The Circus Infinitus Stories Volume 1

by Ethan Somerville

  Artemis could only gape in amazement. The man really was part machine! Then Abbacus spotted the visitor and whirled around in fury, his right hand upraised in a fist. “Who the Hell are you? How did you get in here?”

  Artemis may have been an eccentric genius, but he was a very quick thinker. As deftly as a magician, he whipped a large plunger with a pointed nozzle from one pocket. “I have an adhesive polymer I made myself from curdled milk. I daresay it will seal that pipe, if you let me.” He stepped forward as he spoke, and as soon as he was in range he squirted the pipe, which was still hissing despite Abbacus’ grotty bandage.

  A greenish-white goo coated the pipe and hardened within seconds, effectively stopping the steam, which had almost filled the little alcove. Professor Abbacus blinked his one human eye in amazement. “I guess … that will have to do,” he managed.

  Artemis beamed all over his broad face. “I am Professor Artemis Vestra from Harvard, and you must be Professor Abbacus.” Before Abbacus could back off out of reach, Vestra had grabbed his right arm and was enthusiastically pumping it up and down in greeting. The mechanical arm squeaked in protest.

  Abbacus yanked his hand free. “That’s all well and good, but you still haven’t told me what you’re doing in here!”

  “What is going on in there? I can’t see a thing through all this mist!” called the Ringmaster from outside.

  Artemis squeezed back out to greet the Ringmaster, Flash and Xiva. “I just helped Professor Abbacus fix a broken pipe,” he declared proudly. “Look – the fog’s already clearing.” He showed them the tube of adhesive. “I knew this would come in handy. It’ll seal up stronger than steel.”

  Professor Abbacus emerged from behind him, still looking a little bewildered. The Ringmaster stared. Professor Abbacus never looked bewildered. But he supposed the agent’s hundred-mile-an-hour personality had completely run him over. “Who are these people?” Abbacus asked the Ringmaster.

  “They’re agents for the American government. I’m taking them on a tour,” the Ringmaster explained.

  “Is it possible I could ask you a few questions, Professor?” Artemis stepped in close to get a better look at Abbacus, his face only inches away. “How on Earth did you manage to join flesh to metal so effectively-" He stopped with a gurgle when Abbacus grabbed him around the throat with his right hand.

  “Get out of my grille!” He pushed Artemis away so he staggered and nearly fell on his backside.

  “So sorry!” Artemis gasped. “I didn’t mean to be rude!”

  “I told you he doesn’t like to see people.” the Ringmaster apologized, then glared at Abbacus. “Although there was no need to shove him! He did fix the pipe, after all.” He lowered his voice. “And he does represent the US President. A negative report could lead to us having to leave in a hurry!”

  “Fine,” growled Abbacus, and drew himself up to his full height, which wasn’t much. “I’m sorry Professor Vestra. Thank you for fixing that pipe.” Then he turned and stalked stiffly away. The Ringmaster noticed his gait was slightly uneven. He had never seen Abbacus limp before.

  “What a strange fellow!” gasped Flash. “But I can see why you’re so interested in him, Artemis!”

  “Yes. Ringmaster, maybe you can tell me more about him…”

  Only later, as Artemis was reviewing his information in the common room of their inn did he realize that he couldn’t remember a single thing he’d been told. He considered this highly unusual because he had an excellent memory. In fact all three agents did. They had undergone memory training not long after their formation, and with a little concentration, they could recall events that they previously would have forgotten without trace.

  Artemis had his little leather-bound note book open in front of him. “This is highly irregular,” he muttered. He clearly remembered fixing the burst pipe. He even recalled all the questions he had asked the Ringmaster. But what answers had he received? He couldn’t recall a single one! He could only remember Adam Delfay’s deep, strangely accented voice, telling him … things. But what things?

  “What’s the matter, Artie?” asked Flash.

  “Don’t call me Artie,” he grumbled. “You are altogether too familiar sometimes.”

  She sniffed disdainfully. “Poppycock. Now, tell me what the matter is.”

  “Can you remember anything the Ringmaster said? Anything at all?”

  “It was all pretty technical – most of it went over my head.”

  “All of it went over mine,” declared Xiva.

