by Claire Bott
‘Of course,’ Lechasseur replied. ‘Who hasn’t?’
‘Indeed, sir, indeed! Who has not heard of him – amateur though he is, bungler though he is, who has not heard of Vaucansen? And yet I, who have long worked in utter seclusion, have produced far more wondrous things than he. Take his famous duck, for example. Does it resemble a duck? Is it feathered? Does it quack? Does it splash through puddles seeking worms? No! It eats grain, and it flaps its wings. Oh, and it excretes, apparently, or performs a pretence of that act, but I for one am perfectly convinced that that pretence is a fraud, sir. The man is a fraudster! Now, take my cat, here – look at my wonderful cat, and tell me, if you will: is it not superior to any defecating duck?’ With that explosion of utter scorn, Sir Edward put the cat back on the work-bench, then tugged hard on the whiskers to the right of its mouth. Immediately, it rose from its crouching position, looked around at the three of us, and blinked. Then it sat down in the middle of the workbench and began to wash itself. Sir Edward virtually crowed with glee. ‘You see? You see?’
‘Impressive,’ agreed Lechasseur.
‘And there is more!’ Sir Edward raised his hand, as though he would strike the animal, and cried in a warning voice, ‘Scat!’ The creature instantly crouched once more, ears back, and hissed angrily at its creator. But he, with a swift motion, took hold of the whiskers to the left of its mouth, and tugged them. Instantly, the animal was still and lifeless once more. Sir Edward turned to Lechasseur with a broad smile on his face.
‘Truly amazing,’ the tall man replied.
‘Ah, but I can do better than that – much better. And have done! My dear sir, my most brilliant creation is standing before you!’ With that, he took me by the hand, and drew me forwards. ‘Now, sir, having heard of Vaucansen, you will of course know what a ridiculous fuss was made of his two human-like automata?’
‘Sure.’
‘Well, they are nothing, nothing, compared with her. She is a walking miracle. Every part of her – Take, for instance, her pubic part, which I have made to tighten around the member by an extension of the well-understood principle of the uneven cam – but you would not believe, my dear sir, the sweetness of the sensation as she tightens and loosens – I have even added a modification to make her speed her operation as climax is neared –’ He broke off suddenly, and put his hand on Lechasseur’s arm. ‘My dear sir,’ he said, in a voice trembling with emotion, ‘would you like to have it demonstrated? Would you like to experience this marvel, this miracle, for yourself? You are the first human being who has ever offered me understanding – I would offer you something in return. My dear sir – my dear friend – I would offer you the greatest thing I could offer any man. You may experience my beauty, my angel, for yourself.’
Lechasseur lifted Sir Edward’s hand away. ‘Thanks. I appreciate the offer. But I think I’ll pass.’
Sir Edward stared at him, his face a mask of incomprehension. ‘You – you decline?’
Lechasseur seemed embarrassed. ‘Well,’ he mumbled, ‘it is only a machine.’
‘A machine?’ Sir Edward’s face was suffused with sudden rage. ‘My greatest creation – my dearest, my darling – a machine?’
‘Well, yeah, like you said yourself.’ Lechasseur was calm, his voice pitched at a tone clearly intended to soothe. But his words were anything but soothing to Sir Edward, who abruptly turned and punched him hard in the stomach.
Lechasseur doubled over for a moment, then straightened up, gasping a little. ‘Hey, look now –’ he began, but Sir Edward flew at him before he could finish, and he was forced to put up a defence.
They fought. I watched as they did so, my hands at my lips to keep myself from shrieking, my emotions in such turmoil that I could not have said who I feared for most – Sir Edward, Lechasseur, or myself. Sir Edward was a heavily-built man, but Lechasseur was younger and tougher, and seemed able to fend off or dodge his blows with relative ease. I could see Sir Edward growing angrier and angrier – and he had been angry enough to begin with.
Then, as Lechasseur passed by where I stood, Sir Edward called out to me. ‘Stick out your foot!’ he shouted, and I did. What else should I have done? He was my master.
