FINAL REMINDER: The Lost Shards has an entry for scrapped Supplement V: Butterfly Effect if you wish to see how the singularity played out. It's completely optional.
Chaldean survivors still remembered what the Robotics Hanger first looked like. Now, with its adjacent warehouses and production rooms, it was just the central lobby of a greater network. Late Director Marisbilly may have been radically accepting of such advanced technology among mages, but he was dismissive on their future possibilities. Such a small plot wouldn't do. Growth was only, and always, inevitable.
Renamed as the R&D Facility's lobby, it was far more spacious and welcoming now that the assembly line had been relocated to Edison's new Factory. Even with the current full moon above, its classic Chaldean aesthetic gleamed under the massive Sunscape Window. Around the lobby, small stage-like podiums sat alongside potted plants and comfortable cerulean seating to mimic a museum. They showcased several future concepts, unfinished projects, and past achievements alike from the resident geniuses.
With a gentle release of steam, the genius in a hissing steel suit stared towards the display before him with fondness. To most, it appeared like a strange grid of mechanical struts, gears, bars, and bolts. It looked a bit out of place amongst the other displays like Da Vinci's ornithopter or Edison's commercial lightbulb. Adjacent to a small replica of Tesla's Wardenclyffe Tower, it was just an unrefined jungle gym of metal. But to Babbage, it was his unfinished dream on display for the residents.
The Analytical Engine. A refined successor to his Difference Engine, it was still renowned as one of the world's first computers. It helped cement his place in history, but not in the way he'd hoped. He'd passed away before he could truly complete it and grace the world with his glorious genius. All that remained was a legacy and praise for founding the path of computers… but no longer. So long as he lived and breathed, his dream could still be borne by his hands.
It's what he strove for all his life, so why would he change that now?
What was a genius, if not dedicated to their vision?
Every day, he'd stare at least once at his invention, if only to top off his overwhelming resolve. After a hiss of satisfied steam left his suit, he renewed his walk down the long red carpet. Just past a smaller displayed replica of their special robots floated a working one behind the marble-topped lobby counter. Behind it, large portraits of the resident servant geniuses plastered the white wall. The hum of its hybrid thruster and the gentle whir of its moving servos echoed amongst the silence of the night as it eyed the approaching caster.
His heavy but controlled footfalls clanked lightly against the ground, but it was only a chime of reverence to the robotic unit. "Glorious Omnissiah. I wish you a productive evening."
"As it will be, Robert," Babbage declared with a determined release of steam. "Every evening is productive when spent in the pursuit of scientific achievement."
That applied infinitely more for his beloved, life-long endeavor.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
Fragment 87: Raising Steam
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
Babbage's Office was the second cleanest of the geniuses. Tesla's lingering germaphobia ensured his remained the top, but the caster didn't need it pristine. He just needed it to be orderly and organized, unlike how Da Vinci's workshop often was. Hers remained the only workspace outside the R&D Facility; It doubled as her Director Office.
It was a small blessing: She would not suffer from any loud, excited roars from the rambunctious American caster.
Nevertheless, they all found some peace in their own spaces along that office corridor. A special, small phonograph by the door played Schubert's classic String Quartet No.14 to join the gentle hisses of his suit. Orderly stacks of enlarge blueprints and book rested atop one another on countless metal shelves and desks. There was plenty of moving space for his large form, and even a massive drawing board where he currently stood. Above it, several monitors displayed different images, blueprint designs, and scrolling text.
Even the large pencil in his armored hand was enlarged for his convenience. It was an unfortunate state of being, but, technically, he could only truly live amongst the world he dreamed. It already surrounded him as this permanent suit of armor, which even heated and shook his core within. On one hand, he loved how his world surrounded him like a warm blanket, but it also carried a lack of finesse and a loss of luxury. Though servants didn't need it, he'd never taste of Chaldean food, nor feel the warmth of the hugs occasionally gifted from the Chaldean children.
But they were inconveniences at best to a ceaselessly-working genius.
He could still move. He could still work. Most importantly, he could still plan and think. His faculties may be troublesome at times, but there was always a way to work around it. There was always a path of advancement, and a genius adapted quickly. The indulgences may be missed, but what mattered remained.
With it, he could forward his ambitions, but also help out those he'd come to respect in this curious home. Taking a small pause from his blueprints, which showcased a unique steam-powered airship, he glanced up at the monitors again. Two showed digitalized blueprints, and another presented theoretical concept arts. One more showed a host of calculations that would stump the mind of most, but not his. A final one scrolled through a typed thesis with documented points.
Over his custom phonograph's beautiful music, the Vigil caster's transcribed voice added notes. "Interior size proves to be one of the larger difficulties when designing these vehicles. Similar to microchips, if we advance by decades into future computer engineering, the equipment could take up less space. That'd leave more room for passengers and essentials."
With every scrolled note, point, and line of conjecture, Babbage felt his inner soul bathe in satisfaction. This was the complicated world inventors and scientists relished. It was a language that spoke nostalgically, even if they carried algorithms and arithmetic unknown in his time. The times and terminology changed, but the difficulty and process remained the same.
Any unexpected calculations and problems were always a given; It was improbable not to have at least one issue. It was the frustrating and expected nature of invention. Many true intellectuals, like himself, even welcomed it. The greater the difficulty, the more promising the rewards and advancement towards the envisioned goal. For there was nothing like the first breath of success after defeating a challenge.
…But this was something else. Tesla, Edison, the Vigil's caster, Da Vinci, Helena… Many minds agreed to put aside their haughty prides for this. They have never encountered such a conglomeration of unfounded concepts that needed to be tied together to make this collaboration possible.
Project Shadow Border. Da Vinci's earnest safety request for Chaldea. Should the facility ever need to evacuate, their beautiful ship needed lifeboats. But it was one thing having a world texture survive detached from time, and another to make a small vehicle that could do it; Mount Meru and Chaldeas' mythical properties guaranteed their safety. One couldn't just put currently unknown concepts into a vehicle only a fraction its size.
Yet that was Da Vinci's insisted goal: A squadron or more of armored vehicles capable of saving the entire population.
It was an unfounded idea that a scientific vehicle could navigate into a mythical dimension separate from space and time, but it was her idea. This project in itself was an amalgamation of testbeds, but it was an experiment itself. It was a stepping stone alongside, and for, another Chaldean project: Giving Mount Meru the capability of separating itself from the world should an apocalypse arise. It was proven capable before in the past war, but now she dared to believe they must strive to make it Chaldea's controllable first line of defense against an apocalyptic event.
