The Fallen (The Sublime Electricity Book #3)

by Pavel Kornev

  "Alright then, let's get to looking over the trophies."

  "Yeah, let's."

  I picked up the satchel, but the inventor stopped me quickly:

  "Not here!"

  We walked into the neighboring room. There, Alexander drew back the curtains revealing a window that went out onto the veranda of the neighboring building and pointed at a newspaper-laden table.

  "Please!"

  I unlatched the satchel and got a double-barrel pistol, twelve caliber, judging on looks. Instead of a normal trigger, it had a button. On the side, there was a little red light. When the safety flipped, it went out.

  "May I?" Alexander Dyak extended a hand. "I've never seen anything like this before!"

  But I didn't give the gun to the inventor, instead I moved back a latch on the handle, and a massive electric jar slipped out into my hand with two copper needles for contact points. On its side, there was a manufacturer logo: Edison Electric Lights.

  "A foreign number," Dyak noted.

  "Are you referring to the pistol or the electric jar?"

  "I'm referring to both."

  I was inclined to agree with the inventor. In the strange gun, I could sense a certain affinity with Colt products. I pressed down on the lock button, broke open the barrels and discovered a strange combination of archaic propulsion rounds and coils of thin, but extremely resilient wire. The rounds were little darts, stabilized with rubber skirts.

  When we cautiously unwound the wire, there turned out to be very nearly ten meters. To be more accurate – there was exactly thirty feet. The manufacturer must have been using the antiquated, imperial system of measurement.

  "What in the world does it do?!" Alexander grew surprised.

  "Well," I sighed, "it can deliver an electric shock to a target at medium range. The metropolitan police use different devices for such purposes: clubs, telescoping electric probes, and crossbows. But here, as you see, everything has been made with the very latest in technology."

  The inventor threw himself into the back of the seat and closed his eyes.

  "A curious picture is forming, Leopold Borisovich," he said some time later, "a backpack flamethrower, a lightning gun, and a Gauss caster. Plus, clothing with aluminum foil sewn into it. These people were afraid to come up against an otherworldly creature, otherwise there would have been no reason for all this fuss. It'd have been simpler and cheaper to buy normal rifles."

  I nodded, in complete agreement with the inventor's conclusions. He was exactly right: no spell could put out an electric charge, and unnatural forces cannot defend against a blast of electricity. And as for the aluminum, it can protect against magical interference no worse than titanium.

  "Were they afraid of Maxwell's demon?"

  "That seems very much to be the case," Dyak nodded.

  "What shit!" I couldn't hold back. "I don't want to think I took down two good men."

  "Leopold Borisovich, did you really have a choice?"

  I was reminded of the burning tip of the flamethrower and shivered, but being determined to reach a goal could not serve as a justification for bad acts all the time. Self-defense? That was it. That was it...

  "That doesn't explain the helmets and air filters!" I trotted out the last argument in my reserves.

  "Well, I can’t say anything about those!" the old inventor threw up his hands. "If only you had brought them..."

  "I didn't," I sighed, reloading the double-barrel pistol and placing it back in the satchel. "I didn't have the chance."

  "I'll try to figure something out," Alexander Dyak promised without particular certainty, "but I cannot guarantee anything."

  "And I don’t fault you for that." I stood to my feet and suddenly remembered the recent article about The Sublime Electricity having two congresses, one in Paris and the other in New York. "Tesla and Edison have split once and for all, did you hear?"

  The inventor gave a crooked smile:

  "Just as expected." He suddenly grew embarrassed and stopped short. "What I meant to say..."

  "Yes, Alexander..." I looked very attentively at the man, in that I sensed very distinctly the fear overcoming him, "what was it you wanted to say exactly?"

  "Well..."

  "Alexander, what have you done?"

  "Nothing!" the inventor shot up. "I haven't done a thing! It would be irresponsible to keep a world-changing discovery under wraps! I'm an old man. One day, I might just fall asleep and never wake up again!"

  "What did you do?"

