Immortal Earth (Vampires For Earth Book 1) (10 page)

SEVENTEEN

“Okay Harland, you must have noticed that, in addition to your cravings for blood, you’ve also acquired an unusual strength, and the ability to heal yourself, instantly,” Afon said, and settled down in a chair across from him.

They were all gathered in a circle around the fire: Harland and Bram, Afon and Nanook.

“There’s a reason for all of this, for why you have changed, and why we are here,” Afon said. “But I think my friend Nanook can probably tell you the story in a more compelling way. Nanook?”

Harland, Bram, and Afon all looked to Nanook, and waited for him to speak.

Nanook turned the tumbler of Scotch gently in his large hands, holding the glass like it was the fragile sphere that he was about to describe.

“All of this will seem quite fantastic to you, improbable and insane,” Nanook said, “but you have all the proof that you need, right inside of you. Everything that you’ve experienced, over the past few months, since we met, should be all the proof that you need. Remember that,” Nanook said, and glanced around the circle to gauge their readiness for his next words.

“In two hundred and twelve years, the world as you know it, will cease to exist. This room that we are sitting in, the city of London surrounding it, and the whole country of England itself, will be entirely under water. I am not from India, Harland, for India is sunk as deep under water as England. I am from Greenland.”

“Greenland,” Harland interjected, focused on the most insignificant part of Nanook’s words. “But … good god man, no one lives there. It’s all ice and polar bears, isn’t it?”

“It was,” Nanook said, “and there were people living there … my people. My family was there for as long back as we could trace. We were there, until the icecap melted in the year 2100.”

“You are here from the future?” Bram said. “Hah! Even more outlandish than my own theory as to your origins; do go on, Mr. K’eyush, I am spellbound.”

“Yes, we are from the future,” Nanook said, “from the year 2112, to be exact. The Earth flooded in the year 2100 because of a phenomenon called global warming. If you look at the sky over London, right now, you can already see it beginning. The thick, black smoke from burning fossil coal, and other fuels, goes up into the Earth’s atmosphere. When too much of it is produced, it becomes trapped inside our ozone layer, and our planet gradually heats up.

“The electrical grid, the revolution in technology that you’re now living through,” Nanook continued, “multiply that times a million … fuck that, times a billion, and you’ll have some small sense of what we’ve done to the world in the two hundred years to come. Something called the automobile is about to be invented, a carriage with no horse, a way for humans to travel long distances much faster than by horse alone. Eventually, we will have automobiles that run on motors as powerful as hundreds of horses. A fantastic leap for
our
species, to be sure, but it was the beginning of the end for our Earth.

“The automobile is powered by gasoline,” Nanook said, “a fossil fuel that, when burned, releases so much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere that the Earth’s temperature is now seven degrees warmer than it was before the automobile was invented. The polar icecaps have melted as a direct consequence, the icecap over my country melted, and my mother and father were both killed in the flood.

“When the global warming apocalypse peaked, ninety-seven percent of the population of Europe and the United States of America perished,” Nanook continued. “America had already seen what happens to the non-rich during a single super storm, when Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans in the year 2005, but no one imagined that the same thing would happen again, on a world wide scale. After the waters finished rising, in 2101, and the new landscape of the world became clear, the wealthy remnants of American and European society came together, under the command of a man named Ignis Mortterra, and formed the AmEur Alliance – a military venture designed to save the elite of America and Europe. The Alliance decided to build a new home for the few that had survived, on the graveyard of what had once been my home, Greenland.

“Ignis Mortterra had been a General in the U.S. Army and, once he led the invasion of Greenland, he has been in total command of the AmEur Alliance, in command of almost the whole world, ever since. He is a dictator over the twenty thousand human beings still left alive. All of us who are still breathing in 2112 feel lucky enough to just be alive, that no one will voice opposition to Mortterra, as long as there’s still food on our plates.

“About five years ago, the scientific council of the AmEur Alliance informed Ignis Mortterra that the food supply was going to start dwindling; the crops would begin to yield less and less each season until, one year, there would be nothing. Mortterra was warned that, in the next five to seven years, total famine and the death of the last members of the human race would occur … a complete extinction event. Global warming had not just flooded the land, but had also led to the demise of the honeybee and, when the bees die, we all die. Mortterra was warned that the Earth would soon be as brown and lifeless as the smoke that had started it all.

“One of the scientists working for the AmEur Alliance, was allowed to develop Project Immortality – the grand experiment that created Afon, Jian, and I,” Nanook said. “By extension, Project Immortality also created you Harland … the present version of you, that is.”

