The Dormant (The Sublime Electricity Book #4)

by Pavel Kornev

  "What is happening, Lev?!" Thomas Smith poked me on the arm, watching in horror as the ominous purple sunk its teeth higher and higher into the sky.

  "Hell has broken loose," I answered, not able to turn away from the horrifying spectacle.

  The sky was blazing brightest of all over the Imperial Palace. I didn't have the slightest doubt that this was the ghastly aftermath of the Aztec priests’ final ritual. It seemed the electromagnetic radiation was unable to hold the otherworldly power inside the catacombs.

  The underworld tore out onto the streets of New Babylon, and I was afraid to even imagine how much effort would be required to cleanse the city of this filth. What was more, I didn't know if it would be possible at all...

  Part Six

  Angel

  Cursed blood and nightmares incarnate

  1

  THERE ARE SITUATIONS when the conscious mind simply refuses to perceive what is going on and one simply cannot shake the sensation of a bad dream. In those times, it seems enough to simply close one's eyes and open them again, then everything will change for the better all on its own.

  It will not change, believe you me. I know that for a fact...

  NEW BABYLON, bulwark of the scientific world and the heart of the most powerful Empire, upon testing, turned out to be a rotten apple. The cursed blood of the fallen had eaten it away from the inside like an infernal worm and became the skeleton key that opened the door for the otherworldly. And though the mad gunfire was only coming from the Old City for now, we had no reason to doubt that the hastily erected barricades would not be able to hold the demons for long.

  The only hope that remained was for electromagnetic waves and, as strange as it may have sounded, the laws of magic. According to all rules of ritual, the circle around the Old City along which the sacrifices took place should hold the otherworldly creatures inside. Maybe not forever, and just for some time, but it would hold them.

  The lights over the city went out slowly but didn't completely disappear. Meanwhile, the burning purple spot right over the Imperial Palace was gathering into a giant diabolic eye. The city dwellers that spilled out onto the streets were watching the sky with horror; some were screaming hysterically about the end of the world, some were maintaining their presence of mind and expounding on the Earth colliding with a giant comet. Simpletons lamented the untimely end of Her Highness, cynics whispered about a coup d’état. The smartest left town when they saw army divisions enter the city, taking their hurriedly packed suitcases right to port. But there were very few such people.

  The turmoil on the streets was outrageous. In the end, it took us more than two hours to reach Leonardo-da-Vinci-Platz where Thomas Smith decided to take me. From time to time, we had to honk the horn to clear the road of alarmed gapers. At other times, we had to pull over to let endless columns of armored vehicles and steam trucks with recoilless rifles and powerful Howitzers on trailers roll past to the center.

  After letting me out, the investigator headed to the central telegraph office, intending to send news to the Pinkerton Detective Agency, while I headed over the fence into the yard of the shop Mechanisms and Rarities and knocked on the back door.

  Alexander Dyak opened up almost immediately; like the majority of city dwellers, he was not sleeping tonight.

  "What is happening, Leopold Borisovich?!" the old inventor asked in agitation.

  While the shop owner treated me to some tea, I quickly brought him up to speed.

  "It's much worse than that," Dyak said after hearing my tale of the events of today. "Much, much worse, Leopold Borisovich!"

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Follow me, I'll show you!" the inventor called me after him into the back room.

  I finished the tea, filling the glass again and went after him. There was fog in my head. I wanted unbearably to sleep, and only the strong bitter drink did anything to mitigate my exhaustion.

  In the far corner of the workshop, there was a device swishing a slate pencil measuredly on a ribbon of paper. Dyak stood next to it and explained:

  "This is a lightning sensor. It doesn't emit any rays, just registers electromagnetic disturbances. I set it to the proper wavelength, and here, look..." Dyak extended me a fragment of the paper ribbon, marked with an unbroken kinked line. "This device was recording before yesterday. But yesterday, the picture changed in the most cardinal fashion!"

