Chapter Ten

Sir Joseph was irritable this afternoon.

Granted, he had been in a black mood since the party on Saturday and had snapped at everyone in the household at least once. Shirley had been snapped at about five times since Monday, and today was Wednesday. But now, with the first test of the Eden Engine on a live subject to occur this afternoon, Sir Joseph was almost wrathful.

As a result, Shirley had made sure to put at least two meters’ distance between her and the baronet as he checked and double-checked the consoles, ran over the numbers and his notes multiple times, and consulted his books even more than he consulted his notes. The whole time he muttered to himself, although what he was muttering, Shirley could not say and was unsure she wanted to know.

At the present, Sir Joseph was at his desk reading his books again, rifling through and reading a passage for a minute or so before tossing it aside and picking up another one. Shirley stood outside the ballroom, hoping to avoid being the target of the baronet’s wrath for the third time that day. That, and she was waiting for Milverton to deliver an essential component to their experiment. Without it, they would be unable to turn on the Eden Engine.

Shirley hoped that once the component arrived, the experiment would be a success. Otherwise, Sir Joseph’s temper was sure to resemble a volcano, like the one in the Natural Sciences book she had read last night, Mount Vesuvius, which had covered an entire city in lava when it erupted a few decades after the death of Christ. She was sure that without that component, her employer’s rage would be on par with the volcano.

As if in answer to her prayers, Milverton appeared beside her, holding a paperboard box in his hands. From the box came a snuffling noise that Shirley recognized immediately.

“One piglet with a missing leg,” he intoned dully when he reached her. “Delivered only a few minutes ago.”

Shirley took the box from him, surprised by how light it was. She peaked inside. Sure enough, there was a piglet with three legs inside. It was a bit smaller than the average piglet of its age and was busily munching on a bowl full of mush.

“Thank you, Mr. Milverton,” she said. “We’re really lucky to have this one. Sir Joseph is extremely grateful, and so am I. I hope you let Mr. Amberley know that.”

Mr. Amberley was the farmer whose sow had given birth to the three-legged piglet. He had been of the opinion that a piglet with only three legs would be of less worth than the runt of the litter and wanted to kill it, but his young daughter had taken a liking to it and decided to raise it herself. When Sir Joseph had sent word to the villages that he was looking for animals with defects or wounds that had not yet or had proven stubborn in healing in exchange for a couple of shillings, Mr. Amberley had been the first to answer the call.

“I will, Ms. Dobbins,” Milverton replied. A grimace passed over his face as he said her name. It appeared he still was not fond of addressing her as an equal. “Especially after he related to me that his daughter, little Molly, was quite upset at losing the piglet.”

Shirley glanced down at the piglet and noticed a distinctive spot along its side. It reminded her of a four-pointed star, oddly enough. She had a feeling that little Molly Amberley had memorized that star-shaped spot and considered it a sign that this piglet was her piglet, was no one else’s, and was quite special.

She looked back up at Milverton and replied, “Well, if all goes well, she’ll be getting her pig back, and better than ever.” And without waiting for a response, she turned and slipped into the laboratory.

“What is it?”

She jumped, jostling the piglet in its box. It squealed in protest, but Shirley barely heard it over the blood pounding in her ears. She had been so excited to bring the piglet in and present it to Sir Joseph, she had forgotten he was in a less-than-cheerful state of mind.

“Um, the piglet sir,” she said, managing to keep the tremor from her voice. “It’s here.”

Sir Joseph looked up from his book. Immediately, his furrowed brows smoothed, and an apologetic expression replaced his previous anger.

“Oh Shirley,” he said. “Forgive me for my outburst just now. Bring the test subject here. Set it anywhere, I don’t care.”

Shirley brought the piglet over and set its box on a pile of books. Some of the titles she recognized and had read herself as part of her training as a lab assistant: Charles Darwin’s On the Origins of the Species; Peter Ewart’s On the measure of moving force; The Scientific Papers of James Prescott Joule, published by the London Physical Society; and of course, the collected works of Plato.

Others, however, were too advanced for her at her current level. Which was a shame, because they were the texts that Sir Joseph had relied on the most in his creation of the Eden Engine. Ptolemy of Alexandria’s Apocrypha, Davros’s Treatise on Dimensional Architecture and Engineering, and R. Gold’s Directory of the Realms. Shirley had wanted to read them almost as soon as she began to grasp scientific concepts, but Sir Joseph said she was not ready for the secrets hidden within them. She supposed it would be several years yet before she could even touch the books, if that was the case.

Sir Joseph coughed, pulling Shirley from her thoughts on the books. “Shirley,” he said.

“Yes sir?”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “I know that I have…been rather difficult to get along with as of late. Especially towards you. I-I would like to apologize for my behavior. You do not deserve any of it and I am a disgrace of a man for taking my anger out on you.”