“What exactly is Project Immortality?” Bram Stoker said.

“I think I should pass the torch to Afon now” Nanook said, “since he’s a bit more, um, shall we say
intimately
acquainted with the project.”

“Project Immortality is perhaps the finest example of the technology that humanity has become capable of,” Afon said, and ignored Nanook’s teasing. “Dr. Isidora Nizienko, the Countess Solovyov, as you know her, was able to build a machine that would render the humans injected with it immortal. A machine so small that its smallness can’t even really be imagined; one billionth the size of the head of a pin, the machine transforms its host into the most perfect creation to ever walk the face of the earth. At the moment of injection, the nano-machine replicates itself, sending some nanobots to the muscular structure, hardening each muscle group until it has the strength of bullet resistant armor. Other groups of nanobots head to each organ, and build them to a state of high-functioning perfection.

“Harland,” Afon continued, “your liver can now filter out, harmlessly, the most deadly of poisons, your lungs are so improved that you could hold your breath for hours, your heart only needs to beat once an hour to maintain your circulation, and your brain … have you noticed that you can almost read peoples exact thoughts now? That your vision has sharpened to the point that reading a sign a mile away would present no difficulty to you?”

“That’s why I felt so dead, but more alive than I have ever felt … so cold and still, but so vital,” Harland said.

“That’s no surprise, to most people we Immortals can take on the appearance of a corpse, if we’re not deliberately moving around,” Nanook said. “Speaking of moving around, have you tried out your legs yet?”

“What do you mean Nanook? You know that I’ve been out and about, at night at least,” Harland said, with a sad shake of his head.

“Oh my man, are you in for some fun. Let me take you for a run later,” Nanook said. “We could even make the jump to France, if you want …”

“What? Jump to France?” Harland said.

“We’re getting off subject here, gentlemen,” Afon said.

“Harland should at least get to experience some of the good things that go along with his transformation,” Nanook said, “don’t you think?”

“Don’t you think that saving the world is good enough? That seems like a pretty cool power to me,” Afon said.

“Oh come off it, Afon, you are hardly that pious,” Nanook said. “I’m sure that your second favorite power has something to do with Isi. For us single men, being able to fly is a pretty fucking fabulous power.”

“Wait just a minute chaps,” Harland said, “we can fly? Do those little machines inside of us make us grow wings?”

“Ha ha, no my friend,” Nanook said, “we do fly, but it’s not quite like that. We jump … but just a bit further, and a bit higher, than everyone else. Remember, your muscles are different now.”

“Amazing, simply amazing,” Bram Stoker said. “You all are like gods walking the earth, a kind of royalty of the undead. I’ve been writing about you, just so you know, even before meeting you both.”

Afon sat back quickly in surprise, and Nanook fixed Bram Stoker with a threatening look.

“What do you mean, Mr. Stoker? Who has read these writings of yours?” Nanook said.

“Oh, don’t be alarmed gentlemen, I mean you no harm. No one has read what I’ve written, and it’s all fiction … a novel I am calling Dracula. The main character is a Count from Transylvania, who died many years ago, but still lives by ingesting human blood. I admit, the idea came to me after Harland’s transformation, and the character is, of course, based on Harland’s description of Count Solovyov, but, given the true nature of your existence, my little story is a work of complete fiction,” Bram said. “Nothing to worry about gentlemen. I’ve got quite the imagination, but I still couldn’t come close to guessing at your real origins, so the other people of this time will probably have not the slightest clue.”

“Hopefully that’s true, Mr. Stoker,” Afon said. “We cannot afford much attention to who we really are. The more people know of our real origins, and our real purpose, the more likely we are to fail. Word spreads quickly, not only in the present, but far into the future as well. The less Ignis Mortterra knows of our plans, the better. Even something as gruesome as what Harland has been doing will be of some assistance in covering our tracks, but we can’t let it continue, obviously. Right now, London has a serial killer and you have your Count Dracula, both perfect monsters that can live in the imagination of the public, and serve as an explanation for any unusual occurrences associated with us. The more mythological we become, the more our real movements through time will be obscured. It is much easier to catch a man, than it is to catch a boogey man.”

EIGHTEEN

September 1888

Detroit, Michigan

Isi’s carriage came to a stop in front of a small, one story brick building on Bagley Avenue. Afon and Nanook were in London, hopefully on their way home from London, with Harland Fergusson in tow. Isi had finally left Jian at home alone for the night, after multiple assurances of her safety. She was finally alone, finally had a moment of peace to come to terms with what she was about to do, but that peace was undone as soon as Henry Ford exited his workshop, and rushed toward her. He took her hand in his, delicately but firmly, and helped Isi down the stairs from the carriage car.

