Spectacular Moments of Wonder with Dr. Monocle: That Certain Gentleman

by John Theesfeld

  “Narrow and only two directions from which to be attacked by underdwellars, up and down.” I added.

  “Fair enough.” Hendryk conceded.

  “Personally, I’d go by way of the pipe access shafts in Greenwall,” Panchenko offered, “a little cramped, but your best bet, if you were to ask of me.”

  “Greenwall is an hour from here going in the wrong direction.” Louise reasoned.

  “No, no, I think we’ll be taking the quarry shaft, indeed.” It was settled, “Shall we be on our way, then?”

  “Let’s get this experience over and done with,” Hendryk said and he made his way to the door. “The sooner we get done, the sooner we can get back to real work.”

  Louise followed, “If Monocle gets eaten, we’re coming right back up.”

  The Strongman readjusted the equipment all over himself and followed behind Louise and Hendryk, “I’m almost willing to take the risk of going without the help of those two just so I don’t have to listen to them.”

  I formed a sarcastic laden smile and looked to Panchenko, “Yes, a truly devout and devoted team.” I started to follow behind The Strongman, but Panchenko waved me back to the bar.

  “Let me tell you just one thing,” Pachenko leaned in and motioned for me to come closer, “Mate, let me tell you just one thing, mate. Just a little word of advice… Real quick like… Beware of the monkey wearing a fez.” With that, he stood upright, grabbed a rag and started wiping glasses clean. I was at a loss. He gave me a wink. A monkey wearing a fez sounded like stuff of nonsense. He broke the silence that hung between us, “Just remember that, my friend.”

  “Thank you?” I said, confused as my mind rolled the idea over and again to try and make sense of it. He gave me another wink and a nod and I remained dumbfounded. “Don’t forget to contact Mr. Kilmarten,” I finally said as I backed away slowly, “I do thank you for the equipment. Much appreciated. Will watch for the monkey. Goodbye.” I backed out through the door into the cold stone tunnel that made up the market. It wasn’t very lively down there, it seemed. Very quiet and sleepy.

  We traveled through a side road, not quite an alleyway, and passed through several archways. I could tell The Strongman was growing uneasy with the ever-growing narrowness of it all. The ceiling was low just enough; had The Strongman hair, it might brush along its surface.

  After crouching down just slightly through an archway to another hall with a higher ceiling, I still felt the need to keep low and crouched. The Strongman took a long look at me as he walked upright. As our eyes met, I felt a bit foolish and stood upright.

  “Here,” Louise said as she unwound the cap of a service hatch in the floor, “we can get to the lift quickly.”

  Louise accessed the service hatch, popping it upwards on an old hinge to reveal a ladder downwards. The Strongman went first, just barely fitting through the hole. The equipment he carried didn't make it any easier on him.

  As I was about to climb down, I did indeed think I saw a monkey. Just very, very briefly. In the flash of a moment, he was there. Wearing a fez. I looked down and back up immediately and the little bugger was gone. Thinking the power of suggestion and possible dehydration were the problem, I said nothing and climbed down.

  32

  They call it life in the Haverton fog. A bit of a misnomer since it affected all metros within the region. I believe it was an attempt at trying to romanticize the ever present fog. Just a normal weather anomaly as a result of being situated on the north coast. It rolled in and covered the metro. It's the wet that clings to your coat. The loss of visibility that ensues. It was noticeably absent out in the arid desert. In other words, I do believe I missed it.

  If Panchenko was trying to tell me something, I wasn't wise to what he meant. I suppose I was more curious than confused, really. The man told me, looking me in the eye with the utmost sincerity, to beware of a monkey, one wearing a fez. Maybe it was a sign. Or was it a signal? Perhaps an encoded message? What kind of code, I thought. How would such a Northwardly fellow convey a coded message? If he served with the WingedMen he would probably know morseus codex, but this was obviously not that kind of message. Maybe coded in some other WingedMan jargon. I don’t know why I assumed he would know much of anything about the WingedMen. In fact, he seemed displeased by their presence.

