The Endangered Ones

by sirvictor

This tale has 6 POVs: Simon: The son of a wealthy Art Filmmaker who wants out of his father's influence Archie: An aspiring reporter playing a dangerous game Wilhelmina: An amateur chemist who, during a journey of self-discovery, happens upon something dangerous Luis: The son of a wealthy family who is trying to deliver a strange package Kaho: a cleaner and an unknown being

The Endangered Ones

Table of Contents:

A Forward

Stinger 1: Unknown

Prologue 2: Kaho Hiiragi

Chapter 1: Simon Winchester

Chapter 2: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 3: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Stinger 2: Unknown

Stinger 3: Luis El Bridget

Chapter 4: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 5: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 6: Simon Winchester

Chapter 7: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 8: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 9: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 10: Simon Winchester

Stinger 4: Luis El Bridget

Chapter 11: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 12: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 13: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 14: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 15: Simon Winchester

Stinger 5: Unknown

Chapter 16: Simon Winchester

Chapter 17: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 18: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Table of Contents (Cont'd)

Chapter 19: Simon Winchester

Chapter 20: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 21: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 22: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 23: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 24: Simon Winchester

Chapter 25: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 26: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 27: Simon Winchester

Chapter 28: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 29: Simon Winchester

Chapter 30: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 31: Simon Winchester

Chapter 32: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 33: Simon Winchester

Chapter 34: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 35: Simon Winchester

Chapter 36: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 37: Simon Winchester

Chapter 38: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 39: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 40: Simon Winchester

Chapter 41: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 42: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Chapter 43: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Chapter 44: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Stinger 6: Unknown

Closing Remarks

A Forward

Hello. My name is unimportant, and as such, I would prefer to remain anonymous, if that is all right. Presented here is a tale reconstructed from several excerpts from at least six different diaries, one of whom does not identify themselves, and appears to be more cryptic than anything else, another of whom I recognize all too well. He is a man who has tormented me for much of my upbringing, and as such I will not be mentioning his name here, as to maintain my sanity. It cost me a great deal of willpower simply to mention his name in the table of contents. I discovered these entries whilst I was searching through the derelict Chevalier Corporate Headquarters for a man whom I was deeply concerned for. Although I admittedly suffer from Haphophobia (simply put, a fear of touching or being touched), He was kind enough to lend a helping hand. I am grateful for it, though I am reluctant to admit this. Regardless, he fled my sight, purloining my blade, Nova Blood, whilst I was sleeping, recovering from a cold, and fleeing to this laboratory, for reasons I cannot comprehend. I still search for him even now. However, I feel that this tragic tale of fear, shame, and anger, deserves to be told. Personally, I am rather…intrigued by this tale. I can especially relate to Wilhelmina. She seemingly shares my pain. The emotional pain, not the trauma, mind you. Without further commentary, I present to you a tale which I refer to as…The Endangered Ones.

Unknown

We all live in a world of make-believe. Let us be honest about this. If only for a moment. A paradise built on land, but we make sure to keep it on the land, defending it from those who would dare to stop us. A paradise in the Sceptered Isles, kept from the sea, as waves crash far below the long, outstretched sidewalks. We built this. We built cars, we built hotels, we built resorts, and we made money. We built the machine. We built it. A decision was made to create…and create we did. Rules. Laws. Social circles. Social strata. It is all man made. All for the sake of scientific exploration. From our grand ambitions. It is all but a desire. But it can still ruin you. The things we build, they can still kill you…

Prologue: Kaho Hiiragi

I always liked the late nights. I liked the empty halls, the darkness, no people scurrying around like fish in a bowl. I think to myself "It's just a job. Why do they have to get so worked up over a job?" I liked how my footsteps echoed, but I also liked putting on some music or turning on the radio and letting music play while I am cleaning up, or even relaxing. Sometimes I would dance a little. Dances can be fun. I'm not exactly Vivian Fey, but then…I am at least…decent at it. Now, that's not to say that there weren't strange things about working late, but if I know one thing, I know that people like having their secrets. Especially girls. It makes them feel special. I never understood that myself. As for me, what you see is what you get. There were secrets here in the Chevalier Corporation. Still are. I'm not an idiot, but I'm not exactly Phillip Marlowe. So I just keep on my own business. Even when the new renovation started, when they'd bought up the startup next door. Even when the pipes had started making weird noises all the time. Sometimes it sounds like a dying cat gurgling away somewhere. It was all "Never mind all that" for me. It made life interesting. New places to sweep, new offices, and new sounds, too. It took more time to clean, though, and my muscles did ache more and more these days. My mother always encouraged me that I was meant for more than just cleaning. She always encouraged me to enlist in the Nova Clash. But I wasn't ready. Not yet. I overheard conversations all the time on this job. I remember one in particular that happened recently. From what I remember, it went something like this:

"Let me explain this one more time, you bloody fools! I do not want to see a scratch on this machine when we arrive. Is that perfectly clear?!"

"Yes, of course, sir."

When I overhear conversations, I wouldn't just be standing around a corner or in the other room. No, people sometimes seemed to forget that I could hear in the first place; they would just talk or argue with me standing there, doing my job. But I didn't mind. People did what they did, the same way I did what I did. So normally, I wouldn't have thought too much of any of it, but this time was a bit different. This time, well, I could have sworn that I was listening to the booming frustration of one Luis El Bridget. And I could have sworn that he was recently fired. I could be wrong, though. Wouldn't be the first time, as my parents always pointed out. "Don't give me that! Just do your job!" I heard him say. Sure enough it was him, or at least, his blonde hair, as I crashed right into him turning a corner. "What the deuce?!" Luis yelped, backing off, as he sputtered. "Sorry." I said, casually brushing myself off. Bumping into people happened sometimes. "Kaho. You're here late." Replied Luis, glancing over his shoulder and not really making eye contact. I rarely got eye contact from people. I didn't mind it. I didn't want to get in the way. I was supposed to make the way easier, not harder, after all. "Not really." I replied. I didn't much think he would want to keep talking to me, but he just stood there, so I did my best. "Come up with a question, then, Kaho. It's not hard.", I thought to myself. "So you're back on the payroll then?" I asked him. "Beg pardon?" asked Luis. He seemed distracted. "Your job. You got your job back? Professor Aoi hired you again?" I asked. "Well, he came crawling back to me." Replied Luis, still thinking about something else. He laughed then. "We both had no choice." He continued. I nodded. I didn't understand what he meant, after all. After all, we all have choices. But people like when you nod. Sets them at ease. Luis turned then and began to walk off into the blackness of the hallway. I always liked the dark. It felt like a cozy blanket to wrap myself in, even though most people found it scary. I never understood that. There isn't anything in the dark, that isn't there in the light, after all. Most of the time. "So, you're moving the machine?" I asked Luis, as he was walking. I'd just remembered that now, and felt like asking. He stopped walking, silhouetted by the last light dangling overhead before everything was drowned in darkness. His shoulders rose, fists clenched. Now there was a man, with anger inside him, I observed. He seems quite angry. "I am unsure I understand your question." He said, somewhat tense. "You know, the huge machine that's supposed to create artificial soldiers to fight the Nova." I replied. I didn't mind cleaning up around there, but it was a bit annoying. Luis didn't turn around. He stood there, silent. I figured I should probably not say anything. I was curious about the answer. I didn't always need one. I didn't always care for one. But I knew when someone needed to answer a question, even if it was more for themselves than the person asking it. In other words, Luis El Bridget needed to answer this question. "Yes. That is correct." He finally said. "Good. I don't know how that thing works, but ever since it arrived, there's been messes everywhere. It seems like it's being dragged around the floors by lots of people. The pipes are also just out of control, leaks and noises, and I've been having a hard time fixing those stupid things. You know, I don't even understand why this machine exists at all, and no one's bothered to tell me anything—" I said, before Luis cut me off. "Yes, well, we are moving it, so you should count yourself blessed." Replied Luis, curtly. That made no sense to me. "It's not so much a question of relief…" I said before he interrupted me AGAIN. "What's done…is done." Luis solemnly replied. I'm not an idiot. There were times you knew someone needed to answer a question and then there were times you knew that someone had answered the question and that's all they were going to say. All that they needed to say. "Well…good then." I said. I gave him a curtsy then. I felt it was only polite since he came from a wealthy family. Luis kept standing under that one light. I could see the muscles under his shirt tense and relax and then tense again. He released his fists and moved his fingers, almost like he was making sure they were still working or something. Yep. He was definitely upset about something. Definitely. Then he took a step forward and disappeared into the dark. That's how it is here at night. Into the light for a moment, and then back into the dark. I guess we're saving money on electricity. These neon signs were expensive. I'd been told to keep my money where my mouth is. I was good at taking orders, which would serve me well if I do decide to enlist. I appreciated orders. I'd seen people reach into their own garbage bins and pull out tossed pieces of paper and write scientific notes on the reverse side. I'd seen lunches brought from home. I'd seen pay stubs with lower and lower amounts and empty desks. I'd seen it all. Everything. Yes. I see everything, I guess you could say. Including the machine. Including what made the "Raw Stigmata" on the floors, what dragged it far down the hallways and along the walls. You didn't think I'd seen it? Well, I see it all. I went into a small, tidy office and picked up the half-full bin. I tossed the garbage into the bag and paused at the little light on the desk. I leaned over and clicked it off. Saving money and all that. Then I went back out into the hallway, and carried on as usual. Into the light for one moment, then into the dark. I never understood much why people were so nyctophobic. There's nothing in the shadows that isn't there in the light, except when there is. And when there is, I run out of there as fast as I can. Well…that's my twenty yen.

Chapter 1: Simon Winchester

I pulled my jacket collar up around my neck and crossed my arms tightly over my chest. The air had an unexpected bite to it. There had even been frost on the windows this morning, but did that dissuade father? No, it did not. "What about the girl?" I had asked from my end of the table in our generally gloomy dining room. Light wasn't my father's favorite feature at the best of times, but some young, unexperienced architect had decided that the windows in this part of the house ought to face north. Adding to that, Father didn't enjoy large electrical bills though he could very well easily pay them, so any artificial help was left unused until after 5:00 pm in the fall. "What girl?" father said. Father hadn't looked up from the paper and stabbed at his grapefruit blindly. "The girl holding the bat. She'll freeze!" I'd said. Father had shaken his head and stabbed at his grapefruit again. It retaliated and shot back with equal force, covering his starchily pressed cravat in pink juice. That ended the conversation there as he stormed off to change.