His hair was so much different in the sunlight, mahogany in motion, the red of the sun and the brown of the earth melded together, and Isi was swamped again with a real desire for him.

Afon wasn’t wrong to be jealous. The affair that Isi was trying to start with Henry Ford was, technically, work – one of the most crucial parts of their plan – but it had also turned out to be Isi’s dream job. The only difficult thing about this, for her, was the idea of eventually ending it.

“Countess Solovyov, so lovely to see you again,” Henry Ford said, and tucked Isi’s hand in the crook of his arm. He guided her across his small city parcel of a lawn to the back of the house, and then over to a smaller building that occupied most of his backyard.

It was a very simple outbuilding: one room, one sliding wooden door to enter the room, but inside was the busiest workshop that Isi had ever seen. Almost every available inch of floor space was occupied by a worktable, and every table was jam packed with new machines, all in various states of assembly, some working, some not, but the whole room was a physical manifestation of the brilliance of Henry Ford.

Isi stood silently for a moment, enraptured by the thought of being inside of a room where history would be made, standing next to a genius who would make that history, and knowing that it was up to her to push this great man onto a different path, so that his greatness would save the world, instead of contributing to its end … it was all too much, and she held onto Ford’s arm all the tighter.

See, it’s just an arm, like any other arm, and he is just a man, like any other man,
Isi told herself.

“So, show me Mr. Ford,” Isi said, “show me what all of this is.”

“Hah,” Henry laughed, “this is perhaps a monument to my greatest folly. Clara’s father has given us forty acres to farm, but I can’t draw myself away from here, tinkering with these machines.”

Henry sighed, and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Folly, isn’t it? All of it?” Henry said. “The idea that a machine could be built that could travel faster than a horse. I mean, even if it can be done, even if I can build it, how could I possibly make enough of them, sell enough of them, to truly transform things? If only me, and a few other fellows, are driving them, it’s nothing more than a toy – a glorified version of the little train prototype that I’ve built. Bah, people will stick to horses.”

Henry shook his head and looked at Isi, “Folly, all of it, probably, but what if …”

“What if it works?” Isi said, and put her hand back on Henry’s arm. “There’s no telling what our minds can achieve. Look at your mentor, Thomas Edison – he is literally illuminating the world. Perhaps you will be the one to move the world, to help us all move ourselves from place to place more quickly. It is possible Henry … I think, sometimes, that so much more is possible in this world than we can even begin to imagine. But we must begin to imagine it …”

Isi frowned and looked down at her hands. “That’s why the liquor trade is so unsatisfying to me, I suppose. There’s no real room for innovation – vodka is vodka, after all. But you … I envy you Henry. Your life is a Geppetto’s workshop of wonder.”

Isi let go of Henry’s arm and walked around the workshop, while her eyes scanned the floor and the worktables.

“Tell me where it is,” Isi said.

“I’m sorry,” Henry smiled at her, “where is what Isidora?”

“The train, of course! Your little prototype, I have the dearest need to see something whimsical like that,” Isi said.

“There are many days when I have the need to build something whimsical like that, as well. I understand completely,” Henry said.

“Well then, where is it?” Isi said. “I don’t even see a track set up in here for it.”

“There is no track,” Henry said, his grey eyes sparkling. He quickly walked over to one of his worktables, and picked up a black, cast iron miniature locomotive. Still left on the table were a miniature bicycle, and a toy carriage missing its horse. Henry handed the locomotive to Isi, who immediately flipped it over to see how it worked.

“Hah! Wonderful!” Henry said.

“What do you mean?” Isi said, and turned her attention back to him.

“I’ve shown this little prototype to a few people, and only Thomas Edison himself had the same response as you,” Henry said.

“How do you even know what my response is, Henry? I’ve not said a word of my opinion to you,” Isi said.

“I know what you’re thinking, Isidora. I know because you did not carefully examine the outside of the prototype, just like Tom you immediately flipped it over to see how it works. And, just like Tom, you saw the wheels and tested them to see if there was resistance and a winding noise, which would have announced the presence of a kinetic mechanism, as the source of the train’s ability to run. Once you and Tom saw that there was no way to power the train conventionally, you both looked at me with the same quizzical expression,” Henry said. “Yes Isidora, I noticed all of that … you, my dear lady, are a true scientist at heart.”

“Thank you, Henry,” Isi said. “Now, do tell me how it runs.”