  "I sent my data to Tesla and Edison. Don't worry, I didn't include a return address."

  My mouth filled with the piercing flavor of bile; I settled down in a chair, set the satchel on my knee and got my tin of sugar drops from my pocket. I placed one under my tongue like a pill and shook my head, not knowing what to say.

  Alexander Dyak's invention, the electromagnetic wave generator, could burn underworld emigres with an invisible flame, deprive them of their strength, and exorcise them back to hell. Many years ago, a group of conspirators had used such devices to unseat the fallen. That was precisely the mystery that allowed the Second Empire to assert its power over the majority of the world. And now, the inventor had simply given the keys to limitless power to two scientists, famed for their mutual antipathy and immeasurable ambition.

  "Do you understand what you've done?" I sighed. "Say what you will about Edison, but there's one thing you can't take away from him – it's as if he's been gifted with the talent of foresight. He sees things straight through. Edison will come up with a way to start manufacturing your device. Very soon, there will no longer be any need for the mysterious transmitters of the Sublime Electricity."

  "And what of it?"

  "The united colonies will stop obeying the metropolis."

  Dyak frowned stubbornly:

  "I don't see anything wrong with that."

  "That will mean war," I explained. "First, there will be a war for the independence of the New World, then just a conventional war. And be sure, Egypt, Persia and the Celestial Kingdom will not stand idly by."

  "We'll see about that."

  I simply waved my hand:

  "The deal is done, why worry about it now?"

  "I really do not share your pessimism, Leopold Borisovich!" the inventor said, offended.

  "I’m a paranoid pessimist. I've already heard, yes."

  "I wasn't trying to offend you!"

  "You haven't, don't worry," I chuckled and glanced at my timepiece. "Well, Alexander, I'm afraid it's time for me to run. If you manage to figure something out, I would be most grateful."

  "I'll try, Leopold Borisovich. I'll try."

  After speaking with the inventor, I headed home. And in that my head was just swelling with thoughts, I couldn't find anything better to do that clean up the mess in the kitchen. Fortunately, the only furniture that suffered was the stool, bashed to smithereens, so all I had to do was gather the pieces of broken glass and wood splinters and throw them into a trash can. After that, I pulled the investigator's brass knuckles out of the seat, where they were dug in deep, and threw them on the window sill. I brought the fragments of the stool down into the basement.

  Domestic concerns were a perfect distraction from my difficult rumination. As soon as I’d finished, my appetite kicked into gear. I went into the nearest snack-shop to have lunch, then changed clothes and placed my dirty undergarments in a bag, intending to bring them to a dry-cleaner’s at my earliest convenience. Now, there was no more time for that – Liliana was to arrive at any moment.

  And she did arrive, but, to my considerable surprise, in a hired carriage. What was more, her face was covered with a thick veil and her figure with a light cape. The back seat of the carriage was occupied by a fairly large box, wrapped in dense material.

  When I came out past the fence, Liliana hurried out to meet me and whispered in my ear:

  "Bring this in, please!"

  She pointed at the box, then darted into the building.

&n
bsp; I didn't stop Lily or accost her with questions, just picked up the box. Thankfully, although it was large, it wasn't very heavy, so I set it on my shoulders and carried it into the kitchen. I came back out and paid the cabbie. He flicked his reigns and drove away.

  "So, what’s in the box?" I asked Liliana, placing it on the table.

  She was already out of her cape and veiled hat, looking into mirror, and getting into an excellent mood, as if everything that happened yesterday was forgotten like a bad dream.

  "You're going to curse, Leo," she melted into a crafty smile, "but you were the only one I could bring this to!"

  "Sounds intriguing. And frightening."

  Liliana unwound the fabric, whipped it with the professional hand of a magician and giggled:

  "Voila!"

  I was literally taken aback. As it turned out, this was no box, but the cage of Lily’s boa constrictor. The huge cold-blooded reptile was calmly turning its head from side to side. Its dull, unfeeling gaze darting about the room gave me the creeps.

  "One question: why?"