To his credit, his lack of consideration for the girl now seemed possibly correct in a way. She stood at her on the Cricket field, holding the bat, looking as bare as a tree in autumn. If the tree had hair, that is. I didn't understand how it was possible for her not to be completely chilled to the bone without any clothes on, but I respected it for the sake of art. I turned to look at our audience watching. I hadn't at the time realized just how far father's vision was planned. The hundreds of paid locals sitting in their Sunday best in the stands made me tug even harder at my own collar. I regretted not bringing a scarf, but at least I wasn't them. At least I wasn't part of the film. I turned and wandered back toward the camera and its operators. I had been turned away once before, but I thought if I was more casual this time, as if I just happened to accidentally appear beside the two men, they might let me watch this time. They weren't taping yet anyway, yet they were still setting things up. And I told myself this time I wasn't going to ask any questions, I would just observe. I would just…". "Piss off, you nonce!" said the one holding one of the cannisters for storing the film. "But I just wanted to watch." I said. "You're getting in the way. Now FUCK OFF!" the other one said. I turned on my heel. At least the heat rising in my face from the embarrassment would keep me warm. I pretended then to have interest in the Cricket field, as if going to check on the camera had been part of a larger scheme to make sure everything was ready for the shoot. We had already finished the first scene, where she was wearing a cricket uniform. Now she had to stand naked at the same spot. I looked back at the naked girl standing casually at the field, readying the cricket bat. She looked back at me, and I felt a need to say something. Anything. To be reassuring even if she seemed perfectly at ease. "Everything is just fine!" I said with a wave. She smiled and nodded. She was a sport, that one, replacing her sister last minute like this. I'd never met Wilhelmina Dorrance, but Nina was well known here in Kensington and my father had been quite keen to get her. He'd kept the brave face when learning that she was sick and her sister would be doing the swing instead. My father, Cornelius Winchester III, was such a brave man. Buying up hotels, investing in bars, shooting art films while the Nova clashes continued. "When our ladies come back, they'll need to remember what they were fighting for!" I remember my father saying. Ah yes, and that would be watered down expensive drinks and handsome men in tuxedos then? This is what this film was for. It was more than an art film. It was meant to remind everyone , not just the girls who had fought in the last Nova Clash, but their male counterparts too. And their loved ones. What it was they had sacrificed for. The chance to spend some leisurely time unwinding with other activities. To play games! To eat, drink, and be merry! To watch a girl swing a cricket bat at a ball, directing the ball to the wicket. A "tourist film" my father had called it. Hence the illusion of clothes disappearing. The height of tourist season in Kensington was June to August. People came here for the warmth, not the bitter cold wind off the ocean in mid November. So everyone had to pretend it was summer. We'd already done some shots on the streets and parks last month when it hadn't been nearly as cold. But today, well, today, he was most excited about. If anything drew a crowd, it was cricket in Kensington. Also paying people to attend did that too. I examined the field. I was always shocked by its appearance. It hardly seemed fitting from a sensible standpoint. A long gravelly, grassy field, with markings on it. I have to admit that my interests were more mechanical than structural, usually (I still really wished someone would let me play with the camera), but all of it still fascinated me. How things were made, how they worked, how pieces of a puzzle came together. I'd walk along the street staring at the buildings built at the turn of the 21st century—how did they do that with the old-fashioned tools of their day? The boardwalks jutting at the edge of Kensington Pier, into the water fascinated me as well. They'd stood there against the beating current and the salt for decades. "That's not normal." I said just then. My eyes had followed the feet of the field from top to bottom. The conspicuousness of a naked girl standing at a cricket field also made me uneasy. A fear welled up from deep inside me. "Is that normal?" I asked louder, but no one was listening. Everyone had their own tasks to manage. The fear was growing, a panic too. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. No, we had no time to panic. This was time for action. I swallowed the feeling and looked for my father, but he was standing with the producer, engaged in one of their regular heated debates. Father fancied himself a creative type, who was too pragmatic to pursue the fantastical. I glanced over at the editor of the Daily Mail standing just a little ways off, watching the whole thing go down. Father didn't need anymore bad press, but I also had more important things to worry about now. I made my way over to a lanky, young chap with red hair and freckles leaning up against the fence near the field. "Hey, uh, does that look normal to you?" I asked him. He stared at me, wide eyed. This happened to me a lot. I didn't feel like anyone of note, but I couldn't deny reality. Being the son of Cornelius Winchester III meant I was my own kind of celebrity. I hadn't done anything. I had just been born to a rich man who owned a lot of property in Kensington. "Does it seem weird that my father is having a naked girl standing on a cricket field in front of several clothed cricket players, one of whom is masturbating with a cricket ball and throwing it, while a male spectator is standing there, aroused?" I pointed, and the man turned and looked, thank goodness. "Uh…" he said, and moved toward the field. I followed him. We looked down at it, then up at each other "Yeah. Definitely weird." He said. As I thought. The fear churned inside me, but I held it at bay. "Okay, so we should point this out to someone, shouldn't we?" I asked "Mayhew!" I heard father shout. Mayhew nodded. "There are some spare bats and wickets in the shed. I can go get those." He replied. "See that you do." Father said. Mayhew ran off at a good speed and I turned and looked at my father. I didn't want to get him involved in this, but if there was something as scandalous as a naked girl standing on a cricket field in front of several people being filmed, he really ought to know. "Father, we have a problem." I said quietly. "Not now, Simon." He replied with that curt clenched-teeth response of his that I have heard far too often. "Yes, now, Father." I said, impatiently. "What's going on?" asked the producer. I wasn't exactly being subtle here and I didn't want to be. People needed to know about the potential scandal. "Is it really a good idea for Wilhelmina to be filmed naked while she is standing in front of several people, swinging a cricket bat?" I asked, grateful someone cared. "A fellow named Mayhew is getting some more bats and wickets, but maybe we should cancel the shoot?" I asked. "You sent the propmaster on some errand when we have a schedule to keep?! And who the bloody hell is Wilhelmina?!" asked my father, seething so obviously even the producer looked, taken aback. "Sometimes, one must suffer for their art. If we cancel the shoot, the audience will leave. Fetch Mayhew and do it fast!" father replied, before talking to the producer. "But think of the scandal!" I said to his retreating back. That made a few of the other fellows standing around to look at me. My father completely ignored me. Instead, he gestured at the young man standing next to the newspaper editor. "You there!" he called out. The young man looked over his shoulder and back again, and then pointed at himself. "Yes, you. First of all, stop pointing at yourself like that. Second, bring the bat to the girl!" I stared in utter confusion. The last thing we needed was a controversy right now. "Do you understand me?" I heard my father say, as I rushed back to the field. I saw Mayhew running with the props, his face as red as his hair. Good lad, Mayhew. At least someone else understood the gravity of the situation. The man looking at my father shakily nodded. "Then DO IT!" my father ordered, before I saw him heading back in my direction. So now he cared. Or now he wanted to take his anger out on someone. It didn't matter. Mayhew stared at the cricket bat in his hand and then the wickets. he looked up at me. "Don't say I didn't warn you." I said to my father, when he looked at me the way he did. "Good answer. Now help Mayhew set up the scene." Father said. I went to help Mayhew, like my father asked. Mayhew placed the wickets and gave the cricket bat to the girl. "To be fair, I tried to warn father of the potential scandal." I said to her. "He's right. Sometimes, we must suffer for our art. If it means getting our artistic reward, I'll cope with the embarrassment." She said to me. "Oh, for goodness' sake, boy! Even she understands!" I heard father shout. He was an intimidating figure, but he also looked grotesque. After Mayhew and I finished setting up, we rushed back to my father. "Right. Stand by to shoot!" announced my father. I made my way back behind the cameras and looked at the naked girl who readied the cricket bat, gripping it tightly in her hands. It was all pretend. All for show. All for the cameras. And yet there really was a naked girl swinging a cricket bat. Imagine that.

Chapter 2: Wilhelmina Dorrance

"Easy, Billie. You've got this." I said to myself. I admit, being naked on a field, holding a cricket bat does seem embarrassing, but it's all for art. It was an "Artistic Flourish" as my father called it, that my brain couldn't help but muster in the most inconvenient times. After all, I had agreed to this. I even offered. Poor Nina was just too under the weather and it wasn't fair to put her through this, and Jessie? Well, she wasn't comfortable doing nudity for films. Yet here I was, holding the bat, trying to keep warm from the stiff November breeze, as I stood there. "Is everything ok?" I called out. My attempt had gone unanswered. I arched my back slightly, and craned my neck forward to see what was going on in the crowd that gathered. The rich kid finally looked up. He held his hat in place and waved. "Everything is just fine!". I nodded, but to be perfectly clear, I didn't believe him. What did rich kids know about "fine?" What was a rich kid's definition of "fine" anyway? I figured our definitions of "fine" had to be very different. But what was I going to do? Abandon the shoot? Well, yes, that was a thing I could very easily do. But I wasn't going to. Because I was a "team player", again, as my father said. I didn't make a fuss. I did what was expected of me to get the job done There was no space in my apartment to make fusses after all. Not with Nina's unfettered narcissism, and Jessies "flower" blooming. Being promoted at work certainly was not helping there. No room for Wilhelmina Dorrance to complain. No room for Wilhelmina Dorrance to have much of a personality at all, really. "Keep your head in the game, Constance. Do the job. Get it done." I said to myself. I shifted my gaze out toward the stands. They were full, but that had been carefully orchestrated by the rich kid's dad. Mr. Winchester could pay for an audience, and he needed a full audience for his little art film, after all. This time of year, with the tourists slowly thinning out, getting locals to the stadium to watch a cricket game was not exactly without its challenges. Add "being a nobody who replaced her very beautiful sister" to the mix, and…well…when you pay the audience, it's a different kind of crowd is what I am getting at, here. They were restless. I could feel it even from all the way up here. They were cold too, like me. Mr. Winchester had likely not counted on this northerly wind for his big shoot. And unlike me, who was in her birthday suit for the sake of art, they were dressed in their Sunday best. No; not quite suitable for the current season, but light dresses and linen slacks. I was glad they were fully clothed. Nina always said when she was nervous, she would imagine her and the audience naked, but I never understood that. She clearly lacked the secondhand embarrassment gene that Jessie inherited from mother. "Oh, dear, no, no, don't think like that!" she would say in response to Nina's imagination, which of course was why she was bold enough to do such things in the first place. I said nothing, just kept my head down. I wanted to say that the thought of a whole audience of people, of all sizes and shapes and shapes and genders in their birthday suits? It made me blush, and made Jessie more uncomfortable, than less. As for me, I was content to just ignore the audience altogether. Fortunately, when one was standing naked at a cricket field as one was now, the distance from the audience was such that you could barely make out individuals. Just a frustrated mass. A blob. An anxious, waiting blob. My stomach lurched into my throat. Was there something wrong? What was all the fuss about? The possibility of controversy. "You mean a possible scandal." I heard my father's voice say in my head. Well, yes, father, that is what I meant. But I think in fancy words, even if I was in for public humiliation. I'll tell you this much: I am never helping my sister Nina out of a tight squeeze again. Next time, she's on her own. And I will be haunting the hell out of her. I looked and saw that a young man I didn't recognize came up to me. I felt strange just standing there, waiting with a bat in my hand. I supposed this is what Nina always did. "Hi." I said, awkwardly. He smiled and I figured he had to be around my age, seventeen or eighteen. But he looked tired, and what was that wonderful term? World-weary, that was the one. Like he had something heavy on his mind. "Thank you for doing this. I'm guessing Mayhew didn't show up? I said. I knew I sounded awkward. I was terrible at smalltalk. "I don't know. But they needed someone to help out." He glanced backward and took a step back. "I'm like that!" I said quickly. He furrowed his brow at me. "Like what?" he asked. "Oh, just, when someone needs help, I help. I was meaning to say that I appreciate the thought of you pointing out the possibility of controversy. That is, I understand why you came up to me." I said. Why was I still talking? I could tell from his body language that he just wanted to get it over with. "Okay." He replied. HE glanced back again. I followed his look. A small crowd, including the rich kid and his father, was standing at the edge of the field. "Look, I need to get back. Do you need help?" he asked me. A long silence followed. "Well, do you?" he asked again. "No. I'll be fine." I said. Forget the thought of a naked audience making me blush, my own words coming out of my own mouth were than effective at that. Oh, why couldn't my brain be as articulate outside my head as it was in it. Trapped in my own brain. That was how it felt sometimes. All these feelings, these frustrations, just bubbling away, unable to escape. "Need any help?" the rich kid's father called out just then. It didn't sound like a real concern. Because it wasn't It was an instruction: Get on with it. "I suppose we should get on with the shoot." I said. "I guess." He replied. Once I swung the ball at the wicket, something else unexpected will happen. "Are you all good?" asked the young man. "Oh yes. Thank you for thinking of me." I said, looking at him. "So I can go then?" He said, seemingly unsure. But of course he was—"He'd clearly never done this before." I assumed. "Yes please." I said, trying now to get into the right position to swing the bat and feeling terribly nervous. I hoped I hadn't sounded curt with my reply. Oh, dash it all, maybe I had. "My name is Wilhelmina, by the way." I said, turning as he went back. "I know." He said before turning around once more, and I felt like an idiot again, though I honestly wasn't sure why, this time. I got into position. "Whenever you're ready!" the rich kid's father said. I hated to think it, but I was pretty sure at this point that I wasn't very fond of him. "And….ACTION!" he said. Whenever I was ready, and yet it felt quite the opposite. They were ready. It was time. And was I ever nervous? No. I was supposed to call it fear. Never nerves. "Scared is not the same thing." Nina had insisted. "Scared holds you back. Nerves pushes you forward.". "Come on, Wilhelmina, you've got this. Just do the shot and then you can go home." I said to myself. The ball came flying towards me at high speed and it was milliseconds away from reaching me. I closed my eyes "Keep your head in the game, Wilhelmina. Just do the job. Get it done." And get it done, I did. I swung the bat and sent the ball flying to the wicket, knocking it down. Then the woman who had been rubbing her finger pie with the cricket ball—the one who threw the ball at me—made a flourishing gesture and flashed her breasts. In the final shot, a man wearing pope vestments stood in place, holding a cross, laughing maniacally as church organ music played. "AND CUT!" the rich kid's father said. "You did it, Wilhelmina. You got the job done." That goodness. Maybe now I can get dressed and out of this cold weather!

