by L. C. Mawson
“There’s Buckingham Palace,” Ruth pointed out. “So, is that where we’re headed? The White House?”
The pilot shrugged. “Depends on how far up the chain of command you meant before.”
“The White House should be fine,” Captain Hall said. “We are, after all, here on the orders of Her Majesty.”
“Do you intend to speak with the presidents?” the pilot asked excitedly.
“Presidents?” Ivy asked. “I thought there was only one president?”
“Not for the past year or so, since the Council was built.”
“I suppose who we speak to will be up to your more direct superiors,” Captain Hall said and the pilot nodded as he landed the craft.
As they left the craft, Ruth took the time to inspect it, finding that the underside was covered in balloons, which must have been what kept them in the air, with large aether tanks. She supposed that the tanks must keep the air within heated in order to ascend. There were another two aether tanks on the back that seemed to power two large propellers, which were able to move along the rear end of the ship and to the sides. She supposed they must be in charge of the direction of the ship.
She was pulled from her inspection by a man in a rather crisp looking uniform approaching.
“Harrison,” he said to the pilot in a gruff voice, his rather impressive moustache moving as he spoke, “what have you managed to drag back this time, you overgrown cat?”
Hall grinned at the man. “Fredrickson! It’s been too long.”
“Hall!” the man responded. “You’re damn right it has. What are you doing this side of the globe?”
“I’m here on business for Her Majesty. Our airship was accosted by pirates. Your fine men drove them off, but we were unable to save the ship. So, here I am, with a handful of VIPs, no ship, and with a mission to complete.”
Fredrickson nodded in understanding. “Well, of course, any help I can give is yours. Mind telling me a few details of your mission?”
Hall indicated to Ruth. “This is The Owl.”
“The inventor?”
“The very same. She has been sent here because of rumours that you have developed your own mechs.”
“You mean the automatons?”
“The mechanical men.”
“Yeah, they’re called automatons out here. Well, I suppose if that’s your mission, you’d better speak to the Council.”
“Your pilot mentioned them. Who are the Council?”
“The Council of Presidents. The president himself is out of town, so they’re the best to speak to.”
Hall nodded, silently following Fredrickson as he led them inside the White House. Ruth desperately wanted to ask what exactly this Council was, but she left it be. She didn’t want to risk putting her foot in her mouth.
Of course, that thought immediately fled her mind as she was led to a room filled with mechanical men. They were all dressed in various out-of-fashion clothes, with more than a few sporting old-fashioned white wigs, including the one in the middle, who was slightly elevated above the rest. He also, for some inexplicable reason, given that the rest of him was made of metal, appeared to have wooden teeth.
“This is the Council?” Ivy asked.
Fredrickson nodded. “When a former president died, their brains were kept preserved in the hope that there would one day be a way to revive them.”
“And I thought royalty were weird,” Ruth muttered.
Thomas folded his arms. “Quite. Wasn’t the whole point of the presidency that no one person would rule forever? This seems quite contrary to that wish.”
“The Council don’t rule,” Fredrickson told them. “The preservation process wasn’t nearly good enough for that. No, they simply advise.”
Ivy moved a little closer to Michel. “Just as long as none of them try to claim me as their property or anything.”
The mech - or automaton, Ruth supposed - with wooden teeth spoke up in a particularly grating shout. “WHO ADDRESSES THE COUNCIL?” it demanded.
Fredrickson stepped forward. “The Owl. She is the inventor responsible for automatons.”
They all immediately spun their heads around to her in eerie synchronised movements.
“YOU ARE THE MOTHER OF AUTOMATONS?”
Ruth sighed. That name was a new - and unwelcome - one. “Yes, I suppose, if you want. I’m here to see how automatons have been used in America.”
“WHY?”
“Curiosity,” she lied.
“YOU CAN SEE BEFORE YOU HOW WE ARE USED.”
“How about the production process? How were you built?”
“WE DO NOT KNOW. THESE BODIES WERE CONSTRUCTED BY A PRIVATE COMPANY.”
“And you didn’t think to ask about how the bodies you are now using were constructed?”
“IT WAS NOT RELEVANT. NOT WHEN IT WAS THE ONLY WAY TO PROCURE SUCH BODIES.”
Ruth sighed. Even the automatons were mad at her for keeping her plans to herself.
“Can you at least tell us the name of the company who manufactured you?”
The automaton closest to her rolled up its sleeve to show her the brand on its right arm.
WESTTECH, the brand proclaimed.
“IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE?” the head automaton, which Ruth had just realised was probably meant to be George Washington, asked.
“No,” Captain Hall replied for her. “Thank you.”
They left quickly, feeling defeated.
“Well, that was pointless,” Ruth declared.
“We got the name of the company producing them,” Michel pointed out.
“Yes, but nothing else. We don’t even know where to find this WestTech facility. Not to mention, they’re already using my designs for ridiculous purposes.”
Ivy nodded with a shudder. “Dead slave owners should stay dead. I’m not going to sleep for a month.”
