Фил Фоглио - Agatha H. and the Voice of the Castle

There followed a most unpleasant span of tyme, but shortly enough, the howls and squeals did slowly transmute themselves unto the very semblance of speech. Horrid and blasphemous though ’twas, I could now understand its words .

“Who…am I?” The horrible voice asked .

This simple question did please the Master right well, more than anything I have ever witnessed in all my time under his hand .

“Didst thou hear that, von Mekkhan? No mere mechanism of rote calculation this! It asks a question! It hath a thirst for knowledge! I proclaim it a thing alive!”

Master Faustus then spun about and spake proudly, “Thou art…Castle Heterodyne.”

—From the Private Journals of the von Mekkhan Family

Agatha was hovering in mid-air. Her hair was billowing straight up, as if caught in some terribly powerful slow gale.

Around her floated a galaxy of small devices and bits of machinery that were assembling themselves into a cohesive ring. Connectors snapped together and cables coiled lazily towards a belt of sockets that encircled Agatha’s waist. Whenever one slid into place, a new segment of the ring glowed to life. All of this was happening without Agatha moving a muscle. A look of knowing bliss filled her face, and her skin glowed with radiant energy.

Because he was shackled to a lab table, Tarvek was unable to do the sensible thing—the thing that his brain was screaming for him to do—which was drop to his knees and await the thunderbolt. He fought to regain self-control.

“Agatha,” he ventured. “Are…are you all right?”

To the side, the angel clank stared upwards. “You know-ow-ow, I don’t-can’t remember that any of her ancestors ever did-id this…”

Higgs shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. “Sure they did. Remember old Igneous? Just before he exploded?”

The clank nodded. “Ah, yes. My, h-h-ow time does fly.”

Agatha turned her glowing eyes to Tarvek and regarded him for a long minute. Then she threw her head back and laughed. Tarvek made remarkable strides towards tearing his straps free from the metal table.

“Oh, yessss! I am far more than all right!” Agatha said, “I am perfect!” She glided toward Tarvek, radiating heat that he could feel from almost a meter away.

“I feel…suspended in an eternal moment of supreme clarity. I can do anything!”

Wires and cables on the devices circling Agatha began to click into place—attaching them to the machines hooked up to Gil and Tarvek. Now Agatha herself was part of the array.

Sleipnir had been watching all of this with awe, but when Agatha connected to the main array, readouts began to glow red all over the board of monitors she crouched behind. Sleipnir gasped. She had worked in enough laboratories that she was able to, with effort, tear her attention from Agatha and shut out everything but the job in front of her.

“I have so many ideas,” Agatha continued dreamily, “So much I want to try! It’s all so exciting!” She stared into space, pure mad delight on her features. Then her expression changed. “And yet, it really isn’t perfect, is it? Not yet.” She stared back down at Gil and Tarvek.

Gil’s eyelids fluttered, and he seemed to notice Agatha for the first time.

His eyes went wide as she continued, “There are still these distractions that shatter the perfect euphoria.” A bleak tone had crept into Agatha’s voice. A coldness evocative of vast spaces between the stars. “ All this concern because of the imbalances within these chaotic, biological organisms. It would be so much simpler to just snuff them out.”

Tarvek stared breathlessly up at her. She was beautiful. Shining. He wondered if he would feel his own death.

Agatha hung before them and a thousand years seemed to pass before her head lowered, and the golden light in her eyes seemed to dim slightly. “But if I let you die,” she said to them, her voice dropping to a whisper, “If you die…then all the rest…the rest is pointless.”

She looked up again and the golden light in her eyes flared. “ So that will not happen!” As she spoke, a pair of cables unwound from the nest encircling her. They looped once and snapped solidly into the devices strapped to Gil and Tarvek’s chests. The last connection was complete, and an explosion of blue light filled the room, knocking everyone to the ground.

Several minutes passed and Violetta’s eyes flickered open. “Nrg,” she grunted.

“Yeah,” Sleipnir muttered from beside her. “Tell me about it.”

“Wha’ happn’?”

“I dunno, but if she starts calling us pitiful insects, run.”

Violetta considered this. “That’ll help?”

“No, not really.” Sleipnir was getting to her knees. Ruined machinery was sparking around them and smoke was everywhere.

Violetta shakily raised herself up on one arm. “Oh…” she whimpered. “If we feel like this, then Lady Heterodyne—”

Sleipnir rolled onto her back. “And Gil! And Prince Sturmvoraus! They were right there next to her!”

A tear trickled from Violetta’s eye. “They must be—”

“Perfectly splendid,” Tarvek sang from behind her. He turned and called behind him. “Agatha! Gil! I’ve found the last of them! They’re fine!”

Violetta stared. “Tarvek! Aren’t you dead?”

Tarvek laughed. “Ha! Of course not!” He practically radiated good heath and animal vigor. He picked both Sleipnir and Violetta off the floor, tucked them under his arms, and bounded back to the wreckage of the array, leaping over piles of half-melted machinery with the grace of a gazelle. “Agatha has fixed everything! I feel amazing! My mind has never been more clear!”

The clank angel was propped up against a shattered wall. It stared at Agatha as she stripped off the last remnants of carbonized machinery, brushed herself off, and began to dress.

“Inge-ge-genious.” The clank conceded, “to distribute the ex-ex-extra energy between the three of you.”

“Yes, and a good thing I did, too! Another forty-five point three seconds and I believe I would have exploded or something!” Agatha’s voice was still resonant with the Spark, but she was no longer floating, or even glowing. Her eyes had returned to normal, only shining with pride and excitement.

“…Or something.” The clank continued to stare at her. “Under the cir-cir-circumstances, I am forced to admit that you are most-most likely one-one-one of the family.”

Agatha stooped to examine a melted bit of circuitry and giggled. “I have got to try that again.”

“Yesss. Most likely in-in-indeed.”

Zeetha was lounging on one of the slabs watching Gil and Tarvek as they dressed. She was amusing herself by wondering when they would notice her close observation. Both were clearly so thrilled at the success of the procedure that they were happily missing every innuendo in her constant stream of suggestions, comparisons, and helpful advice. Finally, she gave up and asked a cogent question. “So you’re all cured now?”

“Oh, yes!” Gil said, lighting up at the question. “Cured, stabilized, and feeling quite fine!” He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, grinning. “I imagine this must be what a post-revivification rush feels like.”

“Well, speaking from personal experience, it is quite similar.” Tarvek beamed at the coat that Violetta had flung at him, a long, canvas worker’s coat that reeked of mildew. It had obviously been abandoned for quite some time. “But more sustainable, I think.”

Gil meticulously straightened his waistcoat and turned to face Tarvek. “Ah, Sturmvarous,” he said grandly. “I see that you’ve recovered! How refreshing to hear you doing something other than whining or raving. A bit of a first, now that I think about it.”