Cassidy St. Claire and The Fountain of Youth Parts I, II, & III

by A. H. Rousseau

  “Lift?” asked Cassandra quietly to Carter. “What lift?”

  A loud, deep, clunk emanated from seemingly everywhere, and a square of light appeared on the floor, shining out from a seam in the wood. “Please stand clear of the illuminated square,” said the Silver-Haired Man, speaking from the room. Inside, he lifted a lever from the lower position into a locked upper position, and the hum and clank of gears and steam could be heard below. The floor began to rise, revealing a large, illuminated lift. It was wood and iron, with curls and flourishes in the iron work. Four large gas lights were attached to the four main support posts. The lift slowly rose from the floor before shuttering as it clicked into place. The Silver-Haired Man walked up the opposite side of the lift and opened a gate. Closing it, he walked over to the side nearest the family and opened their gate. They stepped on and, just as the man was closing the gate, the Fresh-Faced Young Man called out from the entrance.

  “Hold the lift!” He yelled. The Silver-Haired Man re-opened the gate.

  “I apologize for the wait,” the Silver-Haired Man said, turning slightly to the trio.

  Carter seemed almost surprised at the apology. “Oh, uh, not a problem.”

  “Yes. No rush,” added Cassandra making eye contact with Carter to express her similar confusion.

  The Fresh-Faced Young man deposited his charges at the lift and returned to the entrance yet again. They were both older gentlemen of good wealth. They were both balding, with gray mustaches and bountiful bellies. “Welcome to the real Great Exhibition, gentlemen,” said the Silver-Haired Man, delivering the same speech. “When we get to the bottom of the lift, please step forward quickly so we can return the lift to its upper position.” The two, chubby gentlemen nodded. “And so our journey begins.” The Silver-Haired Man actuated a large lever on the lift, clicking it up with a hearty thunk. The lift shuddered again, everyone shook side-to-side, and with a slight hiss of steam and vibrations of gears, began a slow decent. As the world above disappeared behind wood paneling and iron girders, Carter looked at the chubby man to his side and extended his hand.

  “Howdy. I'm Carter St. Claire. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He said cheerfully.

  The chubby man's face had a smile shoot across it. He was glad to have the awkward situation broken. He extended a hearty handshake and spoke with a thick German accent. “And it is a pleasure to meet you.” As he shook, he squinted his eyes and pursed his lips slightly before pointing at Carter with his left hand. “St. Claire... of... St. Claire industries?”

  “The very same.”

  “Ahhhh, yes. The St. Claire revolver. The chosen weapon of only the most fashionable.”

  Carter bobbed his head slightly and chuckled. “Yes. Yes. I've heard it all before, believe me. And with what company are you associated?”

  The chubby gentlemen brought his hands up to his jacket, and gripping the breast folds, let his arms rest on his ample roundness. “Oh, I am not officially associated with any companies. I am here as a representative. Nothing more. Indeed, in you, I am surprised to see someone of such visibility here.”

  Carter squinted slightly and furrowed his brow. “Why do you say that?”

  Before the chubby German was able to answer, the slow-moving lift cleared the ceiling to the chamber into which it was descending. The scale of the subterranean facility was as immense as the palace above. It was a long, arched corridor that ran in the direction of the Palace's southern side and extended out east and west, under the Palace. The lighting down here was bright, harsh, and white, produced by large arc lamps on the ceiling. The details in the framework were even more intricate down here, with large amounts of copper, brass, and silver worked into the iron and steel. The lift came to a stop at the top of a grand, ironwork staircase, with ways curving down around either side. The lift operator opened the gate and the group shuffled off. The group stood together, agape at their surroundings. The other chubby man, hitherto silent, grumbled. “Show-offs.”

  “Ha! Indeed!” Replied the German with a smile. “And what a wonderful show!”

  “Who's showing off?” Asked Cassandra, still gazing up at the ceiling.