  The difference between the old drawing and the line the lightning detector was sketching out now was apparent to the naked eye. The extreme points were the same, but the middle of the range was now mush.

  "They changed the signal," I whispered. "That's why the demons made it out of the catacombs! When did that happen?"

  Alexander Dyak started to dig in his papers, then slapped his forehead and got out a notepad.

  "Two hours before midnight," he said, looking at his work notes.

  "Just after the ritual!" I gasped and walked from corner to corner, then returned to the inventor. "This is no mere coincidence! This is treachery! I don't know who in the Sublime Electricity movement is responsible for the transmission of the signal, but we have to force them to restore the proper settings!"

  Alexander Dyak just shook his head.

  "I'm afraid it won't be so easy."

  "What are you talking about?" I asked, baffled. I then left my glass of tea on the workbench and asked: "What do you mean, Alexander?"

  The inventor took a heavy sigh and explained his words:

  "I'm afraid I'm talking about another signal on the very same wavelength. If we align the sheets, elements of the original signal become visible. Last night, a new transmitter was turned on! It broadcasts on the same frequency as the Sublime Electricity ones, and the signals stack on one another. That breaks the defense in some way..."

  I shook my head.

  "I don't believe in such coincidences."

  "I'm not saying this is a coincidence!" Dyak assured me. "Look for yourself: the new device transmits an extremely similar signal, and thus dulls the old one."

  "That's too complicated for me!"

  "Remember, you asked me to translate the Pater Noster into Morse code and transmit it? Now imagine someone is sending the same signal at the same time, but in reverse, as is done at black masses! It's just an analogy, but the principle..."

  "Oh devil! Alexander, who did you send your research to, Edison and Tesla? Is that right?"

  "I am not accusing anyone!" Alexander Dyak reacted with hostility to my suspicions. "It has happened many times that different scientists made the very same discovery independent of one another and practically at the same time!"

  "Edison and Tesla," I repeated, reminding him of the recent conspiracy, when the criminals were armed with electric casters made in a partnership between Colt and Edison Electric Lights and sighed: "Edison..."

  "I ask you to refrain from unfounded accusations!" Dyak objected. "That is just monstrous!"

  "Drop it, Alexander!" I interrupted the inventor. "We are not in a court of law! Tell me about the new transmitter. Could you calculate its position?"

  Dyak sighed and beckoned me to the back door. He threw it open and pointed at the purple clouds over the palace.

  "The transmitter is there!" the old man announced confidently.

  "What makes you think that?"

  "The glow of the clouds is caused by an elevated concentration of otherworldly energy," the inventor explained, closing the door. "Based on the diameter of the luster, the power of the transmitter is quite low, and it is covering only the central part of the Old City, while my lightning sensor is only picking up echoes of its signal."

  "So the very epicenter is..." I muttered out, "in the palace..."

  "I can make you up a bed on the couch," Alexander Dyak suggested and, shambling on the floor with his slippers, went out into the pantry. "I'll go to the Sublime Electricity lyceum in the morning. They should know what's happening. And don't try to talk me out of it, Leopold Borisovich. It won't
work! My mind is made up!"

  I didn't even try.

  By now, the infernal effect had touched just the area of the Imperial Palace, but the rest of the city would remain safe while the mysterious transmitter was turned on. What if it was not running at full capacity, or wasn't the only one of its kind?

  The grave thoughts made my head hurt. It started feeling cramped and stuffy, as if I were the fairy-tale Alice, and had suddenly increased in size.

  "Alexander!" I hailed the inventor. "Can I take your cloak?"

  "Going somewhere?" the old man asked in surprise.

  "For a walk."

  "Take it, of course!" Alexander allowed and immediately started worrying: "Will you be gone long?"

  "Wait for me," I asked him. "We'll go to the lyceum together."

  "Agreed!" the old man lit up, invigorated by my support.

  Regretting that I had forgotten my raglan overcoat somewhere, I crammed myself into on the short tight cloak, popped on a dark blue felt hat and went outside.