Chapter 3: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Let me tell you about telling a story, about narrative decisions, and point of view and what you want to say. What you really want to say. Let me tell you about shaping public opinion and leading a reader in a particular direction. Let me tell you about how even when a story is based in fact and telling the complete truth, it still has its bias. Let me tell you about journalism and integrity. Let me tell you about freezing your ass off in the middle of November while some rich folks try to pretend it's hot. Let me tell you about swinging cricket bats naked in a field. And girls who take part in such activities. And a crowd of paid spectators cheering on cue. Let me tell you about all these people and standing right there in the midst of it all and being completely and totally invisible. Oh yes, Let me tell you about that especially. How many journalists try to disappear, to observe quietly, get the story, the real story, as if their own personal stories don't affect the words they write? Let me tell you about how non of them really know what being invisible is actually like. Being from the wrong side of the tracks, as they say. Not being born to a family of writers. Not growing up with any expectations of higher education. Not graduating from high school. Just wanting to write. So you get a job in the mail room of a newspaper instead. You become a high quality errand boy. Still they don't see you. But you see everything. Until they do see you. "You there!" the man said. Me there? I was shaken from my thoughts. Probably a good thing—they were getting far too full of self pity for my tastes. I pointed at myself, aware I was me, and aware I was there, but shocked that this large man in a large winter jacket with a large fur wrap could even notice me. "Yes, you. First of all, stop pointing at yourself like that. Second, bring the bat to the girl." The man said. I stared at him for a moment. Well, that is to say, I stared in his direction. I was thinking, processing his command. I understood that there was no way he'd know I was there for journalistic reasons, but what on earth made him think I had any experience handing props was quite something else. "Do you understand me?" the man said. He spoke slower this time, like he was talking to someone who didn't speak English, or to a child, the way some adults talk to kids as if they are stupid and not just figuring stuff out. I nodded. "Then do it!" the man said. Well now, just because I understood didn't mean I had to obey him. I turned to Mr. Thomas. "Just do it, Archie. I know, I know, but let's just get this day over with already." Mr. Thomas said. "Sir, I'm a bit shy around girls." I replied. I said it hesitantly; I wasn't really keen to share this fact about myself. I found it pretty embarrassing, to be frank. After all, girls were a part of everyday life, especially in certain parts of the world. Taking care of the house for their husbands, that kind of thing. "Just do it, and I'll make it up to you." Mr. Thomas said. "I want a byline." I said quickly. I knew when to take advantage of a moment. That was certainly one thing I was good at. My uncle had instilled that in me when I was little: "You say yes to any opportunities you get. You'd better believe all those other people are.". "Archie, you know I can't give you that." Mr. Thomas shook his head sadly and that weary expression materialized on his face. I saw it a lot more these days. He was a tired man. Well, I wasn't tired. Not yet. I was young, I was newly a man myself, had the birthday presents from my little cousins to prove it. Eighteen and ready to say yes to all opportunities. Maybe not so ready to say yes to women-related opportunities, but in general, I was more than ready. "Mr. Thomas, I'm not joking here. I want a byline." I said, firmly. "You're just a kid." Mr. Thomas said, almost more to himself than anything. "I was a kid bringing you your lunch. You were the one who saw my potential. Who really saw me, didn't see through me like most, I know you see me, Mr. Thomas." I said. "Archie…" Mr. Thomas replied. "And now, as of two days ago, I'm an adult under the law. And more than that, you've always treated me fairly. I know you see something in me. You brought me here today. To watch you work and learn. So I want a byline. I'll still bring your lunch, I'll still hold your hat, but I want that byline." I continued. He was silent for a moment. I knew I was pushing things. "Where's that boy with the bat?" I heard the larger man say. Clearly I had turned invisible again. I was right here…exactly where he had seen me last. He could have looked just a foot or two to the right, but he was obviously too busy complaining that I hadn't done as he asked yet. "If I give you a byline, Archie, I can't guarantee publication. You're still green, you're still learning the trade." Mr. Thomas said, lowering his voice though no one was listening to us in the first place. "I understand, sir. But I just want the chance to prove myself. I don't expect any favors." I replied. "Like getting a byline?" Mr. Thomas replied. I couldn't help but grin, and it was okay because Mr. Thomas had this little smile curling the edge of his lips. Almost Imperceptible, but you noticed things like that when you were someone like me. "Hey, now. That's just good business. We're just making a deal." I said. "Just making a deal…Well, Archie, I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but yes, let's find you a name and get you that byline." Mr. Thomas said, reluctantly. "Thank you, Mr. Thomas. You won't regret it." I replied, excitedly. "I already do." Mr. Thomas replied, his smile growing wider. "Now you'd better get that bat to that girl, because I'm freezing my you-know-what off out here." He continued. "I think I've found the subject of my first article." I joked. "ARCHIE!" MR. Thomas yelled. I laughed and held up my hands. "Okay, Okay…" I turned and made my way back to the staging area. I didn't actually know where this cricket bat was, but I figured that it was as good a place as any to start. Sure enough, I found it, standing in a small, makeshift shed being cared for by an old, hunched man who reminded me an awful lot of Mr. Jones from my neighborhood. I walked up to him. "Hey, so I have to take the cricket bat to that girl." I said. The old man looked at me with suspicion. "So…what do I do here? Are there any bats in here, or a ball or something?" he said. I looked at the props, even though I'd been avoiding them until now. Man, there were a lot of them. Now I wasn't exactly experienced in being the propmaster. Maybe I was just obsessed with journalism. After all, how else would you explain being distracted from doing much of anything else? Made me happy to live in the future, where you could seize multiple opportunities at once. "Here. Took me awhile, but I found it. Be careful, that's the only one I have here." The old man said. "So I just…" I said, not knowing what else to say. I stared at the bat. It was well made. But it wasn't a real cricket bat. "Just take the bat to Mayhew. "The old man said. "And…you can't do this yourself because?" I asked. The old man scoffed. "Look at me, son. These folks don't want me out there in public. Besides, I get nervous around naked people. "Well, I don't have much experience as a propmaster." I thought to myself, but I didn't say it. "You'd better get going. I'm not getting in trouble because you couldn't do your job." The old man said. "I'm not!" I said quickly. "Now go." The old man finished. I calmed my nerves. I took the bat in one hand, my knuckles clenching as I held it, and I flinched slightly as I almost dropped it. But I didn't. My heart was in my throat at this point. Man, this was embarrassing feeling this way. "Just deal with it, Archie. Be a man, for God's sake!" I thought to myself. I wasn't sure what to do next so I just started to walk toward the field. Sure enough, as the old man said, Mayhew was the person to give this to. He was the propmaster after all. "About time!" I heard someone say as we materialized around the corner. I didn't look in their direction. I was focused on not screwing up. The fence at the back of the field loomed in front of me. Why was I doing this and why did it seem like this task would never end. I found Mayhew. He was a red-haired man with freckles. Mayhew quickly took the bat and ran to the naked girl waiting in the cold weather. The brunette with no clothes on was probably freezing to death in this weather but looking as sexy as any girl in her birthday suit. I looked at her and thought "How is she not completely frozen through?". "Hi." she said, suddenly. It took me by surprise. I had been so focused and was not expecting any conversation at the moment. "Hi." I replied. I smiled because I didn't want her to think I was scared about all this. The shame burned inside me. If she wasn't scared and she was about to swing this bat and hit the ball, well…I at least could pretend to be at ease. "Thank you for doing this. I'm guessing Mayhew didn't show up?" she said. I didn't know much about Mayhew. Was she making smalltalk? Out in the open? In the nude? "I don't know." I replied. "But they needed someone to help out." I said. I felt myself glance backward. "I'm like that!" she said. "Like what?" I asked, more confused than ever. "Oh, just, when someone needs help, I help. I was meaning to say I appreciate it that you helped. That is I understand why you did this." She said. Why was she still talking. I just wanted to get out of here. This was not a job I volunteered for, lady. "Okay." I said. I glanced down again, looking at the crowd gathered around the field. Why were they gathered so close? "Look, I need to go back, so do you need help?" I asked. A long silence followed. "Well, do you?" I asked, impatiently. "No, I'm fine." She finally said. Now it sounded like she didn't need me. I was hoping she would say no. I offered, though, because that's what a gentleman does, right, uncle? "Need any help?" the large man called out just then. He didn't actually sound worried, or like he was sincerely offering or anything. Likely because he wasn't. He was ordering us both to get on with it. "I suppose we should get on with the shoot." She said. She obviously understood the tone in the larger man's voice too. "I guess." I replied. I walked away from the field, backstage. My presence was probably not needed at all. I glanced as the girl positioned herself. "You all set?" I asked. "Oh yes!" she replied, looking at me with a charming smile. "Yes, thank you so much." Okay, so…now what? "I'll go then?" I asked, confused. "Yes please." She replied. Her voice was a little tight; maybe she was nervous too. Maybe I was making things more complicated for her by still being near her. "My name is Wilhelmina, by the way." She called out after me. I turned around to look at her. "I know." I said, and I continued walking. It wasn't until I reached backstage that I realize what I'd said. I hadn't known her name. Why had I said it like that? And Why hadn't I introduced myself to her as she clearly expected? It was my stupid pride. I worked so hard to hide it. I needed to. I wasn't going to get anywhere being a proud son of a bitch. But sometimes it just peeked out from its hiding spot. "I know." I wasn't some stupid invisible kid who had no clue what he was doing or who anyone in this crowd of fancy people was. I knew things. There it was again, that tinge of shame at my behavior. It always followed me everywhere. Even when I felt so sure of myself. It was always there to remind me after the fact. Never stopped me from doing the thing in the first place. No, that would be too helpful. I turned just in time to watch the girl swing the cricket bat at the ball and hit the wicket. Now that was bravery. Or stupidity. After that, another girl lifted her cricket uniform jersey up, exposing her breasts for a moment. I remember the final shot. It was of a man in pope vestments holding a cross and laughing maniacally as church organ music played. Not much difference between the girl and everyone else, really, when you thought about it.

Unknown

Fear. Anger. Shame. All in a whirlwind now. All one thing now. A feeling that is not. An existence that is not. And yet we are here. And yet we feel. Is it not strange to not exist and yet to be real?

Luis El Bridget

Seasick. Fantastic. I always hated boats. It was fairly straightforward. You board a ship, it rocks, you feel like hell, end of story. I always had a reason for why I think what I think. There was always an explanation. But you try to explain that to Holly why you took back your job. After you were fired. After they stole your life's work from you. You try to explain that to her. She simply did not understand, and that infuriated me. I see no reason for her not to understand. She is the one who came with me anyway, who worked with that man still, so why was it that bad if I was the one who agreed to it? Yes, I would have my job back. Yes, I would repair the machine. Yes, I would move it out of the laboratory, out of the way of the prying eyes of nosy bureaucrats and a far too curious worker girl who once interfered with my relationship with my sister in the past, working at the lab. Not that I regretted what I did to her. Yes, I would return to a job that never seemed to care much for me. For what I did. What did I do? What did I do. You know, at my age, I felt I was too old for comic books, but I do once in a while glance at Tintin. Heroes that could save the day made me happy. It was simple for them. The line between right and wrong was obvious. I wished real life was similarly obvious. What is good or bad, clear and simple. I know what we did. I know what we made. However, It is also an invention such as the world had never seen. You cannot simply abandon something of this nature. Not when you were so close. A parent does not abandon their child simply because they shatter a few glasses or because they cry out and accidentally strike you across the face. A child needs room to grow. A parent does not abandon their child. It is not so much a machine, as a miracle. You do not abandon miracles. Even if it frightens or kills you.