  “Britain!” Replied the German, as he motioned with his right hand over the room. “That's what this is all about. Britain showing us who's... uhhhh...” He snapped his fingers quickly before holding up a finger in an ah-ha motion. “Boss! This is Britain reminding the world who is the biggest man in the room.”

  Cassandra had since stopped staring at the ceiling and looked at the German. “How do you know all this?”

  “It is my business to know,” he replied before beginning to joyfully walk down the stairs. They all descended down into the main promenade. The layout was identical to the layout of the Palace above but the ambiance and décor was of a different order entirely. Upstairs was for the crowds, for the average person to marvel at what was being done. Down below, it was to impress those who were not easily impressed.

  The stairwell deposited visitors in the southern end of the smaller promenade, looking north to the intersection of the two promenades. The floor there was covered in a plush, luxuriant carpet, with myriad footprints imprinted on its surface. Just past the bottom of the stairs and in the middle of the southern area was a tall stage with pulpit facing the stairwell. In front of the stage was a string quintet playing Mozart's String Quintet No. 4. On either side of the southern area were rooms that extended off from the wall with lights and dozens of servants bustling about inside. Around the raised stage was the crowd of guests. Servants wandered the mass of people with food trays and champagne. In contrast to most of the gritty, oil-covered men near the machines, the guests were dressed in only the finest clothes. Mostly men, a few women, and skin in every shade of the peoples of the Earth.

  In the center, at the intersection of the two promenades, was a massive, complex, bejeweled orrery, spinning and humming, with nine planets and a multitude of moons. The sun was made of rippled glass and glowed a bright yellow, providing some relief from the glaring lights above, while the Earth's surface was made entirely of rubies, emeralds, topazes, and sapphires. On either side of the orrery were a series of velvet ropes, blocking off the southern part of the promenade from the east/west section and the northern section where the exhibits were all being readied. Some guests were already standing by the blockade, trying to see what was ahead.

  Beyond the orrery, past the end of the plush carpets, and abutting the northern wall were the first large displays, including a massive metal siege vehicle with track wheels, cannons, gun turrets, and ladders running up either side. Scurrying about it were men dressed in khaki camouflage and wearing pith helmets, as though to add to the illusion. To the east and west were dozens of exhibits and machines, all with men bustling around them.

  As the St. Claires and their group arrived at the other guests, the two chubby Germans greeted a man that they seemed to know quite well and walked away from the St. Claires, leaving them somewhat alone in the back of the group. A young man, dressed identically to the previous two servants, walked up with white-gloved hands clasped in front of him.

  “Good evening. I hope that you enjoy your time here. There are going to be many loud noises tonight and we were wondering if your daughter would like some ear muffs?” He asked as he bowed slightly, looking at Cassidy and smiling.

  “Oh that is a wonderful idea,” replied Cassandra.

  Carter nodded, looking from Cassandra to the servant. “Yes, certainly.”

  “Excellent,” replied the servant. “I shall return in a moment.” With that he turned and walked off and into a well-lit office.

  The crowd milled around for awhile, and a few more groups of people arrived from above, bringing the total number of guests to around 100. The orrery was a point of significant interest for everyone, including Carter who spent many minutes just staring at it.

  “Why do I feel like we are hopelessly out-classed here?” asked Cassandra, as she leaned in to Carter.
/>
  “No worries, my dear. We'll see how things turn out,” he said as he examined the new arrivals before turning back to the orrery. “Look at that.”

  Cassandra managed to clear her mind of the mild shock from which she was suffering and focus on Carter. “Look at what?”

  “That.” Carter pointed to the gem-encrusted Earth, spinning and rotating. “They have a giant, glowing diamond where Britain would be on the globe.”

  Cassandra looked at the Earth sleepily and unimpressed. “Marvelous.”

  “They also have nine planets. I wonder why.”

  “Riveting. Truly. I think some of these people are royalty. What the hell have you gotten us into?”

