Episode 5: The Shared Narrative We Agree To Believe, Chapter 3

The sound of giggling echoed through the depths of the library. It was childish giggling: joyful and unstoppable. The fact that it came from two fully grown adults was utterly irrelevant.

XXXX

The large collections annex had been growing. It had also been reshuffling itself. Leonardo da Vinci stood, arms akimbo, considering the collusion of collectibles before him.

"Tell me you did not put those items in the same room," sighed Charlene.

"It is a very large room," retorted the retiree reluctantly. "They did not seem to cause any problems at the time."

"Thomas Cromwell was the first great spymaster of the mechanical age, and an even wilier politician," she pointed out. "There must be a dozen different artefacts related to him in that mess, including an original copy of the Oath of Supremacy and the codex he kept all his undercover intelligence operations in! Of course they didn't do anything at the time!"

"On the positive side, at least we know they work," offered her victim in recompense.

"Work!" Charlene's voice rose. "They have barricaded an entire branch of the large collections annex and are refusing to let us past!"

"Mea culpa, mia signora," bowed the artist. "But, if I may, it is at least not a blanket refusal."

"True," admitted Charlene, "but we only get past if we can crack Cromwell's cryptography codex and pacify his printing press! Ye gods, I swear I'm starting to sound like Flynn!"

"You sound as delightful as ever, bella," grinned da Vinci. "You forget: that Oath of Supremacy in there was drawn up only fifteen years after my supposed death. You don't think I spent all that time hiding in France did you?"

"Hiding in..." Charlene cast a sharp glance at her companion. Da Vinci grinned an irritatingly supercilious smile and realisation dawned. "You knew him, didn't you."

"He didn't get all those ciphers and secretive solutions from thin air, you know," da Vinci puffed out his chest like a peacock. "Although, I will admit it was quite the education in espionage."

"Oh, get over yourself, James Bond!" Charlene groaned, her lip curling in derisive tedium. She walked over to the codex, which was hovering in mid air like a vigilant, oversized bat, its pages folded into a complex concertina of vellum, and, before da Vinci could stop her, pulled at a seemingly random sheet two thirds from the start. The codex glowed, its light enveloping the pair. When the glow had faded, a perfectly normal-looking, if ancient, tome was lying on the path and the way ahead was open. The sixteenth century, hand operated printing press Cromwell had used to flood England with pamphlets extolling the virtues of the newly formed Church of England stood to one side, neatly folded up and exuding an air of attention.

"How?" Leonardo blinked.

"Come on," sighed Charlene. "Let's find the next one."

Da Vinci shook his head and followed her, his ears still ringing from the brightness of the light. As he passed the press, his foot caught on something. Stooping, he picked up a pale piece of paper. His eyes cast themselves over the words printed on the page, then he crumpled the sheet and shoved it in his pocket. Turning briskly back to the path, he followed the slowly shrinking form of Charlene.

XXXX

"Where the heck are we?" Eve's voice rang out. All around them was a dusty, cream-coloured haze. The only items visible were what looked like the struts and beams of some huge metal framework high overhead.

"Well," mused Flynn, looking around them, one arm still wrapped around his wife's waist. "If I didn't know better..."

"Flynn!"

"I believe we are in the map, dearest," he replied hurriedly.

"In the map?" Eve echoed. "In the map?"

"Yes," nodded Flynn, still casting about him for clues. He raised his free hand and pointed. "See the lines over our heads, criss-crossing at right angles."

"But we were in America!" Eve's voice stayed risen.

"The two are not mutually exclusive, darling," pointed out her husband. "Besides, technically we were actually in a multidimensional pocket universe only anchored to our own at America. You've used it yourself to cross continents in a heartbeat!"

"Dear," said Eve, smiling sweetly. "Call me 'darling' like that again and you'll be anchoring yourself somewhere else for a week!"

"Our apartment only has one bedroom."

"And yet I have five different types of martial arts training."

"I'm sure Lysistrata would be proud."

"If I ever meet her I'll be sure to let her know."

The dusty cream cloud that had engulfed them seemed to resolve itself like a specimen under a microscope. For a moment the beige tint to the world lingered, then it dissolved into the clarity of sunlight on a warm summer's day. This particular sunlight seemed to be shining on a hill overlooking a burgeoning city. A hill on which Eve and Flynn now appeared to be standing.

Eve blinked. "Where the heck are we?"

XXXX

Jenkins ducked. Jones dived for cover. The rain of fish had been one thing, but now there seemed to be a hail of charcoal.

"What did we do?" Jones yelled across the firing alley of the aisle, holding one of the thicker volumes from the nearby shelves up as a shield.

"Are you cold?" Jenkins called back from below an actual shield he had removed from the satchel slung over one shoulder. The same satchel that had held the magical Geiger counter he had been testing the artefacts and relics with.

Jones did a double take. "Why the blazes would I be cold? I've just spent five minutes dodging fish and now it's chucking down charcoal! I'm roasting!"