Chapter 4: Wilhelmina Dorrance

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Nina said as she squeezed the air out of me. I couldn't help but smile. I really hoped that whatever she had wasn't catching, but I wasn't about to tell her not to hug me. Can't hurt the poor girl's feelings. "You're welcome." I wheezed. She backed off with a smile and held my hands in hers. The look of gratitude on her face was sweet and ridiculous. Both of my sisters tended to act like they were standing in front of people at all times. But at least with Nina there was some kind of sincerity to it. "I promise you'll never have to do that again!" she said. She sneezed into her handkerchief, releasing one of her hands, but yanking my other to follow her. I allowed myself to be pulled toward her and Jessie's bedroom. Originally, I shared with Jessie, but she got so frustrated by my "silly science experiments", as she derisively called them, that Nina had graciously offered to switch rooms with me. Oh, to be as beautiful and sweet as Nina. Oh, I knew many people thought I was, but that's not the real me. I'm always frustrated or on edge. Even though Nina's performances at the club where she performed were sometimes morally and legally crossing a line a bit, she did have a heart of gold. "It was okay. I hadn't ever done this sort of thing before." I replied. "But did you enjoy it?" asked Nina as she threw open a door. "Voila!" she shouted just then. It took a moment for me to see it among the faded florals that decorated their room. Clothes were piled everywhere as usual, on Jessie's bed, and my eyes were always drawn to the mess. I didn't even notice the blue flat box on Nina's. Until I did. "Nina…you didn't!" I said, releasing her hand and slowly walking toward her bed. "I did!" She said, positively giddy, clapping her hands together like a child. And then froze and sneezed loudly. I floated toward the box and read the words that I knew were printed on it with that picture of the creepy man holding the vial: "Einstein Chemistry Kit". "You got me the Master Chemistry Set?" I asked in awe, almost scared to open the thing. "Yes! I know you didn't want to dive, and I knew you hated posing naked in film, you prim little thing, and I just knew you wanted it. I mean, how could I not? You couldn't stop staring at it every time we passed the chemist's." She continued, going on like that, telling my own life story back to me as if it were new to me. I just placed the box back on the bed and carefully opened it. Inside were several dozen small bottles with bright orange labels, each detailing their contents. There were vials with strange powders, and a scale and a magnet and a book with experiments to try. I felt tears welling up, and I turned to Nina, who was still regaling me with her tale of magnificence, then I grabbed her and squeezed her hard. That shut her up. "Oh." She said, startled. She hugged me back. "This is the best gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you, Nina." I said, softly. We broke apart and I think she could see the tears then because she was flustered and had gone a little red. "Well, as I said, I knew it was a big thing for you to do what you did today." She said. "It's so expensive." Was all I could say back. "Don't think about that." She replied. I looked at her carefully. "Nina, where did you get the money?" I asked. She sighed and shook her head. "Did someone buy this for you?" I asked. Another sigh. "Nina!" I snapped. "I know how you feel about men buying me presents, but I promise I'm a big girl and besides, I like presents. Especially if they are for my sisters." she said with that soft, sweet smile of hers. Everything about her appearance was soft and gentle. A round face, soft curves of her body, curly hair that never stayed in place. So much softness for someone who was such an athlete. "I worry." was all I could say. I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to shake her and tell her that these men were not worth her time. That they were all creeps and she was so much better than that. That they only wanted this soft illusion she put out into the world, not the real funny, generous girl that she was. That I worried about her reputation. Not that I personally thought about how others did, but I knew how others saw her, and how they saw Jessie. It was unfair and made me extremely frustrated that the men who fucked Nina and courted Jessie didn't have the same reputation concerns. They could get away with a lot more than us girls. Yet it was what it was. I didn't want people thinking lowly about my lovely sister Nina. But I couldn't say these things. I never could. I kept all of these messy thoughts to myself. How could I say these things, knowing how upset that she'd get? She was so pleased to have got me this gift. "I'm fine." Nina said, and I was saved from blurting out something I would regret by Jessie bursting into the room. "Billie! Come on! We're going to be late!" She yelled. I glanced at Nina, and we shared a look, that look, our look that meant "Oh Jessie." My sixteen-year-old sister was a whirlwind at the best of times, but before Nina would perform she was a tornado. There was nothing anyone could do but just follow the path of destruction and try to put things back in order in its wake. "Coming!" I said. I was still freezing from the cold air and I knew I looked a fright, but I told myself it wouldn't really matter. Jessie and I would be backstage. Besides, Nina probably liked that I looked like some kind of hot mess (or in this case, COLD mess). Not that she was an unkind person. She just loved all the attention. A lot. I looked one last time at Nina, who sat down on her bed and was now blowing her nose daintily. It was quite impressive that she could be so dainty and sexy at the same time. "Thanks again." I said. "BIIIIIIIIIIIIIILIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!" Jessie screamed. It was both a whine and a yell coming from the front door. "We'd better go." replied Nina. I laughed and we went to join Jessie who was already holding our coats. We grabbed them and put them on as quickly as we could. "What, no hat?" Jessie asked me as we stepped out the door and closed it behind us. "Do you want me to go back for it?" I asked, reaching into my pockets to grab my gloves. Nina was already wearing hers. "No!" she snapped with a pout, adjusting her own fedora hat on her head. Nina had such a silly sense of propriety even as others leered and whacked off while she was dancing wearing little-to-no clothing while she was dancing. We were met with a cold gust of wind as we stepped onto the street and turned left toward the sidewalk. Jessie was walking at such a pace that if she went any faster, we'd be jogging. Nina and I did our best to keep up with her but we couldn't quite catch up. I wanted to tell her to slow down. We weren't late. We were still making good time. But I didn't feel like arguing and neither did Nina. So I walked there, behind her, thinking about the day I'd already had. Of the naked cricket bat swinging. In front of a large crowd. Caught on film forever. I hoped I had looked professional and confident. I'd hoped I was sexy. No, don't think like that. There was more to life than looking sexy. Sometimes it's harder when your older sister did the makeup for exotic dance show performers and your younger sister dances wearing clothes just barely covering her nipples and finger pie, not to wonder, just a little bit…and care. I mindlessly touched the top of my head, getting cold. And if the air got any colder, I might have would up wearing a helmet of ice. I should have worn a hat. We arrived at the sidewalk and the winds picked up. It was starting to hail and I was grateful that I did the film shoot when I did, otherwise I would have been hurt in more ways than one. The weather was churning itself up into a dangerous frenzy now. It was amazing that there were any tourists at all wandering the streets, but there were. They came all year round, though in much smaller numbers now. Possibly "tourist" was the wrong word for these kinds of people. In the of-season, it seemed that the people who came to Kensington did it for either business reasons, or because of the Kensington Pier. Or they were here for more illicit reasons. They weren't here to see the sights; they were here to escape into the nightclubs or expensive restaurants. Hole themselves up in suits on the top floors of the fanciest hotels. Speaking of clubs, we entered the Chick Trap. "Thank you, Jack!" I called out behind me to the muscular bouncer, who nodded his head in return. The lights were on, creating a seductive mood, and the blandness of the room was brought into stark relief: The stains on the floor, the peeling wallpaper, the scratches and notches on the seats. "There you are." Said Floyd, the manager. He was adjusting one of the legs of the curtain stage right, one of his huge cigars dangling out of the corner of his mouth. "Careful, Will. You might light the place on fire!" Nina said with her wilting laugh. "Never happened before." He replied with a grin. "Hi, Will." I said as Nina raced past him toward backstage with Jessie following close behind. "Hey there, kid. What's new with the great scientist?" he replied. I shook my head. It was so embarrassing that he called me that. Ever since he found out I was aspiring to go into science, he thought I was an actual scientist or something, which I really wasn't. Not one bit. Not right now, anyway. But of course he enjoyed calling me that, and I didn't want to upset him by asking him not to. "Speaking of which, Nina got me the chemistry kit." I said instead. "Did she now? Well, isn't that just such a nice thing for a sister to do." He replied with a smile. "It really is. I was thinking, maybe I could figure out some of those fog effects you were looking for." I replied. My stomach got all fluttery at the thought. "That would be extremely helpful. You do that, and I'll compensate you, don't you worry!" Will said. He was always so enthusiastic and vivacious about everything, it was sometimes hard to tell if he was being sincere, but I could tell he was. He was just that lovely. I smiled and he looked over his shoulder and back at me again. "Better get back there. It's chaos in there." Will said with a titter. "Really? It's just a Tuesday night show." I replied. "Chaos doesn't care what day of the week it is." He replied, taking a puff of his cigar. I didn't really understand his point, but I smiled and quickly made my way backstage. Rows of mirrors framed with lights were engaged with rows of girls sitting in front of them, poking and prodding at their faces, adding color and highlights. Other girls stood putting stockings on and throwing their underwear and street clothes over the chairs and rushing to grab their costumes off the rack. There was definitely a chaotic energy as the girls got ready for the show. I was their dresser, assistant, and apart from makeup providing—that was Jessie's job—I was whatever they needed to be to make sure they got onstage on cue and looked sexy. Sometimes buckles needed to be secured, sometimes knots needed tying, that sort of thing. It was a relatively easy job when the girls weren't in a fluster like they were today. "Billie! Help!" a bedazzled, topless Nina jumped up to me and presented her back. With my gloves still on, I helped tie up her top and she flew away back to her mirror the moment my fingers released her. I quickly peeled off my coat and gloves and tossed them on one of the few empty chairs, when I was accosted by three girls talking a mile a minute and over one another. I nodded at their requests, not fully understanding them and feeling overwhelmed by the energy and panic. This was definitely turning out to be one of those nights.

Chapter 5: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

"Archie, not now." Mr. Thomas said, sitting down heavily behind his desk and took off his hat. HE rubbed his balding head a few times, like he was about to make a wish. "Yes, now, Mr. Thomas." I said. Bravery or stupidity, didn't matter. "It's been a long morning with that stupid cricket thing." He said. "Yes, I know, but you also promised me, somewhat begrudgingly, a byline if I was a stupid prop boy, and I have a doozy of an idea." I said, sitting in the chair opposite him without being asked to. I was feeling pretty invincible to be perfectly clear. "Pitch me fast, kid." Said Mr. Thomas. I nodded and scooted to the edge of my seat. My arms rose up and my hands started moving in the air as I spoke. Yeah, I was an energetic speaker. Broke some stuff as a kid in the apartment, got in trouble. And did it again, over and over. Last week as a matter of fact. "That rich kid and his dad. The ones who made that art film today." I said. "Ah yes, that rich kid and his dad. They have names, you know. The son's name is Simon Winchester. The dad's name is Cornelius Winchester III. The latter being a man who owns a lot of property in Kensington." Mr. Thomas replied. "Well, that's my point. How about an expose on the corruption in Kensington, with Mr. Winchester III at the center of it." I said. Sounded pretty swell to me. "Well, how about that." Replied Mr. Thomas, decidedly not that enthused. "It's a solid story." I said "It's an old story. A known story. You telling me there's corruption in Kensington? The home of probably more defunct nightclubs than Las Vegas? The city that the alcohol trade made rich? Wow, Archie. I had no idea." Mr. Thomas said, looking at me with an exhausted expression, a world-weary sigh escaping his lips. "You youngsters are all the same. Pitching old stories as new, because you never even read the old stuff. You can't ignore history, son. And no one's interested in corruption anymore. Not after the last Nova Clash. They just want to live their lives, however they're funded? You get me?" Mr. Thomas said. Oh, I got him all right. I shook my head; it wasn't fair. "You mean in the same way this paper is funded." I said. Mr. Thomas didn't get angry at that. He just stared blankly at me for a moment and said "Yup.". Right, I had to think quick. I didn't have any other pitches but this one and I knew it was a good one. I just had to convince Mr. Thomas I was right. "Okay, look, it's old news. But what if I could offer a new perspective?" I asked. "Archie, I really need a quiet moment on my own here…" Mr. Thomas said, tired. "The rich kid, the one at the Cricket film shooting this morning. Simon, you said his name was. What about him?" I asked him. "Just tell me your idea, kid. These questions are giving me a headache." Mr. Thomas said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he said it in case I didn't believe him. But I did. There were very few things that didn't give Mr. Thomas a headache. "You could tell that he and his father don't exactly get on, that it isn't all sunshine and rainbows there. I bet befriending his son could yield some pretty interesting information." I proposed. Mr. Thomas sighed and leaned back in his chair. He swiveled around so his back was to me and he was looking out his unwashed windows, caked with layers of dirt, and ice from the hail. "Look. Just write the story you want to write. If it's good, it'll go in the paper and on the news. At this point, Archie, I know better than to try and tell you "No". but just because I promised you a byline doesn't mean I publish just anything that crosses my desk. Still has to be good. Or at least, not embarrassing to the news." Mr. Thomas told me. That was good enough for me. "That's real swell of you, Mr. Thomas, real swell. I won't let you down. Scout's honor! I already have a lead! It's a party, and what a party it is, Mr. Thomas. Looks like some Bigwigs from all over the world are coming up to meet with Mr. Winchester III and he wants to show them a good time. I've got a friend who has an in…" I said. "Enough! Just get out of my office, kid." Mr. Thomas interrupted. Didn't need to be told twice. "Sure thing, Mr. Thomas! Thanks again!" I said before leaving. I was excited. This was it! Finally, I was getting my chance to prove that I could do more than deliver the mail. You've got to make them notice you, no one else is going to do that for you. Another lesson from my uncle. I was tired of being treated like I was invisible; it was time to be noticed.

