the brick building. Its sole passenger, Professor Augustus Lawrence, attempted to climb out, but the bumpy trip had made his injured knee stiff, and bending it was difficult. Finally, he was rescued by a man who hurried toward him.
“Professor, let me help you down. Please. How is your leg? Is it feeling any better?”
“Thank you, Simpson. At my age, injuries heal much more slowly than they once did. The doctor says I have a few more weeks until the stiffness subsides. He quite scolded me, ‘You’re lucky you didn’t fall from higher up on your telescope.’”
Lawrence did not own the Great Refracting Telescope per se, but as director of the newly built Lick Observatory, he decided who was granted time on it. While he enjoyed having less-senior astronomers have to ask him for the opportunity, Lawrence kept access to the telescope tightly controlled. All the more time for his own observations.
; One day, maybe those prestigious East Coast college astronomers will stop looking down their noses at my “frontier observatory” and come begging to me for observing time.
Lawrence was an active man, not used to being limited physically, and his injury both pained and annoyed him. The pain he could control by judicious doses of an elixir he obtained from a highly recommended druggist. It was the annoyance he could not bear.
If my astronomical colleagues found out that I had tumbled off my telescope’s observing platform, they’ll think me a fool. It would reflect badly on both myself and the observatory.
“I plan on observing the Petavius region of the Moon this evening, Simpson. Who is on duty to assist me?”
“I’m afraid it’s Miss Branham, sir.”
“Afraid? Why are you afraid of her, Simpson? She has performed satisfactorily in her duties, or else I wouldn’t have kept her on. Let’s not assume all members of the fairer sex are less able than you or I.”
“Yes, sir,” said Simpson rather sheepishly. “I meant no disrespect to Miss Branham, sir. It’s just that …”
“Well?”
“It’s just that …”
Lawrence left his tongue-tied assistant, entered the spacious observatory dome, and looked up at the telescope. The observatory’s 36-inch refracting telescope was the largest of its kind in the world. Perched on Mount Hamilton above the agricultural town of San Jose, it was a bequest by James Lick to the University of California — and, it must be said, a monument to himself. At the base of the brick telescope mount was a bronze plaque which read, Here lies the body of James Lick. Lawrence nodded towards the plaque and muttered, “I will make those Ivy League astronomers take notice, Mr. Lick. They may look down on us now, but soon they will know what discoveries we’re capable of.”
Coming out of his reverie, he noticed a young woman watching him. “Good afternoon, Miss Branham. Is the telescope prepared for tonight’s observing?”
“Yes, director. Mr. Simpson told me you were interested in some areas on the terminator of the Moon?”
“That’s correct — the southern hemisphere, right at the edge of the sunlit section where the slanting light throws the terrain into sharp relief. Petavius Crater, to be exact.”
The area of the Moon he wanted to investigate had some very interesting features and was best observed only a few days after the new Moon, when the Moon was still a thin crescent and only visible just after sunset.
“I’ve prepared some filters to reduce the glare of the Moon’s light,” said Miss Branham. “Do you want to expose some photographic plates, or will you be observing directly through the eyepiece?”
“Mmm, yes, please prepare the camera, but I will let you know if I decide to use it.”
Lawrence left her to finish the preparations for that evening. He limped back to the director’s quarters, favoring his injured knee. In his apartment — sparsely furnished, as his wife absolutely refused to live on a mountaintop and preferred to remain at their San Francisco home — he unwrapped a bottle prepared for him by Dr. Perrin, by reputation the best pharmacist in San Jose. The embossed lettering on the bottle read, Mor-fo-caine Elixir and the paper label claimed, “The Cure for all types of muscular and skeletal Pains and Inflammations. Restores Vital Functions and infuses New Life and Vigor.” Despite the flowery language, he questioned the pharmacist’s skill. He had already emptied the first bottle with little to no reduction in his pain. “Up the dosage!” was Perrin’s reply when Lawrence visited his pharmacy. “Some patients, especially professional men of determined nature, are resistant to its effects.”
Lawrence did as his pharmacist recommended, and measured out twice the amount he had taken previously. The liquid burned as he swallowed, then its warmth spread throughout his body. He imagined his pain fading. He smiled and lay down on his bed, and rested until the golden sunset’s light faded to blue shadows. Soon, his night’s work would begin.
“Good evening, Miss Branham! How are we this evening?” asked Lawrence jovially as he bounded into the dome. “Are we ready for tonight’s session?”
The elixir had indeed worked. The pain in his knee had subsided, and even its stiffness was gone. He bounced on his injured leg to test. No pain.
“Yes, Professor. The telescope is already trained on the Moon.”
“Excellent, Miss Branham. And how is tonight’s seeing?”
“The air is warm and slightly hazy at the moment, Professor. The atmosphere looks to be fairly still, but not perfect.”