Most of Chaldea remained unaware of these developments. They'd think it was an insane endeavor, or maybe they'd believe. But belief and reason were mortal enemies. Rarely would they convene, yet that's what they, the negotiators, were for. Geniuses were merely the brokers who united reason and belief to form reality. Who was a genius to ever turn down the possibility of creating a promising reality?
It'd be a long and terrible project, and there were many complications that seemingly had no answers, but he was proud to help. The thought of long nights toiling away for this even excited him, as it did others. The pursuit of the impossible was irresistible.
They shared it. They chased it. And fortunately for Chaldea, they wouldn't stop until they achieved it.
Unfortunately, it was also given this impossible undertaking would require far more time away from his own designs than he wished.
…But that didn't stop him from glancing down and making a few more lines on his prototype steamship. He chuckled, "This will make the automobile look like rubbish."
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ III ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
A few more hours into the night, there was a knock on his office door. "Babbage? May I have a moment?"
"Come in, Tesla," he calmly vented with steam. He didn't even turn away from his desk, now covered with a large printout of Mount Meru's boundary.
He heard the door slide open, and felt his eyebrow twitch. It wasn't from the man in a well-kept navy suit, but rather the sound that echoed behind him… That grating sound of a happily roaring Edison just down the hall in his own office.
"Oh splendid! Exactly what I'd expect from such a handsome and intelligent caster! It takes a true genius to come up with a shield design like that! Tell me more!"
Despite his lightning, Edison was only truly unbearable to Tesla… at least until Chaldea found out he had a Vigil counterpart. Now they held a loud, routine voice chat every night that revolved around bouncing ideas off each other and endless praise; He'd never been so thankful the R&D offices were soundproof. 'Now only he'd close his door…'
Thankfully, his own door slid shut again. They both shared a small sigh of relief before Tesla readjusted his tie. Clutched beneath one arm was a small clipboard, which he quickly placed on a designated table. For security reasons, data about the project wasn't uploaded to the network. Any advances, revisions, or digital files had to be hand delivered, but Babbage preferred that old fashioned route. It felt more 'professional' than this indirect technology. "The finalized dimensions are bigger as last discussed. They'll be proportional to small ships."
"Lifeboats indeed…" Babbage commented. "I'll have to see what we can get away with now. Thank you."
"It's lenient, but the Garage should be big enough to fit the first prototype. It gives us a chance to expand it later." Tesla nodded, then turned to leave. That's how talk usually wound up between busy, focused geniuses: Straight to business. However, it didn't end there tonight. He stopped just before the door to stare at his custom phonograph.
It appeared like a regular one, save for the brass aesthetics at its base. Cogs and bars spun as the gentlest hisses of steam timed perfectly to the music. Atop, the needle still rolled over the surface of the record. Tesla smirked lightly and chuckled, "A steam-powered phonograph?"
"Proof of concept. You enjoy it?"
Tesla nodded. "Possibly more than the music. Your vision is quite artistic."
"It is one shared among many, so I aim to deliver," Babbage proudly stated.
"Ever consider picking up another hobby to join it?"
He usually minded small talk while calculating and designing; He never actually voiced the complaint. That would be a touch uncouth, even for the strict and work-minded man. It was a distraction at best, but there was considerable leeway given to fellow geniuses and colleagues, even of fields he found bothersome. So he entertained at least a few lines. "Does walking not count? Or are you perhaps suggesting I try out bird watching with you?"
Tesla smirked lightly. "You'd be in good company. If not with myself and Robin, Semiramis is quite fond of pigeons."
"Yes, well I don't usually convene with royalty unless I need funding," he answered honestly, but Tesla merely shrugged. "This hobby of mine is the only one I desire. Justly so. This vision encompasses all."
"No one can fault a genius for the world they see." That, the two could definitely agree. Despite his irritation over electricity, the world that has come of it was admittedly marvelous. Even Tesla's own desires that never saw fruition were remarkable; He had Babbage's profound respect for his genuinely beneficial and optimistic designs. It was akin to his own desire to share his vision for humanity's benefit.
"Have a profitable evening, Babbage. And for both our sakes, let's hope Edison doesn't feel extra boastful tonight."
…And there was another idea the two could wholeheartedly agree upon.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IV ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
Babbage looked up from his drawing board, where innumerable calculations rested beside a newly finished airship sketch. He stared at a clock on one of his many monitors: 0852. Within his eternal suit, he felt himself blink. A mildly surprised hiss of steam followed. "…Productive night. Excellent."
He was one of the few who rarely slept, but he remained locked away for the early morning. At most, his suit would fall silent and he'd take a quiet nap within; That only happened if he hit a mental roadblock. A small nap or walk were two such fixes in life, and they still did to this day. Fortunately, there were none tonight.
"Either way, I suppose it's time for a relaxing stroll."
With practiced ease, his large form gently placed down the enlarged pencil. He maneuvered himself through his office towards his enlarged door. It swiftly opened, but he took a peek outside before stepping completely through. He'd rather not accidentally crash into a poor robot… again.
Among the glistening white hall, he spotted the Vigil's young engineer with a strange new escort. He felt his eyebrow raise, though it'd never show on his form. It only looked like he stared, but his imposing figure didn't unnerve the already hesitantly walking young man. A louder hiss of steam made him pause though.
"It's alright. It's just Babbage," Kiyohime reassured. With a gentle hand lightly pressed against his arm, she coxed him forward. Clad in an azure, flower-print kimono with a cerulean sash, she smiled towards the inventor, and he nodded back. "Good morning."
"To you two as well." His robotic voice made the young man stutter to a stop again. "I shall wait here until you pass. Please take your time."
"…Thank you, sir… And good morning," the Syrian boy offered with a nod, then cautiously began walking forward again at Kiyohime's gentle coaxing. Babbage watched curiously as Kiyohime kept making glances towards his path and made minor corrections in his direction with small taps and reassuring whispers. Though her smile was small as she guided him, his own expression seemed downcast behind his military sunglasses.
It was logical. Losing your eyesight during a maintenance accident only a few weeks ago would ram a hole through almost anyone's confidence.
His curiosity got the better of him as they slowly passed. Inquisitiveness was a natural impulse for geniuses, after all. "Your usual escorts aren't accompanying you today, Omar?"
He came to a quiet stop, then looked past Kiyohime between them, but vaguely towards him. He shook his head slowly. "…No, sir. They're at the range with the others."
"Sergei is running an extended drill with them. They would've missed the start of it, but I volunteered to help him over."
"…You didn't have to, you know," Omar replied quietly back. "Maybe a robot could have done it. I'm probably taking up your time, Miss."
"Don't worry. I don't have to help out in the kitchen until later, so I was more than happy to lend a hand," Kiyohime reassured with a tiny smile. "And you don't have to call me miss, you know?"