Lechasseur tripped and fell. Sir Edward was on him in a moment, locking his hands around his throat, tightening. Lechasseur grabbed at Sir Edward’s wrists, trying to pull his hands away, but Sir Edward was determined, and now it was strength against strength. I sank on to a nearby bench, my hands at my lips. I watched. I did nothing. Lechasseur’s hands weakened, fell aside. I saw his eyes begin to flutter closed.
No!
I thought I had shrieked aloud, but Sir Edward never glanced at me. And then I knew that it was only inside my mind that I had cried out, only inside my body that No! reverberated through every section, every part, turning me into nothing more than one shuddering denial that staggered up, took a spanner from a nearby workbench and cracked a blow across the back of Sir Edward’s head.
I was sitting on a bench. On a bench, in the workshop. Sir Edward sprawled at my feet. Not moving. Chest rising and falling. Asleep. Wake up, Sir Edward. Wake up and tell me what to do. Wake up. Let me please you. I live to please you. To do the things you tell me to. I’ll never do anything else. Never. Wake up.
Someone shouting. Saying something. About leaving. Strange thing to say. Why would I leave? Sir Edward is here. I am waiting for him to wake. Where would I go? There is nowhere for me but here.
‘Tell me the way out!’
An order. I obey orders, I am good. ‘Down the stairs. Turn right through the hall.’
Someone pulling me to my feet, out of the door. Where are they taking me? I want to stay with Sir Edward. Surely he will wake soon. I would resist. But I don’t know how to. It is not part of my design. Down the stairs. Right through the hall. Are we going outside? I have never been outside. Please, don’t make me go there.
The fear of outside pressed in on me, dragging me back from my entranced state. I was being led through the hall by Lechasseur. Sir Edward was... my mind shied away. Best not to think about that. Just follow Lechasseur. Do what I’m told.
Then we stepped through the front door, and out into the night. Lechasseur hesitated a moment, and looked around. ‘This way!’
‘No!’ I cried, terror of death bringing me back to myself; and I laid my hand on his sleeve to pull him back. A moment later, I recoiled, as though the leather of his coat had been red-hot metal. I had been bad, had tried to tell him what to do. Now he would be angry, terribly angry with me.
But he only turned, and asked quickly, ‘Why not?’
‘That is the wrong way,’ I stammered. ‘We must get to the gate as quickly as possible, or the dogs will take us.’ My days of watching the gardens had paid off, and my memories of the layout were intact.
He nodded curtly. ‘You’re right. Which way to the gate?’
I pointed. He set off quickly, calling, ‘Come on!’ over his shoulder. For a moment, I stood hesitating on the doorstep. I could go back inside, back to Sir Edward. If I was lucky, he would not remember that I had hit him, only that he had fought the interloper. Perhaps he would think that the interloper had struck him down. I could tell him so. I could go back to the life I had had before the strangers came. Quiet. Peaceful. Uneventful.
Or I could follow Lechasseur. He was making for the gate. Planning to leave. I could go with him. Explore places I had never even thought of. Leave the estate. Leave Sir Edward.
Lechasseur was almost lost to sight amid the undergrowth. I had to choose now. With a low moan, I stepped away from the door, and walked hurriedly after him.
I caught up with him quickly, and together we plunged through the bushes of the overgrown, untended estate. Dry twigs and rotten branches cracked under our feet, leaves showered down on us like an early autumn. We could not have gone quietly, even if our situation had been less urgent. All too
soon, I heard the attack dogs baying in the distance.
‘They are coming,’ I whispered.
‘What are?’
‘The dogs. They are coming after us.’
Lechasseur glanced at me. ‘Can you run?’
‘I don’t know. I have never tried.’
‘Try now,’ he said grimly.
We ran.