Michel responded by offering her a comforting hand, which she took.
“There has to be some way to figure out where WestTech is,” Thomas figured.
Ivy perked up a little, seemingly spotting something down the hallway. “Perhaps we’re asking the wrong person.”
She bounded down the hall after a man with even darker skin than hers. He had flecks of white in his otherwise short black hair and a toolbox, and was wearing a brown jumpsuit.
“Excuse me, are you one of the mechanics who works on the Council?” Ivy asked him.
“I am indeed. Jonathan Smith, at your service. And you are?”
“Ivy Miller.” She turned to introduce Ruth, but the man was already shaking her hand.
“The inventor of the automated airship system?”
She nodded, seemingly dumbstruck.
“My daughter is a huge fan of yours. She saw you in a newspaper and has wanted to be an inventor ever since.”
“Oh. Well... I’m flattered.”
“But never mind me, you were asking about the Council?”
“Yes, we were wondering about their construction and operation. Specifically, we were wondering where to find the WestTech facility. We wish to speak with the owners about a tour.”
“Well, I’m not sure about the location of the facility, but I do have all of the WestTech manuals at my home. You’re more than welcome to come and have a look over them.”
“Thank you. Would it be alright if my mentor came as well? She’s the one who invented the automatons in the first place.”
He nodded. “Sure, that’s no problem.”
Captain Hall spoke up at that. “We’ll take Michel with us and will try to get our bearings.”
Ruth nodded. “We’ll meet you back here at sunset.”
5
Jonathan’s home was a relatively modest one in a section of town that seemed predominantly occupied by black residents.
“Honey, you’ll never guess who I met at work,” he said as he entered the house, Ivy following close behind and Ruth trailing a bit, feeling like an interloper.
“You’ve not brought
home strays again, have you?” a tired voice asked from further in the house. The owner of the voice walked to the front door, a little girl trailing behind her. The voice belonged to a woman who seemed only a year or two older than Ruth at most, with an hourglass figure to rival hers as well; however, her skin was much closer to Ivy’s dark tones, if not darker, and her hair was tied back in small braids. Or, at least, braids were the closest thing Ruth could name to the style. She liked it. It seemed practical in the way she often wished British fashions were.
The young girl beside her gasped as she saw Ivy. “You’re Ivy Miller!” she exclaimed, bounding up to her.
The woman folded her arms with a disbelieving look.
“Yes, I am,” Ivy confirmed as she lifted the little girl up into her arms. “Your dad told me that you like my work.”
The girl nodded. “I’ve been building my own things out of spare parts. Do you want to see?”
Ivy looked to the girl’s mother, who gave a nod of approval.
“I would love to,” Ivy told the girl before being taken away.
Jonathan turned to Ruth. “And this is The Owl. She wanted to have a look at my instruction manuals for the automatons.”
“And you couldn’t get them anywhere else?” the woman asked. “WestTech, for example?”
“I’m not sure that they would be all that welcoming of me,” Ruth admitted. “I never gave them permission to work from my plans.”
The woman sighed, turning back to her husband. “You’ll never stop bringing trouble home with you, will you?”
He gave an impish grin. “Now where would the fun be in that?”
She shook her head with a smile. “Go on, then. Go get the manuals. I’ll make us all some tea.” She turned to Ruth as Jonathan headed to another room. “You do like tea, don’t you?”
“I do, but I thought Americans didn’t. Something about preferring to throw it in the sea.”
The woman laughed. “Perhaps a hundred years ago. Now, I’m quite fond of it. Oh, where are my manners? I’m Imani.”
“Ruth.”
“Well, Ruth, how about we make our way to the kitchen, and you can tell me why you’re here in person.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m not a fool,” Imani said as they made their way through to the kitchen. “You’re a wealthy woman, and last I heard, The Owl worked for the Queen of England. You have the resources at your disposal to send any number of lackeys across the ocean to investigate. Why come yourself?”
Ruth shrugged. “I like to do things myself.”
“And you like telling half-truths, apparently.”
Ruth sighed. “Fine. If this problem gets back to the Queen, she may think I sold the designs. Given that I have stopped her from using them, that would either end in her executing me for treason or deciding that it was reason enough for her to use the designs herself. Neither of which are situations I particularly want to play out.”
Imani narrowed her eyes at Ruth. “And you’ve gone and embroiled my husband in this?”
“All I did was ask to see his instruction manuals. He can’t be bothered over that.”
“There is very little that the authorities wouldn’t see fit to bother a black man over.”
Ruth frowned. That hadn’t even occurred to her. “I promise, we won’t tell anyone we were here.”
Imani regarded her carefully for a moment, before seemingly taking her at her word. “So,” she started as she set about putting the kettle on, “did you and Ivy come here alone? Two unaccompanied women travelling so far from home... That seems like asking for trouble.”
“No, we didn’t. My uncle and his... friend came with us. As well as Michel.”
“Michel?”
“The first mechanical man I built.”
