The Miserable Planet #2

by Jacob Lindaman

Amazonia.”

  “Hmm…” he said stroking his white beard.

  “We seek audience with your ruler.”

  “Amazonia? Never heard of it?”

  “Never heard of Amazonia? It’s just across the way on the other side of the wood. Who has not heard of Amazonia?”

  “Professor Wiltkine. That’s who. Who travels from Amazonia to Nething? Nobody. Hmm? What do you have to say about that? Come on now, speak up.”

  “Mr…” Postulis said.

  “Professor!” he corrected.

  “Professor Wiltkine,” Pepla said, “we chanced upon your abode as it was along the highway. Forgive us our trespass, but we mean you no harm. Thank you for your refreshments.” She held up the vial of water. “We were curious as to the owner of the land. That is all. If you like we will leave.”

  “No, no, no. I’ll have none of that. It’s been ages since anyone has bothered to come out here. Stay. Stay as long as you like.”

  “Sir,” Calvin said to Tuck, “I am detecting an odd presence in the adjacent room.”

  “What kind of presence?” Tuck spoke within the concealment of his suit.

  “Unknown…but it is very hot. And it is humming. You probably cannot detect the audible noise as it is a weak amplitude.”

  Tuck turned to Avers whispering, “My AOLC thinks there is something suspicious in the next room. Can you check it out while he is distracted talking?”

  He looked at the professor who was fully engrossed in conversation with Pepla and the two messengers.

  Quietly, Avers disappeared into the other room.

  A minute passed.

  “How is she doing?” Tuck asked Calvin.

  “I am not able to accurately monitor her movements, but it seems that she is still alive.”

  “Very helpful. Thanks Calvin. Let me know if something goes wrong.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He returned his attention to the room.

  “…and that is why I always make my own sulfur. Those scags in Degin are too careless. And besides they never come out here to ol’ Professor Wiltkine’s. No, that’s too far to deliver.”

  The professor went on pausing only to adjust his monocle or stroke his beard in consideration. He showed the women one of his first inventions; the aeolipile. Two little rockets spun around on a wheel when lit with fire.

  Then a loud voice came from the other room, “Not true, not true. None of this is true,” but it was not Avers’.

  “Oh dear,” the professor said, “it seems someone has awakened Brunhilda.”

  He shuffled through the four of them to get to the other room. Tuck was close behind. Inside, he found more lights, but these protruded from the walls. More tables, but no glass flasks. Instead, this room was filled with metal things: gears, wrenches, wheels, wires. All sorts of half together gadgets strewn across the place. In the middle, however, was a solitary table with a torso…or something resting on top. It was this that Avers was engaged.

  “Brunhilda, sweet Brunhilda,” the professor consoled the thing. “Do not argue with strangers. They are nice enough. Leave them be.”

  “What is that?” Hermenes asked.

  “That! That is Brunhilda and it is impolite to refer to a woman as a that. How dare you madam!”

  “My apologies sir,” turning to the supposed woman, “and miss.”

  “Master Wiltkine,” the thing said in a feminine voice, “Lady Avers, if she is a lady at all, was inquiring of me regarding your religion.”

  “Sir?” Calvin asked.

  “Not now. This is important.”

  “Sir, I think you ought to know this.”

  “What is it?”

  “The humming noise. It emanates from beneath the talking apparatus. I suspect there is a basement to this structure.”

  “Hmm,” Tuck said, “that is interesting. Should I take off the cloak wrapped around it?”

  “I doubt that would lead us to the sound’s origin.”

  “But I would be able to see what was underneath that thing.”

  “…and after a simple discourse of your errant theology I informed her that what you believe is untrue. She in turn inquired as to what I believe.”

  “Oh dear,” the professor turned to Avers. “Miss, that is the one thing you must not ask Brunhilda. She does not like that question.”

  “Why not?” Avers asked.

  “Because…” he licked his lips nervously then looked back at Brunhilda. He whispered, “Because she doesn’t know.”

  “Doesn’t know?” Pepla said. “What is this thing anyways?”