Faint and far-off, I could hear the attack dogs crashing through the undergrowth. Maybe we would have time to reach the gate. Maybe. We ran side by side, matching each other’s pace. To my surprise, I found that I could run. I ran well, even, with long, clean strides, hardly breaking step to leap over a fallen branch in our path. The same well-wrought cogs that had allowed my legs to curl so seductively around Sir Edward’s waist drove me swiftly through the woods on the day I ran away from him. But the attack dogs were behind us, and gaining.
‘There!’ shouted Lechasseur, and I saw the thing he pointed to – a large, tumbledown barn standing solitary in the middle of the woods. We ran to it, dashed inside, slammed the door. Lechasseur seized an old plank lying on the floor, and jammed it against the closed door.
‘That will not hold them for long,’ I said.
But Lechasseur was staring at something over my shoulder, not listening. I turned, and saw, in the moonlight that fell through the cracks in the walls of the barn, a white, horned horse, standing perfectly still with its head raised. It seemed to shine in the moonlight, and, had I been in the habit of breathing, it would have taken my breath away. Until that moment, my own face in the mirror had been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Now, I saw beauty bodied forth in a form entirely unlike my own, and was stuck dumb by the marvel of it.
‘A unicorn!’ said Lechasseur. And then, a moment later, ‘But unicorns are only a myth. What the – ?’ He approached it cautiously, but it made no movement at all as he drew closer. Finally, he touched its flank with one hand, and still it was motionless. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, ‘it must be another of his machines. Broken, though.’ He drummed his fingers on the unicorn’s hide, thinking. ‘I wonder if I can get at the mechanism somehow,’ he murmured, more to himself than to me.
I shook my head in despair. ‘You could not mend that! It is only Sir Edward who can create or mend the devices.’
He glanced at me. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. I know a thing or two about engines. Okay, I never was in the Corps of Engineers like I said, but I’ve been a lot of things in my time, including a mechanic.’
Close to, one of the dogs howled. ‘You will need to be very fast indeed,’ I said under my breath. But Lechasseur had already lighted on some tools that Sir Edward had left by the unicorn, evidently abandoned in a huff when he had failed to rectify whatever was amiss with it. Now he ran his fingers lightly over the unmoving beast’s hide, giving a faint exclamation when he found a small catch that enabled him to open a panel in its flank.
‘There! Now, they reckon adrenalin concentrates the mind, don’t they? I guess we’ll find out if they’re right.’
Outside, I heard the triumphant bay of an attack dog, and a moment later something slammed against the door. I sank down upon a box that had been abandoned there. The dogs had found us. I felt myself growing faint, and recalled, in the middle of the clamour and yelping that rose from the pack outside, that I had omitted to wind myself the night before. In sudden terror lest my mechanism should run down entirely, I drew out the key that hung on a slim chain around my neck, and inserted it carefully into the small hole concealed in the roof of my mouth. One – two – three – four – five twists of the key, and I was wound up again for another day, or two – depending on how much energy I should use in that time. Or (I thought, as the door shuddered under the impact of the dogs) on whether or not I would be torn to pieces long before my works had a chance to even begin to run down.
‘Almost done,’ Lechasseur said briskly, as another thud shook the building. ‘Nearly ready now – there!’
The unicorn tossed its mane and neighed, Lechasseur straightened up with a pleased smile – and the attack dogs burst through the door. Lechasseur sprang onto the back of the unicorn, holding out his hand. I grasped it, and was pulled up to sit behind him. The dogs charged at us, baying hate. The unicorn wheeled, lashing out at them with its hooves, almost throwing me off.
‘Hold tight!’ shouted Lechasseur. I clung to his waist and buried my face in the back of his coat. He drove his heels into the beast’s flanks, operating controls placed there, and the unicorn leapt forwards, over the dogs, out of the door of the barn. Through the woods we rode, the dogs pursuing. But now they began to fall behind – fleet though they were, the unicorn was faster, and we rode swiftly on while the baying grew faint behind us. I raised my head to look back, and saw no sign of them. But my attention was arrested and held by another thing – the brightness of the stars, and how clear the sky was, how clean and pure the air. All around us lay the woods of Sir Edward’s estate, and, for a moment, the wildness of it – so different from the tame, ordered world I had been used to – almost frightened me. But then the moment passed, and I felt only exhilaration; at the woods around us, at the sky above, and at the glorious speed with which we were borne on our way. I had never ridden anything before, had not known what a wild joy it could be.
