Chapter 4- Fluctuat nec mergitur

"It floats and doesn't sink."

December 12, 1894, Wednesday

Haste denies all acts their dignity.

Unless, Robert added, hastily clasping the buttons on his waistcoat together, All dignity has already been lost. And it had. Or perhaps he was being capricious, because his face would go unshaven this very cold and early morning. If last week had been incident free, barring that minor fluctuation of Locke Center reactors, then this week certainly made up for it. The past five days were a frenzied blur of late-night telegrams, inspections throughout the city, and hours spent adjusting and reworking formulas. A cold front on the tails of the snowstorms last week had brought along a frost that threatened more than just stark weather. When the temperatures dropped, and the reactors began to ice over, so would the city. Rosalind's curiosity with the vigor had only made the numerous developments much more difficult to handle. With her hands in bandages as they healed, much of the legwork had fallen to him.

Let it not be said then, by Dante or anyone else, that he was diminishing his quality of work simply because he had thrown his utmost attention into it and not into the sharpness of his appearance today. How fitting the prose was from the second book of his Comedy, because to his exhausted eyes, their Paradise was Purgatory.

The bell pull rang again for the third time in five minutes. Certainly, their residence was the only one in Columbia where the hired help had to notify the owners they were needed.

He rapped quickly at Rosalind's bedroom door across from his. "I'm ready. Do you need help?" He waited for her reply, noticing his shirttail hung over the top of his trousers. Robert made a small grumble as he shoved it into neatness. Instead of her voice came footsteps, and the door flung open.

To his surprise, she was almost fully dressed. Over these five days, he'd helped her get dressed, amongst other things, since she was limited in her ability to perform actions that required fine dexterity; simple things like buttons on blouses, ties, and corset lacings. The arrangement had never been uncomfortable—she was always modestly dressed—but it was a new set of limits they had created. He was still dressing a woman—even if the woman was himself.

She scowled at him, as she did then, slipping the tongue of her tie into a knot. "I can manage," she said, finishing it. It was slow and loose, and he itched to straighten it for her-

"-Go! I'll meet you downstairs."

"Right," he nodded, already heading to the stairs. He looked over his shoulder at her. "And if it's an emergency?" As it probably was this early in the morning.

"I won't be too long, but if it is, go without me. Take Miss Marlowe if she's down there," she waved dismissively.

Robert raised an eyebrow, but nodded as he continued down the stairs, two at a time. Mother would have chided how very proletarian it was, but surely even she would give pardon to his habit when a city was falling from the heavens. At the last flight of stairs, he took to adhering to a more appropriate stride, though still just as urgent. He straightened his waistcoat and tie, and pushed the parlour door open.

"Mr. Lutece!" Miss Marlowe all but exclaimed at his entrance into the foyer. "I apologize for the constant ringing, but there's a bit of an emergency." She gestured discreetly at the two gentlemen also standing in the room.

He noticed them fully at the opposite side of the front desk. "My deepest apologies, gentlemen. Have you been waiting long?"

By their appearance, it was difficult to discern. They were well-dressed, as he was, and also unshaven and unrefreshed. The older man had the weary expression of a father who'd had not a wink of sleep last night in his worry over his family. He gave him a smile as tight as his hands gripping his hat.

"No, we have not, Mr. Lutece. Please accept our apologies for the premature hour. I'm Melchoir Sinclair, and this is my son Percy," he said, introducing the other man.

Robert nodded at both of them. "A pleasure to meet you both, though I regret the circumstances. You have an emergency?" he prodded.

"Yes," Mr. Sinclair replied. "Trouble with our reactor. It's a singular residence. I've told Miss Marlowe the problem. Perhaps, she could relay it better to you?"

He looked to her for assistance and she in turn looked to Robert.

"Go ahead," he said.

She smiled in gratitude and handed him a note card for which she narrated. "Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Percy, arrived at 6:45-" At this, he glanced briefly at the clock. Fifteen minutes ago. "-With the concern that their residence was listing several degrees. I've noted their location, square footage of their building, time of the incident. The severity of it in such a short amount of time is cause for concern."

