IT was bright. The location had a familiar tang to the air but Jack couldn’t remember its name. There was no sea, no sand, nor bridge. Only thick walls of mist which blocked everything else from view.
Somehow Jack recognised the terrible figure in the distance as Sheonagh, her hands and matted fur costume were soaked in blood as she stood panting above the body on the floor. Saira cradled the limp remains of his father in her hands, tears streaming down her face.
Moments before, it seemed, they had been standing on the beach. Around them on the rocks and grassy slopes were many men. Too many to count. All pointing their weapons but they were now far away. Dead or disappeared, who could say.
Through the brilliant mist, the familiar fleshy mask emerged first, glinting with a strange new power, followed by a span of brilliant feathers and his bulky frame
The white clad figure spoke first.
“We don’t have much time, my boy. You must tell me what your father has told you about the flying machine.”
But Jack’s groggy brain was unable to make sense of the new surroundings. The question struck him from out of the blue.
“Zarius, please! I don’t understand. What is this place?”
“My dear boy, now is not the time for your slowness!” He spoke in an impatient, urgent tone, something Jack had never heard before. The wings which were strapped to his chest seemed somewhat less resplendent than they appeared at the bridge. There was something artificial and overly-practical about them – as if they were too bulky to be just for show. Jack imagined he could hear a faint sigh of gas and an almost invisible column of steam was rising from where the wings met Raphael’s ample shoulders.
“I don’t know what you mean, Zarius.”
“Your father, fool! What did he tell you about the gyrocopter? About the condenser engines?”
There was a woozy recollection of the black metal insect which had roared above them in the Highland forest, hovering above as Jack and his group had clung for cover.
“The ‘copter. Yes, I saw it.”
“A flying machine! And you are sure of this, are you?”
“They sent it to look for us when we were in the hills. At least I think it was searching for us. But I don’t know what you mean about the engines.”
“Hmm… so he has it then,” the man with the wings seemed chiefly to address himself, “Your uncle, he’s ahead of the game and there’s some catching up to do. But your father, your father, will know exactly how far ahead.”
“But, he’s…” Jack pointed to the crumpled figure in the mist.
“Yes, dead. But still it is not too late to say goodbye.”
From his robes, the same long flowing robes that he had worn in Media but somehow no longer ridiculous, he withdrew a phial of liquid. It was identical to the container which had held the shark’s gut but instead of the pallid, sickly liquid it was quite empty. On top of the lid was a plunger-like device with a wide mouth and a series of valves reaching into the bottle.
“What is that?”
“Sleep, dear boy. Sleep.”
“What do you mean? I want a straight answer. Where the hell are we and I come I can’t see anything?”
His companion’s full-blown lips curled for the first time into a knowing smile, almost a sneer. Jack’s head was swelling, he could feel his arms and limbs growing heavier, it was as if everything around him was moving more slowly, as though he were pushing himself through water.
“My dear boy, you more than anyone must recognise the condition you are in and appreciate the different hues of consciousness After all we’ve been through you must have realised by now that we all hear best when we are in dream. When our minds are open to all possibilities.”
An angry lump rose in Jack’s throat but he stopped himself from speaking. As if in a dream, he slowly became aware of the dusty residue in the device which sat in Zarius’ hand. “That thing you’ve got there… is it Nectar?”
“In dreams, we talk to you. Was it not in dreams that Saira’s poor husbands were lost? Was it not in your sleep, that you were able to avoid your fate? Your father has something important to say to us. This draught will put you into the sleep where you can speak once more.”
“But there’s nothing inside it?”
“That’s because you’ve drunk it already. All of you have been drinking it for some time. Ever since I dispersed it at the beach.”
Before Jack could reply, the shimmering figure strode to the prone body of his father and addressed him.
“Get up!”
Nothing happened. Then a flicker of the eyes, a cough, and the dead man was awake. Slowly his moved his head, looking at those who stood over him.
But as his gaze rested finally on the glowing figure of Zarius, his flickering eyes widened and his dry mouth opened and closed helplessly as if in warning.
“… trust him,” Strang addressed his son, every word an effort to perform “I‘ve met.. He stole… he stole… don’t trust him, Jack…”
But Zarius simply laughed, as he bowed with mocking ceremony.
“Mistaken identity, poor chap! What a shame I didn’t arrive sooner. This all might have been prevented and we could have got to know each other properly. But what really fascinates me Mr Strang is why you have gone to so much trouble running around the country. What exactly is it you were running from – or should I say running away with?”
“Wate… water…”
“Water cells, of course. We know. You stole the plans from your friend Mr Brown, didn’t you sir? And don’t you have something for your son Jack here. A little gift? His inheritance perhaps?”
“But you have…. You already…”
The vapid smile dropped from the round-faced man’s expression, unable to conceal his pain.
“Not quite perfect, Mr Strang. A few flaws here. A few little niggles there. While I’m sure your design – that is your design belonging to Mr Brown - is quite perfect. How wrong for you both to keep us from a world where motorized carriages are back on our roads again, air machines returned to the sky. Imagine we could send vessels into the heavens themselves.”