Chapter 6: Simon Winchester

The dining room was a shining bright space. So unlike its character from this morning. I leaned against the doorframe to the butler's pantry and stared at the delicate crystal glasses, the facets each with their own little glint dancing around their faces. At the silverware newly polished, the fine china, the candles lit in their silver holders. The lights in the chandelier above were bright and welcoming. And I thought to myself, "This room was not made for the people who live here. This room was made for the people who visit.". How pathetic. "Ready, son?" father asked me. He had a way of bursting into a room like the infamous bull in a china shop. The glasses on the table positively shook with fear. I sighed. OF course he was ready. When was I never not ready? "Yes, Father." I replied. "Good. How does it look? Expensive?" Father asked, walking to the table and examining it closely. HE found an invisible spot on a knife and spat on it, giving it a rub then with the sleeve of his perfectly tailored suit jacket. "Father, you know you can't do that." I said, motioning to one of the servants who had just placed a giant floral arrangement on the sideboard. HE nodded immediately and swooped in, somehow very politely taking the knife from my father's meaty grasp. "It looks expensive though." He said, turning to me. All day it had been nothing but question after question. My father was trying to make sure everything was perfect for fear of what others might think. I really wished Mother were still alive for moments like these. She'd had a magical calming effect on him. On all of us. She put things into perspective. Neither Father nor I was particularly good at putting things into perspective. "Yes, it does." I replied. "Fancy, isn't it?" Father asked, turning back to the table and putting his hands on his hips. He seemed pleased. "Very." I replied. He turned and grinned at me. "You know, the way Japan would like it." He said. "Just that way." I told him. It was never names, with them. With any of them. It was always countries. America, Canada, Africa, Switzerland, Germany, France, Tibet. These people self identified so hard with their countries, it was as if they had built them from the ground up. Ironic since most of them had come to England not so long ago. All of us were newcomers in a way. And if we didn't think it. Then we were reminded of it by others. The others who didn't call themselves by city names, but by their own legal names. Legal names that were meant to suggest a more deeply rooted permanence than countries themselves. Old money. All of it was for show. All of it was exhausting. I didn't want any part of it. Yet here I was. Suddenly. Siting at a table with a dozen or so men and women just like my father. Loud, hungry for something more than just the food at the table, and rich. So very rich. I'd played this part, attended so many of these dinners, that I didn't even notice how we went from moment to moment, how I ended up eating a blood sausage or two when I had only just been standing watching my father spit on a knife. Soon dessert would happen. Had happened. Then expensive sake or wine for my father and his guests. Oh, that had happened, too. Then what? Then suddenly I'd be standing in some nightclub in the city or at an elegant restaurant in a hotel. Surrounded by noise and uncontrolled laughter. That messy drunken behavior that wasn't quite dangerous enough to break out into fights, but not so safe as to offer a teasing joke without causing deep offense. Now it wasn't a future possibility. Now I was there. The King's Head. The King's Head? That was a fancy joint. Father had really spared no expense with this visit. In my very sober state, I realized only then that this visit was a big deal for my father. As in, an actual big deal. My father only brought guests to this club if he was engaged in a deal that would have a huge effect on his income and, more importantly, his power in Kensington. I hadn't been paying any attention. Now I regretted it. I was adrift. And I had no idea what was going on. This happened to me sometimes, time slipped in and out. I remember trying to explain to Father as a child this feeling of losing moments. He couldn't grasp the concept and had no desire to try harder. Mother had just died, and he hardly had room for his own thoughts. I don't blame him. But if he'd understood how I'd felt back then, then maybe this could help him too. Help him skip past the scary things, the frustrating things, and just focus on what needed to be done. It was scary after Mother died. What do we do now without her? How do we live our lives without her support. Best to ignore those questions. My life returned to a more regular pace and I was brought back to reality as I was handed a glass of sake. "He's seventeen!" a man with a slight Japanese accent laughed, not really concerned for my moral character, just enjoying the moment. But I think he looked familiar. "Sake does not count." Said his consort seriously, a tall, curvy, platinum blonde woman with an intense squint. "It's England! Live a little! We get our good manners from the British, don't we?" added another fellow. "Except for Mr. Winchester's opinion." Said slight-Japanese accented man. They all laughed heartily at my father's greed and clinked glasses. I didn't join them. Just drank the sake, only to be polite like the British, and placed the empty glass on a passing waiter's tray, turned around and stared at the ballroom floor. Swirls of colors slid across my view as people danced, the orchestra on the bandstand behind. It was amazing that despite the tourist season behind us, there were still enough people to fill this room. Still enough people who needed a drink and a laugh and a spin on the dance floor. Who needed to escape. What were they running from tonight? What would weigh them down tomorrow morning? Did they see their futures all laid out before them by someone else, did they wish they could turn onto the dirt path and have an adventure or two? Were they trapped? Were they like me? And then the lights all went out.

Chapter 7: Wilhelmina Dorrance

"You're coming out with us!" announced a drunken Luci, practically ripping off her costume and kicking it to one side. She took in a deep breath, and I didn't lame her. Her costume of the night was more revealing than most nights, and I would know. I'd had to help her put it on. I shook my head and said. "No thanks." I really couldn't go out tonight, not after the very long day I'd had. And it was just a Tuesday after all. Why was everyone making a Tuesday so dramatic today. A fully clothed Luci grabbed my hand and practically yanked my shoulder out of its socket pulling me toward her "Makeover time!" she shouted enthusiastically. Oh, please no. Not makeover time. I hated when that happened. I was pushed unceremoniously into a chair in front of one of the mirrors. My hair looked a fright from the cold, I'll admit, and I did enjoy looking presentable, but I hated being dolled up like some cheap French harlot. This happened every few weeks, and I really had no idea what was wrong with my normal appearance. I looked over at Nina sitting in front of her mirror. She was already dressed in her regular clothes and was carefully reapplying her going-out makeup after having removed her performance makeup. She looked at me in the mirror and shrugged. Nina was never going to be my savior. Jessie just looked at me and smiled. She was no help at all. The girls knew I didn't resist; I never did. They enjoyed it too much and I didn't want to make a fuss no matter how much I disliked their poking and prodding. And of course the underlying message of "How you look isn't quite good enough." I was quickly turned into their version of Marion Silver, from "Requiem for a Dream", all dolled up and ready for the show at the end of the film—Dark eyeliner, red lipstick, even some fake eyelashes, except I wore clothes. I also passed to Chloe, who passed me a black dress with a satin sheen. "Come on, hurry up!" she ordered. So I hurried. Ugh. I stared at myself as I put on the dress. I didn't look bad at all. I never had any issue with the end result. But I didn't look like me. I liked my makeup a certain way, a little softer and less exaggerated. I liked my clothes a little more modest and less revealing, thank you very much. Today I had been a complete disaster. Maybe the makeover was warranted. This one time. "Let's go, Let's go!" Ah, there was Jessie's familiar, insistent whine. The order was followed and soon all of us, including a very exhausted me, were sweeping out of the nightclub and onto the sidewalk in peals of ringing laughter. Luci linked her arm in mine and gave me a wink. "You're a good sport." She said. I always liked her. She had the reputation of a typical fiery redhead, but to me she seemed the most down-to-earth of any of the dancers in the club. "I'm a pushover." I replied. I was able to be a bit more honest with her than most this time. "You should work on that." She replied. I nodded. She was right. But I didn't know where to start. I couldn't get past the notion that it was best to keep it all inside. My sisters could be outgoing and share everything they thought and felt because it was safe to. Nina was so lovely through and through, and Jessie was harmless and silly even in her demanding ways, but the real me? The inside me? I was certain no one wanted to see that. To see my frustration. To see what I really thought of the world and everyone in it. No one would understand. It wouldn't work. To thine own self be true. William Shakespeare wrote that. But Shakespeare was a man. I think. We turned down the street, following behind the others and toward a flashing sign that read "The King's Head". It might have looked like a dive from the outside, but it was one of the more upscale clubs in Kensington and expensive. "Don't worry." Said Luci, still drunk, as we walked down the flight of steps leading to the entrance. "Someone's paying for all this. Silly guy too." She continued. Silly indeed if he thought paying for these girls meant he'd get anything more intimate in return. They weren't stupid, those ladies. They knew how to handle themselves. You could almost feel sorry for them, the way they fawned and spent lavishly with such high unmet hopes. But…not really. All I could do was nod. I hated being paid for by anyone, even people with good intentions. I liked not having to rely on anyone. Maybe it was seeing Nina and Jessie receive so many gifts over the years, but I didn't want that. I wanted to be self-sufficient. We checked our coats, and we were then met by a wall of noise and ornate decorations. The place was packed, but like a school of fish, our group maneuvered together and managed to acquire a corner table onto which purses and gloves exploded in a colorful mess. "Do you want a drink?" asked Chloe. "Oh." I replied. Feeling appropriately overwhelmed. "I suppose I could do with a soda pop." I said. Chloe laughed. "Wimp. I'm going to get you a real drink." She said. I meant to tell her that I was too young and honestly not particularly interested in alcohol, but she held up her finger and looked at me intently, so I didn't say anything, and she vanished into the crowd. I felt suddenly alone. It was interesting really, when you thought about it. Here I was surrounded by so many people and yet I could go for a walk by myself along the sidewalk and feel perfectly content. Normally I would be happy to just observe—this was not my first party, nor my first time at an upscale club. I liked watching people, I enjoyed seeing happy faces and watching them laugh and dance together. I liked when life was colorful and pretty. When, if only for a little while, cares and worries were cast aside. But today felt so different. All day, something had been tickling my spine. I shook my head. It had to have been the film shoot this morning. I could still feel the wind against my face; feel my stomach turn over, looking over at the crowd watching me. So many people. Suddenly all I wanted to do was go home to bed and wake up refreshed with a new day of possibilities in front of me. My unfocused gaze landed on a familiar face. The rich kid from earlier. The one I'd seen darting around the field. He was standing with a group of seemingly boisterous men, the kind of men who always laughed just a little too loudly at parties, who never quite finished their drinks but always refilled their glasses. The rich kid looked sad. My heart went out to him then. We all have our own problems; it's all relative. I imagine that even those who live in Buckingham Palace have days where the walls feel like they're caving in. I mean we're all human after all. I was watching the rich kid closely now, wondering about him, who he really was, why his father needed to shoot that film of his, when I noticed a different young man walking toward me suddenly. He crossed into the path between me and the rich kid and smiled as he did. He was quite handsome, I observed. His black hair was not in the best shape, but not too bad. He wore a perfectly cut suit. Based on his skin tone, I think he was Japanese. But it didn't occur to me that he was walking toward me until he started talking and said, "Eyes meeting across a crowded room." I stared at him. He seemed suddenly very close. Like he had just materialized right in front of me then, hand outstretched. "What?" I said. It was the wrong thing to say, but when did I ever manage to say the right thing? The young man laughed "I saw you looking at me. I have to say, I'm flattered." He said. I just stared at him, at his deep hazel-colored eyes. He was amused by me. Oh, how I disliked amusing people like this. People either thought I was rude or amusing. I was always an object of some kind of fascination. All because I couldn't quite say the words I wanted to the way one ought to. All the more reason to just keep everything to myself. No one seemed to understand me. More than that, no one tried to understand me. "Oh, well," I said, utterly confused. And then it hit me. Somehow this man had thought my staring was directed at him. Now my cheeks were definitely burning. Thank goodness the room was overly warm and he wouldn't notice. "My name's Gregory. Gregory Stevens. It's a pleasure to meet you." He said, with an outstretched hand. I realized I was meant to shake it, so I grabbed it awkwardly. He gave my hand a little shake and then released it. I looked at him some more. Truly he was good-looking. Tall and lanky, but admittedly handsome. There was something also very pleasant about his presence, almost calming. "And…" I said, confused. "And? AND?" He laughed and I no longer felt particularly calm. What was I missing? "And you are?" he asked. Of course! I wasn't stupid. I knew how introductions worked. "Oh, yes, of course. Wilhelmina Dorrance. Pleasure to meet you." I said. "The pleasure's all mine." replied Gregory. Now I was starting to slowly feel frustrated. HE spoke with expectations in his voice and stood there silently as if I was supposed to read his mind. But I honestly was rather confused. I didn't generally get approached by anyone in these situations. Why now? Then I remembered the dress. And the makeup. And my hair. And oh, my goodness, he thought I was staring at him before. "This is a boy-girl thing happening now, isn't it?" I asked myself. "You're not a little girl anymore, you can do this." I said to myself. It wasn't as if I'd been on an outing with a boy before, or even kissed one. Except once. That one time. Oh, how Jessie would laugh at me now with my "celibate little ways" as she called them. Where was she? "Nice to meet you too." I said. But was it? Was it maybe too stressful really? Why did I suddenly miss feeling so very alone? How was it I now missed that strange dread in my soul and the memory of that naked cricket bat swing? Were those feelings better than the flustered confusion I was feeling now? I think yes. At least I understood the former. The latter was so out of my control. "Care to dance?" he asked with an outstretched hand. Not really. "Yes, that would be lovely." I said, nervously. So THAT happened. HE took my hand gently and I noticed this time how soft and warm it was. I also noticed how clammy and cold mine were. How he must regret doing this. But he didn't seem to. He escorted me to the dance floor and then the other hand was on my waist. That didn't help my flustered feelings, but I focused on the music and on the dance steps. I wasn't too bad a dancer after all. We were all quite good at a lot of things, us Dorrance sisters. Even the one who refused to go into the family business—in this case, dancing—and was content to pursue other goals, in this case, science. Even she—which is to say, I—enjoyed a good turn around the room. And good it was. He was very elegant, and sure-footed. He had grace. He wasn't exactly Tom Holland, but who ever was? I started to feel dizzy at one point. "Don't worry, love. It helps if you look at me." Gregory said, clearly noticing. Well that was a problem now, wasn't it? I was purposefully trying not to look at him. Looking at him made me feel very vulnerable. Because I rather liked looking at him. I looked at him. He smiled, and so did I. Maybe it's okay to feel flustered sometimes. Maybe it's a good feeling. Maybe it's a really good feeling. I felt myself settle into his arms. Not quite relaxed, but it was nice. And then everything went black.