"Hmm, yes," he agreed, scanning her neat handwriting. Her notes were very thorough and concise. He could actually work off an estimate of the reactor decay rate from it. It wasn't good. "Is this the only incident?"

"The most recent," Miss Marlowe said. She returned to the desk and he saw other telegrams arranged there. "These have come in throughout the night and early this morning. They were on the doorstep and I've sorted their urgency as best I could."

Robert examined her triage, which was just as thorough, and he was impressed. This was work he expected from an assistant who'd been working here for months.

"You've done excellently, Miss Marlowe. If you'll gather these and put on your coat, we'll head right away to help the Sinclairs."

Her eyes widened. "I'm going with you?"

"Yes. I could really use your help today. Is that a problem?"

"Oh no! I don't mind at all," she said, gathering the cards.

"Good," he said, leaning into the parlour to grab his own coat off the hanger. "You'd best grab a notebook."

The Sinclair Residence he could see, even from the distance he was at, was in a state of trouble. It hung forlornly in the air like a balloon that had diffused much of its helium. He, Miss Marlowe, Mr. Sinclair, and his son headed towards the five-storey house on a Science Authority barge. Much of the deck space was occupied by the large deicing machine, and as such, the four of them stood rather closer than would be acceptable as the unusually cold air blasted them on the open deck. As they neared, Robert reluctantly pulled his hands from his pockets and opened his notebook. His assessment would begin in the same way he did all the others; an encompassing inspection of the reactor, readings from the reactor itself, then a course of action to rectify the problem. Usually it was another round of deicing.

"There's already another barge there," Miss Marlowe pointed out.

He looked up from his notes. "An Authority barge?" Glancing at Mr. Sinclair, he asked,"Did you put in a request for a deicing?" Such requests were only approved if he'd done a previous inspection, and this was his first visit here.

The gentleman looked just as confused as he was. "Er, no. We headed straight to your laboratory, per the city-wide notice."

"Father," Percy murmured, "I think that may be Leander."

Mr. Sinclair shifted uncomfortably. "Ah, my son," he clarified. "He's a chemist for the Authority. He mentioned he was working on…something." He looked to his other son for help.

"-A deicing compound. He'd been working on it, but we didn't think he'd have anything so quickly."

"Do forgive my son's presumptuousness, Mr. Lutece."

Robert gave a polite smile. Though he had slight annoyance with the interference, he recognized on Mr. Sinclair's face the same expression he'd seen on his own parents—embarrassment that came from having a very brilliant and precocious child. If the young man was anything like he was, the opportunity to have his work and ideas noticed by an established scientist was sure to be appreciated. And, if Leander's compound helped in the slightest, he'd appreciate it as well.

"It's fine. I'm interested in the results of his work."

Both Sinclair men looked skeptical, but gave him their thanks. He told their pilot, Mr. Thompson, to bring them close to the other barge. There were three men on the ship, two in the attire of Authority workmen. Leander Sinclair, though he shared the same angular features as his father and brother, was fairer in hair, and he called to them as the barges aligned.

"Father!" he waved, open expression changing into one of excitement when he caught sight of Robert. "Mr. Lutece!" He all but scrambled across the decks to shake his hand, the coldness of which seeped through both their gloves. "I did not think you would join us so early."

Percy nearly scoffed at his brother. "Did you not think that he would arrive with his own methods of correcting the problem as well?"

"Boys," Mr. Sinclair warned.

Robert cleared his throat. As uncomfortable and familiar as this scene was to him, he'd like to move on to a problem he could actually fix.

"Is this barge equipped with your new compound?" he asked Leander.

"Yes. Actually, it's the same deicing solution you've been using, only I've added a solute to depress the freezing-point even lower."

Interesting. Indeed, if it worked, this very well could be an end to their troubles. "Have you tested it?"

Leander glanced at his father and brother, before answering, "Not on something as large as a reactor, no."

"But you have tested it?"

"On smaller items."

"That's fine, we can discuss it as I work." He turned to Mr. Sinclair and Percy. "My inspection may take some time, you're welcome to wait here or in a much warmer place."

Mr. Sinclair said, "Thank-you. We'll be waiting in the O'Hare residence." He pointed out the building.

