Cassidy St. Claire and the Fountain of Youth © 2013 Alexandre Henri Rousseau
First edition
Edited by Mega
Cover art by A.H. Rousseau
Cover design by A.H. Rousseau
Interior layout and design by A.H. Rousseau & Mega
Visit the author's website at www.ahrousseau.com
Check out A.H. Rousseau's other work:
The Desktop Wormhole
Dedicated to my own desire to live, like, a super long time.
For love and money.
A note on images.
E-Books aren't the best medium for communicating images, so please check by my website at www.ahrousseau.com for a continuing stream of images and sketches.
A note on reviews.
Whether you liked or hated my book, I would very much appreciate a review. I have no idea if what I'm writing is good or not. For all I know, it's complete crap. You are the only person who knows for sure, and that information is important to me. You are my customer, and I want to make sure you enjoy my product.
Act I
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
- Puck: A Midsummer Night's Dream
1
-May, 1851-
The old man sat on the stairs, framed by the large, aged door and the brick-and-timber building. He was whittling. His leather boots weathered but cared for. His vest perfectly tailored. His silver hair brushed in a wave that added a youthfulness to his visage. He carefully worked detail into the feathers of the phoenix before blowing hard to clear away the chips and flakes to join the others already in a dusting on the ground. He held the bird up for inspection through his bifocals, the glint of sunlight, his clear eyes wrapped in deep wrinkles.
Stampeding past the old man, the children ran down the road, interweaving amongst themselves, chattering and laughing. They shoved and pushed, jockeying for position in their impromptu race. Like water exploding from a spigot, out from the shadows between houses, they charged into an open, cobblestone square. Horse-drawn carriages clopped and rattled, pedestrians wandered, and people chattered as the life of London bustled around them. The sun stood high in the sky, casting a bright, hazy light over the city. Birds flew here and there, moving in flocks. Clouds peppered an otherwise blue horizon. The sound of naval bells rang in the distance as a cool breeze licked the water of the Thames.
Down the road, beyond the Thames, beyond Westminster Abbey, beyond Buckingham Palace, beyond the past itself, stood the temple of the age: The Crystal Palace. An immense building — a web of iron and steel, supporting walls and ceilings of pure glass to a height of more than one-hundred and thirty feet. Its immense form dominated Hyde park, holding court like a monumental ambassador, for Britain and for the future itself. Crowds converged on it — from roads, from between buildings, from out of parks — making their way to see the wonders of the modern age: the machines, the food, the art. The city, the country, the world itself seemed focused on one thing. The Great Exhibition had begun.
---
The Crystal Palace lay in the distance, glinting in the sunlight like a colossal greenhouse, framed by the dark woods of the window, and slightly distorted from imperfections in the glass. A young girl, not more than six, pressed her hands and face against the window to see. She had vibrant, red hair, and wore a frilly blue dress of ribbons and bows. Her cabin was sumptuously appointed, with fine leathers and cloth, all bathed in a golden red color scheme. Copper details abounded the framework of the room, highlighting the value of the inhabitants. Her mother, dressed in fine lady's clothing, sat next to her, reading Frankenstein: The Modern Prometheus, and her father, clean-shaven and dressed in fine, Paris fashion, sat across, reading a newspaper. The girl was practically shaking with excitement. “I can't wait, I can't wait! We will get to see everything, right?”
The man smiled but did not look up from his paper. “Yes, little dear. We will indeed.”
“What will we see?” the girl asked, locking her eyes on the man's as though she could see through the paper.
“Machines, primarily, I would imagine. But there will also be art and food. Entertainment.”
“BIG machines?!” She exclaimed while making a grand gesticulation with her arms.
“Yes.”
“I saw a big machine at the dock at home. It was big, with men who had to crank it, and I thought that if I could get on top of it I would be able to see the entire city, because there were birds up there! And they have to see the entire city! Will we see machines like that?”
The man paused briefly before responding. “I... suppose so?” He looked to the woman, who shrugged.
The girl returned her grip on the window but kept her face on her bemused father. “Will we get to meet the Queen?”
The man shifted in his seat slightly and adjusted his paper. “Oh, I doubt it. The opening ceremonies were some time ago. I'm sure she's off doing things more befitting her stature like analyzing samples of tea or something.”
“Does the Queen like tea?”
“Uhhhhh... yes.”
“I like tea, too. What kind of tea does she like?”the girl asked. The woman chuckled.
“Uhhh... British tea.”
“Have we ever had British tea?”
The man paused, looked up, and then pointed out the window, letting one edge of his newspaper flop down. “Look, little dear, you can see the Crystal Palace even better now.” The girl dutifully looked out the window with awe. Her awe lasted only a moment before she turned back.
“I like tea with honey. Mama likes her tea with no honey and I think that it tastes bad. Tea should be sweet. If I was older, I would like it but I need honey. Honey and milk, too. Yesterday, I added too much milk to my tea...”
As the girl continued to babble, the woman chuckled again. “Your diversion failed.”
