The Guild Chronicles Books 1-3

by J M Bannon

  “Please, tea would be excellent. My God Fletcher, you’re a bloody genius. Your own mechanical arm already a modern marvel but this, Fletcher, this puts you in line for a Watts Medal,” Hilton stretched his neck and squinted looking closer at Azul’s metal face.

  “And you Sir, you are inside there? I still don’t quite fathom how you operate or pardon my phrasing, what you are?” asked Hilton.

  “You and are not unlike. Do you believe that you have a spiritual spark of life?

  “Indeed I do.”

  “Well, you would be correct in that belief, for I am proof that you are far more than your flesh and bone. In fact, your flesh is just like this construct that Mr. Fletcher has made for me. Where you reside in the flesh vessel, you were born into I am not. I have had a tortured past that took my spirit form from my flesh a very long time ago and has transferred it into this physical form.”

  “Please let me know if this is a parlor trick of some sort. It is equally as amazing, but I do not want to make our society look foolish Fletcher,” warned Hilton.

  “No Sir, every word he says is true. I, along with Rose Caldwell, fashioned what I call the Mechanist Man. While the design of the actuation system, the gearing and articulation is my work, I can’t take all the credit. Miss Caldwell’s innovations are paramount to the operation of my arm and that of making it so Mr. Hassan can continue to walk this earth,” Alfie explained.

  “Ah, I see this is where things get touchy Fletcher. The minute you begin with that talk, this sounds like witchcraft and Necronist dogma. I don’t want to taint this marvel with all this talk of spirituality and humans having an immortal life in a suit of armor,” said Hilton.

  “I can assure you that immortality in the form I have experienced it is not a pleasure,” added Azul.

  “Mr. Hassan I would like to ask you to be my guest at this year's Mechanist symposium to sit with me while your maker presents his astonishing work to his peers.”

  “He did not make me, sir.” said Azul.

  “I mean no offense. Please understand I am trying to choose my words wisely and have again made myself look a fool,” apologized Hilton.

  Fletcher interrupted, “Vizier, I don’t want to make a spectacle of you, but let’s face the facts. People are curious about a mechanical arm but could care little about providing the funding needed to ease the lives of my fellow veterans who can’t afford the device. Everyone fears old age and death and sees you as a way to hedge the odds. Please help me provide the awareness and funding needed for my work, enabling me to help so many of those who have been maimed.”

  “Mr. Fletcher, I will help you for I understand what it is like to lose touch with this world. I am not one to shy from fame, but you must realize that I have work to do to help Rose and Angelica that is of the essence.”

  “This will take little of your time, Sir. You would just need to attend the symposium where we have various Mechanists present. Frankly, I would look to just have you come to Mr. Fletcher's presentation, for I fear no other work would get done at the conference with your attendance. I assure you both that the Mechanist will present this in the most favorable light.” Hilton concluded.

  “Then you can count on my attendance,” said Azul.

  * * *

  8:00 P.M. East India Club, London, England

  "We can issue the stock in America," said Strathmore.

  “That market can bear a transaction of this size?” queried Sheppard.

  The two men sat in the corner of the officer’s lounge of the London East India Club. A men’s club exclusive to active and retired executives of the East India Company.

  “On one hand the Union just lost seventy percent of their exports and the source of most of their foreign exchange. Without that trade, the Union currency will depreciate and have little access to pounds sterling. On the other are the Secessionists who have a product vital to international commerce and will look to establish an independent economy with access to capital. I believe that on both sides of the conflict, those with money will be looking to invest in ventures outside of America,” instructed Strathmore.

  “So, they will be willing sources of capital?” asked Sheppard.

  “But Britain losing money in the East India Company isn’t enough of an incentive for the government to act. As logical as your offer is, you must be poised to use the pending economic crisis to your advantage. You see if the North does succeed with a blockade, the factories of Britain will have no cotton to mill, and the Crown will be crushed economically. There is a pending economic crisis that can cloud the work we plan here and frankly make us look like the heroes of the day with this solution," said Strathmore.

  “Interesting,” admitted Sheppard.

  "I have it on good authority that the current government sees a weak and divided America in the Crown's best interests," confided Strathmore.

  “How do you know this?” asked Sheppard.

  “The Foreign Secretary met with a commission of the Confederacy. They are allowing the Southerners meet with Mechanists to source arms and have condoned Chilton to fund purchases from the Mechanist guilds. I expect the Crown will recognize the south as a belligerent.”

  “That may be the case, however, my question to you Mr. Strathmore is how you can get your firm to participate in my venture? Chilton and Owens seem dead set against the transaction.”

  “What if they were to decline the transaction?”

  Sheppard leaned back and contemplated the scenario, “You do know I would forge ahead and work with others.”

  “Expected.”

  “But it would be far costlier,” said Sheppard.

  Strathmore could see Sheppard was open to a solution, “Agreed and if Chilton took it as a personal affront they could rally the Crown against you.”

  “Very costly,” corrected Sheppard.