"…Oh right. Kiyohime. Sorry," he quickly answered, then began walking slowly. "Thanks again. I appreciate it."
The berserker nodded calmly, then offered one last smile to Babbage before following him down the-
Babbage felt his eyebrow twitch as a door further down swiftly opened. Instantly, the well-groomed mane of Edison appeared from a doorway. His bright blue suit shimmered under the light. With a grin, he roared eagerly, and made Kiyohime flinch in exasperation. Omar, on the other hand, was completely unfazed by his roar. "Ah! Early as usual! A prompt pupil, I say! And Kiyohime too? What a surprise! Are you here to learn too?"
"I'll pass," she countered with a slight cringe, but Edison was too busy suddenly combing his hair to notice.
"Pity! Workouts for the brain make for great intellectuals! Right, Sir Babbage?" The armored caster hissed a sigh of steam, then slowly nodded. As annoying as Edison could be with his electricity and upbeat attitude, he definitely respected him. Maybe not the lawsuits, but definitely his intelligence. After putting the comb away, the American genius stared at the young man proudly. "Now then! Ready for your next lecture with the Edisons!?"
"Yes, sir," the man replied steadfastly, but then quietly mumbled to himself. "…Not like I'm useful for much else right now…"
Kiyohime glanced sadly to the young man. Babbage felt a small tinge of sympathy as Edison's usually stalwart grin faltered with a flash of consideration… or more like guilt for what occurred. His future options remained unknown until Da Vinci and Touko could have a better look with Nightingale's aid, but the ongoing primary singularity held priority. Hopefully, in time, they'd analyze what could be done for his plight.
Until then, at the very least, Babbage just wished the man's spirits could be raised.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ V ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
The sound of Lex's gentle thruster thrummed from the other side of Club Cove's bar. Sasaki, Martha, and Benkei talked quietly in a booth somewhere nearby. Just outside the boardwalk entrance, Carmilla and Elizabeth were having another fight; Artesia and Joan's spat ended only a few minutes ago. Tota and Xuanzang's loud laughter echoed through the open windows too. All things considered, it was calm and quaint that morning.
With all this, one wouldn't think there was a threatening singularity nearing its resolution.
Yet, that's how relaxed Chaldea usually was during longer deployments. The seventh had proved nerve-wracking with its scale, and the final confrontation with Goetia was the only other outlier. Save for the usual concern over the masters' and their deployed team's safety, peace was a certainty on the homefront. It was just like a foreign war, except now they had the chance to view the footage live.
That's exactly what played on one of the bar's flat screens. Though the bigger projection in the theater drew more attention, it was also now broadcasted to the club. It was just one screen among many, with each projecting something different. There was a football match on one, and a travel documentary on another, but Babbage's eyes remained on the singularity shrouded in eternal night.
Though the theater, and especially the Control Room, offered more views, this top down image was more than adequate. It made the current scene look like a police chase as the allied alter's motorcycle rocketed down the freeway with skyscrapers flanking its length. Gabrielle clung onto the the allied alter calmly, but stared back at the incoming threat.
It was a blur of blue, yet the rampaging beast barreled down the freeway towards them. Empowered by the enemy faction's leader, it glowed with a chaotic azure aura. It was a comet that destroyed everything in its path and shattered the pavement with every bound, yet it so nimbly leapt over the jaws of a conceptually-designed beartrap. It howled angrily, and he felt the body entombed in his armor shiver with an instinctual anxiety for the wild.
"Ah. There you are." He wouldn't have turned at the presence and comment if her footsteps weren't approaching; They did. With a small hiss from his joints, he glanced back into the nearly empty club to spy the battle-clad Helena strolling up to him. She smiled, "Did you have a nice night Mister Babbage?"
"Efficient and studious, one could say. I trust your night was equally pleasant, Madam Blavatsky?" he greeted back contently as she nodded cheerfully. "I hope I haven't squandered your time with incessant searching. It's more pertinent to call out to me."
"It wasn't urgent," Helena replied reassuringly as she reached into her little black purse. Its looks were deceiving, as were all Chaldean-specialized holding bags. A larger package was quickly pulled out of its generous maw, then presented to him with a smile. "Your package was slipped in with mine."
"…Ah. So our UN couriers hadn't been incompetent," Babbage commented with delight. With his large hands, he reached out gently and plucked the package. Helena stared at the sole glowing red eye, then giggled at the small release of steam; It sounded like a satisfied hiss after a locomotive pulls up to a station. His eye practically gleamed through the packaging to the softly moving contents within.
"I only had the chance to check my mailbox this morning. The prep work for their ambush was very hectic," Helena apologized, and Babbage only nodded in consideration. "More steampunk books I presume?"
"Indeed! Some highly recommended lesser-knowns from what the reviews said." It was rare for his voice to lose its gentlemanly, and often to-the-point, tone. Whenever his hopes and dreams came to the fore, it opened the lone window to glimpse it. Excitement and inspiration seeped into the ritualistic releases of steam that echoed from his suit like heartbeats. One mechanical finger even rubbed the concealing packaging in a gentle caress, like an archaeologist after unearthing a timeless discovery.
"I hope they live up to their words!" she commented as a Colonol Olcott popped out of her purse, flew into view, and nodded in agreement. "And if I may request, please recommend your favorites after? I've been looking into expanding the SciFi section, but I don't want everything to be about aliens."
"Oh come now, Madam. Don't play coy." His tease in a courteous, yet robotic, tone, made the other caster present a tiny sheepish smile. Like the other geniuses, he knew her well. Dare he say, as an intellectual woman, she made him weak at the knees in admiration. To be present among her and others, and even considered a colleague, ally, and friend was a blessing he'd never take for granted… but that wouldn't stop a fine jest or two. "But I digress. You shall have your recommendations promptly after completion."
"I'll look forward to it!" She nodded, took her leave, but glanced back while strolling. "I'd like to see any illustrations too! Those worlds of yours sure are different from what Mahatma often shows!"
"Of course. A beautiful vision must be shared for all to relish!" he responded happily as he felt himself grin within. "Fare thee well, Madam!"
With that calming stroll now buried further in his mind, he glanced once more at the package as if he could see within. Already, his mind swirled with images painted by these writers. The possibilities of what could be danced within these works like they had for decades within his mind's eye. If talking about his envisioned world and technology gave a glimpse of excitement, then knowing others embraced his ideal was incomparable.
"I won't disappoint any of you. I've kept you waiting long enough," Babbage mumbled to himself happily, and it escaped as a hiss of steam.
He'd love to dive right into them, but first, before he forgot again, that little stroll would be lovely.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
A stickler for time and schedule, he'd ended his break early if only to properly shelve his new treasures.