Shirley was taken aback. She was not used to her employers apologizing to her, especially when they were not young society ladies desperate for friendship and affection. “D-Don’t think anything of it, sir,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “We all have our bad days.”

“Yes, well…my bad days were caused by seeing that man at that party,” he admitted. “Lord Wyndemere.”

Shirley paused. What was the appropriate response in this situation? “I-I see,” she said finally.

“I’m afraid you do not,” Sir Joseph replied, not unkindly, with a heavy sigh. “I’m sure you are aware of my past scandals. If you did not know them before you came here, then someone has likely told you by now.” When Shirley nodded stiffly, he continued, “Lord Wyndemere was one of my wife’s paramours, of that I’m sure. I spotted him leaving the Lodge in a carriage one afternoon as I was returning from a hunting trip. He was in a hurry, as if he did not want anyone to know he had been there. And when I found my wife, she was taking an afternoon bath. She said she ‘was in the mood to wash herself while it was still light out.’ But I know. She was trying to erase the scent of her lover from her.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Shirley stammered. Then, before she could stop herself or think of the ramifications, asked, “Was that what you whispered to him at the party? That you knew he was her lover?”

Sir Joseph shook his head. “I told him that my son was, in truth, his son.”

Shirley inhaled. She wanted him to stop talking. She wanted to tell Sir Joseph that this conversation was going beyond the boundaries of master and employee. But it seemed the baronet was determined to tell her everything, because before she could open her mouth, he elaborated, “I cannot be certain, you understand. Paternity is not something easily proven when the child resembles neither mother nor father. However, I do know that at the time Wesley was conceived, both Lord Wyndemere and I had relations with my wife. Not at the same time, obviously. But within the same month, which is reason enough to be suspicious. And even if he was not Wesley’s father, he certainly had an effect on the boy.”

“What do you mean?” Shirley heard herself say.

“Lord Wyndemere continued to visit my wife during the pregnancy,” Sir Joseph explained. “Anytime I was away on business or out hunting, he was there, ready to resume relations with a pregnant woman. As I am sure you’re aware, a gestating baby is influenced by the men and women the mother comes into contact with during the pregnancy. All this has been scientifically proven.” His voice took a dangerous edge again as he said, “Lord Wyndemere is a large, stupid man with a large head but little brain. And Wesley, my son, was large and stupid, with an enlarged head caused by the accumulation of water within his skull, which subsequently shrunk his brain. I am certain that this condition eventually contributed to my son’s early demise.

“So, one way or another, I blame my son’s condition, and his death, on that pompous fool. And to find him on my estate again after all these years—well, you can see why I have been in such a state.”

“I’m so sorry,” Shirley said after a pause. An idea came to her, and she added, “But once we perfect the Eden Engine, no one will suffer like your son again. Why, perhaps in a hundred years, you’ll be praised as the man who helped solve many of mankind’s problems!”

A small smile poked out from between the baronet’s lips. “Thank you, Shirley. You know exactly what to say.” Then he surprised her by gently cupping her cheek in his hand and adding, “My dear.”

Shirley froze, shocked. At first, she thought Sir Joseph was trying to seduce her. But that did not seem to be the case. The look in Sir Joseph’s eyes was different. There was tenderness there, but not the sort of tenderness one showed to someone they wanted to be their lover. No, this was a form of compassion Shirley did not recognize. What did it mean? And was it appropriate for Sir Joseph to show it to her?

Before she could consider the matter any further, Sir Joseph dropped his hand and said, “Well, enough dwelling on the past. Let’s get to work and proceed with the experiment.”

He picked up the paperboard box and carried the piglet to the Engine, all traces of his earlier rage gone. Shirley stared after him for a couple of seconds before dashing to join him. Sir Joseph set the box down in front of Console Seven and slid back the bombardment chamber door. He then lifted the piglet out of the box and set it on the platform before sliding the door back into place and locking it. The piglet stood unsteadily on its three legs, sniffing and snorting as it took in its new surroundings.

Meanwhile, Shirley took her place at Console One, gripping the handle of a switch. Sir Joseph gave the command, and she pulled the switch down. Then she ran across the room and pulled an identical switch on Console Thirteen. At once, both consoles began to hum as they sent electric power down the wires to the other consoles.

In the bombardment chamber, the piglet snorted nervously.

“Shirley, Console Four!” Sir Joseph commanded.

Even before the command was out, however, Shirley was already there, turning dials and measuring readouts from the gauges. Atop the console, two gyroscopes began to spin at high speeds within a glass dome. She then ran to Console Twelve and pressed several buttons. Levers turned and pulled within the machine casing, making a loud clunking noise.