  “Doesn’t know what?” Brunhilda asked. “What did you tell them Master Wiltkine? Erasmus? What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing dear. Nothing at all.”

  He placed his arms around her.

  “How about some clothes, eh? I’ll fetch you a change of clothes. Would that make you feel better? Yes, I am certain that it would.”

  The professor passed by Tuck looking up at him surprised as if this was the first time he had seen him. He exited the room through a different door than they had entered. Tuck decided to follow. The hallway was wide enough for his mecha and then some.

  The next room he found exceptionally cozy. Books lined every wall from ceiling to floor. When he looked up he realized the ceiling was very high. Twenty feet perhaps. In the far corner was a wood burning stove in dire need of more fuel. The professor was gone. Likely, he had gone through yet another door.

  He walked to one of the bookshelves: Discourses In Animatia, General Mechanical Theory, Applications In Kinetic Steam Technology, Approved And Disapproved Hydrodynamic Action Applications.

  “Calvin, have you ever heard of these?”

  “Negative, sir. These books are not located in any directory.”

  Just then the professor came blundering through the door and out the other.

  “Arms up…there there. Just a sec,” Tuck could hear from the other room. When he entered he saw the professor pulling a shirt over the arms of Brunhilda. Her wrap was off exposing what lay underneath. Though her face was somewhat human in form, even her skin and hair, her torso was something altogether different. A series of spinning gears and twirling metal pinions interacted with each other. A large spindle with long slender blades spun up and down when she spoke. Patches of would be skin or soon to be skin or used to be skin - Tuck wasn’t sure - covered portions of her, but they were dirty and unkempt.

  Once the professor secured the shirt over his woman he tied a little red ribbon in her hair. Then he pulled out a mirror on a stand and set it before her. He placed another one behind to allow her to see the ribbon.

  “Oh, it is so lovely Master Wiltkine. Many thanks to you. You are a gentleman and a scholar.”

  “Very well then. I’m so glad you’re happy.” Looking to the rest of the group he said, “Shall we?” and motioned for everyone to follow him into the library.

  With all the women comfortably in a chair Tuck stood and asked the professor to began again, “You are welcomed to stay here if you like. But you must promise me to never ask her that question. She is a fickle creature who cannot make up her mind.”

  He reclined further into his chair. Removing his monocle he rubbed his eye.

  “I suppose you’re all wondering. You all want to know how don’t you? How does she work?” He sighed a long sigh staring at his neglected oven. “Very well then. Come with me.”

  He rose from his seat and proceeded through the door only he had gone through. On the other side was yet another room and then an ramp. A long and wide ramp that led downstairs. Calvin was right. There was a basement.

  A string of ribbons hung from the ceiling. Each one glowed wi
th a different color. Stepping through these Tuck entered a room where Calvin informed him the humming grew much louder. In fact, Tuck could now hear it. The professor pulled a ribbon down and walked toward the center of the room. The ribbon stretched along with him. He walked in a circle holding it up looping it through a series of hooks. Then he fastened it to a latch above the now illuminated object.

  The bright blue ribbon shone on a mechanical device that spun loudly and quickly. Several belts wrapped tightly around moving parts. Tuck studied the blue machine carefully. At the bottom was a large tank. No, there were two of them. One was above the other. The top one had a rotating bar protruding from one end. A wheel was fixed to this. A belt to that. And from there many other gears and belts moved.

  “This,” he said with a large smile on his face, “is my baby.” He reached into his pocket and produced a pair of goggles that he strapped around his head. “Watch and be amazed!”

  He reached his hands into the bottom tank. A red glow reflected off of his face and goggles. He disappeared into the darkness beyond the dim light of the furnace and ribbon. A moment later he returned with a shovel full of coal. He tossed it in and slammed the door shut.

  “Any minute now…just wait…here it comes!”

  The machine whistled loudly then the large wheel on the bottom began spinning vigorously. The whole thing shook the room. Dust fell from the dirt ceiling. The professor’s ribbon then went out. Then all the other ribbons went dark.

  The guests stumbled over each other as they tried to leave. The boiler whistled again. One by one the ribbons turned back on dimly revealing the room. They were a mess. Pepla lay on top of