Chapter 8: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

"This isn't what I had in mind when you said you'd get me into the party, you bastard." I said under my breath. Harry shushed me. I shook my head as I stood there listening to the maître d' give us instructions on the proper way to pass around drinks and food. "Circulate, always circulate." He said in a thick French accent that almost sounded too French. "If that guy's French, I'm a horny toad." I muttered. Harry shushed me again. The maître d' gave us a stern look. "Is there a problem, Monsieur Harold?" he asked. "Non, non. Pardon." replied Harry, taking in a sharp inhale of breath. I snorted at that. "You have your instructions, now allez!" said the maître d' with a loud clap of his hands, as if he were spurring us into action. We were hustled over to a staging area. As I picked up a tray, I said "I thought we were going to the party, not working the party.". Harry rolled his eyes at me. "I said I'd get you in, and you're in. Don't be such a baby." He said. I could have said something then about how Harry was soaking wet. But I refrained and instead just took the tray with the little cheese squares on it because I knew for a fact that if I took the one with the champagne flutes that it would all be on the floor before I even made it out to the guests. We left the small kitchen and entered the glittering party room, complete with a ballroom and orchestra playing. It looked like quite the party. Would have been fun to be a guest. Not a stupid waiter. I turned to find Harry so I could chew him out some more but he vanished into the crowd. "Circulate, Monsieur Stanton." The maître d' drew a circle with his finger as he hissed the instruction in my ear before swanning off to kiss some partygoers on the cheek. Quite a talent really, to do all that in just one notion. Needed good coordination for that. I picked up a cheese square and popped it into my mouth and decided to make the best of it. So I circulated. And honestly, it turned out it was in fact a pretty good excuse to wander through the crowd looking for Simon Winchester. I'd never tell Harry that. "Ooh, cheese squares!" a tall man with very red cheeks said as he bent his head into my line of vision to examine each one. "Yeah." I said as I watched him breathe on everything. I made a small mental note never to eat anything that's been "circulated" ever again. He eventually picked up a little cheese square right in the middle of everything, his hand grazing a couple as he went in for the kill. Then he was off. And I was still watching his long limbs retreat into the crowd when another hand emerged from beside me. Instinctively I said, "Don't!" Then quickly turned to apologize. "I'm very sorry, it's just that…" I stopped in mid sentence and noticed that I was staring at a very bewildered Simon Winchester. Here he was, right there in front of me. I quickly changed my tone from apologetic to conspiratorial. IF there was one thing I knew about people, it's that they loved to think they were in on a secret. I lowered my voice, which automatically made him move in closer to hear me. "There was a fellow just now, touched almost all of them. I wouldn't recommend eating one." Simon looked at me, confused, but didn't say much of anything. He just sort of nodded. HE seemed strangely out of sorts, maybe he was just drunk. But it was different. It spooked me a little. I wrote a mental note about it. I'd need to, at some point, transpose everything inside my head onto a real piece of paper. Needed to remind myself to do that. I watched as Simon turned to look somewhere else. His mind seemed heavily occupied but I really wanted to knock on its door to see if I was allowed in. "Are you Simon Winchester?" I asked. Might as well just go for it, I thought to myself. And that's when everything went black. I knew immediately what was going on, though I seemed to be one of the only ones. I guessed these rich people weren't as used to blackouts as I was. It's why my uncle would always go on and on about the old days when electricity worked differently. He was more used to using candles. I don't know why. But he loved candles. People were getting nervous, and you could tell people were moving around, trying to do something useful, trying not to panic. I knew that if the lights didn't get turned on soon, things would get a lot more manic, likely even dangerous. "A large group of drunken revelers trapped down in an upscale club in the dark?" Just as I thought that to myself, I was knocked to the floor. Someone had crashed into me hard. "I'm so sorry. Are you all right?" I heard a voice say. I didn't know who was talking to me, but I felt a hand on my shoulder and was helped up. "We need to get to the circuit breaker." The voice said. "I can fix this if I get to the circuit breaker. "I agree." I replied. "It's in the kitchen. I saw it. Come with me. Just follow the sound of my voice." I instructed. My body remembered the way back and called out to my new friend to follow. I didn't know if he had been able to in the dark until we made it inside the kitchen. The Ovens were still working, I knew that much. It was a small amount of light, but it seemed like the sun compared with the pitch black in the ballroom. I turned to my new friend and that's when I realized it was Simon. I stared at him as he darted past, looking for the circuit breaker. This kid was going to save the day? I watched him from a distance, a shadow now, barely an outline, moving about. Trying to find a replacement for the malfunctioning part, I guessed. He seemed to know what he was doing. And sure enough, suddenly the lights were back on. Just like that. New tactic, not conspiratorial. Time for familiarity. That might work. "What does a rich kid like you know about fixing things?" I said, approaching him. Simon closed the door containing the circuit breaker, playing with the malfunctioning part in his hand. "Have we met before?" he asked, looking confused and a little suspicious of me. I smiled and stuck out my hand to shake. "Archibald Stanton. My friends call me Archie. You're Simon Winchester. I was at the art film shoot event this morning." I replied. Simon looked at my hand for a moment, and then smiled and took it. "It's nice to meet you, Archie. And what can I say, I like fixing things!" he said. "Didn't know things needed fixing in your neck of the woods." I said, leaning against the countertop. Staff were flooding into the kitchen now, and the maître d' was already barking orders. But I was determined to have this conversation with Simon. "Things always need fixing." He said. It sounded deep the way he said it. Meaningful, even. Maybe it was. Or maybe it was just his way. Everything about him seemed confident. This was a man who knew he was meant to take up space in this world. Maybe he just meant that objects break and you need to fix them. "Right this way, monsieur." I heard the maître d' say Is I finally turned toward the chaos as he came for us with a mal in coveralls behind. As he approached, I saw a stitched-on nametag that had "Steve" written on it, and underneath, the words "El Corporation" spelled out. "It was just a faulty capacitor." Said Simon as Steve the technician passed him, not even giving him a second glance. "Nothing 'just' about this system." replied Steve, opening the metal door and looking inside the small closet-like space. Simon went over to join him. "Well, I also had to reattach a loose wire here." He said, pointing. "You! Get back to work!" The maître d' grabbed me by the shoulder and I whipped around fast at that. I was extremely determined so I yelled "You better keep your hands off me before I explode!". The maître d' backed away slowly, shooting daggers at me, but it wasn't like I was planning on this work arrangement to be any kind of long-term deal. I was okay with his anger. I had more important things to do anyway. Namely, getting this story. I turned back in time to see Simon shake hands with a tall man with blonde hair and a beard to match, wearing a finely cut suit. "You know…you did a splendid job, my boy. We at the El Corporation could use a man of your talents. Should you find yourself needing a career, please contact me at this number." He said, handing Simon a card. "Thank you, sir." replied Simon, and I couldn't help but laugh. Both of them looked at me, confused. "Oh, come on! Like this rich kid needs a job." I said. Steve looked at Simon, then back at me. Then he shook his head and picked up his tools, and was on his way, the words "El Corporation" on the back of his coveralls disappearing behind the cooks and waiters. I looked at Simon and he was staring at me kind of funny. Shit. I'd miscalculated. I thought maybe he was the kind of guy who was tired of yes-men, who'd appreciate someone being a down-to-earth bastard with him. But of course, now that I thought about it, how many rich people actually appreciated that? Especially from a complete stranger. "Hey. Look…" I said, trying to apologize. "Would you like to have a drink with me?" asked Simon, interrupting. Or…maybe I was right on the money. Right on a big fucking pile of money.

Chapter 9: Wilhelmina Dorrance

It isn't that I'm antisocial, it's that I didn't like when there were lots of people. In the same room. At the same time. But What I disliked even more than a large group of people was a large group of people panicking in the pitch black. My dancing partner was holding me close still, and I discovered I was holding him back, my arms gripping his tightly. He didn't seem afraid, nor concerned. In fact he laughed a little. "Well now, this a sticky wicket, isn't it, lass?" he said, but when I didn't respond, his tone changed. It became softer. "Are you all right?" There was a crush from across the room, and a scream, and I knew instantly that that the crowd was about to turn from a group of nervous individuals to a single entity. Like a droplet on a microscope slide, slipping toward and then becoming oner with another. Gregory didn't seem to understand the imminent threat, or if he did, he didn't seem to care. I shook my head. It was time to simply take charge. I slipped my hand down his arm and took his hand in mine. "Come on." I said with a giggle. He resisted only for a moment and then allowed me to pull him through the dark. It was something my sisters had taught me. If you want someone to do something for you, ask with a smile or a giggle. I didn't understand why or how it worked, but it just did. I just wanted to ask things normally, but evidently when I asked things normally I was too "severe". It was surprisingly easy to guide him through the doors and out into the fresh air. I knew the way well enough, and walking with purpose, even in the dark, is an effective way of getting somewhere even if you are a little lost. Even if you are bumping into drunk dancers and panicking waiters. "Where are we going?" he asked, but he didn't sound like he cared about the answer. There was a tinge to his voice that made it sound like he thought this whole experience was adorable. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I just wanted air and sky and sea. I just wanted to be away from everyone, from the crowd melting out of the club into the street, from my sisters. And yet I held onto his hand, so I supposed, as I pulled him toward the sidewalk, I didn't want to be away from absolutely everyone. I released his hand as I reached out toward the railing separating the bridge we were walking down, from the ocean below. I grabbed onto it tight and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, inhaling the salt and the cold air. I felt a sudden intense memory of that morning, of falling through wind, of landing in the water. Of the chaos, the rushing, the kicking and trying to find which way was up. I opened my eyes and felt my legs give way and I crumpled to the ground. I sat leaning against the post, breathing hard, staring across the sidewalk at the Burger Queen closed and dark. This feeling of dread I'd had all day. Something was wrong. I shook my head no. That was a lie. Our emotions lie to us. Nothing was wrong. Everything was quite well, as a matter of fact. You got a gift, you went to a party, and then there was a blackout. A very common thing. All is quite well. "You're quite a girl, love." Said Gregory, sitting down next to me. He was out of breath and I looked at him. Had I been running? I hadn't thought I had been running. My breath came fast and thin, but that was more about my mind, I thought. Had I been running? "Oh, well, I just needed some air." I said. I smiled though. He smiled back. He was having a good time and I felt relieved. It didn't matter that in this moment I was feeling strange and out of sorts; he was having a good time and that was something. Was it though? "You can say that again!" Gregory said, laughing again, as he turned his whole body to face me. "The ground is freezing. Are you sure you're okay?" he asked. No, I was definitely not sure of that. "We should probably stand up." I said. He gallantly rose and helped me up. It was very nice. I didn't know what to do now that I was standing looking at him so I turned and faced the ocean once more. "I never get bored of this." I said. There was a waning crescent of a moon that night, like a last farewell of light. Funny to think of it like that now. It reflected on the ocean, on the whitecaps of the waves. "I can understand why not." Gregory said. He stood next to me so that his arm and mine touched. "Do you live here?" he asked me. I nodded and said "I do". "And you're a good dancer." He said. I shook my head. He noticed. "You don't like it?" he asked me. I looked at him. "I'm not much of anything." I felt the return of the strange dark twinge in my gut but I didn't break eye contact. "Impossible." He replied with a laugh. "No, it's very possible." I said, as I looked back out to see and saw then a silhouette on the horizon. Hips came and went with great frequency here, but there was something about this one. Just appearing like that out at night, so late, so secret. I remembered the stories of ships in the 1920s importing alcohol illegally from Canada to America. But of course that was over now. Long over. "You are definitely something. A someone." he quickly corrected. "You're Wilhelmina Dorrance." He continued. I am Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina Dorrance. Yes, that was true. Always reliable, there for any situation. Like some everyday household item, like a pair of gardening gloves. I looked at Gregory and there was nothing else to say or do so I just smiled. He smiled back. He felt proud, I could tell. He had cheered me up, or so he thought. His work here was done. HE looked back out toward the ocean, content in his goodness. I looked too. The ship was gone.