  I reasoned that what I saw was indeed just a trick of the mind. A brief hallucination. A trick of light and shadow. I was hungry and tired. My old brain must have been sputtering on vapors.

  A monkey wearing a fez. What kind of monkey did I think I saw? Small, brown. Where does one find a fez small enough to fit upon a monkey's head? I do wonder if that question does depend on the type of monkey. A small fez like the one I imagined, though? It was silly and ridiculous like the little matching vest he wore along with the fez. I chuckled to myself.

  “What’s so amusing?” Louise asked me curiously.

  “A monkey wearing a fez,” I chuckled and she looked at me as if I were deranged.

  These thoughts swirled as we walked down a mineshaft walkway. In one hand I held a gas lamp before me, in the other I used my umbrella as a walking stick, over the gravelly ground. At this point, I’m not certain how far down we were, but we had just entered the defunct MineWorks mining operation..

  The Strongman and Louise led the way, lit by gas lamp. I followed, slowly. Strolling. Observing the clutter upon our walkway; wooden planks, large industrial-sized gears the size of dinner plates and bigger, the occasional unlit lamp, and other debris. All scattered about and each the curiosity. I immediately took notice of a warning sign, one that was posted long ago when this particular shaft was closed, one that warned of an "Underdwellar Hive" and to head back. I stopped to examine the sign and read it in full. Surely it was posted for a reason.

  Hendryk followed closely behind. "C'mon, Monocle," Hendryk grew impatient, "keep moving. Pick up the pace, we still have a ways to go."

  "Should we not heed the warning?" I inquired.

  "That sign was posted ages ago, Monocle," Hendryk replied, "I don't think we have anything to worry about."

  "Then if there's nothing to worry about, go ahead of me and stop whining. I'll be fine back here. Don't worry, I'll catch up. There’s only one way forward and that is forward." I didn't like the man breathing down my neck. I didn't much care for having him accompany us. He was much like a bureaucrat, stingy and uptight. Although I do suppose he was merely wanting to get this all over with. He didn’t seem very excited about having to go on this assignment and didn’t mind showing his discontent.

  "Don't get too far behind," he said and handed me his gas lamp as we essentially traded positions in our trek.

  The posted warning didn't concern me as much as the architectural integrity of the tunnel did. Everything was old and dry and dusty. I envisioned a walkway littered with the skeletal remains of miners, their belongings left as-is over time as the clock ticked away relentlessly. Instead, I saw a rather boring bit of scenery that is mineshaft walls and random rubbish littered about. And, within all that tedium, the smell of cander fruit. How perplexing, I thought. Perhaps it was still in my nose from the market at Fenterwig Station. It was faint, but I could smell the odor upon the cold air.

  Ahead of us, the tunnel we traveled intersected with another much wider tunnel. We approached slowly and carefully. The cross shaft was a main line, with no less than five tracks traversing this section. From here, miners taking this walkway could catch a cart or tram to another destination within the mine, or push on through and continue upon the walkway.

  Louise checked both directions; she set upon a jaunt and into a sprint and flew up into the aether, spreading her wings. Her wingpack bloomed with a mechanical whir as the wings unfolded and stretch outwards. With a couple of a fair flappings by a mechanism over her shoulders, the lightweight, yet durable, material moved the air, she was able to stay aloft just long enough to get a good look down each direction of the shaft. The dust within the rail tracks kicked up into
a plume.

  "Little miss flutter wings," The Strongman quipped, "why don't you just do that all the time?"

  Her feet landed softly upon the gravel. She huffed and caught her breath before replying, "It takes an incredible amount work to get up like that. C'mon, circus boy, you've seen how hard the acrobaticles work."

  The Strongman nodded knowingly, she had phrased it in a way, albeit a tad rudely for his taste (for he didn’t care for being called circus boy), in a manner in which he could understand. He looked to Hendryk, "What about your wingpack, what've you got there, old boy?"

  "Quite different," Hendryk explained, "Louise is a WingGrrl, they use mechanicals to move about the aether. I've got more of a traditional glider, as do most WingedMen. But they're all interchangeable."