"I thought as much," the old man nodded. "We need to get to aisle seventy five, shelf ten. Can you hear that ringing?" Jones nodded back silently. "That's the alarm system in the electromagnetics section. Designed by Benjamin Franklin to tell him when his prototype lightning rod was electrified. We put it to a slightly different use when we captured Clerk Maxwell's Demon. The little sprite had a habit of escaping in the early days and it feels like he's done it again. He'll get bored with the charcoal soon. When he does, stick a hand out to the middle of the aisle and tell me when you feel the difference. This side's freezing!"

"What's in aisle seventy five?" Jones asked, jumping as a stray lump of Charcoal hit his leg and gave him a small shock. "What the..."

"Charged charcoal, courtesy of the Joseph Priestley section," commented Jenkins. "One of his many experiments before taking up his position here. Don't let them get near his dephlogisticated air!"

"Why?" Jones asked darkly. "What is it?"

"Pure oxygen," Jenkins grinned back. He twirled the fingers of his free hand upwards into the air and puffed out his cheeks. Jones got the idea.

"Oxygen plus electricity bad," he muttered, "got it. Where might that be now?"

"Aisle seventy four," his companion informed him. "Priestley's experiments never did like being too far apart."

"And letting two highly volatile halves of an incredibly explosive whole sit right next door to each other seemed like a good idea to who exactly?"

Jenkins held up his hands in a shrug that denied all knowledge of the arrangement's origins. "As long as the demon was trapped, they were fine."

"So how do we trap this demon?" Jones asked, emerging from behind the book as the last chunk of charcoal rolled by him. He stuck a tentative hand out into the centre of the aisle, withdrawing it with a yelp. "There's something there. Some kind of barrier."

"Ah, that sometimes happens," nodded Jenkins sagely. "The demon controls what passes from one side of the barrier to the other. We need to find Franklin's Leyden Jars and the kite and use the latter to get him back in one of the former. Then we need to lock it with Priestley's Burning Glass."

"Priestley's Burning Glass?" Jones frowned.

"Nearest thing to an oxyacetylene torch we have nearby," Jenkins admitted, replacing the shield in the satchel and removing a thick fur coat. "At least without stepping over to the dragonology section. And time is of the essence here."

Jones looked him up and down. "Why? You certainly seem prepared for the cold."

Jenkins followed his gaze to the coat. "What this old thing? I have a wardrobe full of them. Very easy to get lost in too. Always handy to have one in your work bag for emergencies. No, it's you we need to worry about."

"Me?" Jones replaced the book on the shelf. It caught his finger between itself and its neighbour. He withdrew it with another yelp of pain. "I'm fine. I'm not the one freezing to death!"

"True," Jenkins nodded, leading the way down his side of the aisle. "But cold can't kill me, I have all the water and the temperature difference is only going to increase the longer the demon is loose. Oh, and I'm not the one who just put Murphy's Law back on the shelf."

Jones glanced back at the book, read the title on the spine, and promptly tripped over a rogue lump of charcoal.

XXXX

Streamers of ivy spread across the bookshelves. A garland of the plant around her neck, Cassandra danced and twirled to silent music. Her laughter rang out, joining with Jacob's, as he took her hand and spun her into his arms.

"You're adorable," he giggled, "but I ain't too sure you should be wearin' that darlin'."

"It was made by America's most famous seamstress, so it can't be too bad," she giggled, dancing away from him and pirouetting in her new outfit. It was wrapped around her and tied in place with more streamers of ivy. Ivy tangled with her hair and wound bracelets around her arms and legs.

"It's the original Stars and Stripes, Cassie," he chuckled. "I fear we may be committin' some kind of felony treatin' it like that."

"Like you've never broken a rule in your life, Jacob Stone," laughed Cassie. "Who's going to know? What harm can it do?"

Suddenly, Cassandra's body went rigid, her arms held out, away from her sides. Her eyes glazed over with an opaque cloud of opalescent white and her body started to rise.

Stone giggled and pointed an ivy clad arm at her. "I warned ya! Now look what you've done!"

Cassandra's lips moved silently, the ivy spreading up her arms and legs all the while. Below her, helplessly locked in hysterical laughter, Stone staggered and tripped over the vines entangling his ankles.

XXXX

Charlene stopped in front of an ancient box camera on three wooden legs. It was the first, and therefore special. Testing it was easy. One simply inserted a photographic plate into the back of the box, held a light in front of it for thirty seconds or so, then removed the plate. If the camera was genuine, it would have caught the image. In normal cameras, that simply meant a picture of the light would appear on the plate. In this case, thanks to the power of belief and the focus of the camera, the object of the light itself would be transported onto the plate and trapped there, only to be released when the plate was broken. She looked in the bag next to the camera for a plate and withdrew one carefully.

"Hey, da Vinci," she called, examining the bag's other contents. "Get over here and light one of these candles!"

Silence.

Charlene looked up. She looked around. Leonardo da Vinci was nowhere to be seen.

She groaned, resting her hands on her hips. "Oh, for the love of..."