“Hah! Marvelous again,” Henry said. “You do realize that I just paid you a compliment, that I just might even be trying to court you, just a little bit, and all you are concerned with is how this train works,” Henry said, took the locomotive from Isi’s hands, and brushed his fingertips over her wrists as he did so.

“Look, right now the train can’t move,” Henry said, “but if I attach this, off we go.”

Henry picked up a cumbersome black box with wheels from the workbench, and hitched it to the front of the train. A light bulb on top of the black box lit dimly when Henry flipped a switch on the side of the machine. The train moved across the floor of the workshop. Henry then picked up another, smaller, wooden block and manipulated the metal pole in the middle of it. The train made a right turn, and Isi gasped.

“If you like that, watch this,” Henry said, and the train moved in a figure eight pattern.

“So, can it run infinitely, or just trace the infinity sign?” Isi said.

“Exactly! It can run as long as the power charge lasts, from that battery that Tom built. The Edison battery has to be recharged every half hour, and it needs to charge for five hours before it can be used again. Not very practical, is it? As I said, this is just a prototype Isidora.”

“How are you controlling it? That little black box in your hand clearly does something, I just can’t figure out what it is,” Isi said.

Henry laughed, “Yes, this does something. It’s really just a simple bit of telegraph communication, but I’m communicating with that box there. Tom is the one that figured out this remote control part of it. It’s not necessary for the real horseless car that I hope to build, obviously, but it does make the prototypes a fair bit more fun to play with, don’t you think?”

Isi smiled and touched Henry’s arm again. He was holding onto the remote control box with a grip so tight, that she feared he’d break it. Henry Ford had all of the excited self-assurance of any confident inventor, but his body was on edge, and he waited for Isi’s response. Her touch on him had not caused his muscles to relax – his jaw quivered, a bit, at the corner, and his lips pulled apart, but Henry stayed motionless. His frozen look followed the movement of the train around the workshop, but refused to meet Isi’s eyes.

“Oh, the remote
does
make this fun Henry! Now, do you just power this with the battery that Thomas Edison built,” Isi said, “or do you have an alternative? The battery is adequate but, as you said, it just doesn’t last very long. That’s fine, in this prototype, but in the real world, a lady would rather not be stranded for five hours, after traveling for a mere half-an-hour.

“Quite the case, Isidora,” Henry said. “I have developed two alternative sources of power, but they both have their drawbacks. There is, of course, the good old-fashioned steam engine, but one would need to carry a large amount of water around. The more water you carry, the heavier the horseless car becomes, which means that you need more power to make it move, which means that you need even more water – a vicious and unfortunate circle. And then there is the combustible gas-powered engine that I’ve been working on. Too many problems with it, right now, to name, and I swear Clara will have my head if I ever try to start it up in the house again, especially in the kitchen, but it has a lot more power than the steam engine, or the battery, so I’m pretty sure that I’ll be sticking with it, and focus on working out the kinks.”

Henry stopped talking when he finally looked up to meet Isi’s eyes, and saw the stricken look on her face.

“You think this is a bad idea, Isidora? Is there a different engine that you think I should use? I truly value your opinion,” Henry said, “that is why I asked you out here today, dear woman.”

Isi reached out her hand, and touched Henry’s arm.

“No, the engine sounds wonderful Henry, all of the engines, it’s just … well, it’s just that I keep letting myself forget that you have a wife, and when you say her name, when you describe her reactions to your experiments, I remember – I remember, and I know that you will never be all mine,” Isi said. “That another woman will always hear the news first, of whatever you are currently working on, that another woman will tell you where you can build your machines, that you may not use her kitchen for experimenting, because that is where she cooks you dinner. I remember that another woman will nurse you when you’re sick, wake you up in the morning for work, and lie down with you every evening. I remember all of that, and it tears away a little piece of my soul, every time I think of it, because life is supposed to be like this, like
us,
like what we have. A free and unselfconscious exchange of ideas, and a spark that …” Isi stopped, caught her breath, and wiped a tear from her eye, “a spark that could power any damn motor that you could build.”

Henry Ford took one step toward Isi, and reached his hands out to cup her face. He bent down to her, his lips on hers instantly, silencing them both. Henry slid his hands down Isi’s back and cupped her behind. Slapping her gently there, Henry retook her hand and guided Isi over to a horsehair mattress in the corner of his workshop.

“I am going to take you Isidora, here, in this place where I am building so many things that I have only dreamed of, I am going to let myself have one moment with the one dream that I cannot build, or control – the one dream that simply exists. Outside of reason, beyond logic, may we just have this moment, you and I?”

Isi nodded, and pulled Henry down onto the mattress beside her.