Without any doubt, Babbage's room was like no other; Quite literally. There was no bed. The closet was just storage space. It didn't even appear like a typical Chaldean residential flat.
Instead, it was like stepping into a past era. Decorated with artificial Victorian designs and lacquered woods, it looked like a hidden section of the Library. There was only a sole reading sofa for any guests, a small coffee table, and walls covered with shelves for books and designs. Babbage never slept, so his room became a dedicated monument to his vision.
There wasn't even a speck of the old Chaldean designs allowed to peer through. Over a year before, he did it to further deny what the world has become with the advent of electricity as the power source; He'd become far more accepting since then. The modern world was beautiful in its own way, but it still wasn't his world. He wished to be immersed in what he loved as much as possible.
With the package opened, he carefully moved his newest books to a nearby shelf. They joined their companions on carefully spaced bookends to his massive, clawed gauntlets wouldn't rip apart their forms. Even with his careful finesse honed by a lifetime of intricate work, he was ever concerned about his servant strength and form. He'd already made a mistake with one book, and he dared never to repeat that.
After placing them, he was about to reach over and discard the packaging when he noticed a feint glint in his eye. Over the lantern lightning, the faint hum of a large computer screen, the lone one in his room, flickered on. Its casing was shrouded in brass and aesthetic gears, making it feel far less like the lone exception of modern tech in his room. He sighed with released steam.
"I left it on all night, didn't I? Such a waste of energy..." At least it was wasted electricity though.
Quietly, he made his way over hesitantly. Like many servants, he knew the dangers of the internet. He knew how much time could be wasted, and how many hopes dashed against the rocks of unfiltered and unruled anonymity. Yet, even he found himself sucked in, if only to see Tyler's curious suggestion, which was later bolstered by Anton's recommendation. He was more than happy he did, but he remained dividedly hesitant.
Time spent on the internet needed to be calculated to be efficient and fruitful.
Yet, it was also his link to his fans… those who believed in his glorious world that is known in this era as Steampunk.
Despite his strict and disciplined livelihood, he couldn't help but let his happy heart urge him forward. He shouldn't be going onto the internet at an unappointed time, but the urge was powerful. Like Marie to baby animal videos, the lure of the Steampunk forums and pages beckoned to him like flame for a moth; He was caught before he could even debate.
He felt himself smile as he stared at the screen. His original video post was at the top, but it had gained a lot of comments and likes since last night. The steam-powered phonograph he shared played for only seven seconds, but satisfied many. His eyes couldn't help but milk every comment like honey.
sealectric
christ on toast. TheAnalyticalEngineer does it again! how'd you make it so compact?
Notanelf
It's playing the song of our people. Classic music never sounded so glorious!
I can imagine these in every noble home or airship lounge.
mephalalala
Is this a weekly thing now? You and your beautiful inventions? Where do I smash a subscribe button?
He grinned. There was much to get done, but never before had he struggled with balancing career, obligations, and an almost childlike enthusiasm for a blossoming reality.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
The unseen sun was tinting the Agora's overhead Sunscape Windows' clouds with sunset hues. At a distant new storefront, Osakabehime and Blackbeard's chatter echoed through alongside small chimes of magecraft and physical construction. The Stitch Witches' glass doors were shut, and the two partnered managers and staff were scurrying about in closing preparation. Jaguarman's excited ramblings echoed from the open Classroom door further away, joined by Chiron and Irisviel's laughter.
Combined with some mingling staff and servants, the Agora was always a bit livelier just before dinner.
Nonetheless, Babbage stood alone. After another productive afternoon of theory crafting, Babbage found himself before his constructed centerpiece in quiet thought after a stroll. No one approached, and he stared at none. He was a complimenting statue beside his public Steampunk creation, but that's the way he liked it. He could mingle as he pleased, but his genius always preferred either solitude or the company of other intellectuals.
It was fairly common to find him in the Agora when he'd found an impasse. Quietly standing before his fountain was another way to get his mind churning in multiple directions through contrasting aesthetics. It helped inspire and refresh him to stand before this statement: That Steampunk could meld with ancient and modern alike without quarrel. As much as he loved his world, it would be a shame to lose the beauty of the rest in sole favor of his vision.
Yet his vision was sidelined again as he tried to dismantle the current problem with their collaboration project. His analytical engine couldn't come up with an answer, nor could his genius find a route forward to controlling Mount Meru's texture. There were too many unknown variables to properly equate a question; His mathematically attuned mind struggled to turn. It was sadly the same for the other inventor-
"Good evening, Mister Babbage!" It was a bright and cheery voice, but one he'd never mistake from its former sound. If she was quiet innocence before, now this former 'invention' was hopeful optimism and happiness; He'd have wanted nothing more for such a delicate berserker. With a calm release of steam, the steel giant turned and offered a pleasantly glowing eye to its greeter. "Oh. I hope I didn't bother you."
"You are never a bother, Miss Fran. Only a flower," Babbage reassured, and earned a light giggle from the freed berserker. With her pink hair in matching twin buns, and clad in a white strapless gown, she glowed innocence and beauty. He chuckled. "Oh shame on me. Was I mistaken? I wasn't aware the wedding was today."
She blushed, fingered her ring gently, and waved him off with another hand. "It's not, but I wouldn't have minded~…"
"Nor would Anton, but your guests may feel trifled. We all eagerly await those wax-sealed letters."
"And you'll receive them," she reassured with a smile. She'd come so far from when he saw her in his past life, and though her electricity and creation were an unfortunate chore, he could never dare hold it against her. If anything, she was like a nostalgic reminder of the past… to fond days with former colleagues and companions like Victor and Ada. It was unfortunate his associate treated his life's 'ambition' so poorly, but he was glad she never questioned her artificial birth anymore.
"Is there some way I can assist you, or were you just being sweet with pleasantries?"
"Just being sweet while waiting for a friend," she giggled. "You always look so lonely by your statue."
"Your concern is always appreciated, but there's no need to fret, my dear. It's quite hard to feel lonely among these streets."
Instinctively, the steam giant fell still, sharpened his senses, and listened. Frankenstein did the same with a tinge of wary expectation… but to their relief, they found nothing. Nobunaga wasn't springing some random boobytrap. No one was in some sort of shouting match. There was no growing tension when two servants still on bad terms came within eyesight of each other. It was actually just calm conversation and mundane sights.
It actually felt like a small town square. Though uncommon, these moments were… '…Hm. Quaint.'
"Splendid. I thought I jinxed the serenity for a moment."
Frankenstein giggled, only for her to turn with a warm smile towards a newly arrived figure. "Speaking of Serenity… Right on time."