  “For everyone,” confirmed Strathmore leaning in, “but I may have a way to make this happen. The one thing Chilton and Owens care for more than their Country, even more than money is the legacy of that company. If I were to sever ties, and take this transaction on, not as a Partner in Chilton Company, but as the proprietor of Strathmore Company, I would be in a position to exert pressure on my partners and establish my own enterprise.”

  Sheppard stared at Strathmore. The man had one of those expressionless faces that only allowed you to project what you thought on it. Strathmore knew it was best to let this sit and not speak at all until Sheppard had deliberated.

  “You don’t have the capital to do this. Why would I entrust this to a fledgling firm?” asked Sheppard.

  “I have leverage with Chilton that is more than others have. The capital you seek is significant and will strain the market. Just as I am a fledgling so is your venture. The Rothschilds, Chiltons, Barring, Gröhl Brothers, all of them will go to the same markets to access the capital. Frankly, with war at hand and trade in crisis, the usual firms will be busy with the business of funding weapons purchases and converting bonds to gold to supply troops in the field. I, on the other hand, am looking to focus on the capital needs of private companies, not nations and your enterprise would be the best debut of my new firm. More importantly, I have a source of capital unknown to those firms,” boasted Strathmore.

  “To buy out Chilton’s positions in Hudson Bay and the East India Company?” said Sheppard his tone skeptical.

  Strathmore smiled, “I am uniquely qualified sir. I’d say as qualified as you are to be the chairman of the Poseidon company. I am prepared to meet your capital needs not just for the transaction but for working capital.”

  Sheppard stood up and finished his drink setting the glass on the table, “You have my interest and confidence in this matter. Draw up a proposal, and I’ll have Mr. Jagal review the sums.”

  “I’ll have the proposal to you by the end of the month.”

  12

  Thursday the 16th of May 1861

  7:00 P.M. Mechanist Chapter House, London England

  “May I
have a moment of your time,” asked Mechanist William Cawley, the Manchester chapter house chairman.

  Chairman Hilton turned to Cawley. He was standing at the bar with Chairman Beal, the leader of the Birmingham Guild chapter. The men attended cocktail hour before the Chairman’s Dinner. All of the Guild chapter chairmen were at this black-tie affair before the opening of the Mechanist Symposium Lectures.

  “I would like to discuss the program tomorrow.” stated Cawley.

  Hilton received his drink from the bartender. Thanking the servant, he turned back to Cawley.

  “Do you need a drink Chairman Cawley?”

  “No sir, I need you to make a change to the event tomorrow,” asked Cawley.

  “Best to speak with Mr. Wilkes about the logistics.”

  “This has to do specifically with you sir.”

  Hilton noticed Turnbull smile at Cawley’s comment, “Do tell?”

  “I see that you will be introducing Mechanist Fletcher. That is traditionally done by his chapter chairman, and that would be me,” said Cawley.

  Hilton expected this at some point. He was happy it was here rather than in private. A witness would help.

  “Yes, our tradition has been that the Chairman of a Mechanist’s home chapter introduces the member to the body when presenting to the Guild. Have you spoken to Mechanist Fletcher about providing the introductory remarks?”

  “He hasn’t responded to any of my Wire-types,” Cawley confided.

  “Hmm, Mechanist Fletcher made it clear to me that he didn’t want to be affiliated with the Manchester chapter,” replied Hilton.

  “Maybe he is worried you will shoot him in the head?” said Turnbull.

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Turnbull?” barked Cawley.

  “You know exactly what it meant. I heard that during a demonstration one of the Americans was shot.”

  “That is categorically untrue.”

  “So, no-one was killed during your demonstration to the Americans?”

  “A… well … yes, one of our drivers was accidentally killed. Very unfortunate and …”

  “And nothing Cawley, why would anyone of reputation be willing to associate with that reckless behavior?” posed Turnbull.

  “That has nothing to do with his decision,” informed Hilton.

  “Then why,” asked Cawley.

  “Neglect, and this is an issue with many of the local chapters, you are not developing talented Mechanists that show promise unless it is in support of your agenda. Yes, Fletcher is a registered member of the Manchester chapter. He tried to get local support, and he was all but shunned. When you do this, you impact the Guild as a whole. He found the help he needed outside of our circle. It was my work that allowed us to get credit for his achievement.”

  “Duly noted Chairman Hilton, we will not make that mistake again,” said Cowley.

  “Ignoring savants or shooting the hired help?” injected Turnbull.

  Cowley was red with fury.

  “I am not changing my mind. Tomorrow, I will introduce Mechanist Fletcher. You can continue to focus on your little fiefdoms and squabble with each other over setbacks,” Hilton looked at Turnbull, “but all of our members will know that as Mechanists they always have an ear in London. When you ignore a member like Fletcher, you put at risk our sovereignty over the mechanical sciences. Now I must make my way to the dais and get this rabble to sit for dinner,” said Chairman Hilton as he walked away.