  "Now, Leo!" Lily walked up to me. "Judge for yourself: it's not like I could have brought it home! My parents would kick me out! Just keep it here for a little while. What does it matter to you? I’m attached to the little guy..."

  "You getting kicked out doesn’t sound so bad to me. I’d much rather have you than this creature. Just bring it to your parents and move in here."

  "Go fuck yourself, Leo!" Liliana grew angry, but quickly got it together and purred out: "Just let him stay, huh? Then, one day, Black Lily will perform a little dance just for you. All for you! Think it over, Leo. Just think about it."

  But I found it unbelievably difficult to think after such a tempting offer. Well, to be more accurate – it grew difficult to think about serious matters. The images filling my head were just too distracting.

  "Lily!" I said strictly. "What is happening?"

  "What do you mean? I went to the cabaret and told them I quit. Aren't you glad?"

  "Madly!" I replied, growing sincerely joyful and taking my sweetheart by the hand. "But allow me to ask what motivated you to take such decisive action."

  "Still joking!" Liliana grew offended.

  "Not at all! Just two days ago, a note left in the hotel scared you half to death."

  Liliana shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably, but immediately calmed down and issued a challenge:

  "Yesterday, the goddess was speaking through me! Should I really be afraid of her servants?"

  "Are you serious?" exploded out of me. "You seriously believe..."

  "It doesn't matter what I believe!" Liliana cut me off. "If I have been chosen by the goddess, I am untouchable. And if it was a nervous breakdown, I cannot continue that job anyway. Otherwise, I'll very quickly find myself in the madhouse. So, I decided to start a new life!"

  "And you don't think the best way to start a new life might be getting rid of the snake?"

  "Come now, Leo! What are you on about? He's such a sweetheart! We have a special bond. Also, he hardly needs to be taken care of..."

  "Now, I don't know..." I said, lingering on my words, even though I knew perfectly well that I would not refuse.

  And it wasn't even because I wanted to see her little dance. No. It was just that, what else are friends for?

  "Leo, please..." Liliana begged, drawing out her words. She suddenly began smiling. "Listen, you're gonna laugh your head off when you hear this! The manager of the cabaret was asked to pass along an offer for me to perform at the gala-concert while your friend Albert reads his poem!"

  I picked my fallen jaw up and squeezed out:

  "And what did you say?"

  "What did I say?" Lily snorted. "Of course I said 'no!' I'm a decent girl! But what a tempting offer! Playing a role previously offered to Ida Rubinstein!"

  "But what really matters is that she refused. They're merely grasping at straws."

  "Leo, you're an impossible bugaboo!" Liliana grew offended not at the joke. "Do you think I can't do it? Now I want to accept just to spite you!"

  I pulled my little devil close, tangled my fingers in her black locks of hair and kissed her.

  I don't know how long we stood there like that before Lily broke free and said with mocking annoyance:

  "You've ruined my whole hairstyle, parasite!"

  She walked up to the mirror, and I pulled her toward the stairs to the second floor.

  "Leo, not now!" Lily stopped me and pointed at the window. "It's time for us to go!"

  I looked outside and frowned in annoyance: there was a carriage at the gate.

  Liliana got out her cosmetic bag and corrected her make-up, then she unclipped the veil from her hat, propped it up on her head and announced:

  "I'm ready!"

  I sighed and pointed to the door.

  "After you."

  And we headed to the amphitheater. The boa cage remained on the kitchen table, and all I could do was hope that the housekeeper had already come by today...

  The square before the amphitheater was filled with the glow of electric lamps. They chased off the twilight and extended the day in marvelous fashion. The dirigible was hovering surprisingly low over the building, its red signal lights blinking in the dark sky.

  Music was playing; throngs of vacationers in fine attire walked happily down the street. They were all angling to catch a chance glimpse at the renovated amphitheater through a small crack in its gates, but there was a high screen installed behind them. All the gapers could do was look on in envy as the odd invited guest was allowed through by the doorman.

  It put me beside myself. I knew everyone would be watching as I walked in.