With that, Robert ushered Miss Marlowe and Leander onto the other barge. They descended into a slow orbit around the house. He saw the young man shiver, and he was unsure if it was from the cold or excitement.

"Well," he started, rubbing his hands together. "I didn't expect to have such fine company today. "This is Miss Marlowe, my assistant," he introduced.

Leander eagerly shook her hand."Quite the pleasure to meet you Miss Marlowe, though I must ask, are you of the same relation to Mr. Charles Marlowe?"

She smiled, but Robert could see it a bit forced. "He's my uncle. But please, you may call me Gwendolyn."

"And you may call me Leander," he said, catching on with a wry smile. "Mr. Sinclair is my father. And brother, sometimes. Though he's hoping to make that Dr."

"Is your father a man of science as well?" Robert asked. If both his sons were, surely he was?

"He's a Professor of Grammar and Literature."

"Ah." That did explain why he was uncomfortable explaining certain things earlier. He smiled. "Well, his concern for your work stems only from his misunderstanding. Perhaps we can change his mind today."

"I really appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Lutece," Leander said. There was an eagerness in his eyes he did not see present in the man's father and brother.

"And I appreciate the possibility of a more permanent solution. It is rather cold during the winter. Are you ready, Miss Marlowe?"

She nodded.

"Very well. I'll dictate."

They circled the underbelly of the Sinclair residence. From observation alone, one could see that ancillary quadrant reactors I and IV were performing at a rate lower than the other two, consequently causing the building to list. This was atypical of most of the problems he'd been encountering all week. The Lutece Field, when activated, over-layed onto the Newtonian Gravitational Field, decelerating the field gradient and nullifying interaction between an object and the Earth. What was happening because of the weather, however, was that efficiency fell below normal because the reactors iced over, and the laws of gravity came into effect again.

This in turn caused buildings to sink. While this was cause for alarm, any building—or vehicle, for that matter- with a reactor floating within the Lutece Field would never fall to the ground. They were suspended indefinitely—so long as the reactors continued to work, and they would never completely ice over. At their very core, they were contained suns. The problem that he suspected here was that I and IV somehow became more iced than II, III. Probably their energy line to the main reactor.

All this, he explained to his company who nodded their heads, or in the case of Miss Marlowe, recorded, whether they comprehended it all or not.

Afterwards, he had the barge hover alongside the main reactor so he could gather readings from the instruments. He really disliked this part of his inspection because it demanded he walk on a sliver of a catwalk. Other men might grin at the clouds beneath their feet, but his frozen fingers and dress shoes don't give him nearly enough purchase to enjoy the feeling. Nor does being buffeted by the icy slipstream between the large, stout hulks of steel. It reminded him of the hull of a ship on the cold Atlantic.

Finally, after several harrowing steps, he reached the instrument panel. Above the wind, he could hear glimpses of the conversation between Leander and Miss Marlowe.

"Have you worked with the Luteces long?"

"About three weeks, now. Though it feels like much longer."

Robert grinned, jotting down the numbers from the altimeter. A year had only passed since he came over and it felt like a lifetime ago. Two lifetimes ago, if he took into account Rosalind's memories.

He checked the output levels. Only slightly below normal.

"I imagine it must be fantastic," Leander continued. "I don't see them at all in my division, except at the department meetings. To work this close with Mr. Lutece, even if I'm just here for the ride, is a bit unreal."

"This is actually my first assignment in the field with them."

"Well, how about that! I'd have never guessed. You look very proficient."

"It's stimulating; only jotting down notes, but I feel like a girl on Christmas."

Light laughter bounced off the ice and metal.

Well, at least he hadn't bored his companions. With his readings, he started his careful trip back. Robert swore the gangway width was inconsistent between each reactor; probably shortcuts taken during their construction. On the ground, they may have looked fine, but up here, every centimeter and lack thereof was sorely noticed. The wind blew suddenly. He steadied himself with a hand against the side of the reactor, fingers brushing against the embossed inscription. FLVCTVAT-NEC-MERGITVR. A fitting reminder that the laws of gravity still applied to him if he fell.