“But we already have floats and airships,” Saira spoke out, chewing out the words with great effort as though in a trance. “What good will smaller engines do?”
“Those floats!” Zarius could barely hide his contempt. “They have no power, no speed at all, they are little more than toys. Why do people of means travel by carriage? No, you are too young to remember real cars, real airplanes, real solid things. The Hydro power we have now can do the big things - cities and cargo ships. But cars, aircraft, and personal devices which have their own power supply, that is where the real power lies.”
Stooping low, Zarius reached down towards the stricken man, feeling his clothing before drawing out a tarnished black square with dark plastic handles. It was his old bracelet, the one which had been replaced by the new model from Media.
The old man tried to speak – but his final words were lost to eternity. As his body faded into the mist, Jack wanted to fight. He wanted to run. He had been betrayed by Zarius – by far the cruelest of all the deceptions he had suffered - and now wanted to kill him.
But he was paralysed by a dizzying, drunken force. His mind teetered between the misty plane and the eternity of his memories. Recollections of the pebble-lined shore of his childhood, the crashing waves, a woman’s hand dragging him towards the water, the piercing flash of a searchlight. A cold, marble face, almost angelic, but which offered only empty, unfulfilled smiles.
Saira, too, was unable to move and, for all he knew, locked in her own silent battle against her past.
But Sheonagh, more beast than woman, stared warily at the winged thief who had moments earlier rifled through the dead man’s pockets. She spoke boldly but without anger, her deep voice resounding even in the ceilingless vacuum.
Some of us will not die so easily Angel.
“You continue to amaze me
, dear one,” Zarius beamed a smile at the fur-clad figure. “Fearless in so many ways. But you would not use man’s roads or the railways. Never have you left your land, until now.”
“You made me do it! It was because you kept chasing these people that I did.”
“Me?” Zarius drew a fat hand over his brow feigning hurt. “It was not my Butlers who were seeking your friend Mr Strang? Nor I who hired an unsavoury detective to find him. I am simply an outside party, with no interest in whatever disagreement there has been between Messrs Strang and Brown.”
“But you saw your opportunity?”
“And I took it, yes. But I am not the only one to be congratulated in this matter. I am quite impressed how you overcame what must have been a very natural instinct to let these children suffer their fate. I must say I’m glad you did, because I’ve grown very fond of them both.”
I didn’t do it for them. I did it for him. For the man, Strang. For respect, see.
“The honour of the Wild Woman!” Zarius laughed. “Just like that funny little story about the one who found some brigands desecrating a holy man’s body so many long ago. The one who was rewarded by the heavens, the gods, the one who should have died so many years ago.”
How much longer Angel? How many more years will you let me suffer?
“If I changed you, it was only to make you all the more dazzling dear one. To give you the body to match your illustrious, roaming soul.”
What use is a soul to me when my kind has died from this land and I am alone?
She licked the blood from her many wounds. The hide made from a dozen trapped animals was still torn by bullet marks and its fur matted with fluid, which dripped from her claws and pooled on the ground below.
Zarius’s smile dropped but he looked at Sheonagh with calm and serene eyes.
“My dear one, no-one loves you as much as me. Nothing has been hidden from you.”
Bah! That’s meaningless. You said as much when you gave me your so-called gift.
And gesturing at Saira and Jack, motionless and trapped as they watched helplessly, she added: I could kill you now Angel. Your drugs won’t work on me.
The larger man studied her closely.
“Yes, perhaps you could.”
“Do it Sheonagh,” Jack shouted through the tidal wave of memories. “He killed father.”
“I did not kill your father, dear boy”
“He betrayed us. He stole from us. He has tricked us all along.”
Will you grant safe passage to this pair?
“Of course, dear one. Now that I have the old man’s designs, we can all friends again.”
Do you give your word?
“Of course. I shall take them on one final journey and leave them in a place of peace. Allow me to do this and I tell you a secret. There are others who can guide you.”
Others like me..?
“Did you think you were the only weird man or woman to have been gifted? Others who have been freed from their dull humanity with all the skill our chemists have at their disposal. The unused parts of their brain, their physique, their emotions, liberated by a few simple procedures.
But I will never be human. I will always be an animal. I may take the shape of men and use their language but my heart will never be like theirs.
“It doesn’t need to, dear Sheonagh. You have already shown a spark of life far beyond the dull existence of your ancestors. You were blessed with long but not limitless years. Now that you have left your homeland you will soon find others who have been changed as you have been. Seek their company and you will discover the companionship you desire.”
Glancing only briefly at the two transfixed spectators, the blood-soaked woman with her terrible claw glogs and sodden rag coat turned without a word. Snuffling the air for a familiar scent she sloped into the light, the wall of mist closing around her.
Zarius turned to Jack and Saira who stood side by side, grasping each others hand, equal in their ignorance, not knowing what they saw was dream or real.
