by J. Stone
The day proved quite windy and with the coming of winter, the temperature had taken a dive. Walking through the waterfall-powered, mechanical city toward the factory, she was noticed by many of the townspeople. The confederacy had made her assistance in the cure well known, and the people had begun to express their appreciation to her. Many of them smiled and waved, as they passed her by in the streets. Among the citizens was a fruit vendor that waved her over as she passed him.
“Ms. Clover!” he shouted joyfully. “Please, take some of my fruit!”
“You’ve given me free fruit every day this week, Cecil,” she replied. “This really isn’t necessary.”
“If not for you and the confederacy, my daughter would still be suffering from the plague,” the vendor said. “You will eat free for a lifetime, as far as I am concerned.”
“Well,” she responded with a light smile. “I guess I’ll take an orange if you’re so insistent.”
“Excellent!” he replied. “With winter here now, I won’t be able to get naturally grown oranges anymore. Only that biogenetically-engineered stuff.”
Cecil handed Erynn an orange with a hearty smile, and she continued toward the factory. The door was swung open, allowing a light breeze to flow inside the entryway. She navigated the factory’s twisting corridors, until she arrived at a makeshift lab that Samuel had allowed Rowland to set up in an abandoned wing. When she entered the room, he was already hard at work mixing various chemicals in glass vials and examining his results.
She stood behind him for a moment, taking in the scene. His hair was a gray mess of tangles and his clothes were more unkempt than usual. Chemicals were spilling from beakers onto the floor of the factory and his supplies were scattered about his worktable. On the white walls of the room, he had scrawled various formulas and ideas for how to deal with her genotoxin.
Interrupting the silence of his lab, she said, “Morning, Max.”
“Ryn!” the professor exclaimed, as he turned to face her. “I think I am on to something. I will need another blood and hair sample.”
“Morning, Ryn,” she mockingly said to herself.
“Yes, yes,” he said dismissively. “Sit down.”
He pointed to a chair near his worktable, and she complied, sitting next to him. He retrieved a dirty-looking syringe and prepared to stick it into her arm, before she jerked back and grabbed his hand.
“Whoa, Max!” she yelled, releasing him. “How ‘bout a clean needle?”
Rowland looked down at the syringe he almost injected her with, as his eyes widened. “I… I apologize,” he replied. “I guess my mind is elsewhere right now.”
“I’d sure appreciate your mind being here if you’re going to be sticking needles in me,” she said.
“Right,” he said with a nod. “Certainly, my dear.” Rowland tossed the dirty needle behind him haphazardly and picked up a clean, unused syringe from his worktable.
“You will not feel a thing,” he assured her, sliding the needle into a vein in her arm.
“Ow!” she cried out.
“Except for that,” he said.
While her blood filled the glass vial, Erynn took a closer look at the professor’s face. Through his spectacles, she could see that his eyes were bloodshot, and dark bags had collected underneath. Coming out from the edges of his respirator was an ever-lengthening stubble, forming an unintentional beard, and his skin was greasy, pale, and had an unhealthy sheen to it.
“You even sleep anymore?” she asked, as he removed the filled needle.
“I do not have time for sleep,” he replied, speaking quickly and manically. He sat the syringe back on his table, picked up a pair of tweezers, and plucked out a long hair from her scalp. Placing the hair in a tube, he continued, “I am getting very close to a solution. Even if it cannot cure you, I am vaguely certain it will hold your symptoms at bay.”
“Did you just use the phrase, ‘vaguely certain?’” she asked.
“I do not think so,” he answered.
“Right, well, I appreciate what you’re doing, Max,” Erynn began, “but you’ve got to take care of yourself too.”
“Nonsense,” he said. “I am fine.”
Erynn sighed softly as she stood from the chair, “Germ still gone?” she asked.
“Indeed,” Rowland answered. “He and Olivia have not yet returned from... wherever.” He quickly turned back to his table and began working with his new components, while Erynn gave him a worried frown before leaving the way she had come in.
She repeatedly tossed the orange up in the air and caught it, as she walked down the factory halls looking for Hirim. The former skyship factory had been turned into a headquarters for the Chromework Confederacy. Samuel and his wife, Eva, both joined with the rebellion after the confederacy freed Eva and many of the other Pendulum Falls families from the Cultwick Corps work farm.
Also housed inside the factory was the Dreadnought Prime, the empire’s most powerful skyship and the means by which the rebels had dispersed the plague cure. The rebellion had continued using the ‘Ruby of the Skies’ as their primary means of transportation throughout the western settlements, though it had been grounded in Pendulum Falls more and more.
Erynn eventually found Hirim in a small backroom that he had been using as a command station for his men. He was seated at a table, across from another man that she had not met. Between them sat a checkered chessboard littered with onyx and marble pieces that was midway through completion. Both men stared intently at the board and appeared to give her no pause, when she entered.
She pulled a tall, metal trashcan to a nearby stool and leaned against it, watching the game unfold. As she watched the two men play, she peeled her orange and began to eat slices of the juicy fruit. Throwing pieces of the skin into the trashcan, she eyed the movements the two men made on the board.