Babbage glanced over with her. From the hallway entrance, Serenity walked over with a small leather purse in hand. She looked just as dressed up in her satin navy maxi dress that hugged her form generously. With matching warm smiles, the assassin waved to her friend as Rena quickly zoomed past her. With calculated precision, the robot stopped barely a few centimeters from Babbage's face. Its eyes bounced happily like her chassis, "Hello, Papa Babbage!"
"…I still prefer your first nickname."
"If you say so, Papa Babbage!" The vented steam, colored with mild exasperation, made the little robot giggle happily. Yet, Babbage couldn't be upset with his and Da Vinci's collaboration project. He may have been disappointed R1-N4 would be just another modern robot, but it was the living artificial intelligence technology he was most curious with. To create a living machine that grew, learned, and adapted, all within such a tiny chassis, was a proof of concept for him.
Steam components took far more room than their modern scientific counterparts. The possibilities of steam automata grew with Rena's design… even if it meant it wouldn't be purely his vision. It would need the electrical and silicone components he found irksome, but science and development were filled with compromise. If he had to make a steam-electric hybrid as a temporary stepping stone to grasp his vision faster, then he'd stomach it until he could calculate a pure result.
But part of his vision or not, he'd grown very fond of the little robot… more so than its many counterparts who revered him. "It's nearly time for your monthly checkup."
Serenity shared a small greeting hug with Frankenstein, but both giggled when Rena made pouting noises. "But I don't wanna! They feel weird!"
"I'd imagine so. We have to turn you off for them."
"Can I skip this one? Please, pretty please please?" Her antics made the other two smile, but childish and adorable robot or not, he was a mountain of logic.
He would not compromise. "Certainly not. All machines have maintenance to maintain peak efficiency. Even humans require checkups."
"At least you don't have to see Nightingale," Serenity offered, though Rena still pouted. With the break in their argument, she finally got the chance to nod, smile, and wave his way. He nodded back, but then eyed her fancy dress again. She noticed, and joined Fran in quickly checking for anything possibly wrong.
"Hmm." Babbage released a hiss of steam. If not for his mumble, it would have just been ambiguous. "Is there a formal gathering tonight? Perhaps in celebration of this singularity coming to a close? I wasn't aware we could calculate victories well enough to schedule."
Frankenstein giggled. "No, no. We just have a double date. The final assault will be after dinner."
"Ah, how proper. Can't face the final enemy on an empty stomach," Babbage jested, then quickly calculated the time in his mind. It barely took a fraction of a second. "One hundred twenty-four hours estimated minimum. Just a smidgen over five days if all goes to calculation. I would be hesitant to call this a primary were it not for the schemed meteor and hiding pillar… But I digress. I hope you and your other halves enjoy a splendid date this evening."
Rena's eyes wiggled happily, and Frankenstein curtsied. "And I hope you have a fun talk with your fans!"
He released a hiss of enthusiasm. "Oh, certainly. They'll be soiling their britches when I show them steam airships can still be reasonable transportation!"
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ VIII ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
To think two hours of relaxing chat would be followed with nearly thirty minutes of escalating tension as dessert.
Yet, as dangerous as the singularity had become thanks to the masterful Napoleon of Crime, Chaldea secured the victory. Within moments, they would leyshift back, reorganize themselves, and take care of the lone wounded. A second dinner, a feast for their celebration, was already being organized by Marie and Boudica. As relief and satisfaction filled the Deployment Room's air, some of the reserve servants were already leaving.
Neither on the reserve team nor required to be there, Babbage remained quietly on the exit walkway in patient anticipation. Nightingale stood next to him, filled with resolve beneath her battle attire. Her eyes remained locked on the empty pads expectantly. A combat ready but bored Beowulf stood behind her with a stretcher in hand. Behind them, a few servants mingled, though all left a quietly tense Artesia to her own devices. With arms crossed over her Vigil fatigues, she exuded the ferocity of a tropical storm.
"Receiving deployment teams! Standby!" Da Vinci's voice called out over the room's intercom, and the room flashed brightly. "Welcome home, everyone!"
Even as cheers and claps came from those present, with more echoed over the intercom of the Control Room, Babbage's anticipation was met with growing disappointment that clashed with hopeful optimism; They masked a subtle dread for what may still come either way. However, his own interests, no matter their priority, fell to the wayside as he held himself back. After all, there was still some last-minute chaos that would undoubtedly unfold.
And it did. No calculations of probability required.
Nightingale shot forward like a comet, and Beowulf was close behind. The crowd of returned allies quickly parted to reveal a battlesuit-clad Anishka kneeling beside a gravely wounded Mephistopheles. His blood was cracked and caking around the terrible chest wound. Even so, the clownish man, gored and ravaged, was grinning and chuckling while a soothing mist continued to pour from Anishka's hands.
Gabrielle and Medb stepped back just as Nightingale slid to the floor and gazed to her new patient. To some's amusement, Mephistopheles' face actually faltered with immediate realization upon seeing the fiery red eyes of his new caretaker. Her voice was tempered steel. "Time of injury?"
"Ten minutes elapsed. I've managed to stabilize the blood loss, but his main pulmonary artery has been severed."
"Confirmed. Saint Graph is in poor condition but he's stable. You did well Anishka," she nodded gratefully before turning her fierce gaze back to Mephistopheles. "I'll take it from here and diagnose his condition further. Beowulf. Be ready to-"
"Move him to the stretcher," the scarred berserker groaned. "Come on, Gale. I'm not new to this."
The whimper of horror from Mephistopheles made the battlesuit-clad Gabrielle giggle with Medb. As Nightingale continued examination on the now-squirming caster, relief flowed through the reorganizing servants while Babbage observed. Rama was spinning Sita around in a victory cheer while Arjuna walked over to pat Anishka's back. Nursery Rhyme was happily hugging Atalanta while Achilles watched close by. Jack was holding a happily barking, fluffy white Japanese dog-
He was forced to double take. '…They brought the dog back?'
That's when he felt the steady but hasty approach of a tornado. He glanced back, and sure enough, Artesia was practically stomping towards the gathered, cheering teams. Silence quickly fell like a downpour as she stormed right over to Jack, who stared up at her hesitantly. The fluffy white dog in her arms merely barked happily upon seeing the familiar face.
Atalanta and Achilles moved as one in preparation to defend her, which drew a quick grateful glance from the archer, but there was no need. Though furious, Artesia calmly reached down, untangled the dog from Jack's arms, took it in her own, then nodded towards the small assassin who blinked in surprise. The alter didn't smile, but her words weren't icy. "Thank you."