Leander extended a hand to assist his transition from the catwalk to the stability of the barge, even though in his mind he knew he'd never feel safest until he was back into the warmth of his house.

Robert sniffed and rubbed his hands again to bring heat to his fingers. "Note a five meter decrease in altitude from Buoy-2, and a twenty-three percent decrease in energy balance between the main and quadrants I and IV," he told Miss Marlowe.

"How does it fare, Mr. Lutece?" Leander asked.

"It fares well," he answered in all honesty. "A deicing process should rectify the problem in a few short hours. Now, on the consent of your father, I'm willing to test your compound. It will go on one of the two ancillary reactors that were problematic. Results will be gathered tomorrow morning to see how effective it is. I'll leave it to you to gather and finalize all your work for a more formal presentation to both my lab and to the Authority."

If there was a happier person that frigid morning in Columbia than Leander Sinclair, Robert would have loved to meet them.

He and Miss Marlowe headed back to the Lab, even though they still had three other incidents to inspect. The new turn of events at the Sinclair Residence was grounds for informing Rosalind immediately—and he should like to warm up and grab some breakfast before returning to work.

Apparently, all it took to convince the patriarch of the Sinclair family to use his son's experimental solution was Robert's own word. Dangerous as that was, to take a man's word simply because of his position, he was none the less very pleased that he and Rosalind were in such a position to garner that kind of trust. It made for things to go on quite smoothly. There were only a few men citywide, perhaps only two, who would challenge them otherwise.

"Very glad that's over," he started, not really intending to talk about anything in particular, only to distract himself from the wind whipping them on the barge.

Miss Marlowe smiled and nodded silently. To her breast she clutched the work notebooks he had entrusted to her. Her posturing made him consider what was so unique about her. This was her third week with them, the longest anybody had and would be tolerated.

She enjoyed working with them? She had mentioned it to Leander, one of her peers. The impression he had of the both of them, however, was that they were not ones who cared to blend into societal norms. Perhaps that was it?

"I really do appreciate your help today, Miss Marlowe. And so does Rosalind. I understand it is quite early."

"Thank-you. I am very grateful for the opportunity." She looked thoughtful for a moment, her mouth pulling into a frown. "I'm not being presumptuous?"

It was quite an odd question. One who was presumptuous did not usually ask if they were. He wondered if Mr. Sinclair and his sons had sparked the notion. Robert looked at her seriously. "Do you feel presumptuous?" He did not think she was.

She sighed. "I have been told that I am. I do not wish to be so at your or Madame Lutece's expense."

There was a sudden understanding he garnered, perhaps from gaining Rosalind's memories, that there was also a subtle implication to Miss Marlowe's concerns. She shared the same gender as Rosalind, and like his other self, there was also the connotation of a name and how it preceded them regardless of their control.

"You are not," he assured, though it did not seem to placate her. "And," he said delicately, "I hope you don't take this as a presumption, but would you prefer it if we addressed you by your first name?"

His own question must have struck a chord with her, because her expression changed to something more agreeable. "That would be great, yes."

He smiled. "Good."

The Lab was not far from the Sinclair house, it being on the East end of Emporia, and he had Mr. Thompson drop them off in the plaza right in front of it. Activity was thankfully minimal on account of the weather. Robert let himself imagine Rosalind had put the kettle on earlier, and it was ready to be poured into a cup, steam bringing feeling back to his lips and nose. His stomach grumbled. Maybe an extra lump of sugar as well.

No sooner had they walked up the porch steps and back into the foyer, and a collection of telegrams was handed to him, and Rosalind sent them back out again.

He had a terrible feeling today was going to be a very long day. He wondered if Gwendolyn would feel the same about taking notes.

A/n:

Fleshing out this world and creating characters is quite a doozy. The kind of job the Luteces have in regards to Columbia and its daily function would have been busy, especially in the early years as they learned all the aches and pains of a new city.

Deep questions this chapter:

-Will Robert get his tea this morning? Poor guy. He works so hard.

-And Miss Marlowe. Hrmmm. Murder of Crows is released in 1895…

Some trivia while doing research:

-The rubber balloon was invented in 1824 by Michael Faraday, an English scientist known for his studies on electromagnetism.