Hirim picked up the only bishop he still had in play with his mechanically encased hand and placed it down across the board. He had taken off his usual bowler hat and placed it on back of the chair. His short gray hair was ruffled, and he looked similarly unkempt like Rowland. Ever since their return to Pendulum Falls following the cure, Hirim had focused his efforts on leading his collection of the confederacy.
The man opposite Hirim slid a pawn, so that it was directly in the path of one of Hirim’s knights and seemingly unguarded. The man looked older and was probably close to Hirim’s age, but he still had a bit of red in his graying hair and beard. He wore dark spectacles that were kept close to his face, concealing his eyes. It appeared that he either cared more for his appearance or had more time on his hands to keep up that appearance. He was well groomed, his white shirt was tucked into a pair of dark brown pants, his vest was pressed firmly and neatly over his chest, and a long, blue overcoat with shiny gold buckles was folded methodically in the seat next to him.
“You’re just giving pieces away, Reg,” Hirim said, taking the pawn with his knight.
“Perhaps,” the man replied. He moved out one of his own knights further into the field and further into Hirim’s territory. This piece was protected, and put Hirim’s bishop in jeopardy.
Hirim was forced to move the bishop out of the knight’s path to save it, while his opponent moved a rook out and placed both Hirim’s knight and bishop in its path. Hirim was forced to choose to save one, and he unsurprisingly picked the bishop, moving it out of the rook’s line of sight. The other man took the knight, but in doing so placed his rook in the path of Hirim’s queen.
Choosing to involve his queen, Hirim moved it out, taking the rook. His opponent, however, was prepared for this and moved his only remaining knight so that it put Hirim’s king in check and posed a threat to his queen. Hirim was left with no choice, and was forced to move his king out of check, allowing his queen to be taken. With Hirim’s queen off the board, he moved his bishop forward to a protected location and placing one of the enemy bishops in jeopardy of being taken. The other man paid this threat no attention and simply m
oved his queen directly forward to where Hirim’s king had just been and put him in checkmate.
“You old bastard,” Hirim muttered.
“I never meaninglessly sacrifice a piece,” he replied.
“Well, good game, as always,” Hirim replied.
After the game had concluded, Hirim and his opponent stood from their table and approached Erynn.
“Erynn Clover,” Hirim said. “Meet Reginald Maynard, leader of the Chromework Confederacy.”
Maynard extended his hand to Erynn and said, “Ms. Clover.”
Erynn, meanwhile, stuffed the last slice of orange into her mouth, wiped her hand on her skirt leg, and shook his hand. After gulping the last of the fruit, she replied, “Good to meet you, and just call me Ryn.”
“Fair enough, Ryn. Hirim here tells me you were fundamental in the discovery, retrieval, and dispersal of the cure to the sweeper bot plague,” Maynard continued.
“Just doing my part, I guess,” she said.
“Not many people stand up to operatives,” he commented. “Fewer still live to tell the tale. It’s unfortunate she was able to inject you with this genotoxin though. How are you feeling, by the way?”
“I’ve been better,” she answered. “Max is working on a cure to it though.”
“Max?” Maynard asked. “He’s the one who actually pieced the cure together, correct?”
“That’s him,” she replied.
“Then I’m sure you are in good hands, Ryn,” he said. “Has Hirim told you what we intend to discuss with Mayor McKay or why I’ve asked you to be included?”
“No, to both,” Erynn answered.
“I’ve been traveling throughout the Cultwick Empire,” Maynard explained. “As far north as Tybury, south to Heathmoore, and across the sea to the desert cities of Ankalara. In every city, I saw the empire crushing and attempting to control the common man and woman. The people yearn for freedom, Ryn, and I aim to give it to them. You represent exactly that which we hope to achieve.”
An expression of confusion glazed across Erynn’s face. “Pardon?” she asked.
Hirim chimed in, saying, “Because you stood up to the lottery and thanks to your efforts in curing the plague, the people trust you. We’ve been spreading the word about your involvement, and I’m sure the people of Pendulum Falls have already found ways to show their appreciation.”
“Mostly just free fruit so far,” she said.
“You can inspire these people into action, Ryn,” Maynard suggested. “That’s why I want to bring you along to meet the mayor, so that he can see what normal people are capable of in these desperate times. We must convince him to secede his town and its people from the empire, which will most certainly result in war. Unfortunate as that is; it will also spur the other cities of the empire to rise up and demand their rightful freedoms.”
“And you really think I can help make that happen?” she asked.
“I do, Ryn,” Maynard simply replied. “If you’re willing to help us take on this responsibility, we can go see the mayor now.”
Erynn took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled it, as she thought. “Yeah, I suppose so,” she eventually answered.
“Excellent news, Ryn,” Maynard said.
Hirim nodded and told her, “You’re helping us to start something great here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied.
The three of them left the factory and headed to the town hall to meet with the mayor. Seeing the building, Erynn saw quick flashes of two corpsmen being attacked by one of Fiona’s pets. As they walked up the steps, she spotted the dried blood that had not been completely washed away. Entering the building, they were immediately met with a young woman holding a collection of papers pressed against her chest.
“Oh?” she began. “You must be the mayor’s nine-thirty.”