The white dog tilted its head curiously as Artesia shamelessly held it close, likely for the first time, then glared away from the child and towards the rest. "Monsters! The lot of you! Black-hearted fiends inconsiderate of innocence…! Cavall II didn't deserve any of that trauma!"
Her amusing irony was not lost on his genius mind, but he refrained from chuckling lest he rouse the ire of a blackened dragon.
Though her gaze was fierce, she did nothing more. She merely stomped back towards the exit of the Deployment Room where her uniformed, embarrassed master and a chucking Sergei were waiting. Though the silence remained, the tension thinned. Celebration was bound to erupt; It was only usual for Chaldea. And, as calculated, it had to be Gabrielle to restore the mood as she called out, "You're welcome for bringing him back, Artesia!"
The alter stuttered to a stop, glared back to the master, but Babbage's precision optics spotted it: The tiniest, tiniest glint of appreciation for bringing the dog back safe and sound… like an sapling amidst an barren tundra. She mouthed no thanks. She made no motion of gratitude. The fierce alter only huffed, turned back around as many laughed, and carefully held the dog in her arms as it took in its new surroundings. It barked as its tail amusingly waggled beneath her arm.
Babbage even found himself chuckling at the unusual sight, all while the cheers raced through the crowd again. He turned back to resume his hopeful search, but his disappointment would no longer linger. A few gasps raced through the audience as a servant flickered into being. The presence was terribly weak, but there was no mistaking the sight. Babbage fell content as their eyes briefly met. 'So you came.'
"Holmes!?" "Hey! Holmes is here!" "Did he leyshift back with us or was it his weird abilities!?" "It's Mister Holmes!" "Hiding from Nightingale?"
His overcoat fluttered as Holmes took out a signature smoking pipe. He made a move to puff, but then saw Nightingale staring at him in her peripheral. He quietly sighed and put it away as the mechanical arms on his back repositioned the lenses into an orderly fashion, like a backpack. "I suppose I couldn't turn down Miss Rutherford's invitation a second time."
Though he smiled and nodded to them as he walked past, the recent ordeal rattled him hard; Babbage pitied him. He'd appeared so vibrant, inquisitive, and confident when they met. He was the very embodiment of what everyone perceived, yet he saw the weariness, disappointment, and self-ridicule swimming in his eyes. Like his disguises, it was so carefully masked his precise eye only allowed him to pick it up. Perhaps a few others, like the staring Karna, could feel the shift too.
"Yes, Gabby, I believe I'll be sticking around for a while," he reassured with a calm smile as he, with Scathach's help, pried the tearfully hugging master off him. Finally free from the crowds, he approached Babbage, just as he did in turn. Nightingale, Beowulf, and Anishka rushed past with Mephistopheles secured tightly to the stretcher, but their eyes remained locked. He nodded, "Sir Babbage. You're looking well."
"I wish I could say the same for you." Holmes slowly nodded with guilt, Babbage reached over to gently pat his shoulder with a finger. "You're always a thinker. I won't tell you not to think too hard about it. That's logically futile."
The detective laughed dryly. "Elementary… Moriarty outwitted me completely. It was my outright defeat at his hands. I've got a lot of pondering to do."
"As long as you don't turn to your other substances to help you through it," Babbage hoped vainly. This was Holmes. It was only inevitable. "But that's not a topic to be voiced during a celebration."
Holmes nodded as he glanced back to the dispersing crowd. Some were starting to walk past them and even offered a pat on the back or two. Babbage chuckled as Jack and Nursery Rhyme hugged the detective by the legs. They held their snuggle even as Atalanta moved to coax them away. She slowed to a stop and blinked in surprise when Achilles stepped ahead of her. "I'm sure you're comfortable and happy, but I made a promise, remember? How about we go find those extra desserts?"
Their eyes flashed with blinding happiness that made Babbage chuckle. They cheered together, "Sundaes! Sundaes!"
They raced off quickly after a parting goodbye, and Achilles nodded to the two of them. Babbage observed a bit longer as the rider walked off, Atalanta quietly caught up to him after a small wave. "You've been surprisingly good with my girls… I'm impressed."
"I don't think I'm that great…" Achilles replied quietly with a small shrug. "It's just hard to say no to them, you know? They're just kids."
"Hmm… I guess," Atalanta hummed quietly in thought, which made Achilles turn to her. His eyes widened in slight surprise as the green-haired archer tossed a small, appreciative smile his way, then sped up her pace after the skipping girls. His own smile grew behind her back as he scratched the back of his head.
When they were out of earshot, Babbage and Holmes looked around at those who still lingered. Though the room was emptying, Karna's curious and calm stare in particular made the detective glance back to Babbage with a chuckle. "So many welcomes… Now then. I presume the masters are the one who give the tours. So should I expect that after dinner or tomorrow?"
His voice and chuckle was so carefully constructed, it very well may have fooled Karna. It seemingly did since the lancer no longer paid any attention, but rather moved to stop Ibaraki and Raikou from squabbling again; Poor Kintoki looked like he needed the help. However, though Holmes tone, expression, and posture told no lies, Babbage got the hidden message just fine.
"Indeed they do, but if you'd like, I can show you around a bit. I feel we have much to discuss about since we last met. Maybe even something to celebrate over?"
"Possibly so!" Though Holmes laughed genuinely, the telepathic message, weaved between their small talk, was a stark contrast. "...But my findings certainly aren't one. I'd like Da Vinci to hear this too."
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ IX ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
Their secret meeting later that night turned the once calm, cool air into a frigid chill. Under the warm lighting of her workshop, Holmes stood off to the side, eyeing some of Da Vinci's smaller models and paperwork. Lord El-Melloi II sat nearby in a subtle pinstriped three-piece suit. Though it was unlit, his hand was fiddling with an uncut cigar as Babbage hissed gently with steam beside his table. David was noticeably absent, but the Chaldean Director would likely fill him in if she deemed it appropriate.
At her own chosen desk, Da Vinci was rigid. Babbage hadn't seen her face so stern since the UN Convoy was shot down over a month ago. It made her bright blue evening dress feel dim as it clashed with the concern in her eyes. Behind those legendary eyes, Babbage could see the algorithms, calculations, and possibilities running wild, just as they did in his mind. It was only logical.
She breathed her tension out like a territorial dragon. "…2017? You're absolutely certain about this?"
"No question. The calculations from Babbage's engines were consistent, but he requested I double-check." Holmes gently spun the pipe in his hand. "My visit to Atlas confirmed the date as well. Two matching clues from indisputable sources."
"I figured it'd be more than remnants," El-Melloi scowled quietly. "The countermeasures would naturally keep human history on course… but something still persists that can actually defeat them. That's unsettling. We only just defeated Goetia."