On the other side of the Engine, Sir Joseph was switching between Consoles Five and Six, activating different functions at prearranged moments, setting various mechanisms into motion. He ran past Shirley on his way to Console Nine, who was monitoring things on Console Eight. The whole time, a smell like ozone was filling the laboratory while electricity crackled above and between the consoles. Within the vacuum tubes, a strange light floated through them towards Console Seven.

The energy of the Pure World had been summoned.

As the clanging, humming, buzzing, and whirring from the Engine reached its climax, Sir Joseph and Shirley met at Console Seven. Within the bombardment chamber, the piglet had pissed and shat itself in fear and was desperately banging its body against the glass in an effort to free itself. They ignored it as they grabbed the handle of the final switch, the one that would release the pure energy into the chamber. Sir Joseph locked eyes with Shirley and nodded.

They pulled the switch.

The gargantuan console roared, its lights blinking on and off as streams of the pure energy flowed through the tubes and into the bombardment chamber like pressurized water from multiple fire hoses. The piglet gave a terrified squeal as it disappeared within the light.

The next ten seconds felt like an eternity. Finally, Sir Joseph and Shirley threw the switch back into the off position and ran around the Engine, shutting everything down. As they did, the noise died, and the light of the pure energy dissipated, leaving only a gray dust on the glass of the vacuum tubes and the bombardment chamber. When the Engine had fully shut down and the laboratory was once again only lit by low electric lighting, they rushed to Console Seven and stared through the glass.

At the bottom of the bombardment chamber was the piglet, still alive and with a fourth leg growing where one had been missing previously.

The experiment was a success!

Shirley and Sir Joseph locked eyes again. She could not contain herself. She screamed and jumped for joy. “A success! A success! The experiment’s a success!”

Oh, Molly Amberley is going to be surprised when she finds her pig is no longer a burden on the farm!

Sir Joseph smiled indulgently as he unlocked the chamber and slid the glass door back. He picked up the piglet and held it up as the leg finished growing into place. It was a perfect little leg, covered in tiny, bristly hairs and ending in a split hoof. The baronet’s grin was so wide, it threatened to meet his earlobes.

“Welcome to the new age, little creature,” he whispered. The piglet gave a tired snort in response.

With a soft chuckle, he handed the animal to Shirley, who gladly took it in her arms and began stroking its back. “Congratulations,” she whispered to it. “You’re the first of many happy endings.”

There was a loud POP! and Shirley’s vision became a curtain of red as something wet and warm flew into her eyes. At the same time, the pig in her arms became lighter and quieter. Somewhere in front of her, Sir Joseph whispered, “Oh my goodness.”

Shirley wiped whatever had landed in her eyes away with a sleeve, but all that did was put more detritus in her eyes. Sir Joseph told her wait. A second later he was patting her face with his silk handkerchief, clearing away the grime. When she could see again, Shirley glanced down to see what had happened. She found herself covered in gore and viscera all along the front of her dress. And in her arms, the piglet was nothing more than a mess of skin over a bone frame, its back gaping open like a giant mouth.

In an instant, she grasped what had happened and dropped the piglet’s carcass. It made a wet splat as it hit the ground, blood leaking out of its back and onto the parquet floor. She backed away, suddenly cold despite the warm blood all over her face.

“Shirley,” said Sir Joseph.

“It-it failed,” she said, blood dripping into her mouth. The smell of death clogged her nose, and the decision to never eat pork again flitted through her mind as she grappled with what had occurred. “The experiment failed. The piglet’s dead. Oh God, it’s dead. What will we tell little Molly Amberley? Her piglet’s dead. Oh God. What now? The experiment failed, it’s failed, it—!”

Sir Joseph jumped over the carcass, grabbed her by the shoulders, and pulled her into a hug before she could grow more hysterical. The gesture surprised Shirley into silence. She had not expected it. A good shoulder shake was often the first resort for a woman on the verge of a breakdown.

Nonetheless, it did the trick, and Shirley felt her mind calm. She was still in shock and horrified by what had happened, but at least she was no longer on the verge of going mad.

When he let her go, Shirley was appalled to see that the entire front of Sir Joseph’s shirt and lab coat, as well as his expensive silk cravat, were stained with blood. Before she could open her mouth to express her dismay, however, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry about it, my dear,” he said, using that strange term of endearment again. “Anyway, you go upstairs and get cleaned up.”

“W-What about the mess?” she asked, gesturing at the carcass and the blood and entrails scattered everywhere. “And what about you?”

Again, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “I’ll have Mrs. Preston and the other maids come in and help me clean it up. Then I will go and take a bath. For now though, you just go upstairs and wash that mess off your face. That’s an order.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but blood fell on her teeth and tongue as she did. Close to retching, she shut her mouth, nodded in thanks, and turned to leave. She took measured footsteps all the way to the door. However, the moment she was clear of the ballroom, she ran.