  A bald man, the MC, walked up a small set of stairs behind the raised platform and stood with his hands clasped in front of the pulpit, waiting for the crowd to quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you have already been told, welcome to the real Great Exhibition. Represented among you are every major world power, and represented among the machines is every major research group, both public and private, in the Western World. Today, you will see wonders that the people above can scarcely imagine. Today, you will see the future.” He paused as a young man, dressed in fine workman's clothes, stepped up. He leaned in as the young man whispered something in his ear. After the young man turned and stepped quickly down the stairs, he returned focus to the crowd. “I have just been informed that the last of the displays is complete and ready for your investigations. After a few hours, we will have the first stage in the bidding process back at this platform. So, without further ado, the ropes are down, please enjoy yourselves.”

  The crowd applauded and then flowed out from behind the rope and into the main three display areas. Along the walls were the various installations, forty or fifty in all, with most of them expanding out far into the promenade. They were all activating bright spot-lights directly above them and installing well-dressed representatives out front to greet guests. Many guests made bee lines for particular displays, others simply wandered. The St. Claires walked almost dead center, marveling at the machines. Huge devices of war loomed out onto the floor. Steam and gas erupted from monsters of metal and wood. Engines puttered. Smoke rose. Horns blew. Gears clanked and ground. Pistons slowly churned up and down. It was the progress of humankind made manifest.

  Cassandra and Cassidy stood frozen in the middle of the promenade, barely fifty feet from the orrery, while Carter walked over to a man delivering a presentation on a compact canon, about ten feet high and fifteen feet long. The presenter was speaking flatly and intelligently and highlighting particular elements of the machines with hand motions.

  “... even with this compact barrel the usable ballistic range is nearly three miles. By attaching the extended barrel and upgrading the previously discussed three-point mount, this range can be increased to five miles. That five mile statistic, gentlemen,” he said as he held up his pointer finger, “is unprecedented. This is ten years ahead of heavy canon technology elsewhere. With the Napoleon launched last year, we are quickly nearing a time where navies will battle almost entirely out of one another's sight. This is a reality for which you must be prepared before it happens.”

  Cassandra walked up to Carter with a furrowed brow and a worried look. “Carter, what are these things? These have no purpose for a single person, or even most cities. All I see are siege machines and devices that would level a building if ever fired. These aren't just guns, these are cannons. How the hell did you get involved with this?”

  “They're magnificent, aren't they? I never thought things would be this far along. I don't think anyone did.” Carter stared, wide-eyed, utterly absorbed by his surroundings. “This changes... this changes everything.”

  “Changes what?” Cassandra asked, irritated. Carter ignored her and wandered on to another presentation being given in front of an armored, steam-powered personnel carrier. “Carter!” Cassandra exhaled loudly in frustration before looking down at Cassidy. They both returned their gaze to Carter, ambling away.

  ---

  The dark boots stomped along the path in time. The men walked quickly, and with purpose.

  The Fresh-Faced Man was standing by The Serpentine outside, his hands behinds him, watching the bugs around a gas lamp. The group of men, dressed in rugged, leather clothing and coats, walked up to him. The young man looked at them, confused, before asking, “are you gentlemen here for the special engagement?”

  The Lead Man in the group, dressed in a bowler hat, smiled. “We certainly are.” With that, in a single motion, he reached out and slit the throat of the young man. The young man lurched back, grabbing at his neck, blood pulsing from between his fingers, before stumbling and falling to the ground. “Toss him in the water,” the Lead Man said with a thick cockney accent. Two men picked up and lobbed the now-dead man into the water, disturbing some swans. The Lead Man was handed a travel case by one of his companions, and reaching in, he pulled out a large flare gun and, pointing it into the sky, fired a flare that exploded like a small firework. The lead man threw the flare gun into the water as well, then, adjusting his coat, turned to his group. “Alright.”

  ---

  “Mama,” Cassidy whined. “I'm tired.”

  “I know, dear,” Cassandra replied. She walked up to Carter who was still a few steps away, now burdened with a stack of folders and papers. “Carter, I had no idea it was going to go on this long. I'm tired and am frankly amazed that little Cassidy is still awake.”

  “Huh?” Carter replied, not making eye contact.