  "Are you quite alright, Leo?" Liliana started worrying, leaning on my arm and getting out of the carriage.

  "I’m just excited to see the new amphitheater," I smiled.

  "Leo!" I suddenly heard.

  We turned around, and were caught up to by a panting Albert Brandt.

  "Good evening!" he said, greeting us and even kissing Lily’s hand.

  "And where is your wife?" Lily asked, curious.

  "It’s too hot for her here, so she had to get some rest," the poet answered with a slight smile on his lips. "We didn’t get much sleep last night, either."

  The photographers looking out for honored guests at the amphitheater gates got distracted by Albert. Liliana and I took advantage of that and hurriedly slipped inside. The master of ceremonies recognized us without the need to introduce ourselves.

  An elevated stone arch led out into an internal corridor with stairs to the upper levels. We didn't turn, though, and walked straight through to the arena. The din of the gawkers gathered on the square clipped off without a trace.

  Joseph Malone and Adriano Tacini were accepting well-earned congratulations; the only one not overjoyed with his life was the director-producer of tomorrow's gala-concert. Franz Ruber looked pale and was sweating profusely. The other guests weren't at all inconvenienced by the sultry air. Everyone was too impressed with the spectacle now before them. I was also shaking my head in admiration: in past performances, the amphitheater was a spectacle that wasn't so much majestic as it was pitiful. But now, it was in no way worse than the hippodrome in the capital.

  Not a great achievement? It's all relative. The hippodrome had never been demolished and returned to its initial state. The work undertaken was colossal.

  The stage rose right in the middle of the arena. In the far corner from the entrance, the amphitheater walls came together into a massive stone tower with a flat roof – that was where they'd installed a docking mast and dirigible platform. In that one regard, the architect had thought it prudent to go in step with time.

  I threw back my head, my heart seizing when I saw the flying machine hovering over the arena. It was as if Adriano Tacini caught my gaze and pointed up.

  "That’s to block the sun for the guests!" the architect announced. "Her highness will be coming here on her own dirigible and
will exit directly into the amphitheater."

  At these words, Joseph Malone turned to look at the docking tower and smiled in self-satisfaction.

  "Fire it up!" he announced with a wave.

  A set of internal gates quickly flew open and a self-moving device of extraordinary appearance rolled out into the arena, giving off a frenzied crackling sound. In appearance, it most of all resembled a barrel on four bicycle wheels with a streamlined nose and a bell welded onto the back. The sides were fitted with tanks of some kind and, on the top, there was a steering wheel. A pilot, strapped into the seat, was wearing a form-fitting one-piece, goggles and a helmet. He gave us a salute and the astonishing apparatus started off down a stone path, quickly picking up speed. The crackling gave way to a unified hum, and a flame burst from the bell on the back.

  "It's propelled by a pulse jet!" the millionaire announced, so gushing with pride one might get the impression he had invented the breathtaking device. "This vehicle is the distilled essence of a coming era! Coal is last century! Only fools buy stock in coal companies. There are a large number of energy sources with a much greater potential! For example, a ton of radium has enough energy in it to power a huge steam-ship for thirty years. That’s the equivalent of one point five million tons of coal!"

  But the guests had little interest in radium. They were all entranced by the amazing machine, which was racing at an unbelievable speed around the stone path of the amphitheater.

  One lap, two, three! A rumble weaved between the seats. Every time the wheel-mounted rocket darted past, gusts of wind lapped at my face.

  On the fourth lap, the pilot reduced his speed and began making a turn. He was somewhat mistaken in his calculations, though, and rolled out into the arena. Sand flew from under the wheels, but his vehicle quickly stabilized and drove into a gap under the tribunes. The whole audience experienced a collective flare-up of desire to learn more about this miraculous technology, and ran off to see it up close.

  And I didn’t lag behind, even though I was mainly interested in the improvised hangar. While the guests admired the incredible self-propelled rocket, I managed to take a look at the equipment, and surreptitiously glance into the ancillary spaces. I didn't find anything suspicious there.