Consequences (5 page)

“True enough,” Daniel conceded. It sounded pretty ridiculous to him, but what did he know compared to the old reverend? “How do you plan to be doing the extracting?”

“Ahhhhhhhh, my boy, my boy.” Slaggingham rubbed his hands together. “Wait until you feast your eyes on my pride and my joy. My crown jewel of all my stunning creations.”

He led Daniel up a metal ladder bolted to the brick wall. This brought them up to a catwalk suspended high above the floor. They clattered along the catwalk and through another archway. Steam and odorous vapors rose from the extensive machinery below them.

In the dim light Daniel could make out silent figures moving in unison around the machine. Daniel was impressed. Slaggingham had a major
operation going down here.
And he wants me to be a part of all of it
, Daniel mused.
Me! Like he thinks I'm worth something.

Slaggingham stood by a control panel built into one of the walls. “Let me adjust the lights so you can better witness the genius of modern times.” Slaggingham grabbed a lever and pulled it. It creaked and groaned as he pushed it down, then several lights shorted out.

“Confound and blast it!” Slaggingham smacked the lever in frustration. “It's jammed again!”

“Wants oiling?” Daniel suggested.

“Wants protection.” Slaggingham growled. He turned and grabbed one of the lanterns hanging on the wall.

Daniel's eyebrows rose. “Protection from what?”

“Sabotage!” Slaggingham held the lantern out over the railing of the catwalk and scanned the area.

Daniel followed his gaze. He was startled to see a small fellow who seemed to be made entirely of tools disappearing around a corner.

“You!” Slaggingham cried, waving his fist in the air. “You blighter! You will regret this! I shall have you, I shall!”

“Who is that bloke?” Daniel asked, intrigued
by the odd creature's appearance.

“A saboteur. An enemy of progress! Awn the Blink is the tool-fingered troublemaker's name.”

“Where did he come from?” Daniel asked. He'd never seen anything like Awn the Blink before. And what a peculiar name. “How did he get down here?”

“He's here because some slurry-brained high-city magic brat used to believe in him. Thanks to his shenanigans we're behind schedule.” Slaggingham paced back and forth, muttering oaths and curses.

Daniel's stomach growled. “Didn't you say something about tea?” Daniel asked. “That ain't going off the schedule, is it?”

Slaggingham stopped prowling the catwalk and peered at Daniel. He glanced again in the direction Awn the Blink had vanished, then back at Daniel. “You wouldn't care to inspect the Extractor first?”

Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. “Not a bit of it.” He'd been offered a proper tea, by gum, and he was determined to have it.

Slaggingham seemed disappointed, but he shrugged. “I shall tell you more about it over tea then…partner?”

Daniel still wasn't sold on the partner idea, so he said nothing.

“Come with me, lad.” Slaggingham climbed down the ladder, and walked Daniel around the Extractor. Once more, Daniel wondered about the workers. He couldn't precisely say what was wrong with them—he'd certainly seen dronelike behavior among the factory line workers back in the old days—but they disturbed him anyway.

As they walked, Slaggingham slung an arm across Daniel's shoulders. “There are two kinds of people in the world, Daniel,” he said, “the happy ones, curse them, and us. And why is that, I ask you?”

That was a daft question, the answer being so obvious. Daniel ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “They eat regular, and we don't. That's one thing. They has places that belongs to them. And we don't. They ain't got to lurk or drudge like us. And they have
things
. Lots of nice things.”

“Jolly good!” Slaggingham acted as though Daniel had aced an exam at school. “That brain of yours is a ticker, my boy. Give
this
a tick then. Slaggingham's law informs us that there's a finite amount of happiness floating around in the world. Finite meaning limited, as you know.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Daniel muttered. “I ain't stupid.”

“Oh, I know, lad. You are indeed the brightest
sweep I have ever known. Now, let's say you wanted to free up some happiness for you and your mates to grab. How would you do it?”