“I suppose it must be nice to have him about. No need for escorts when you built one yourself.”
“Actually, I see little of him. He started university last year.”
“And you don’t have anyone at home? No husband?”
Ruth shrugged. “Never wanted one.”
“You’ve never fallen in love?”
“No. And I don’t think I ever will. I just don’t think it’s in me.”
Imani smiled. “Me neither.”
“Wait, but... You’re married.”
“Jonathan and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember. He fell in love with me, but I never had those feelings. Not for anyone. I told him as much, but we both wanted children, and he didn’t seem to mind.”
“So you got married anyway?”
“Yes.”
“Huh... I guess I never had anyone I was close enough with to have that kind of arrangement. No men I wasn’t related to, at any rate. Not to mention, most husbands would have tried to put a stop to my inventing.”
Jonathan returned, his arms filled with heavy-looking books.
“These are the instruction manuals for the presidents,” he said. “Each has their own, but there are only a few variations, so I only brought as many as I could carry.”
“Thank you,” Ruth said as she opened the first one, pouring over the pages as quickly as she could while still absorbing all of the information.
“These are rudimentary,” Ruth declared after getting halfway through the first book. “Look at these designs. They’re so inefficient.”
“So they’re not yours, then?” Jonathan asked.
Ruth shook her head. “Not my latest ones. No, it looks like they’re working from my early plans. Or thereabouts. There are some variations, though they’re poor ones.”
“So then there’s no problem,” Imani said. “If they’re not working from your designs, then it is simply a poor copy.”
Ruth shook her head. “But the designs around the aether core are too similar. They’re working from part of my design, that much is clear.”
She shook her head, before turning back to Jonathan. “Are you sure you don’t know where the WestTech facility is?”
He shook his head.
“What about spare parts? Surely you must get them from somewhere.”
“They arrive periodically by train, but I don’t know where the train comes from.”
“No,” Ruth agreed, “but someone at the station might...”
6
“You’re sure these will fit?” Ruth asked as she eyed the new clothes Michel, Thomas and Hall had bought, since theirs had been lost when the ship went down.
“As sure as I can be,” Michel told her.
Ruth nodded in acceptance as she huddled into herself. The train station was freezing, probably due to the late hour. At least that also meant that it was reasonably empty...
Thomas hurried back over to the huddled group from talking with one of the station workers.
“There’s a late train leaving soon. It should head back to where the WestTech trains come from.”
“Should?”
“Apparently WestTech is very secretive.”
“But isn’t that a safety problem? Shouldn’t there be a record of where all of the trains come and go from?”
Thomas shrugged. “It seems the American government has made some concessions for WestTech in exchange for their technology.”
Ruth folded her arms. “That seems like a terrible idea.”
Hall snorted. “Ah yes, because you have certainly never wrangled concessions from the queen.”
Ruth flushed. “That’s different!”
“The only difference I see is that you think you’re right.”
“I am right.”
“Which I suspect is exactly what the person running WestTech will say when we ask why they have been copying your designs.”
Ivy stepped in. “Perhaps we should find this train, instead of bickering amongst ourselves.”
AFTER CHANGING INTO one of her new dresses and settling down in her compartment, Ruth found herself once more confronted by just how much she hated to travel by train. It wasn’t as terrible as air
travel, or as arduous as travelling by carriage, but it still drained her of any energy.
A knock at the compartment door disrupted her turbulent thoughts.
“Come in,” she called, wondering who it might be.
Michel entered, much to her relief. “May I sit with you?”
She nodded and he closed the door before sitting opposite her.
“I dislike trains,” he told her. “They bother my internal spirit level.”
“I am not fond of them either,” Ruth agreed. “Is Ivy asleep?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he replied with a slight frown.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Talking to you.”
Ruth folded her arms. “I thought you were going to talk to Ivy about your feelings for her.”
Michel shifted awkwardly at the reminded. “I’ve been putting it off until you can give me the upgrades we talked about.”
Ruth sighed. “But what about the trip over here? Surely you talked to her then?”
“Not exactly. Not of anything important.”
“Michel... This is more than a little ridiculous.”
“I didn’t want to tell her before I got the upgrades.”
Ruth sighed. “And you’re truly sure that you want them?”
Michel looked a little uneasy at that, telling her all she needed to know. She knew that he wouldn’t want real skin once he thought through how inconvenient it would be. He was just using it as an excuse to delay telling Ivy about his feelings for her.
“Go and talk to Ivy,” Ruth told him. “The worst she can do is tell you that she doesn’t return your feelings.”
Michel looked stricken.
Ruth sighed. “Even if she doesn’t, it would be better if you knew. Otherwise you’re just putting a strain on your friendship and making it even more likely that you might lose her.”
Michel sighed. “You’re right,” he eventually said. “I should go and talk to her.”
Ruth indicated to the door. Michel stood up and headed back down the corridor.
Ruth gave him a few moments before twisting her bracelet so that it unclasped from her wrist, unfolding into one of her mechanical spiders.