  "Interchangeable? What’s that mean?" The Strongman didn't follow.

  "Modificationable. Add a piece here, put a piece there, take away a piece somewhere else," Louise explained as she held her lamp aloft and her eyes scanned the area as odd noises echoed from a distance, "you could add a boost pack for a bit of propulsion. Or like Edwynn, he has his wings built into that silly outfit of his."

  “He reminds me of the acrobaticles,” he said. The Strongman revealed to her, “There was a girl, she could float like an elegant seabird on the wind from trapeze to trapeze. She could walk a tight rope steady like a train on its tracks. She could move the world around her with such ease.”

  “Was this a girl a special companion of yours?” She joked with him, “Someone you fancied?”

  The Strongman blushed and smiled, but denied it truthfully, “No, no. She was just a friend.”

  "I think we're secure here," Hendryk said as he ushered the way for The Strongman to continue down the walkway on the other side of the tracks. Louise followed. I lagged a bit behind, as usual, examining an old bit of gearwork on a rail switching station. Hendryk called out, "Professor?"

  "Coming," I spoke up, "just one moment."

  "You know where we'll be," he said as he disappeared down the walkway. He was an impatient man, Hendryk. Again his distaste shown through along with his eagerness to get back to his fellow WingedMen. He almost seemed snide in his attitude, though.

  The switcher station was a one-man apparatus that controlled the mechanism that moved sections of rail line, mine carts, and small nimbulator engines. Overall, the switcher station was a monument of gears and levers, cranks and pulleys, winders and release valves. I scratched the caked dirt obscuring a boiler plate engraving to reveal a SteamWorks insignia. I held my lantern close to better reveal the signature ‘SW’ of an older style. There was more of a scriptive quality to its style.

  Newer versions of these switching stations were often equipped with an automaton set to switch the rails and tracks. This one was built for an operator to sit in for twelve hours per shift. I considered the thought of spending half of the day there at the switching station only to have my train of thought set off track. Again, I could smell the cander fruit. Stronger now. I turned and headed for the walkway, stepping over the tracks. Minding each step, I held my lantern just out to my side. The last thing I wanted to do was to take a nasty spill under these conditions.

  Something then caught my attention; just from the corner of my eye. I instinctively turned my face as my legs kept me moving. I didn’t blink. I couldn’t blink. I just stared.

  There he stood, smirking at me. A small monkey wearing a dark red fez holding a small sack of what I presumed to be cander fruit, the source of what I was smelling. We made eye contact, he seemed frozen in the light of my gas lamp, and then he disappeared into the darkness behind him. It all happened so quickly I wasn’t certain that I didn’t imagine it all. I took a few steps in his direction, hoping the light of my gas lamp would catch him, but to no avail. I didn’t dare a further step.

  I stared into the darkness unblinkingly.

  What did this mean? I clearly and plainly saw a monkey wearing a fez as I was forewarned. I made eye contact with the bloody thing. I know what I saw, but what did it mean? Would it come back? Did I want it to come back?

  “Doc,” The Strongman boomed from the walkway entrance.

  I was caught with a startle. I waved him over frantically and whispered, “I saw a monkey!”

  “What?” The Strongman looked genuinely confused.

  “A monkey,” I repeated, “I saw. A monkey.”

  “What do you mean? What kind of monkey?” He stood next to me now in the light of my lamp, whispering.

  “It was small and brown, he was wearing a little hat and a vest,” I tried explaining to him without sounding absolutely mad.

  “Where?”

  “He was just over there,” I gestured with the lantern, a slight mannerism, my arm extended for but the briefest moment before bringing it back close. I was merely directing the direction the monkey directly ran, but inadvertently shed light upon a pending matter of terrible consequence.

  We had both seen it. From the corners of our eyes. In that gesture, as I moved the lantern, I revealed just ever so slightly a rather sizable, bushy haired and salivating underdwellar. It stood on all fours a fair distance away, waiting. We looked at each other, neither of us saying a word or really acknowledging what we had just seen.

  We turned to the darkness. I raised my lantern as The Strongman unlatched the gun from his holster. Just as he aimed his weapon waist high my lantern illuminated the maldeviant; it lunged.