“Uh, yes. That’s right, miss,” Hirim replied.
“Please wait one moment,” she said. “He’s just finishing up his current appointment. Please take a seat.” She gestured over to a row of chairs and continued with her work.
The secretary walked over to a desk and laid down the stack of papers, as Erynn, Maynard, and Hirim sat down at the set of chairs lining the wall. After a few minutes passed, a well-dressed man holding a thin, metal briefcase walked out of the mayor’s office and left the town hall. When he passed by, the man paid special attention to Erynn, and she noticed the same intricate tattoo on his hand that had been etched into Alice’s skin. Her heart fluttered, expecting him to attack her, but he exited the building peacefully.
“The mayor will see you now,” the receptionist said.
As they entered the room, a man stood from behind a desk and greeted them. “Mr. Maynard,” he began. “Surely you must realize the pressure I am under. The man that just left my office was from the empire. My predecessor, Bowden, made no attempt to hide his position as firmly inside Cultwick’s pocket. They expect me to fill the void left by his unusual disappearance. I suspect you are here to convince me to do otherwise.”
“That would be a correct assumption, Mayor McKay,” Maynard replied.
Harlan McKay Jr. was a tall and thin man, who seemed much younger than most politicians. He had shoulder-length black hair with a thin mustache and beard. His button-up shirt was a vivid blue and was tucked neatly into his pants. Both a dark brown belt as well as thin, brown braces held up his tan slacks. Adorning his chest was a fat brown tie that was fastened neatly into a trinity knot.
He walked to his office door and closed it behind his guests. “Give me your pitch then,” the mayor said.
Maynard continued, “Let me be blunt. I wish for Pendulum Falls to be the first of many cities throughout the Cultwick Empire to secede.”
The mayor narrowed his eyes, and said, “You are not asking me to secede, Mr. Maynard. You are asking me to declare war.”
“You are correct, mayor,” Maynard replied. “If I could defeat the empire without raising a weapon, without firing a gun, I would. Unfortunately, I do not believe that is possible. The empire has too much power, and too much power does not allow for liberty. Think of this as addition by subtraction. We remove Pendulum Falls, and the rest of the cities will be moved into action.”
“And do you honestly believe you can defeat the empire?” the mayor asked. “Do you think you can change Cultwick policy?”
Maynard looked to the floor and answered, “My fear of failure in this endeavor is greatly outweighed by my desire for its success.”
“That doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence, Mr. Maynard,” Harlan replied. “If I were to do this, I would be endangering my people’s lives.”
“I have found that someone unwilling to die for something is unfit to live in this world,” Maynard said. After a brief pause, he continued and gestured toward Erynn, “Mayor, I don’t believe you have yet met Erynn Clover.”
Erynn smiled uncomfortably and nodded to the mayor.
“The heretic…” he said to himself. “And what exactly does she prove?”
“You must realize, mayor, that every truth was once a heresy,” Maynard replied. “Ms. Clover was once a normal citizen, just like your people, but when her name was drawn, she was hurled into events that led her to cure the sweeper bot plague and cleansing the empire of a foul truth. It won’t be the people’s hate for the empire that empowers them, but rather an example of their potential for good.”
“This won’t be an easy sell,” Harlan said.
“Freedom is worth the difficulty,” Maynard explained.
Chapter 3. Crowley and the Council
The Sovereign Tower was a black building that had been erected at the very center of Cultwick generations before Crowley was born. It had more than twenty levels, comprised of the city’s justice system, the lottery office, the reclamation bureau, the empress’ living quarters, the council’s meeting chambers, along with much more. It had served as the capital building and the heart of the city itself for as long as Cultwick had been the reigning e
mpire of the region.
Councilor Desmond Crowley walked down the dimly lit hallway on the twentieth floor of the Sovereign Tower. His black rubber shoes squeaked quietly on the white tiled floors, the legs of his black pants scraped softly against each other, and the black, hooded robe that draped down his back fluttered, as he made his way to the Cultwick Council chambers.
Crowley was so tall that his head nearly scraped the doorways he passed through on his way to his destination. He had short, black hair and a black, trimmed beard and mustache. His face had begun to show wrinkles and age, as he entered the beginning of his fifth decade, but he was just as strong and menacing, as he was in his youth.
The meeting of the day would be one of great importance. The council was scheduled to meet with Daniel Hutton, an operative they sent to Pendulum Falls to investigate the rebellion and the disappearance of the mayor. They were also to meet with Edwin Hollow, the only survivor of the massacre on the train from Willow Switch several weeks prior.
Crowley carried with him a folder that contained the report that Edwin had written up about the incident and his time with Operative Alice Page in the western frontier. The council, however, wished to further understand what exactly took place. Alice had successfully captured the heretic, Erynn Clover, but her compatriots in the confederacy freed her and stole an entire train car full of medical supplies from the train. Ultimately, they succeeded in curing the region of the sweeper bot plague and exposing the truth that had been hidden for more than a decade – that the cure had been found long ago.
Though the empress had attempted to spin the truth to something more beneficial to the empire, it still put them at risk. In addition, it cut off the major source of revenue that stemmed from the plague treatments.