  “Carter!” she said sternly while slapping him on the shoulder.

  “Oh yes. Right. Sorry. As far as I know, we should be nearing the end of this, and I'll carry Cassidy back to the—”

  “Everyone, your attention please!” The man yelled through a speaking trumpet. Carter smiled at Cassandra and motioned toward the announcer. “The first stage of product analysis is complete. Please return to the front of the room to complete some declaration of intent forms. That will conclude tonight's activities. You will be free to continue examining the displays for another two hours and can complete new declaration forms tomorrow before the bidding process if you so choose.” With that, the various company representatives shook their last hands and the crowd started back toward the presentation platform.

  “There,” Carter said to Cassandra as they walked back. “Within the hour, we will be back in our hotel room.”

  “Thank you,” Cassandra said with a sense of reprieve. “I'm sorry. If it had just been me, I would have let you play with the big, shiny toys until dawn, but perhaps it was a mistake to bring Cassy.”

  “Don't apologize. I'm glad you both came. I'm glad that Cassidy had a chance to see all these wonderful machines.”

  “Wonderful. Right.”

  “I'm serious. This is the future in a very real sense. Yes, these are war machines. But what is made for war inevitably is used for other purposes as well,” Carter spoke almost pedagogically.

  “Don't defend this stuff to me,” Cassandra replied plainly. “I can't judge it. It pays for our lives. Something tells me that God will be the one most judgmental of the machines within these walls.”

  “Have you ever actually read the Bible? This is more God's house than any church.”

  The crowd was gathering around the office buildings, clustered around tables, filling out forms, and talking with the various event managers. Breaking the murmur was the sharp clash of metal and machinery, followed by the hum of gears. The lift was coming down. Cassidy watched this intently. Meanwhile, a large group of men, with metal devices strapped over shoulders, appeared near the far end of the eastern area and began walking toward the crowd. The motion caught Cassandra's eye and she watched them with a curious look. She glanced around at the crowd and saw that no one, not even the event managers, were aware of these men. As she watched, one of the servants walked up to the men only to be grabbed and absorbed by the mass of intruders. “Carter,” she whispered into
his ear. “Carter,” she said more sternly while gripping his arm. He looked at her. “Something isn't right.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked as the men in the distance absorbed another servant.

  “Something is very wrong. This room just got very dangerous.”

  Carter's brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Why?”

  “Look at these men, the one walking up from the far side of the hall. They look like no one else here. Those things on their shoulders look unsettlingly like guns. And the men at the displays have all disappeared.” Carter glanced around, a look of concern flashed across his face. He turned to Cassandra.

  “What do you think?” He asked.

  “I don't know. Is there anywhere that we can hide?”

  “Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. They may just be other servants.”

  “And I may be the Queen of England,” Cassandra replied. “Can we at least stand near the office. Just in case.”

  Carter looked over at the office door, open, with servants inside busily loading trays with food and drink. “Yes. Yes. I think that's a good idea.”

  By this time, the lift had clamped down into its lowered position. The gate opened. Off stepped the cockney thug and an imposing man of athletic build and Spanish features. He wore the finest clothes, black with red detailing, topped with a brown cloak. He had an impeccably-trimmed beard and eyebrows, with black hair slicked back. As he exited the lift, with black boots polished to a mirror finish, he stepped over the bloodied body of the Silver-Haired Man, his throat slit. He walked to the edge of the grand staircase and placed both hands on the rail.

  Cassandra looked to Carter. “We need to hide, now.” They moved toward the entrance to the work rooms only to be immediately greeted by servants coming out, blocking the way. They stopped, with wide, fearful looks on their faces.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” the Impeccably-Dressed Man yelled, with his arms wide and raised. “Ladies and gentlemen of the global, war community.” He chuckled. “What an honor it is to meet all of you.” The crowd quieted and turned to the man who breathed in deeply, filling his lungs to speak. “There's no need for introductions, since I know who all of you are, and you don't need to know me.” He began to walk slowly and confidently down the stairs.