"Do you know what it might be?" Da Vinci asked straight. In truth, Babbage hoped for a solid answer too. No beating around the bush. That fluff was best saved for an introduction speech to a proven prototype, not information pertaining to a potential apocalyptic crisis.
"…I'm afraid I can't tell. I have a deduction, but I lack the evidence." That was an answer Babbage wasn't hoping for.
It made Da Vinci narrow her eyes. "Please reassure me you're not keeping information from us on purpose."
"Unfortunately, he's not keeping it from you intentionally, Da Vinci. It's merely Holmes' modus operandi," Babbage declared, and Holmes glanced to him in appreciation. "If he's not fully confident on the answer, he won't air guesswork. It's akin to our work as inventors and geniuses. We don't present calculations, experiments, and results that we're not certain is correct."
"You'll have to forgive me for being more stringent on that with this recent failure of mine," the detective offered, and though Da Vinci remained troubled, her gaze lightened. She mouthed a quiet apology, which he merely waved away as unnecessary. "I'll be looking into it further during my stay, but the absolute fact remains. Something is going to happen that will cause human history to vanish after the thirty-first of December next year."
"…At least we have more than a year to prepare for another apocalypse…" El-Melloi commented dryly, and earned an equally dry sigh from the director. "Sarcasm aside, we shouldn't sit idle on this information. We should prepare for the worst while we have the time."
"Then we're telling everyone presently residing within Chaldea?" Babbage asked directly. The pause of silence was enough hesitation for him to continue. "I am aware this is something that shouldn't be kept from the others, but there is a threat of leaked information."
"The Clock Tower and the UN…" El-Melloi began with a small nod of understanding. "It's understandable they'd want to know about the worst, but the more outside who know, the more it could possibly leak. If the culprits are among them, we lose the element of surprise."
"Yet we lose trust and confidence by keeping information from them," Da Vinci presented calmly with a sigh. "Which would mean the Vigil garrison and the Clock Tower team have to be kept in the dark, but can we really trust some of our servants not to spill the beans?"
"Which is why you could only present part of the truth as compromise should anything be leaked. That's what you're considering, correct?" Holmes deducted as he glanced to Da Vinci. Her small smile slowly returned as he nodded in understanding. "Instead of saying, Humanity will vanish in 2017… There's no lie in saying you are looking into a possible threat that year. It buys time to form a concrete conclusion, but that shouldn't cause suspicion over stronger safety measures being developed."
"I mentioned at dinner we were already working on two," Da Vinci began, and Holmes quickly nodded in curiosity. "The problem is there's a lot of missing information and variables for our theories. Simply moving Mount Meru to and from the Sea of Imaginary numbers isn't an easy task."
"It would be our equivalent of landing a man on Saturn," Babbage concluded.
"But it's possible. Chaldea has done it before," Holmes reassured as his smile grew. "And a renowned detective just happened to take up residence, no? I don't think you'll mind if I partake in this fun puzzle after closing my recent case. I'd like an office and room too, if I'm allowed to be greedy."
El-Melloi nodded to him, but Da Vinci stared with a small smile. "Reasonable requests, but I'll have to see about that office… But you're certain you'll find a way?"
"Why… elementary, my dear." Holmes smirked lightly, which made her smile brighter; It was only calculated he was going to say that. She clearly just wanted to hear it, and truthfully, so did Babbage. There was a layer of hope that always coated his signature phrase. "It may take me some time depending what I have access to, but there is a way, and I will find it for you. And as a gift, no less. You may consider it an apology of sorts for my initial mistrust over Roman…"
"It was reasonable. He was like a servant hiding his true name," Da Vinci reassured, though her smile held a tinge of loss. "I'm sure he'll forgive you when he comes back. You can apologize to him with a cheesecake. He loves those."
"I'll keep that in mind then," Holmes nodded. "Now, I trust there are other countermeasures being considered? More failsafes, servants… possibly new masters?"
"We brought that last one up after the Shinjuku landing mishap," El-Melloi answered. "The resident servants favor the idea, but the number should still be kept small. It helps our current three seem to have luck on their side… especially our wild card."
"Ah, yes. Miss Rutherford does seem to get herself into the craziest predicaments. Often by choice," Holmes chuckled and wafted away some tension. "Have you marked out any prospects among new employees? I heard you gave everyone compatibility scans when they first arrived. Disguised as checks for possible headaches, you said?"
"It wasn't exactly a lie, mind you. Tyler has negative compatibility and gets headaches around leyshift activations, so I was being honest," Da Vinci smiled with a hum. "But, you're correct. I've been keeping my eyes peeled choosing staff, and we actually had two fully compatible candidates arrive."
Holmes quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. Babbage asked for them both, "You were keeping it secret?"
"They're not exactly qualified candidates," El-Melloi answered. Babbage's mind immediately came up with the conclusion; They were easy calculations. It simply meant they were prohibited become masters for a host of possible reasons. El-Melloi offered one reasoning anyway. "Would you, in your right mind, make a baby a master?"
"Little Giovanni has a hundred percent…" Babbage pondered quietly, then jested. "…At least Miss Elsa doesn't have to worry about medical complications."
"A potential master for the far future… Something to look forward to," Holmes noted with a light chuckle. "But that leaves the issue with number two."
"Oh, but that's someone I'm afraid we can't tell just yet~…" Da Vinci countered with her sing-song smile. There was even the glint of satisfaction in her crystal eyes.
Holmes blinked, then concluded the same thing as Babbage did: This was her little way of getting back at him. The detective chuckled, "Ahhhh… Yes. Of course. Deduction, deduction, deduction… And a fun little guessing game for me to solve myself!"
"I'm glad we see eye to eye then," Da Vinci winked, and even Babbage chuckled. He'd have to give it some thought, but maybe the limiting factor with this one could be surpassed; If not, there was always the world to search for more. If he were a social butterfly, he may have dropped the hint to Marie. But he was far from that, so that growing rumor would be started by one of the other three.
'86.73% probability Da Vinci teases it to Marie in the future.' He didn't need his internal Difference Engine to tell him that was likely the case.
With the slight pause in their conversation, Babbage felt the room had lightened. The uncertain tension over the future remained, but they had a long time to prepare the growing number of defensive measures. Nearly fifteen months looked like an eternity compared to what they accomplished recently.
El-Melloi was the first to stand as he pocketed his cigar. "If there's nothing more to discuss, I'll be taking my leave. I could use a smoke after all this."
"A fine suggestion," Holmes agreed as he glanced at his empty, unsmoked pipe. He then looked to the caster after a gentle release of steam. "Care to join me, Sir Babbage? I do believe all our chats have been business related, and that could use some remedying."