  THERE WAS a fine cold drizzle coming down from the sky: I went out of the back yard of the shop and hurried to the sound of gunfire. The artillery cannonade near the Imperial Palace didn't quiet down for even a moment. The cannons were mirrored by gunfire. Rifles clapped, and machine guns chattered frequently. Rarely, building windows would shudder from far-away bomb explosions. In the sky, there were army dirigibles, but they didn't risk getting near the demon-controlled neighborhoods.

  There were noticeably less city-dwellers on the streets by that time. Some had been convinced to disperse by police, and others were scared off by the rain. And there really wasn't much to see: the purple flame in the sky was pulsing measuredly over the palace like a ghostly heart, and there wasn't anything else interesting.

  Anyhow, there were still plenty of people that hadn't given in to the constables and remained on the bridges and sidewalks to see the glow in the night sky. I heard wailing over the death of the heiress to the throne and cursing at the weak government. The seditious talk would instantly die down, though, when a police squadron walked nearby.

  I was not the only one that wanted to get closer to the Old City, and although the sentries posted on the intersections were turning curious onlookers back, the stubborn could easily find ways around them.

  The sound of gunfire and explosions was gradually getting closer, and army patrols started being seen on the street, turning back the gapers and not making exceptions for newspapermen, or those who worked for local councils. I decided not to risk it and went up a fire escape onto the roof of a four-story building, hoping to get a better look from up high. This place had already been chosen by a group of local boys and two photojournalists. The view over the old town was surprisingly decent from up here, while the purple spot in the sky was now pulsing seemingly right over our heads.

  Further down the street, the darkness of the night occasionally exploded with sparks of rifle fire, but we couldn't make out who the soldiers were firing on from here. Even an old man pressed up to a pair of nautical binoculars, who began cursing dirtily every time one of the boys came to him with questions, couldn't see.

  Unexpectedly, the building shuddered and seemingly swayed. An instant later, a heap of broken brick rained off the corner manor on the neighboring intersection. A steam-powered backhoe on treads rolled up to it with a bass roar, lowered its shovel and began to scoop the rubble onto the road, forming a second line of defense.

  Desperately wailing its siren, an armored vehicle drove around it, dragging a recoilless rifle behind on a trailer. A booming Howitzer clap came from somewhere to the side, and the Old City was suddenly lit up by the explosion of an incendiary bomb. Wisps of smoke started curling up into the already gray sky. No fewer than a dozen buildings were on fire, but the cannons quieted down only after shooting another three or four phosphorus rounds.

  "Tesla generators!" the boys on the other edge of the roof suddenly said, startled. "They're on cars! They’ve got Tesla generators on cars!"

  I ran over and saw a column of armored vehicles. On their towers were metal steam rods with copper balls on the end. Between the spheres, electric shocks sparked from time to time.

  "Well, that'll give 'em the old what for!" the rugged boy chuckled with zest, but we didn't have time to see. Suddenly, the attic doors loudly flew open and the constables that came out onto the roof chased us all down.

  2

  WHEN I RETURNED to Mechanisms and Rarities in the early morning, Alexander Dyak, despite the early hour, had already unlocked the shop. What was more, it was packed to the brim with visitors. But no one was buying anything. They were all academy teachers drinking coffee and discussing last night's events, occasionally running out to the street for a smoke. It was a visiting session of the discussion club.

  "Leopold Borisovich!" the inventor grew joyful, letting me in through the back door. "At midday, there will be a speech by Nikola Tesla in the Sublime Electricity lyceum, and I will try to visit with him!"

  "Tesla?" I asked in surprise. "How will he get to New Babylon? He's in Paris right now, after all!"

  "But it's Tesla!" Alexander Dyak declared with a look that seemed to explain positively everything.

  And it really did. There were all kinds of wild stories about Nicola Tesla.

  "They say Edison is coming as well," the inventor added.

