Nathan Yocum - Automatic Woman

“Can I pour you a drink, love?”

“Please.”

She didn’t bother finding another glass, just filled up the one she was using. She stepped gingerly through shards of glass and splinters of wood. I took the glass and saw that she was crying again. I put the glass down, gently took her wrist and pulled her into my arms. There was nothing to say, so I held her while she cried.

No one came for us that night, or the night after. We got fiercely drunk after the shootout, unreasonably drunk. The second day was spent cleaning the cabin, taking inventory of our supplies. We discussed how long we’d wait before venturing into town on our own. I proposed that we wait until all supplies were depleted, given my fugitive status in the region. Why survive an assassination attempt only to get hanged by the government?

Mary cleaned and stitched my hand. In a fool bit of timing, I recommended we get married. She started crying again. In retrospect I realized that marriage proposals are better stated in moments of flowery romance and not when they just pop into your mind. My clumsiness with the fairer sex was getting the better of me.

Maybe it was a blessing that Hannosh arrived when he did.

“Mr. Fellows, I’m to take you to Mr. Darwin.”

“What about Mary?”

“She can stay. You will be back.”

I gave Mary a smile and a nod and was on my way.

Hannosh was silent on the ride into Oxford. I was filled with questions, but figured Darwin was the man for them. We parked outside of the College of Science. Hannosh walked me to Darwin’s office. I was again taken aback by the endless bookshelves, the vaulted ceiling. Darwin sat at the table I’d first seen Stevens occupy. That reminded me of something.

“How is Stevens?”

“He’ll live,” Darwin replied. “But they had to remove the remainder of his leg under his knee. He’ll be out of service for quite some time. Mr. Hannosh will have to act as my secretary in his absence.”

“So what now, Darwin?”

“Nothing, Mr. Fellows. We’ve won.”

“What have we won?”

Darwin laughed at this.

“The contest, Mr. Fellows. I have defeated Lord Barnes.”

Darwin handed me the latest edition of the Pall Mall Gazette. The headline was a doozy.

The caption photo showed none other than Myron Bell, laid out in some filthy alley, inner workings cut open for the world to gaze and wonder at. His face was mangled a bit, but it was certainly him. The neck wound was unmistakable.

“He doesn’t look like me.”

“Doesn’t have to. You’ve been declared dead. Your court case is closed. Your file at Central Bureaucracy has been sent to the inactive warehouse. You have nothing more to worry about.”

“People know me in London.”

“Don’t go to London. The world is vast and there are many places for an industrious man such as yourself. Of course, I can always set you up with employment.”

“That won’t be necessary. I think our business is done.”

Darwin was all grins. His office stank of brandy. The man had been holding a party for one.

“If you want it to be. Can I get you a brandy?”

“No.”

“Fine, but before you leave, you must see the additions to my collection.”

Darwin flicked two switches on his secretary’s table. Two secret doors clicked open from behind bookcases. Darwin motioned for me to have a look. I pushed back the nearest bookcase; inside was a room housing a three-meter by three-meter cage. Inside the cage stood Lord Barnes, tall, imposing, giving off his aura of danger even with his mouth gagged and hands chained in manacles.

“Tomorrow’s paper will feature an article on the disappearance of Lord Barnes. People will speculate and gossip. I’m sure many will be relieved, particularly his blackmail victims. After a time he will be assumed dead, much like you. But he will not be dead. He will be here, in my wall. You see him, he sees you, and yet neither of you is a living member of our civil society.”

Darwin kicked Barnes’ cage.

“Who’s the better man now, Your Lordship?”

Barnes did not move or respond. He just looked at us with that icy glare of his, a glare that was all promise.

Darwin led me out of the room and clicked the bookcase shut.

“I think you’ll be even more interested in what’s in my other room.”

Darwin opened the second bookshelf. Inside was a room identical to the last, only instead of Lord Barnes, this cage was occupied by the Swan Princess, the Automatic Woman. She paced in tight circles, whipping her hair and gnashing her teeth. Panic filled me at the sight of her.

“I think I will have that brandy, Mr. Darwin.”

Darwin patted my shoulder and left to pour my drink. I didn’t think about what I did. If I’d given it a thought, I wouldn’t have done it.

Once upon a time, there was a man who was given a plug of caesium to use as a bomb. The caesium was coated in gel and rendered safe until the gel was dissolved in water. No one bothered to tell the man about the explosive nature of the caesium, seeing as he was just a plaything. This man being the type to look into his own well-being, went to a library and reviewed books on chemistry and learned the nature of the caesium and the gel it was encased in. This man also learned that caesium was safe as long as it made no contact with water. This man harvested some of the caesium, using a syringe he’d procured from a doctor and kitchen matches to reseal the gel capsule the main plug was housed in. The initial purpose of the caesium syringe was simple. The man was worried about his sweetheart and two acquaintances, and thought a little explosive power might be good to knock out a lock. A little alkali, a little spit and boom.

When the time came, the man found himself with keys to the door. The lock bursting syringe was not necessary. In fact, he forgot about it all together. And it sat, hidden in the lining of his jacket until… well… until today.

I withdrew the caesium syringe, uncapped it, and pumped the entire contents into the Swan’s lock. She stopped and watched me. At some point they had replaced the eye I had shattered. The Swan watched me in silence, her jaw moving up and down. Maybe she was trying to speak, or breathe, or maybe that’s just what the animatronic animal did. I coated the inside of the lock and replaced the empty syringe into the lining of my jacket. Darwin entered with my brandy.

“On second thought, Charles, I really best be on my way.”

For a second Darwin looked crestfallen, but then he remembered his dignity.

“Right, do come back if you’re in need of work.”

I gave him a wink.

“Will do.”

I left his office, his building, his campus. Maybe Mary and I can make it to Budapest, or maybe Paris, or America. Anywhere but here. Because the air in Oxford is far too moist, and one day that caesium will reach its limit, and maybe then Mr. Darwin will learn the true nature of chaos.

Nathan L. Yocumis an author, teacher, and entrepreneur living in the jungles of Hawai’i.