  “But it shouldn’t have gone over your head,” Artemis protested. “You are almost as technically minded as I. Almost,” he made sure to add.

  Flash was about to retort when she realized she really couldn’t remember. Only the sound of the Ringmaster’s voice. Not a single actual word.

  “How about you, Xiva? Can you remember anything in particular he said?” Flash asked the wiry Hispanic woman.

  She shook her head. “It was all Greek to me, I’m afraid. I wasn’t hired for my technical expertise. Rather my ability to fight.”

  Artemis rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on. “It’s almost as though…. We’ve been hypnotized!”

  “Hypnosis? Surely not! Besides, we’ve been trained to resist that sort of thing!” cried Flash.

  “Maybe that’s why we’ve managed to figure it out. After all, the Ringmaster is rumoured to be a hypnotist of the highest order. He could have befuddled our wits the whole time we were there!” Artemis banged his fists on the table. Both Flash and Xiva started in shock. They had never seen the Professor lose his temper before. “It’s not fair! We visited in good faith. I think we should return and demand an explanation.”

  “And let him hypnotise us again?” retorted Flash. “No, we should report this to the President directly. He’ll have the army surrounding that Circus within three days!”

  “It will be gone before the army arrives. No, I agree with Artemis,” Xiva put in. “But one of us should remain here as a safeguard. Artemis and I should go, and Flash should stay.”

  Flash folded her arms and glared at Xiva. “I’d really like to give that sneaky Ringmaster a piece of my mind, but I will stay.”

  Suddenly a shadow fell over their table, and all three looked up to see the ruddy, bearded face of their Innkeeper. “Is one of you Professor Artemis Vestra?” he asked.

  “It is I,” Artemis answered. “What’s wrong, sir?”

  “I have a telephone call for you. From a Mr Adam Delfay of the Circus Infinitus. He is most insistent. He says he needs your help.”

  After the final show finished, and the last of the spectators were being shooed out of the Big Top, the Ringmaster marched across the metal floor towards Professor Abbacus’s stage. It was a wonder the last show had finished at all. The Ringmaster had lost count of all the problems he had observed, from winking lights to the stages not aligning properly to hissing, knocking pipes and ominous creaking noises coming from the bowels beneath the stages. He needed to find out what was going on.

  He spotted Icarus at the base of the Jacob’s ladder. For some reason the machine was still active, shooting great coils of electricity into the air. “Hey, switch that off now!” the Ringmaster shouted. “You’re wasting power!”

  Icarus swung around, gave a hiss – and ran off into the darkness.

  “What are you doing?” The Ringmaster gave chase, but Icarus knew the Circus’s inner workings better than he, and easily disappeared in between the pipes. As though on cue the lights cut out for several seconds. The Ringmaster swore. The whole place seemed on the verge of total shutdown, and Icarus was playing hide and seek! What had gotten into him? “This is not the time for such silliness, Icarus!” he shouted as he lifted the Jacob’s Ladder lever, shutting the machine down. “Whatever has upset you, please come out and we’ll talk about it like rational beings!”

  The lights flashed, but Icarus did emerge. The Ringmaster fancied he heard him scuttling about in the m
echanism like some giant metal cockroach. “Come out this instant, or I’ll bring you down myself!” he thundered.

  He did not receive an answer.

  “Consider yourself warned!” The Ringmaster focused his concentration. Icarus was difficult to read but not impossible. All the Ringmaster had to do was look past all the reflective metal of Icarus’ skull, past the flashes of electricity and clouds of smoke and steam – and there he was.

  Or rather, there he wasn’t. The Ringmaster couldn’t seem to pin him down. Was there too much machinery blocking him? Or was Icarus doing it himself? The Ringmaster wasn’t sure the Professor actually had the talent to do that. But he had been fooled before. He turned in a furious swirl of long black cloak, and marched from the building.

  Outside he found a number of Circus folk already gathered in concern. “I need to speak to everyone,” he called. “It seems we have a situation. Fetch everyone who isn’t already here. What form is Victoria today?” Please be Mrs Frankenstein, he prayed. If anyone can help here, it’s her.

  “She’s the Werewolf,” answered John Merrick. “I saw her earlier with Felina.”