  "Well, Edison certainly isn't going to cross the Atlantic!"

  "They say Edison came to New Babylon incognito just a week ago. He's allegedly intending to lure the New Babylon chapter of the Sublime Electricity to his side."

  "I very much doubt he’ll succeed."

  "As do I, Leopold Borisovich. And now, forgive me, but I have to leave you," Dyak said. "I need to take care of my guests and find a temporary sales clerk. I won't have the time to man the shop for the next few days."

  The upcoming meeting with Nicola Tesla had inspired the old inventor in an unbelievable fashion. It was as if he had grown fifteen years younger, and my tongue couldn't turn to disappoint him. However, he had a low chance to reach one of the highest hierarchs of the Sublime Electricity through his many secretaries and assistants.

  Instead, I put on some coffee, as strong as I could make it.

  BY ELEVEN O'CLOCK, I had such unrestrained bitterness in my mouth, the flavor of coca leaves seemed pleasant by comparison. It was as if someone had poured half-handfuls of fine sand into my eyes, and I wanted just one thing–to lie down and doze off. But I had no time to sleep. And I couldn't...

  "How do I look?" Alexander Dyak asked, walking into the back room in his best morning coat and striped pants.

  "Very respectable," I yawned and asked: "Is it time already?"

  "Yes, there's a cab waiting for us."

  Leaving the shop to the student Dyak had hired to keep watch, we went outside and told the cabby to take us to the Sublime Electricity lyceum. But, to be honest, we would have gotten there on foot much quicker. The streets were so crowded with carts, coaches, and self-propelled carriages there was no getting through. Also, there were police occasionally stopping traffic to let columns of army vehicles pass.

  The city-dwellers didn't seem too panicked, either. All that was located near the Imperial Palace were government administration buildings, so the number of missing was relatively low. Many lamented the death of the heiress to the throne, but not too strongly: the rumors about the Princess’s weak health had been a constant since her very birth and even the most incurable optimists had no expectation that she would rule for long.

  The gloomy light in the sky was extinguished with the coming of dawn and no longer frightened people with its ominous purple. But the echoes of far-away gunfire kept the locals from considering last night's events just a simple bad dream, so the square around the lyceum was flooded with city-dwellers. The pandemonium there was such that a camera man had gotten up on the pedestal of the Ampère, Ohm and Volt memorial, and the cabby let us out a full two blocks before our destination.


  I suppose many came here not out of a desire to see the famous Tesla but to restore their faltering mental balance. The Sublime Electricity lyceum’s two steel masts tearing into the heavens served as obvious confirmation of the infinite power of science. Around the huge copper balls that capped the elegant structures, there were crackling crowns of electricity. The air there regularly lit up with blinding sparks filling the square with sharp cracks. Today, they didn't scare anyone; in fact, they delighted people and were anticipated with plain impatience.

  Electricity is power!

  Even I wanted to believe in it just as unreservedly as before...

  HOLDING ALEXANDER by the hand, I stood on my tip-toes, looked over the square and came to the dismal conclusion that we couldn’t get into the lyceum through the central entrance. There was such a sizable line before the gates that there couldn't possibly be enough room inside, even if people decided to stand on each other's heads. The constables had already begun to wedge into the crowd, cutting most of it off from the lyceum.

  "In such circumstances, members of the movement must be let in through the service entrance," the inventor guessed, and we hurried around the building.

  My head was spinning in weariness; other peoples’ emotions rolled over me from all sides, striking me with an unseen wave of feverish agitation and nearly knocking me off my feet. My talent was dormant as before, but the sensitivity to others' phobias hadn't gone anywhere. The mental hurricane was driving me mad. After a hundred meters, I was so burned out it seemed I wasn't walking around the square but climbing up a sheer wall.

  Fortunately, on the other side of the lyceum, there were somewhat less people. My heartbeat gradually returned to normal, and my head stopped spinning. But the sharp echoes of others' fears continued to pierce me, even when we had already escaped the crowd.