Daniel was stumped. He bit his lip. “I—I don't know,” he admitted. It seemed impossible. After all, if folks could do such a thing, wouldn't they all be doing it by now?

“You'd manufacture misery, that's what you'd do!” Slaggingham crowed. “Then you'd sell it to happy people. Which would make them unhappy, of course, as sure as Christmas comes once a year.” Slaggingham stopped walking and began gesturing dramatically, illustrating his vision. “When the happiness came trickling out of their punctured hearts, you and your mates would catch every last drop of it with Slaggingham's Anti-Tantalic Extractor Apparatus. Patent pending.”

Daniel's head swum. It made no sense, did it? But, coo, wouldn't it be the staggers if it could be done? Be a way to bring those swells down a peg. And he'd be there to swoop in to soak up all that happiness.

“How do you manufacture misery?” Daniel asked. “And why would anyone buy it?”

A grin creaked its way across Slaggingham's craggy face. “That's the easiest part of all. Consumerism. It's the capitalist system. Advertising.
It's been going on for ages. Now we can tap into the existing system and use it to our own purposes.”

As appealing as this amazing plan sounded, Daniel didn't think it was something he really wanted to be a part of. There was something wrong in the logic, even if he couldn't put his finger on it or find the words to explain it to the old reverend.

Besides, Slaggingham still hadn't coughed up that tea. Had his offer for refreshment been a sham?
How can you trust a man who not only should have died ages and ages ago but who tantalizes you with a promise of a spot of tea, only to produce nothing? Instead, he walks you about the endless tunnels, through another archway, and to yet another gigantic machine.

“About that tea—” Daniel began, but Slaggingham cut him off.

“What's this?” Slaggingham demanded. “Why aren't you all at your stations?”

Daniel noticed that here, instead of working busily, the workers were all standing around in a large circle, away from the machine. Tools lay scattered on the floor, as if they had simply dropped them.

“What is going on here?” Slaggingham bellowed.

As the workers registered Slaggingham's voice, the circle slowly opened up.

Slaggingham grabbed Daniel's shoulder with a viselike grip. “Impossible!” he cried.

“Ow!” Daniel yelped.

Slaggingham didn't notice Daniel trying to shake out of his clutches. He was frozen, staring at something straight ahead. Daniel peered through the group and gasped. A unicorn stood gazing up at the happiness-extractor machine.

“Grease and burning gaskets, it can't be!” Slaggingham cried. “A unicorn, drat its shiny hide. Well, get the ridiculous thing out of here.”

None of the workers moved. It was as if the unicorn had them all hypnotized.

Daniel stared at the creature and felt his heart flutter. It was beautiful, and hopeful, and had no right to be there amid all their dark squalor. It was too white, too clean; it made him angry. He understood Slaggingham's rage. Seeing it was a reminder of what they were not. Was the thing laughing at them? Did it come here just to make them feel bad about their lot in life?

Slaggingham scanned his workers and must have realized they were useless in this situation. “It's the glue shed for you, you scurvy agitator,” he shouted at the unicorn.

With several clicking sounds, Slaggingham popped a strange metal eyepiece into place. Daniel was startled: The weapon seemed to have grown out of Slaggingham's coat.
He's been armed the whole time
, Daniel realized.
Glad I didn't cross him.

Then, by merely blinking his eye, Slaggingham set off a round of ammunition straight at the animal.

The unicorn reared up and galloped away down one of the branching tunnels. Every single bullet missed its mark. No one made a move to follow the creature.

“Confound you, you popinjay!” Slaggingham bellowed. “You fairy-tale jumping jack! Drat you and that meddling Timothy Hunter!”

Daniel's face grew hot, and his heart thudded double time in his chest. “Did you say…did you say Timothy Hunter?” he gasped.

With several clicks, Slaggingham's weapon folded back into his coat. Slaggingham looked down at Daniel. “I did.”