Chapter 10: Simon Winchester

I suppose they assumed I was like my father after all. Even at my age they assumed I'd want to drink alcohol, and of course the best kind. Archie's eye opened so wide that I almost saw the crystal reflected in them. "No, thank you." I s aid as the waiter made to pour me a glass. "I'll have a Chateau Latour." I said. Archie laughed. "Haven't had one of these since I was a kid. Make that two!" he smiled at the waiter, who looked a little confused but nodded and went to get our drinks, leaving the expensive wine behind. Archie stared at it and then laughed again. "The whole bottle, just like that? If you wanted it?" He said, shaking his head. The waiter returned almost immediately with our drinks. Service for the son of Cornelius Winchester III was always top-notch. "Yes, well, it's not generosity if you're not paying for it, so think nothing of it." I said, raising my glass. "I was impressed. I'm not anymore." He replied. I laughed. "Here's to silver spoons." He continued. "And not choking on them of course!" I replied. We clinked glasses and sipped our drinks. Archie winced a bit at the sweetness. "I knew places like this existed but…" Archie leaned back in his chair and looked around. He made no effort to look to the manner born. He wasn't, and I liked that he didn't pretend anyway. After all it was a beautiful room. Dark wool paneling, walls of shelves lined with books, a roaring fire for a windy night like tonight. It was also a particularly quiet night, which I liked. A gentleman's club was fine to have as a retreat, but when packed with men drinking the night away and loudly pontificating, it was my idea of, well, the opposite of heaven. "So, should I take the job?" I said, leaning back as well, feeling some of the anxiety from the evening finally melt off my shoulders. Archie looked at me and rolled his eyes. I laughed again. "No, but seriously: Would it be wrong to? I want to learn, but there's only so much you can teach yourself." I said. "Sometimes we don't have the luxury of teachers." Replied Archie. "I understand. But when you're offered the chance to be taught, just like that?" I said, before taking another sip. "You could be taking away an opportunity from someone who actually needs it." Archie said. I hadn't thought of that. I really hadn't thought of that. "Then again, maybe you have a special gift, shouldn't waste that." added Archie, thoughtfully swirling his drink. He was a strange-looking fellow now that I had the time to really appraise him. He was a little short, and a little squat, but not in a way that you'd actually describe him like that. His hair was already receding but he was young—he had to be about my age. Maybe it wasn't that, maybe it was just so thin and light. I wasn't sure what the ladies would make of him, but he had a twinkle in his eye that I bet they enjoyed. I couldn't figure him out but I knew there was something appealing about him and that I appreciated his directness. "Well, now I have no idea what to do." I replied and then my stomach sank. "Oh no, no no no no". I thought as I slid down in my chair. "Are you hiding?" asked Archie, turning around in his chair. You bet I was hiding. "Wait, is that your father?" Archie asked me. It WAS my father. Over the top of Archie's head, there by the entrance having their coats checked by our overly friendly coat-check girl Cathy, was my father and the men from Japan. The ladies looked to have retired for the night. A pity because now things would turn into late night festivities much more easily. Maybe even all night. "Now that is my son I see!" I heard Father say. I tried to sink lower into my chair. When my father treated me like an old friend and not a grave disappointment, nothing good came from it. Obviously I couldn't actually hide from these men. Not in the real world, or in my carefully created Father-ordained future. They were quickly upon us, dragging heavy chairs painfully noisily across the hardwood floor. "What do we have here?" asked Mr. Bingley, picking up the decanter, with his very large hand able to wrap almost all the way around it. "Chateau Latour" I replied with a tight-lipped smile. "It'll do." Father said before snapping for a waiter and, before he made it to our table, called out. "Glasses!" Father sat down next to me and gave me a look. "Where did you disappear off to?" he asked. "Someone had to get the lights back on." I replied. He shook his head. "They had it under control." He said. "Actually, sir, thanks to your son, the lights came on a great deal sooner than they would have. We had to wait for the contractor to arrive." said Archie. His tone was polite, far more deferential than when he spoke to me. He knew, then, how to behave around certain people. He knew I was certain people. What made him choose what tone to take? I glanced at my father and was embarrassed to discover him eyeing Archie with the same expression I found myself sporting. I relaxed my face into a more open one. "Who's this?" Father asked, suspiciously. "It's my friend, Archibald. You've met him before." I said. Father looked carefully at him. "He does look…slightly familiar." He said, shrugging. I didn't think I needed to add that Archie was the one he'd ordered to take the cricket bat to that girl. Let him assume he was one of us for now. "So, are you fellows from Japan?" asked Archie. "You can't tell?" I replied, trying to shift the tone. "Japan!" one of the smaller men called out, raising his glass. The others did the same and they drank, downing their drinks in one gulp. "Here on business?" asked Archie. "Are you a policeman?" asked Mr. Grant with a laugh. "Why would a policeman care if you were here on business?" followed up Archie. "It's all the questions, not what your asking." Replied my father with an edge to his voice. It wasn't that he didn't like questions. He just preferred to be the one asking them. Archie definitely heard it and held up a hand in apology. "I'm so sorry. I'm a curious fellow." Archie said. "I would advise you to be careful about that, Archibald." Replied my father. "Well, my uncle always says curiosity is an excellent way to expand your mind." Archie said, with a grin. "Strange. Mine said it was a good way to get yourself killed. "Curiosity killed the cat" as they say." Father said, finishing his drink and started to pour yourself another. "Different strokes for different people, I suppose." Father continued. "Very true." replied Archie in his pleasant way. "Another?" I asked, motioning to the waiter. Archie nodded with a smile. We exchanged a look. One that suggested we were in on this together, dealing with the excess of wealth with humor and grace, and not without a great deal of appreciation for the absurdity of it all. As the waiter replaced his glass, I did have to wonder though. If he wasn't a policeman, then what was he?

Luis El Bridget

I had been collaborating with simpletons. How difficult was it to move something down a flight of steps?! Hire couriers, they told me. It will save time, they told me. I pushed the scrawny fellow holding the left side of the crate out of the way and grabbed it myself. "Come now!" I said. It was indeed heavy, but sometimes one must do things they will not do. Sometimes a job needs to be done. There is no use complaining. Complaining. It hadn't made a sound for the entire journey. I was not certain if it was still present. I did not understand what was happening and why it had happened yet. I was certain that it was with us, however. That it would move with the machine. It had some manner of connection to it. They all did. We made it past the first flight of stairs. I pushed the concealed button so that we could descend the rest. Steven had found this place, an old factory. It had been through a multitude of owners in the years since it had been built. It was used by rum runners in the 1920s, during the prohibition era, and it was also used by drug smugglers in the 1980s. much of the distillery equipment and drug making tools have been left behind for reasons I do not understand. There were many places such as this in Kensington. However, this one was special. This one had more to it than at first glance. I am glad that I could count on Steven. I am glad my father approved this. So many of my father's workers had left Kensington as of now, and moved to other locations in larger cities with more promises of wealth and commerce. But Kensington was always special to me, in terms of headquarters locations. This was truly where inventions were built Where the day filled with light at night, where Kensington Pier survived harsh, icy winds from the ocean. Here we built special contraptions and other machines. Magic truly happened here. Here, we had built the machine. It was here that we would fix it. However, it is not I that shall repair it. I have done enough damage as is. That task shall fall to my father. To my father, I wish him the best of luck and I am certain that he will find a way to set everything right.

Chapter 11: Wilhelmina Dorrance

The next day was bright and cheerful. Almost too bright and cheerful. Possibly it had less to do with the sun sparkling on the water and more to do with Nina's general level of exhausting excitement. "Tell us everything!" She said, excitedly. She was squeezing my hand so tight I thought she might pull it off. Suddenly she released it to quickly fumble for a hanky and sneeze daintily. She was determined to not have a cold even though the cold was not as determined not to have her. Jessie was walking quickly up ahead of us, almost purposefully showing she didn't care, though I don't know why. We both knew she did. The fact that I came away last night with a handsome young man was definitely not sitting well with her. Though I would hardly call the mysterious Gregory Stevens a collar act. "Not much to tell. We danced and then there was this blackout so we went outside. He wants to take me for an early dinner tonight before work." I replied. As I said this, I realized we were fast approaching the exact same spot he and I had sat on the ground. Jessie was hungry, and though there were a lot of Burger Queens and Sainsbury's outlets, I would say Burger Queen was one of the best restaurants I'd been to. By far. That I hadn't made the connection until now just showed me how off I was feeling. Yesterday I had been a whirlwind and today I felt wrecked. Spent. Exhausted. I looked out to the ocean. It was calmer today, IT made me feel better. I knew weather patterns were independent of what emotions we attributed to them, but a calm sea was a kind of balm. "Isn't that the young man from last night?" asked Jessie up ahead. She pointed a gloved finger and I looked, feeling my face get warm and my heart suddenly beating out of control. "Where?" asked Nina with excitement. Walking towards us wasn't Gregory, but the rich kid. "You know him?" I asked, but Jessie was too far ahead to hear me, or she chose to go back to ignoring me. So I just watched as we moved toward each other. He was in a tweed suit, brown wool coat, brogues, a stovepipe hat, and a scarf. He was tall and strong looking, every picture his father. The same chestnut-covered hair I recalled from the night before though it was now hidden under his hat. A handsome man in general, though he didn't seem to understand that fact about himself, or at least, didn't want to be seen to understand it. He looked every bit the picture of casual wealth. There was a lot of wealth in Kensington, turning around corners, walking through doors held open, pointing out to sea and taking photographs, riding by in limousines. There was wealth, and there was trying-too-hard-to-be-wealthy. Namely, those men who practically wore clothes made of money walking down the street, women with feathers and diamonds and velvety dresses of every possible color. As a child, I would wonder about where velvet came from to make such outfits. But that was not the Winchester family. They weren't old money, but they behaved like they were. I didn't know where the money came from. Maybe it was old. I just had always been told otherwise. What did I know of the politics in Kensington? I just kept my head down and focused on my own problems when it came to all that. Nina stopped to speak with the rich kid so we stopped a moment after, finally joining at her side and not being completely shunned. She had turned on the charm and I had gone spare, as usual. Nina was good looking inside and outside, but she was the youngest of the three of us and shad spent her whole sixteen years of her life working hard to be noticed, at the expense of anyone and everyone, at the cost of her innocence as well. It was frustrating sometimes, but in moments like these when she radiated pure energy, when her smile could fuel a whole city block, she was fun to watch. When the two of them were chatting about I didn't have any idea. I had lost myself in admiration, when suddenly all eyes were on me. "Hey Billie, come over here!" said Nina in her lilting friendly voice. I glanced at Jessie who gave me a knowing smile, and I laughed. Oh, Jessie, now we were best friends, I see. But I did what I was told and joined them. "Wilhelmina, was it?" asked the rich kid. "Yes." I said, feeling unbelievably shy at the moment. I remembered staring at him the night before. Why had I done that? Oh, Wilhelmina. "It's so wonderful to run into you! Are you available at the moment?" he asked. Oh, how I hated questions like these. If I said I was, then no matter what the reason was for his question, I was struck. I couldn't say no to something with him knowing I had the time. What if his maid was sick and he needed a housekeeper for the day? Or something else of the kind? Some drudgery that for now I could not refuse. I could feel my sisters staring at me. "Yes." I replied softly. "Excellent! Our filmmakers have already edited the footage from yesterday and I thought you'd want to see it! We are screening it for a few investors and such." He said, smiling brightly. "Do you mean right now?" I asked. "Yes! You did say you were available after all." He replied. After all. We were a relatively modern family and going somewhere with a young man by myself was not necessarily seen as a bad thing. There would be investors evidently. But for some reason, I wished very much we were the kind of family that insisted on the intermediation of chaperones. "Go, Billie! It sounds like fun! I'd join you if I wasn't so sick." Replied Nina. "Ah, you're the batting sister." the rich kid remarked with a smirk. "Yes. The original." Said Nina with a smile. "I'm so glad to run into you all. You're all welcome to join us of course." said the rich kid. "Sorry. I have plans." Said Jessie in her direct way. "Like I said, I'm still sick. Now run along, you two! And enjoy the show!" Nina said, with her calm, lilting voice. I looked at my sisters, wishing I had the ability to just say no to things the way they did. To just do what I wanted to do with no worries of hurting the feelings of others. "Well then, it's just you and me, princess." the rich kid said, turning to me. He extended his arm and I placed my hand in the crook of his elbow. I felt deeply uncomfortable, but I smiled. We walked away from my sisters and I felt my face burning as we passed the spot from last night again. "Where are we going?" I asked as calmly as I could. "To my father's hotel: The Kensington. A bit on the nose, I'll admit." He replied. "Oh." I said. That didn't make me feel any better. "We have a projector set up in one of the smaller ballrooms." He added quickly. That was kind of him to clarify, and it did help a little bit. We walked then in silence until we arrived at the hotel. Then he escorted me through the lobby, with its front desk stretching the width of the room, rich, refined sofas on which patrons casually reclined, and vermeil accents on the walls and ceiling that glinted in the chandelier. "This is beautiful." I said. "You've never been?" he asked, sounding quite shocked. "I'd never thought to just come inside for no reason. It feels wrong." I said. "Well, from now on, you're pretty face is always welcome. If anyone asks, just tell them that Simon Winchester sent you." He said with a smile. I glanced at him as he led us down a hallway with a fine brocade wallpaper. "You're the Simon Winchester?" I asked. It was such an awkward question, and I realized I was speaking with a weird formality, like he was a prince, or something. My insides burned. Simon stopped in his tracks and looked at me. "The very same. We met the other day. I was there when you swung." He said. "Oh! I know who you are, I just didn't know the particulars, like your name!" I said with a giggle. Simon laughed then and shook his head. "I'm so sorry, how rude of me!" he replied. "It's okay." I said, laughing a little. Laughing set people at ease, and I didn't want him to feel bad. "Am I late?" suddenly we were joined by a young man with thin hair, panting like he had finished a race. "Archie, my friend, I'm glad you could make it!" Simon said, with a smile. "Hey, I remember you!" I said, staring at Archie intently. "Oh, yes, you do." He replied. He straightened his posture and even gave a little bow at the neck. "I brought you the bat yesterday." He said. "Of course!" I said. I didn't know why, but I felt relieved to see him. Maybe it was as simple as seeing someone else who wasn't rich, or just another familiar face, but I smiled sincerely for the first time. "Come on, you two, the screening is starting soon!" said Simon, pulling my arm that was still firmly attached to his. What could we do? We obeyed.