  The Ringmaster rolled his eyes in exasperation. Of all the forms, she had to be the one that couldn’t talk! “Fortunately it’s only two hours to midnight!”

  A loud bang came from within the Big Top. Someone screamed deep inside, and soon a dishevelled woman stumbled out, white-faced and shaking. Elizabeth Montrose, caught changing in her room. “It’s completely black in there!” she cried. “The lights are out for good now!”

  “We may not have two hours,” the Ringmaster muttered.

  Others came running out of the Big Top, and soon everyone had assembled on the grass in front of the Ringmaster. They all expectantly looked up at him, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t want to appear out of control, but truthfully, he had no idea what was going on. “The Professor, and to a lesser extent Lady Frankenstein, know exactly how the Circus functions, My area of expertise are the psionic batteries.” He took a deep breath. “I understand the technology, but there’s more to it than simple mechanics. It’s far too efficient, and no machine from this period I know of can teleport. You would call it magic, but Icarus once told me that there are … spirits involved, somehow joined with the machines. I had no idea what he was talking about.” His gaze swept across his worried audience, passing over the shocked expressions of Elizabeth and Reggie, and finally falling on Dr Francis Tumblety.

  “What are you looking at me for?” he demanded, shrinking back.

  “You are the closest thing to a mage here, Francis. You consort with spirits.” What d’you call that vile homunculus of yours? he added telepathically.

  Tumblety flushed at the insult to his talisman and shook his head. “It teaches me about alchemy – I can mix potions and elixirs – I can’t cast spells.” He pressed a hand against his chest, where he kept the large vial, as always, close to his heart.

  “But you still communicate with it. See if it knows what’s going on here.” The Ringmaster’s stare was icy.

  “It … it doesn’t speak.”

  The ringmaster’s stare grew even icier. “Don’t worry. It will.”

  Dr Tumblety dropped his gaze, seeking inspiration from his talisman. Normally the information he wanted just “popped” into his head. He had never actually tried to speak to the thing. But as soon as he made his intention known, he received a confused image of insects, strange metallic creatures with numerous legs, swarming through cogs, struts and pipes. “Are – are the machine-spirits loose?” he gasped out loud.

  The Ringmaster sucked in a shocked breath.

  “No, no,” Tumblety continued, breaking out into a cold sweat. “Invaders – a swarm from … outside.” Suddenly he fell to his knees, breathing heavily. A terrible sensation of dread had overcome him.

  “What is it, Francis?” The Ringmaster helped him to his feet.

  “The … the Circus is … sick. Infested with strange bugs,” Tumblety gasped, struggling to get his breath back. “Creatures that must have slipped in while we were suspended in the Immaterium that long while. They were attracted by the electricity. They feed off it, and use machinery to … reproduce themselves.”

  “Sweet Eridos,” gasped the Ringmaster. “They will take the place apart! And Icarus too, if my suspicion is correct!” He gripped Tumblety’s shoulders and shook him. “Is there a solution?”

  “Not one I could see, Adam,” Tumblety whispered. “They are everywhere!”

  “Are you trying to say the Circus is suffering from a case of giant mechanical fleas?” exclaimed the Elephant Man. “I could try to flush them out. There are few places I cannot reach.”

  “No good – too many,” gasped Tumblety. “Thousands…”

  “But I can look for Icarus, at least.” Before anyone could stop him, John Merrick was running for the Big Top, his arms already elongating.

  The Ringmaster’s gaze swept across his audience again. Although many talents faced him, none could help him. Only Mrs Frankenstein, but he couldn’t wait for her. Who else knew so much about machines? “Professor Vestra!” He snapped his fingers. “I need Professor Artemis Vestra!” He felt around his pockets, producing a calling card Professor Vestra had given him on his departure earlier that day. “I only hope the telephone is still working…”

  Professor Vestra, Flash and Xiva arrived a mere twenty minutes later. “We’d have been here sooner if we’d been allowed to bring our vehicles,” huffed Artemis as he skidded to a stop in front of the Ringmaster. They had arrived by horse and carriage, the equines lathered and exhausted. Felina shot them a dirty look as she headed over to take care of the beats.