“Are you telling me that he's the one who is causing the trouble down here? Stopping work and making little blokes out of tools?”

“That is the villain. Do you know him?”

“I'll say I do. He stole my girl, Marya.” Daniel took a deep breath. “If you're against Timothy Hunter, then I'm your man. I hate him.”

“So does that mean we have an agreement?” Slaggingham asked eagerly.

Daniel nodded, then thrust out his hand for the man to shake. “We does indeed.”

T
IM STARED AT MOLLY
and Marya, both frozen mid-step. He balled his hands into fists, squeezed his eyes shut, and banged his temples.

“You've really done it now, Tim,” he admonished himself. He opened his eyes again. Unfortunately the scene in front of him hadn't changed. Proof of his supreme idiocy—as if he needed any further evidence.

“But what exactly
have
I done?” he asked out loud. “And how do I undo it?”

He walked in a slow circle all the way around Molly and Marya. It was as if they were statues in an art museum. They looked completely alive.

“Of course they look alive—they
are
alive!” Tim hated the sound of the terror in his voice. It went all squeaky. He studied them again. “They're just…on pause.” He fiddled with the junk in his pockets, hoping the familiar action would help him think.

It didn't.

Tim slumped onto the curb, his eyes never leaving Molly. He got into this mess because he freaked out, and instead of facing the situation like a man, like a hero, or maybe like his dad, Tamlin, would have, he just tried to stop it so he could pretend it wasn't happening. Which made everything much worse, because something else happened instead—and he was the one who had done it!

He stood back up again, pacing back and forth in front of the girls. He had wanted to tell Molly himself about the magic; he had even planned a demonstration. But this wasn't quite what he'd had in mind.

He planted himself next to Molly, taking in her sparkling eyes. What was the expression on her face? She seemed excited and urgent. She didn't look angry; that was a relief. Of course, that was before she knew he could freeze her, and might not be able to unfreeze her.

He glanced up and down the street. Luckily, he had ducked into an alley and the girls had followed, so there were no cars, no people, no witnesses. He wondered—if there had been, would they all be frozen, too? He had no idea how wide a range this freezing power had.

He took a deep breath. He was afraid to try to
undo what he'd done because he didn't know how he had done it. What if he made things worse?

But he had to do something. He worried that the longer they were frozen in time, the harder it would be to undo. Or that there would be side effects or something, if they stayed this way too long. And even worse—if he kept Molly out too late her dad would kill them both.

“I've got to quit rabbiting around and get to work,” he declared.
Every time I try to play it safe
, he realized,
things turn out worse. Well, there's no one here to help me, so this is up to me to fix.

He remembered his first real magic, the time he had kept the snow from falling on Kenny, Tamlin's friend. The secret to that had been concentration, focus, relaxation, and will.

He stood in front of the girls. “I'll undo Marya first,” he decided. “She'll need less of an explanation. And she can get me up to speed on what Molly already knows.”

What had the Trenchcoat Brigade told him? Magic answers need. He needed a moment to think when the girls came after him. He felt it really strongly and it happened. In Free Country, he was angry at being used, and that energy nearly blasted the world apart. What he had to learn was to use his brain, not just his chaotic feelings. That's why
the snow trick worked. All right. Focus.

He waved his hands in front of Marya. “Undo!” he declared.

Nothing happened.

“Great,” Tim muttered. “Just great.”

 

Underground London

 

Slaggingham clapped his hands. “All right, all right, comrades. The sideshow is over. Back to work. Every last Jack and Jill of you.”

Without a murmur or question, the factory workers turned and shambled their way back to their stations.

Slaggingham grinned at Daniel. “Now, I believe we were about to have tea.”

About time
, Daniel thought.
For a while there it looked as if the tea was merely a figment of the reverend's imagination.

Slaggingham pushed open a door, and ushered Daniel into a small office. A hot plate sat on the counter and shelves lined the walls, full of dented canned goods. It seemed as if Slaggingham had decorated his office with discards and found his supplies in the rubbish.