Soon we were at the gate and the unicorn cantered to a halt. Within, Sir Edward’s estate; beyond, the world. All the things I had never seen. I had read the books in the library; but all Sir Edward’s books were scientific. I could have expounded the principles of physics, if I had ever been called upon to do so; but I knew nothing at all about what the world looked like.
Lechasseur rose to stand on the unicorn’s back for a moment, then leapt, caught hold of the wrought-iron decorations at the gate’s top, and swung himself over.
I hesitated a moment, but my decision had been made. There could be no turning back now, with the attack dogs slavering behind me. Rising to my feet on the unicorn’s back, I flung myself upwards, and a moment later dropped to the ground on the other side of the gate.
Pale light shone down on Lechasseur and me as we left the estate behind us and set off across the downs. The moon was high in the sky now, the night was much advanced. We reached the top of a small eminence, and paused a moment.
The land was spread out before us, more space than I had ever seen in my life before. It frightened me. So much emptiness. The only thing that arrested the eye was a small huddle of houses down in the valley.
‘We should make for the village,’ Lechasseur told me. ‘We might be able to find shelter there.’
I nodded, and followed him.
‘Honoré,’ I said, as we descended the hill, ‘Where does the world stop?’
‘Stop?’
‘Yes; where does it end? Where is the boundary?’
‘Well, there really isn’t one, in that sense.’
‘You mean – it is infinite?’
‘No, it’s round.’
None of Sir Edward’s books had ever mentioned anything like this; they were for advanced men, not schoolboys, and assumed a great deal of knowledge that I simply did not have. I was intrigued. ‘A sphere? What keeps things from dropping off the bottom of it?’
He looked a little annoyed. ‘Do you always ask this many questions?’
I shook my head. ‘I never have before.’
‘Then why now?’
‘Because – because it is all so new!’ I looked around, marvelling at the space that surrounded me. A thought struck me. ‘Honoré, how many other mechanical people are there in this world?’
He paused, then said quietly, ‘I guess you’re probably the only one.’
That brought me up short. ‘No others in all the world?’
‘Yes.’
We walked on in silence. I do not know what Lechasseur’s thoughts were, but mine were not happy. I was alone i
n the world. There was no-one else like me. I could almost have turned and run back to Sir Edward’s estate. What was the use of a new world, if there was no-one out there who could truly be a companion to me?
‘I do not want to be all alone,’ I said out loud.
Lechasseur shrugged. ‘You’ll get used to it.’
I glanced at him. The words sounded insensitive, but there was a rueful undertone to them. ‘Are you, then, alone?’
‘You ask too many questions,’ he said; and would say no more.
For a while we walked with silence between us, but my curiosity would not be held in for long. Finally, I burst out with the one thing I wanted to know most of all. ‘Honoré, why did I – do what I did?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, why did I –’ I shuddered, then forced myself to be still. ‘Why did I strike him, Honoré? Sir Edward – why did I strike him?’
He frowned at me. ‘Well, how do you expect me to know?’
‘But you understand machines, do you not?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then – should you not understand me?’
He gave me no answer, but walked on in silence, and would no longer meet my eye.
I looked about me as we walked. This is the world, I said to myself. This is the world, and it is far, far greater than I had thought it. My world was carpeted corridors, still rooms, the view from a window. For the first time, I allowed myself to feel a pang of distaste for Sir Edward. He had known that this world, this glorious place, was out here, and he had made no attempt to show it to me. Nor, now that I came to think of it, had he done anything at all with the aim of pleasing me. It had been his pleasure, his happiness, that had been the important things; and I had been nothing to him. In my mind, I turned away from his image. I can live without you, I said to it silently. I can, and I will.