Indeed they have been. That was often the nature among geniuses and intellectuals. If not bragging about their grand designs or visions, they were collaborating and networking to make them reality. Like a small walk, a light topic among intellectuals was an uncommon delicacy. One with the great Sherlock Holmes even more so.
The thought of turning this down was improbably low to begin with. "I concur."
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ X ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
It was a peaceful night for a walk. The moon was out in its full glory, speckling the resort in gentle moonlight kisses that glittered on scattered grains of fine sand. It flickered off gently lapping waves as the resort remained comfortably still. The gentle crash of waves was its heartbeat, and the only lulling whisper swirling in the still air.
Yet, they didn't walk, rather Babbage and Holmes remained at the boardwalk railing just outside of Club Cove. Their conversation had risen and fallen like the gentle waves, but there was no discomfort. Babbage, who usually bored of conversation for the sake of it, remained content to stay anyway. He'd usually bid farewell and walk away, but he was compelled to stay, even if he'd rather be working.
Holmes had turned out to be quite the engaging storyteller, and so, Babbage didn't mind he did most of the talking.
Yet, there was a new pause between tales as they stared curiously to the distant peak. For the briefest moment, there was a flicker of ethereal white garments like a winter's breath. A beautiful, long-haired woman appeared to stare out over the artificial ocean. But moments of serene bliss later, she smiled like a snowy sunset, then faded away like a distant dream. It even sent a small chill through the steam-warmed caster.
Holmes hummed and puffed on his pipe. "Chaldea has a shy moongazer among its servants?"
"That may have been Chaldea's ghost tale. I always thought it was just a silly story," Babbage admitted, but barely thought much more of it. "Some conclude it's just Shiki sleepwalking."
"Sounds like a fun little mystery to solve…" Holmes mumbled to himself with a tiny smile. "Maybe Miss Kyrielight would like to join me sometime… But she's a case herself."
"Do you always have new cases on the mind?"
"Do you see glimpses of your vision over everything?" His point was deadly accurate. Babbage's eye stared to Holmes, who merely puffed on his cigar again and chuckled. "It's only to be expected, and nothing to feel ashamed of. It's just the focus of intellectuals that lead to great achievements."
That didn't need to be said, but he vented steam in agreement anyhow. With another puff of his cigar, Holmes turned to him with a smile. "Where were we… Ah. Yes. You wished to know of a case where Mister Jekyll assisted me? They were never properly chronicled by Doyle. A shame, really. He was always an upstanding philanthropist who wishes to bring out the good in people. I'm not terribly surprised he's courting Crown Prince Mordred."
"Many were at first," he commented simply.
"I no doubt see why. A curious match that shouldn't work at its basis, but it does. Like Miss Atalanta with Jack the Ripper, for example. There was no doubting the genuine love I witnessed in Shinjuku. Nor Miss Raikou's overwhelming affection for Kintoki, and how he keeps a strangely stable peace between her and his lover… Truly, Chaldea is confounding."
Standing quietly, he allowed Holmes to voice his thoughts and tangents yet again. He wondered if this was what Watson often dealt with. "Of all the cases and mysteries, the intricacy of this place sits among the top. Boudica not openly resenting Nero… Ishtar free from violent retribution from Gilgamesh and Enkidu. The situations are endless, but they're all clues to the same conclusive stability. This community shouldn't have come into being, yet here it stands, with or without an insurmountable threat to hold it together. Truly an enigma."
"Is that part of the reason you wish to stay? To observe us?"
Holmes chuckled. "I can't lie! It's part of it, certainly. I want to piece together this puzzle for myself, as you've all done for yourselves… But I've got plenty of time to review mysteries large and small. I'm afraid I can't do much else with my saint graph in such poor condition."
"You could always relax for once. You've more than earned a vacation."
"Ah, but Sir Babbage, there lies the cusp of the problem," Holmes began as he puffed on his cigar with a twinkle in his eye. "If one loves their work and pursues their dream, do you truly work a day in your life?"
A debatable philosophy logically, but there was no need to calculate the whimsical meaning. It just served as more justification towards Babbage's labor-intensive vision. Holmes smiled. "So we find ourselves on the same page. Excellent, but we've also found ourselves on yet another winding tangent... Where were we again? Ah, yes. A case with Jekyll. There are plenty that remained unwritten, but he took a far more supportive role than compared to even Watson. Sometimes it would be as simple as keeping an ear open, but there was one case in particular he played a central role."
Holmes took a puff of his pipe again, and blew out gently with a starker expression. "…Yes. The one involving himself and that idealized concoction. I've always felt Moriarty had a hand in that tragedy. It had that same modus operandi as the others. Precise intent, no clues… It was a particularly disheartening case that was closed with no conclusive ties to a culprit. A tragedy to lose a colleague like that... I sometimes played violin with him on warm afternoons between cases… Hm, yes. I should ask him about that. I heard Mozart and a few others enjoy playing. Does he join them sometimes?"
Babbage withheld a sigh. Indeed. Holmes was quite the engaging storyteller… when he actually told the story in the first place.
¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨(¯ˆ·.¸ XI ¸.·ˆ¯)¨·..·¨·..·¨·..·¨
'Note to self: Casual conversation must be steered when in the presence of Holmes.'
It had been a roundabout talk in the resort, but it still planted fresh seeds of friendship. Time slipped away in small talk, but in the end, it didn't feel squandered. Hours spent away from his work would be made up for by their newest ally. It was improper for a genius and inventor to justify 'slacking' in that manner, but there was a logical excuse this time. If anyone could save them time and solve the puzzle, it was Holmes.
That didn't mean he would stop pitching in. Far from it. 'But not right now.'
Instead, though he remained routinely in his office, his pleasant mood had dictated the course. The monitors above his desk were filled with equations and algorithms, but were currently ignored. His ever-calculating mind was distracted, and the only answer was to appease it. So, without question, he did.
As the phonograph in the corner sang out a classic masterpiece from Salieri, his hand was carefully guiding the enlarged pencil across his desk. With every new line, the sketched design for his next theoretical invention took form. It wasn't looking beautiful, but function always took priority on a prototype's first renditions. That applied doubly so for a portable steam generator that could fit into cars. No doubt, no matter where his thoughts led that day, they always arrived back at his forming vision.
The thoughts of an uncertain future rested away from his mind. He'd been given a confirmation to his answer, but he wasn't gripped by the crippling concern he felt on that day. He'd been alone then, but now he was amongst colleagues and allies that had proved their mettle against the greatest of odds. They'd see this next threat through again; Of that, there needn't be any calculations to prove it.
Babbage just hoped it could be prevented before it occurred, if partially so he may commence work earlier on a prototype town for his wonderful believers.