The man settled slightly while turning the page of his paper. “It was worth the attempt.” This short interaction caused the girl to stop talking and instead focus on trying to understand what the adults were saying. The girl then sat next to the man, staring at him. He didn't turn away from his newspaper. The girl inched closer and recommenced staring. He still didn't respond. The girl looked to the woman, who was watching with a smile. The woman made a smile-frown at the girl, motioning to the man with her wide, playful eyes. The girl placed her hand on the man's thigh.
“Yes, little miss?” he said without looking at her.
“Hi,” the girl replied.
“Hi,” the man said in a patronizing tone, glancing down at her over his cheek. The woman snorted out a chuckle.
The woman placed her open book across her thigh and took a sip of water from a nearby glass. “So how exactly will this work?”
The man took in a deep breath as he looked up from his paper. “Not entirely sure. I've been told the entrance is somewhere behind the Palace, but that information doesn't really matter. We're supposed to simply walk toward the eastern side of the Palace with that cane visible,” he said, pointing to a white cane with a black handle leaning against the edge of the woman's seat. “Someone will ask us if we are here for the special event, and we will respond with 'perhaps. That depends on the catering.'”
The woman folded her book closed and placed it on the seat next to her. “It all seems a bit comically clandestine. Are they sure they don't want us in special robes?”
The man shrugged slightly. “It's their game. If they want to play it like fools, so be it. Some truly spectacular things will be on display that will hopefully make this song and dance seem reasonable. Benefit of the doubt, I
suppose.”
There was a knock at the door. “Yes?” replied the woman. The door opened and the conductor leaned into the room slightly.
“Five minutes until the station, madam.”
“Thank you very much. We are quite ready.” The woman spoke as she put her book into her bag.
“Most excellent. When we come to a stop please wait for the announcement before disembarking.”
“Of course,” the woman said with a smile. The conductor bowed and closed the door. The woman looked over at the man. “I'm quite excited. I've never seen London.”
“Truth be told, there isn't much to see. It's a rather dirty city,” the man said as he folded up his newspaper. “I've had to come here on a number of occasions and have never been impressed. I've always preferred Paris.”
“Well perhaps after this trip we will make a special stop,” the woman said, leaning in with a smile.
The man looked up and away, nodding slightly as he thought. “Actually, yes. I would like that.”
The woman produced a wide, bright smile. “It's settled then!” She picked up her glass of water and raised it. “By this time next week, we shall be in Paris! I'm so glad you said yes. I'm surprised you said yes.”
“Where's Paris?” the young girl asked.
The woman leaned over to the girl and replied “in a magical land of cake and honey.” The young girl looked away with a confused look on her face.
“And prostitutes,” added the man. The woman leaned over and gave him a playful slap on the thigh. She gave him a look of feigned annoyance before looking out the window. She placed her hand on the girl's shoulder and pointed out the window. “Cassidy, look.” Cassidy looked out the window while the woman put her hands on Cassidy's shoulders. “My god. It is an epic creation, this modern world.”
“Indeed it is,” the man replied as he put his newspaper into a small travel bag. “Indeed it is.” The three of them looked out the window together as the Crystal Palace loomed ever larger.
---
The man held out his hand to the woman to help her down from the train step. Afterward, he reached in, picked up the young girl, and placed her on the ground near him. He was then handed two satchels from the train, from which a small, golden, four-chambered Derringer pistol fell down into the dirt and pebbles. The girl picked it up.
“Give me that!” The woman said sternly as she handed the gun back to the man.
“Please! I want to hold it!” The girl begged.
The woman looked back from the man and knelt down to the girl to put on a hat and adjust her dress. “Absolutely not. Guns are very dangerous. I won't have you shooting yourself.”
The girl tussled slightly with the woman as she looked up to the man. “Papa?! I promise I'll be careful.”
He looked down on her, lifting his lower lip slightly, contemplating. He paused, patting the small gun in his palm, before extending his arm down to her. The young girl's face illuminated with joy and she lunged away from the woman. The woman looked up with frustration at the man. “Carter!” She hissed.
“Don't worry.” He said, leaning into her ear. “It's not loaded. She'll be safe.”
“I wish you wouldn't continually undermine my authority with her. I understand that—.”
“We'll talk about that later.” He interrupted. “For now, we're here, we have the show in less than four hours. Let's make our way to the hotel and get ready for tonight.” The woman was obviously annoyed as she was not making eye contact. “Please?” He said, waiting for a reply. “Cassandra?” He waited for a reply. “I understand you're upset, I was just trying to keep her occupied. That's all I was doing. I just wanted to keep her occupied. I promise that you will have absolute control over her once this trip is completed. I won't have any say in how we handle her.” Carter leaned toward her, trying to make eye contact. “Cassandra, please.”
“Alright.” She finally said, finishing with a sigh. “Let's just hurry. Cassidy hasn't eaten in hours and she'll probably start eating her clothing soon.”
Carter smiled, lifted Cassandra's hand, and placed a light kiss upon it. “You are more patient than I deserve.”
“Oh I know.” She responded quickly. “Cassidy, do you have your bag?”