“And now… we must go on our final journey,” the chubby man said.
Immediately the bright mist began to evaporate, revealing glimpses a high wall which soared to an unseen vanishing point like a vast underground cathedral. Beams of light fell from an impossibly high window. As the fog disappeared, giant pillars of broken glass erupted from the floor. Each was a tree made of thousands of shards of coloured panels. On each of the branches were tiny birds, moulded from the same stained glass. Almost alive with vibrant colour, they seemed to flit and preen under the flickering light from above.
I know I am dreaming. It is the Nectar making me feel this. But what Jack knew in his head could not erode the rich and sensuous evidence of his eyes and ears. Perhaps everything - the last few months – had all been a fantasy. He could still be at the school, locked in his subconscious, never to wake up. Yet somehow he knew the fantastical surroundings were anchored in reality.
“Lovely building this,” Zarius marched past them, his wings now appearing more mottled in the new light, his robes dirty and worn.
Still grasping each other’s hands tightly, Jack and Saira followed his voice, their eyes adjusting to the forest of light.
A woman’s body slipped through the shadows, her fingers gestured to Zarius to come forward. The fallen angel approached and bowed low to the ground so that his wingtips scraped the floor. The battered old bracelet, so familiar on his father’s wrist, was passed over.
Her face, her smile – so familiar – so like a statue. Jack froze as he remembered the game of chess he had played so long ago, the cold water licking at his knees, the steely grip on his arm, the searchlight of rescuers. All of it had been for a simple discovery, he had been told. The box which could turn water, so abundant, into energy.
And yet… and yet… how could this – any of it – be real?
Zarius, now looking still more dishevelled, led them further and further away. Ahead of them was a tiny speck of brightness which grew bigger and bigger until it was unmistakably a doorway. The air grew warmer.
Jack could feel his voice returning.
“Where are you taking us?”
“The same place I’ve been taking you for the last two weeks. Somewhere very familiar.”
“Two weeks! But we’ve only just left the bridge!”
“Have you, really my boy. Well it certainly doesn’t feel that way to me.”
The vibrant colours were fading. Picking their way slowly over the unknown surface, suddenly Jack and Saira reeled as they found themselves being buffeted by a tide of bodies. The drumming footsteps and lull of a hundred earnest conversations seemed to envelope them.
They were in Sanaam.
Zarius turned to face Jack. He spoke normally, his words effortlessly clear over the din.
“All clear about what’s happened?”
“No.”
“Oh, you’ll figure it out.”
The drugs were wearing off. Jack flexed his fist, feeling the sensation of movement travel down his arm and into his brain. Looking directly at the man who was his friend, he said: “The next time I see you Zarius, I will kill you.”
“I don’t suppose we’ll see each other again. But I am sorry things couldn’t have been worked out differently.”
Before either of them could reply, Zarius smiled and put his finger to his lips. He did not disappear but was no longer where he had been. A gentle puff of steam was the only clue of his departure.
Jack felt sure that he would see his former companion once more, along with his uncle John Brown, and the woman in his dream – who he dreaded most of all - and when he faced them it would be on his terms. Feeling his chest tighten, he swore to get the answers he deserved.
Sensing the dangers ahead, Saira hurried to speak first.
“Before you say this isn’t any of my business -”
“No one is asking you to-
“Shut up. You wil
l come to my father’s house - to my house - because that’s your home now. And after we’ve had something to eat and a decent night’s sleep we’re going to figure out how to do what your father really wanted.”
“I can’t even be sure of what’s real any more.”
She gestured around her at the bustling streets teeming with life, poverty, and unbroken expectations.
“Look around this place! Look at these people working every waking hour just to get bread and a few ounces of water, whose children die from lack of even the simplest medicines. Don’t you think they could make use of hydropower? Couldn’t everyone? Isn’t that what your father wanted Jack? Isn’t that what he’d want you to do?”
He was touched by her affirmation and paused for a moment as he considered what to say next. “So… are we really married then?”
“Yes, we are married but we aren’t husband and wife.”
“Just friends then?”
“I don’t know. We barely know each other and you’re still a kid and I’m… I’m tired. It’s a conversation for tomorrow. Let’s go.”
“It’s just I’d like to know…”
“Come on! Aren’t you hungry?”
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
NOTE
The story of Tobit is arguably the most obscure of Biblical passages, excluded from many Christian and Jewish traditions as Apocryphal. Nonetheless, anyone familiar with the text will doubtless recognise the debt owed to its plot and structure.
Many of the ideas in this book have been directly or indirectly influenced by Leonard de Vries’ Victorian Inventions, an admirable collection of real and speculative inventions published in 19th Century scientific journals, including a system of moveable platforms which was the inspiration for the transport system of Media.
An article written by Janice Short, from the Wolves and Humans Association, contains the poem and translation which prefaces this book.
I am indebted to my family, my parents, my brothers, my children, my wife, for their patience, support and love.
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