“Let’s try anyway, Miss Branham, shall we?” he laughed. “The wide-angle eyepiece, please.” Lawrence looked over at his assistant. He had hired her because her teachers at San Jose Normal School had told him that she was much more interested in astronomy than in becoming a teacher. She had proved competent, he thought, maybe more than competent, as she was obviously bright enough to anticipate his requirements. He noticed the red light from the safety lamp catching the highlights in her auburn hair and thought it rather fetching.
He shook his head and brought himself back to the work at hand. He jumped up on the observing platform and sat down in the large chair. “Engage the tracking drive, Miss Branham.” She tightened a knob which locked the telescope into place against a clockwork gear that slowly moved the exquisitely balanced instrument to track the Moon across the sky. Lawrence leaned forward and peered through the eyepiece. He gingerly turned two brass wheels until the image of the Moon was centered in his view.
“Higher magnification eyepiece, please,” he said, continuing to look through the telescope. This eyepiece revealed only a small portion of the Moon’s cratered surface. Turning the fine positioning wheels again, he found the area he was interested in: Petavius, a medium-sized crater only visible at a slanting angle as the surface of the Moon curved back toward its far side. He centered the image and asked for a yet higher magnification.
Miss Branham looked up at the slit in the dome far above. “Are you sure, Professor? The atmosphere is becoming more turbulent. The image may become blurry and shaky.”
“Nonsense, my dear. I can see the Moon’s features distinctly. Very interesting indeed.”
She handed him the highest magnification eyepiece they had. It was almost never used in the Great Telescope, even when the atmosphere was extremely clear and still, as it magnified the smallest aberration.
Lawrence peered through the telescope for several minutes, moving the fine positioning wheels from time to time to look at different features, and adjusting the focusing knob furiously. He was silent except for humming sounds that originated from deep in his chest. Lawrence leaned back, blinked his eyes several times, and rubbed them vigorously.
What am I seeing? Could it be …? I’ve always wondered about Petavius. It looks too perfectly round, and that ridge line, too uniform to be geological.
He took a deep breath and brought his eye up again. The eyepiece magnified the turbulence in the air, and the image came in and out of focus. At times the focus sharpened to crystal clarity, only to suddenly jump to a soft wavering blur. Several more minutes passed, then a smile slowly grew across Lawrence’s normally sober face.
“Just what I’ve suspected all along! I felt that crater’s features did not seem natural.”
“Excuse me, Professor?”
“Petavius Crater. It … I can barely say it … it holds a city at its center. A city with buildings and a causeway running to the city from the crater’s edge. Too straight to be made naturally. It must have been made by the hand of man, or rather, Moon-man. Here, look for yourself.”
She climbed one step up on the platform and contorted her body around the control wheels.
“I can see the crater, but I’m not sure what else, Professor.”
“Do you see the buildings in the center? And the causeway?”
“The image is dancing about. I see what look like central mountain peaks inside the crater, and I think I can see a line running to the edge of the crater.”
; “Nonsense, girl. Look again. Wait until the image momentarily clears.”
Miss Branham strained to see what Lawrence had, but gave up. “I’m sorry, Professor. I can see nothing more.”
“You merely do not have the experience to be able to interpret what you are observing,” he said. “You are young yet. With time, it will come.”
“Are you sure, Professor? You are making some fantastic claims.”
“Fantastic?” he said, offended. “Do you think I’m imagining it?”
“No. Perhaps ‘fantastic’ was a poor choice of words. I mean only that if there were a city on the Moon, it would be an unthinkable discovery.”
Lawrence stared rather blankly at her for several seconds not seeming to understand her, then regained his focus and said, “Please hand up my notebook, and I will draw the features I see. I want this discovery recorded properly.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to expose a photographic plate, Professor?”
“Easier, but not as accurate. At this magnification, the image is bouncing all over. A plate is too slow; all we’d see is a blur. By drawing, I can capture details from the brief moments that the image is stable.”
Miss Branham started to say something, then seemed to think the better of it. Lawrence noticed her fiddling with the plate cases, and reprimanded her again.
“All right, Miss Branham, I am finished with the sketches. The atmosphere is getting too unstable. I will retire to my quarters and clean up these drawings. Please close up the telescope.”
Miss Branham approached him rather meekly and said, “Professor, I mean no disrespect, but are you sure you saw what you think you saw?”
“Miss Branham, I have been more than patient with you. Your work, I must say, has been very good, but not so good that I would not let you go if you continue to question my judgment.”
“Sorry, Professor. I am merely asking if it would be worthwhile to double-check the data.”
“My data needs no double-checking. Not when it’s this important. Don’t you understand? This discovery will change the way Mankind sees itself. It will literally change the world.”
Thirty Days Later: Steaming Forward: 30 Adventures in Time Page 6