  13

  Friday the 17th of May 1861

  2:15 P.M. Stage Left of the Lecture Gallery, The Headquarters of the Celestial Order of the Mechanical Sciences, London, England.

  Alfie Fletcher stood stage left and watched as his paper was officially submitted to the Guild. He nervously checked his bow tie. The movement of his mechanical arm to check the knot was slow and slightly awkward. It took deliberate, conscious thought to manipulate and there was no feedback via feeling in his hand. Any moment he would be introduced and presented to his colleagues regarding his advances on mechanical augmentation of the human form. Today the Mechanist Guild would go beyond just accepting him as a member but celebrating his achievements.

  Traditionally, the chairman of a member’s chapter house introduced the presenter. Currently, Chairman Hilton was introducing Alfie. He had never received support from his Guild brothers in Manchester. To most of them, he was a strange gimp with crazy ideas of making a mechanical arm. It was only through his own work outside of the Guild with no support from his home chapter that he was able to make his dream a reality. He was regularly told about funding issues, or sometimes a member would be franker and suggest that the Guild was focused on only the glorious and profitable work of industrial machines, transport, and military ordinance. His chapter house was renowned for all three.

  “And with that, I have the honor to introduce Mechanist Alfred P. Fletcher of the Manchester Chapter,” finished Chairman Hilton.

  The applause was loud, Alfie’s cue. He walked towards Chairman Hilton. Gripping Hilton’s flesh hand in his metal one and giving a firm shake before setting his notes on the podium.

  The clapping ceased.

  Alfie took a deep breath. He had thought about this all night. He finally had his seat at the table, and he should just sit down and mind his manners, but he felt this was also the time for him to be heard.

  “Only a few years ago, I lay in my bed, recovering from my wounds just a few miles from here. I couldn’t imagine where my life would lead being a one-armed man. My military career was over, and what chances were there really to pursue my interests as an apprentice under an auspicious Mechanist?”

  He looked up. The gallery was packed, every seat taken, and the aisles filled with others willing to stand.

  “It was there, staring at the ceiling of the hospital ward when inspiration struck. I thought of reading as a boy, Shelley’s new Prometheus and the demonstration of Giovanni Aldini at Newgate where he used electrical shocks to animate the muscles of a dead man. I considered what if the same impulse that triggered my muscles could trigger a mechanical device? Were we not already sending our thoughts to each other over the wire-type? Granted the process required me to type them into a device and another to decode the signal, but human ingenuity made it possible to transmit my thoughts across thousands of miles of wire. Rather than an electric charge animating the muscle of a dead man in Aldini’s demonstration, could the impulse sent from the brain move a mechanical object?” Alfie paused for effect.

  “My obsession was small minded and selfish. Certainly, I cloaked my ambition, but if I could create an artificial limb that responded to my impulses I could improve the lives of thousands of those who have suffered the loss of a limb better; more productive.”

  There was a smattering of applause.

  “While the results of my work have been the talk of the town and I am very proud of the result there is a more important lesson for this auspicious body to learn. While it is kind of you to recognize this scientific advancement; it is after the fact. For those of you that are here to recognize my work, I say thank you.

  “The members I am here to speak to are those of you who are obsessed with an idea that you wish to make real for your fellow man. No matter how absurd you must continue to follow it to its end. There will be no shortage of our colleagues that can make better engines and guns. There is no shortage of financiers that can do the sums on investing in those projects. Don’t expect them to understand let alone help. If you are obsessed with an idea, there is only one person you need to have belief; and that is you.”

  As he paused to catch his breath there was a smattering of fellows that applauded and a single voice, “enough, bring out the metal man,” followed by clapping from the audience.

  “Tell us how it works,” yelled another.

  Alfie was only about halfway through his comments and they had little to do with his design. His speech was an admonishment of the status quo and a rally call to the idealistic Mechanist.

&n
bsp; He looked at his notes and realized again he was at odds with the Mechanists. When he wanted to be part of a Guild, they didn’t see him fit. When he was in, they wanted him to perform sideshow tricks.

  “Bring him out, bring him out,” the crowd chanted.

  He looked to Hilton in the wings of the stage only to get a shoulder shrug from him.

  Azul walked out onto the stage to a roar. He went over to Fletcher and shook his hand. Before turning he bowed to Fletcher; afterward he walked to the edge of the stage.

  “I know what I represent to this auspicious group. That through the mechanical sciences, the maimed and sick can have a full life through mechanical augmentation. Some see me as proof that man has now even invented a way to cheat death. As someone who has lived for a very long time, I can assure you that while grateful for this new body it is just a deathless prison that moves. This is not what we want humanity to become; life in a lifeless shell. While this vessel is a wonder, what all of you should do is show a debt of gratitude to Mechanist Fletcher. No one in this room shall have to fear if they lose a limb that their career or contribution to society will be over,” announced Azul.

  Fletcher felt the moment was lost. All he could do was walk off the stage.

  * * *

  2:50 P.M. Stage Left of the lecture gallery. The Headquarters of the Celestial Order of the Mechanical Sciences, London, England.