  The beast was a mess of shaggy black hair, matted in places. Its face twisted and mangled. Teeth and fangs and jagged bits of bone protruding from its mouth. Yellow beady eyes. It could stand tall like a man, but held claws like an animal and preferred staying low to the ground. It screamed an awful shriek as it leapt at us. Mid-air, a bullet struck the creature down as the shot echoed through the tunnel. We turned to see Hendryk at the tunnel entrance, the barrel of his revolver smoking. The entire event happened so very quickly and precisely.

  “Don’t bother thanking me. They smell your blood, the place will be swarming with more of them.” Hendryk said coldy. He furrowed his brow, “Do you smell cander fruit?”

  “Indeed,” I replied as we made our way to the tunnel and it struck me.

  “We should really be going,” Louise appeared from behind Hendryk and tried to get our attention with a great urgency.

  “Indeed, the cander fruit is attracting them,” I stated obviously, but rightly so.

  A shriek followed by another could be heard from far off. A third followed that seemed closer. More shrieking followed from the other direction. It echoed a terrible sound. We turned. We ran into the tunnel as fast as we could and we weren’t about to stop running.

  “Who brought the cander fruit?” Hendryk spit angrily.

  “No one brought cander fruit, you daft bird brain.” I shouted back at him. “Someone lured those underdwellars to us.”

  Another shriek echoed, this time from down the tunnel. They were fast after us. We could hear them gaining. They were just savage beasts, another unclassified form of underdwellar. I had never encountered this type before, but had seen others like them. They were the sort that were untrainable and terribly feral creatures. They could be curious and rather shy, but could and would lash out if one got too close or made any sudden movement.

  Hendryk and The Strongman fired their revolvers blindly in the direction from which we came, hoping to strike an underdwellar or two. By the sound of it, they were hitting and most likely killing something. But they weren’t going to be able to stop all of them.

  “The quarry lift,” Louise shouted as she lead the way, “we can make it easily. We need to hurry.”

  The Strongman holstered his weapon and readied the rope and a grapple. As we made our way to the lift shaft, he secured the rope to a support beam. “How do we know what’s down there?” He asked as he made certain the rope was not going to break on our descent.

  “We don’t. You’ll be the first to find out,” I said to dryly him and he glared
back at me. “Would you rather stay up here?” I asked him as I ushered him down the rope, “Go on. Go.”

  He jumped onto the rope and slid down bit by bit. His weight on the rope made me nervous, but there was no alternative to the matter. I sent Louise down next. Hendryk fired upon the charging underdwellars.

  “Get down there, Monocle,” he yelled.

  I jumped onto the rope and slid down easily.

  Hendryk followed after closing the lift gate behind him and latching it shut. Underdwellars plowed into the iron gate with terrible force. The metal frame around the lift entrance was beginning to shake loose, but they were kept back. Only their shrieks followed after us down the shaft. They shook at the gate violently trying to dislodge it from the wall. When that failed they began pushing rocks and rubbish between the bars and down the shaft upon us.

  We made it to a lower floor unscathed. An area of trashed mine carts awaited us. It was dark and quiet. The sound of dripping water echoed in the distance. Hendryk lit several surrounding lamps to reveal several tracks setting out straight from where we stood. The floor came to an abrupt edge and down into further darkness. The tracks were elevated with stilts to the ground far below and supported with cables from the high ceiling.

  This was the natural, giant cave system which connected two major sections of the mining operation. The several sets of elevated tracks dispersed throughout the system.

  The ground area was small with very little room between the lift we entered from and the tracks before us. It was doubtful underdwellars could get to us here. Carts were strewn about the area. Old and rusted. They were bulky contraptions.

  “We can sleep in the Clerk House,” Hendryk pointed to the small building off to the side as he lit one last lamp.

  “These tracks, what are they? Where do they go?” I asked vaguely.

  “The carts would get filled from the quarry and sent on to Chasm City,” Louise said and she took off her wingpack from her back and let down her hair. I do believe I caught The Strongman staring.