No matter
, Daniel decided.
Food is still food, even if the tin it comes in is dented and the label
pulled off.
He'd had far worse in his life.

Slaggingham set about getting the tea. “So, that sly dog Hunter stole your girl, did he?”

“She ran off to London to find him and I ain't seen her since,” Daniel replied. “Some might not call that stealing, but I ain't such a fool.”

Slaggingham placed the cup of tea and a box of dusty biscuits on the table in front of Daniel. “I could do with a spot of refreshment myself,” he said.

Daniel's eyes widened in amazement as Slaggingham pulled off the skin on his hands, revealing machinery underneath. What Daniel had thought were fingers were actually metal contraptions.

“You—you took off your skin!” Daniel blurted.

“My
gloves
, Dan,” Slaggingham corrected. “Bless you, you can't expect a man to eat while he's got his gloves on.”

Slaggingham stuck the tips of his metal fingers into a little box. Daniel heard a crackling, buzzing sound and watched in awe as Slaggingham shuddered, electric current shooting through his body.

Daniel was speechless. He took a sip of tea, his shaking hands rattling the teacup.

What does it mean?
Daniel wondered. What
had he just witnessed?
It means
, he realized,
that Slaggingham ain't human! How could that have happened?
Of course, it did explain how Slaggingham managed to still be alive and kicking after so many years.
Has he
always
been a machine?
Daniel frowned, puzzled. He must have been human once, Daniel figured. After all, he'd seen the old gent tuck into a steaming plate of stew while the rest of them looked on, hungry as could be. Slaggingham had needed food back then, like any other bloke. So when—and how—did this change take place?

Daniel took another sip of tea, hoping to soothe his rattled nerves. The warmth did make him feel a bit better. After all, being machinery seemed to have brought out the best in Slaggingham. He had served up tea and biscuits and was treating Daniel much more kindly than he ever had in the past.

Slaggingham removed his fingers from the box and slid his false human skin back over his metal extremities. “So then, we've both got reasons for wanting this Timothy Hunter dead,” Slaggingham said. “I say we get right to it.”

“Dead?” Daniel repeated. “I'm not so sure about that…”

“Ah.” Slaggingham nodded knowingly. “So
this girl doesn't mean that much to you, then.”

“I never said that!” Daniel protested. “You take that back.”

Slaggingham grinned. “Settle down, settle down, lad. I meant no disrespect to you or your young lady. I see I was right about that fire inside you.”

“You just don't understand, is all,” Daniel grumbled.

“Let me amend our little misunderstanding,” Slaggingham said. “What can I do to make this up to you? I don't suppose you carry anything of hers with you, do you?”

“I've got a lock of her hair,” Daniel admitted. He felt a slight blush rise in his cheeks. He didn't truly want to reveal everything to Slaggingham, but he was curious about where Slaggingham was going with this.

Slaggingham beamed. “Excellent. Would you like to see the angel again? Your Marya? Give me that lock of her hair and you can.”

Daniel pulled out the locket that he secretly wore on a chain around his neck. He always took care that it stayed inside his shirt; he didn't want any of the kids in Free Country to razz him. He had found the locket in Marya's tent after she had left, and he wore it as he waited for her to return. But she never did. Once he realized he might
never see her again, he had taken all sorts of things from her little tent. He found her hairbrush, and had combed the long stray hairs out of it and tied them together with a ribbon. Marya had once told him her mother had kept a little lock of her baby hair as a keepsake, so why shouldn't he do the same?

He opened the locket and held out the red strands tied with a blue satin ribbon.

Slaggingham took it. “Very good, very good.”

He pushed a button on the wall. A hidden panel slid up with a whoosh, revealing a small machine. This one had some kind of viewing screen on top and a little box with a slot at the bottom. Slaggingham pressed some buttons, and the machine kicked into life with a low hum. The screen went light gray, as if illuminated from inside, waiting for a picture to appear. Slaggingham popped the lock of Marya's hair into the slot. “Now we'll get to see what's what, won't we?”