  “So good you could come!” exclaimed the Ringmaster. “Now, our problem is-“

  Artemis lifted a hand. “One thing before you start, sir. We would like to help you, but we need your assurance that you will not meddle with our memories again.”

  The Ringmaster lifted his highly arched brows. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he answered without missing a beat. “But if you help us, we will gladly trade technology with you.”

  Artemis glanced at Flash and Xiva, seeking their approval. He didn’t mind, but he wasn’t sure about them.

  Flash frowned – she was far more secretive about her equipment than Vestra. But the Ringmaster looked so earnest that she nodded. After all, how could she refuse that handsome face?

  Xiva just shrugged. She had no technology to offer.

  “It seems we are all in agreement, sir. Now what seems to be the problem?”

  The Ringmaster explained what had happened since the end of the last show. Both Professor Vestra and Flash began to look concerned.

  “Now I have lost Professor Abbacus and John Merrick, who went in to look for him about half an hour ago,” the Ringmaster finished. “We have heard nothing since but the odd bang and crash from within.”

  Vestra rubbed his chin. “I think … you might have gremlins.”

  “What?!”

  “Evil spirits that infest machines. They are becoming increasingly common in this industrial age. I have spotted one or two in my time. Very new, experimental devices are extremely susceptible to infestation. Once there is one gremlin in the works, others soon follow, eventually destroying the device.”

  The Ringmaster had never heard of such things, but after what Tumblety had told him, Artemis’s explanation could only be the truth. He glanced over his shoulder, where the doctor was still waiting with the others, and he nodded.

  “Can these gremlins be stopped?”

  “Yes … if I’d been allowed to bring all the equipment I’d wanted to bring in the first place, I could have the place cleaned out in five minutes with a high-frequency volume projector. Gremlins are extremely susceptible to high-pitched noises. Unfortunately, I only have myself and my wits. Is there a laboratory inside?”

  Dr Tumblety lifted a hand. “I have one. But it is in darkness at the moment. And probably not safe
.”

  “Not to worry – are there any oil lamps around?”

  “There is one in my tent,” answered the Ringmaster.

  “Excellent.” Artemis rubbed his broad, scarred hands together. “Please Mr Delfay – fetch some lamps. You,” he turned to Tumblety as the Ringmaster ran off, “are a real doctor?”

  Tumblety looked offended. “Of course I’m a real doctor! My name is Francis Tumblety.”

  Artemis beamed at the serious-faced alchemist. “You sound like a fellow countryman, sir. Where are you from?”

  “Rochester.”

  “Excellent, excellent – you can help me. We will need to mix up some chemicals. Quite a lot of them, too.” He turned to the others. “Flash and Xiva – fetch our lamps and weapons from the carriage. I’d like you two to help track down the missing Professor and the other fellow – Merrick, and see if you can destroy some of the invaders before they do too much more damage. I may need a gremlin body to base my solution on.”

  “At last – a chance to actually do something!” exclaimed Xiva.

  “Who would like to come with us?” Artemis asked the other assembled circus folk.

  While Professor Vestra and Dr Tumblety worked in the doctor’s laboratory under the flickering light of an old-fashioned and therefore gremlin-proof lamp, the Ringmaster joined Flash, Xiva, Steam Saw, Busboy, Felina and the Wolf Woman in hunting down the invading monsters and the missing circus folk. While the Ringmaster, Flash, Xiva and the zombies had to use light to see, Felina and the Wolf Woman were able to hunt in darkness, and it was the Werewolf who caught the first gremlin, crushing it between her powerful jaws. Unfortunately the fist-sized metallic bug was too badly damaged for Vestra to study. “Oh well – by the sound of things, there are plenty more where that came from!” he called over the sound of tiny scuttling legs in the infrastructure.

  Everyone could hear the creatures. The air was filled with steam. Pipes hissed and creaked, bolts and screws came loose and smacked into the ground, beams groaned beneath increasing weight. “They can’t possibly be trying to destroy the whole place, could they?” asked Xiva. She spotted movement out of the corner of one eye and cracked her whip, snaring a shiny black object with deadly accuracy. This time the creature was only stunned, and she was able to rush it back to the scientists in Tumblety’s lab. “I hope this one is sufficient,” she gasped.