Cassidy was still busy examining her new-found weapon. She looked up and dashed her head around, finally locating her bag on the landing by the train. She ran over to it and stood next to it before returning to her gun. “Yes. I have it!”
Cassandra shook her head. “I swear. She's going to be joining the army soon enough if you keep up with this.”
Carter was behind her taking bags handed down by the train conductor. “And it would be the stronger for it,” he said, while turning to look upon Cassidy with a smile.
---
Night was settling. The gas street lights were being lit, while the sun cast a golden glow over Hyde Park. Carter, Cassandra, and Cassidy walked abreast down the brick walkway, gardens and trees all about, and The Serpentine lake ahead and to their right. Carter walked, swinging his black and white cane prominently while Cassidy continued to play with her gun. As they walked past other well-to-do couples, they all looked at Cassidy and her golden weapon with a degree of surprise and concern. “Don't just flash that thing around.” Carter said, leaning his head down slightly toward Cassidy while maintaining his gaze forward. “You're going to make people uncomfortable.”
“I don't care.” Cassidy said indignantly.
“Well I do. Put it in your bag.” Cassidy continued ignoring Carter. “Now!” he ordered. Cassidy harrumphed and slid her precious golden treasure into her small shoulder bag. Fireworks fired over The Serpentine were beginning to fill the sky as they got closer to the Crystal Palace, now visible in all its splendor. With every firework, the glass structure of the Palace lit up with flicks of light and color.
“A lot of people are just milling around.” Cassandra mused. “Isn't the Crystal Palace where everyone wants to go?”
Carter leaned toward her. “Yes, but they're stupidly charging an exorbitant rate for tickets right now. The equivalent of ten dollars. Most people cannot afford to enter the palace. To my mind, this bald-faced classism dooms the Empire. Mark my words. The British Empire is not long for this world.”
“Always the optimist, you are.” Cassandra replied.
“Oh, you're calling me a pessimist?” He said indignantly. “You're the person who demanded we earthquake proof our new house. When was the last time San Francisco had an earthquake?”
“When was the last time Britain collapsed?” she responded in snark.
As they argued, and just past the crowd down at the bank of The Serpentine, swans meandering about in the water, they were approached by a well-dressed and fresh-faced young man of no more than twenty. As he neared, the two of them stopped talking and faced him. “Excuse me. Are you here for the special engagement?” He asked. Carter smirked and looked at Cassandra, who rolled her eyes.
“Perhaps. It depends on the catering.” He said almost playfully.
“Very good sir.” The young man bowed slightly as he gestured. “This way, please.”
The foursome walked toward the Crystal Palace. A crowd milled around, dressed in their Sunday best, gawking at the building and the fireworks alike. The Palace just seemed to continue growing. It was larger than anything any of them had ever seen — a wonder of the modern world. Its iron framework holding up massive sheets of glass in grids and webs. They walked straight toward the eastern entrance with the length of the building running off into the distance. The sun was casting only the slightest glow at this point, the horizon a portrait of purples and reds. The huge, glass and iron arch loomed overhead as the Fresh-Faced Young Man nodded to two burly-looking men standing guard by the entrance. They nodded back and the foursome continued inside.
Entering, young Cassidy's eyes grew, and grew, then grew some more. Before her was the magnificent expanse of the Crystal Palace. Trees, shrubs, machines, animals, everythi
ng was in the building. “Mama! Our flag!” she yelled, pointing to one of many American flags in the American display. She tugged at her mothers hand, trying desperately to slow down for a better chance to take it all in. Her eyes dashed around the room, looking up at the glass ceiling over one hundred feet above, back down to the machines and displays on the floor. As they continued down the main promenade that ran the length of the building, all three of them gazed up and down its near-two-thousand foot length, squinting in the poor light to see what they could make out, catching glimpses as the outside fireworks illuminated the building. Further wonders: machines, devices, artwork; stood out in the faint light, like specters of the age.
As the group neared the great central transept — a massive, barrel-roofed glass archway over one-hundred and thirty feet high that ran width-wise through the center of the Palace — a silver-haired man appeared from the shadows of India's exhibit, where a large stuffed elephant was on display. Fireworks illuminated it in a menacing way, like a monster from another world. Cassidy stared at it with the expression of a person not knowing which expression to use—part fear, part anger, part awe. Stiff and upright, she stepped partially behind her mother, staying just exposed enough to give the elephant a nasty stare.
The Silver-Haired Man walked over to them and stood by the large, twinkling, central fountain. “Welcome to the real Great Exhibition my friends. Many have arrived, but we await a few more. When you get to the bottom of the lift, please step forward quickly so we can return the lift to its upper position.”
The Fresh-Faced Young Man now turned to the trio. “I must now bid you farewell. I do hope you enjoy the exposition.” And with a bow, he walked off back toward the entrance.
“Please, this way,” said the Silver-Haired Man, leading them to the right and into the northern end of the transept. The windows here looked out over the park and the fireworks were perfectly visible. The trio watched as the Silver-Haired Man walked into a small room to the right and briefly disappeared.
Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III Page 1