He stood aside, to allow Daniel to step up to the viewing screen. Daniel's heart thip-thumped again. What was going to happen?

An image slowly formed on the screen. A girl, smiling, her arms reaching straight out toward him.

“Marya!” Daniel cried.

“Flutter my valves, but she is an angel, isn't
she?” Slaggingham said.

Daniel looked up at Slaggingham, his eyes shining. “Oh, you done it. That's her, to the life.” Happiness he had never experienced before flooded through him. Finding Reverend Slaggingham had been a stroke of good luck. Thanks to the old gent he'd be able to find Marya again. This was a joyous day!

“I never seen her wear that coat before,” Daniel commented.

“She must have bought it since she left…er, since she came here,” Slaggingham said. “This is showing Marya right this very minute.”

“Cor.” Daniel looked back at the viewing screen. He could tell she was running—her long hair streamed out behind her. “Where is she?” he asked. “What is she doing?”

Slaggingham pressed another button and a slip of paper popped out of the machine. He glanced at it and said, “She's somewhere in East London, sure as gears have teeth. As for what she's doing, let's have a look.”

Slaggingham adjusted the machine and the image pulled back, giving them a long view.

“No,” Daniel gasped.

There, large as life, was Marya, only now Daniel could see who she was smiling at, who her
arms reached for, who she was running toward. It wasn't Daniel.

It was Timothy Hunter.

All her smiles. All her yearning. It was for that magician! And boiling his blood even more was how intently Tim was staring at Marya.

“The smarmy dog!” Daniel shouted. “He's going to catch her and kiss her. Slag me if he ain't.” Daniel whirled around and covered his eyes with his arm. “Make it go away,” he pleaded, “before my heart bursts.” He flung himself across the room and slumped at the table, burying his face in his hands.

Daniel heard a clicking sound behind him. “It's gone, lad,” Slaggingham assured him. “You can look up now.”

“Look up?” Daniel said into the crook of his arm, his voice choked with emotion. “I'll tell you when I'll be able to hold my head up again. When that four-eyed traitor is cat's meat and I have Marya back.”

“Today can be your day,” Slaggingham promised. “I'll help you, I shall. I have another invention—a little something I whipped up that may be of use. Come along, lad.”

Daniel wiped his face on his sleeve. He didn't want Slaggingham or any of those workers to see
that he'd been crying. He stood and was ashamed of how weak his legs felt. He allowed Slaggingham to lead him through the tunnels, oblivious of the twists and turns they were taking. He didn't care where they went, he just stumbled along, pain filling his every pore.

There were no workers in the room Slaggingham took Daniel to. Just a large column-like machine with wires and dials and whatnots.

“Step inside, lad,” Slaggingham instructed.

Daniel stepped up to the glass capsule. “What is it?”

“This beauty is an Amalgo-Reductive Persona Potentiator. It made me what I am today. And it can do as much for you. The glory of it is that it takes what's there inside you and makes it more so.”

Daniel stared at the invention. “What will it do?” “It will reduce your pain,” Slaggingham explained, “and increase your power to take on the likes of Tim Hunter.”

Daniel's eyes widened. “I'm for that!”

“Climb in, partner,” Slaggingham wheedled. “And be everything you can be.”

Daniel walked up the little steps into the capsule. Slaggingham pressed a button, and a door in the capsule whirred open. Daniel stepped inside. The moment he did, the door whirred shut again.
It was like standing inside a glass chamber. He peered out, trying to see Slaggingham, but he was all distorted through the glass.

Slaggingham took his place at the control panel. “You've got a lot of spirit, lad. Time to let it show. Let 'er rip.”

“Let it out, sir? My spirit?” Once again, Slaggingham was making no sense.

“Yes, lad. Every dirty, poisoned rag of it.”