Chapter 12: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

I sat next to the cricket girl in the back of the room. Chairs had been set up in four rows, and there was plenty of available seating to spare. But I didn't want to sit up front. I wasn't here for the movie. I was here for the men standing around the bar, boldly laughing and clinking ice into their glasses. "Who are they?" asked Wilhelmina, leaning over and I felt immediately intimidated. Oh, sure, I'd been around a lot of pretty girls; there was a lot in my neighborhood. She actually reminded me of this girl named Bella who everyone said was my sweetheart when I was eight years old. As if either of us cared about that sort of thing. We just liked pretending we were detectives, solving mysteries. But I had put her in the category of "celebrity" yesterday, and now we were just sitting together like this, like normal people? I definitely needed to get over this feeling if I was going to get to interview all types. "They're from Japan, doing business with Simon's dad. "Are they the ones who wanted an art film, then?" she asked. "Is that what this is?" I asked. Of course! The pieces were all falling into place now. That's why Mr. Thomas had been invited to watch, that's why we'd printed that weird piece on changed in tourism during the Pandora-Nova wars this morning. Tourism, huh? What kinds of investments were needed to boost something like that? "You know, this might be rude to say." she said, bringing me closer. I could feel her breath on my cheek. "But they look an awful lot like the sort of men you hear about running shady operations." The sort of people my father ended up delivering things to at very strange hours when he was a support clerk for the British Government around our age." She said. "I definitely think you're on to something!" I replied. Hey, I wasn't saying it, she was. She smiled then. "Fun!" she said, with a grin. I smiled to. OF course it wasn't really fun. It was illegal and probably borderline dangerous. We were on the cusp of something a lot darker than this cute moment sitting in a back row. Still the two of us, us outsiders, who could help but see it as something exciting of "fun"? After all, I saw this as a story that could help me get my byline. She saw it as an intrigue. How did Simon see it? It was his actual life. Probably quite differently, probably as dangerous as it all actually was. Perspective changes everything. "Thank you all for coming, ladies and gentlemen!" Simon's father announced, standing in front of the makeshift screen with a big grin on his face, his thumbs each jammed in a jacket pocket, his fingers drumming at his torso. "This is just a first attempt, but we wanted all your feedback. After all, Kensington deserves the best representation because it is one of the wealthiest cities in the Sceptred Isles. Who knows where I'll be somewhere down the road. Maybe I'll be seen having crumpets with her highness, or having tea with our sovereign lord the king! A fortunate thought, indeed." He said. Wilhelmina and I clapped at that, but we were two of only a few who did. The guest list consisted mostly of people from here in England. You didn't tell people from England that anywhere was one of the wealthiest cities if it wasn't London or Buckingham. "But enough about me. Let's start the show, shall we?" said Simon's father, seeming quite unfazed. But I had a feeling he was seething inside. This was a man who liked to be adored. The man sat down in the front row next to his son and the lights were dimmed. The projector turned on and for a moment we were just staring at a bright square of light. Then I heard the reels spinning from behind me and the picture started. We began on a shot of a young woman with black hair in a hime cut with a caption reading "Cornelius Winchester III Presents: The Fourth Test Match" , as the woman turned her head in various directions. She placed the side of her open hand on her forehead as if scanning the horizon, before we panned to a shot of a skeleton wearing a tattered, torn, weathered suit with a newsboy's cap, holding a revolver pistol, with maniacal laughter in the background. We pan back to the woman with black hair in a hime cut turning her head to face the screen and then we panned to a shot of Wilhelmina wearing a female cricket uniform with a short skirt, holding a cricket bat close to her feet, with two robed men in the background with a man squatting, counting his fingers next to them. A dramatic orchestral music sting began to swell as we cut to a shot of the black-haired girl's eyebrows furrowing, as if she were frowning. We then cut to a shot of Wilhelmina with the same pose as before, with the two robed men and the squatting man counting his fingers. The music stopped and then cut back to Wilhelmina and those three men. We then cut to a shot of the black-haired girl's legs and crotch. We saw her hand reaching down to pull her skirt up to show her hoo-ha and her other hand rubbed the ball against her genitals slowly. We then cut to a shot of the Black-Haired girl's face looking down at her legs. We then cut to the same shot of her legs and crotch with her skirt lifted up, and she rubs the ball against her bare hoo-ha faster and faster. We then cut to a shot of her smiling, and then a quick shot of her legs and crotch with her rubbing her crotch with the cricket ball. We then cut to a shot of a hairy, middle-aged man who moaned pleasurably at the sight of her rubbing her crotch with the cricket ball, with a quick shot of her face, and then a shot of the hairy, middle-aged man moaning even more, with a rapid shot of the black-haired girl's face. This repeated a few more times until a shot of the hairy, middle-aged man's mouth was shown on screen with his tongue licking his lips. We then cut to a shot of the Black-Haired girl running with the ball. We then cut to a shot of Wilhelmina naked, still holding the cricket bat, now raised close to her face which had a confident, determined look. The film then cut to a shot of the Black-haired girl's legs, as she ran, even jumping over two girls in missionary position punching apricots, accompanied by sounds of the maniacal laughter from before as we cut to a shot of her throwing the ball. We then cut to a shot of Wilhelmina swinging the cricket bat, whacking the ball, sending it flying to hit the wicket. We then cut to a shot of the black-haired girl flashing her breasts at the hairy middle-aged man, who ejaculated violently until he started bleeding from his peephole. Ick. He didn't even care that he was bleeding. The flow was intense enough to make a hole in his pants, between his legs. The final shot consisted of a man wearing a cricket uniform, which changed to pope vestments, holding up a cross, laughing maniacally as he held up a cross. The film cut to black then. Personally I was undecided on whether to call it an art film or a snuff film. Maybe it's both. There were credits on the screen. I didn't pay much attention as to who played who, other than the name "Wilhelmina Dorrance". Then there was a shot of the Burger Queen restaurant, where there was a shot of the outside, and then the inside where the director was sitting, eating hamburgers and other grub with the rest of the crew and cast members. No music, just a bunch of people eating in silence. Then the film cut to black with a sign reading "FIN" on it. Was it really just yesterday? Watching it all on film—and more that I hadn't seen of course—made it feel like it never happened at all. Or that it had been years ago. "I saw that girl with the cricket bat! That was You!" I said, leaning over to Wilhelmina. "Yes. It was." she replied, sounding a little embarrassed. "It was a good swing though." I said, looking at her. The projector was still rolling for some reason. Wilhelmina looked right at me. "Do you smell smoke?" she asked me. I sniffed the air, and she was right. I turned in my seat and saw that there was smoke coming from the back of the projector. The operator and his assistant were loudly panicking, trying to fix the problem. And doing a bad job at it. "Turn it off!" I yelled, loudly enough that the room could hear. Heads turned around. "What is the meaning of this?!" Mr. Winchester III yelled, rising in his seat. Simon was fast onto his feet as well. "Sorry, sir. It's the projector. It's…just hold on. We've got this. Probably." Replied the projectionist. Oh boy, this suddenly took a weird turn. Mr. Winchester III stormed back toward us and stared down the projectionist. If looks could kill, this would do the trick. If only looks could fix projectors. He finally examined the object itself and saw the smoke. He shook his head with a scowl. "Did you forget to turn the projector off?!" He hissed. "Yeah. I guess I did." The projectionist said, with a panic in his voice. It was hard to tell whether he didn't know how or was too intimidated to think rationally. HE turned to his colleague and said quietly. "Get the man from the El Corporation in here. NOW!" he said, urgently. His colleague flew out of the room just as Simon approached. "I can help." He said. "SIT DOWN!" yelled his father, his tone ice-cold. "I think I can fix it, father." replied Simon, sounding polite and much younger in a way than I'd ever heard him sound. I watched closely as Simon examined the projector and opened it up. I didn't know what he was doing, but I trusted he would be able to fix the thing. No sooner had he stood upright with a small smile on his face than that Steven guy came walking quickly into the room. "This would be good." I thought to myself, leaning back in my seat. "I fixed it." Said Simon, sounding incredibly proud of himself. It was so weird that someone rich would care so much about fixing things. Steve looked over the projector and turned it on. It whirred back to life. "Yeah. It's good!" he said, turning the projector off. "Good work, mate." said Steve. "Thank you." I said. "Remember. You'll always have a place—" he said before he was interrupted by Simon's father. "OUT!" Simon's father yelled with a wave of his hand. Steve rolled his eyes at Simon and the fellow smiled. A shared secret. "I should get going." said Wilhelmina then. Simon heard that and came over. "Weren't you just magnificent?" he asked. "It's certainly interesting seeing myself on-screen, that's for sure." She replied with a little laugh. "You were especially impressive fixing that machine." she continued. Simon beamed. He was coming on a bit too strong, but then again, when you have that much money, it doesn't matter how you come across. You generally get a thunderous reception. "Thank you again. It was nice to meet you. Officially." She said, extending her hand. I took her hand and held it for a moment. It felt nice. She gently pulled it away and then slipped out from the row of seats and through the door. She vanished so quickly, and effortlessly. IT was a neat trick. I thought then, maybe girls like that need to know how to disappear. Attention isn't always a good thing. I didn't understand it myself. I was so tired of being invisible. I was desperate to be noticed. To be taken seriously. But everyone's different. Look at Radio Shack Robbie here. Proud as punch that he had fixed a machine. Like he'd saved the world. We all want different things. And that's okay. Just as long as I get what I want too. "I hope you all enjoyed the film. I'm excited to hear your opinions!" announced Mr. Winchester III. I sure as hell enjoyed the film. In a non-creepy way, that is.

Chapter 13: Wilhelmina Dorrance

I had to hurry home to get ready for my date. It was a very strange thing for me to think and I didn't entirely hate it. I flew upstairs past my sisters helping mother prepare dinner for the night and into my room. I quickly took off my clothes and stood there in my underwear, suddenly completely still, staring at the half-dozen dresses I owned. How I wished I had a proper job as a scientist so that I could afford to buy things that were not necessities, like pretty dresses from lovely shops. I sat on the bed staring at my open closet. Then I turned to look at my little chemistry kit. I'd barely used it and only did the usual experiments, the easy ones they teach children, like growing crystals with soda, mixing copper with nitric acid, or making a volcano from clay and baking soda. How I wished my parents hadn't insisted that I had to drop out of school to help my sisters. There were so many things left to learn. But my parents had both dropped out when they were my age to help support their families and they supposedly turned out fine. They didn't see why I shouldn't do the same. They said we needed the money more than education, they said. And it wasn't as if my parents hadn't stopped learning; they loved reading, and their Shakespeare and history, so they decide to drop out of school to earn a living and study alone. But there was only so much you could learn without a proper teacher, I had found. And I had enjoyed school. A lot. I started to resent this date now. I hardly had any free time and it didn't feel fair somehow. Yesterday had already been full of doing things for other people, now today? Simon, the rich kid needing my time this morning, and a date coming up with Gregory so soon. All these men seemed to need my time. Yesterday it was Mr. Winchester III himself, though he was much more influential than his son, and that was another thing entirely. That wasn't so much a favor as an order and a rescue mission. Nina's reputation certainly would have suffered if I hadn't filled in, no matter how terrified I was at the prospect. It was nice doing things for others; I just wished I had some time to myself once in a while. Oh, that felt selfish to think. Wasn't it? Was it? I felt almost…angry? But no, that was silly. I quickly buried the feeling. This was all silly. The screening had been interesting and dates can be fun. It wasn't as if I'd never been on one before, they just weren't as frequent as my sisters'. But yes, as I recalled, they were quite platonic. Fun conversation, some lovely food, butterflies in the stomach, like moths to a flame. But why did my butterflies feel more like dread? I stood up in a rush, feeling a little flushed and upset, though I couldn't understand why. I grabbed my velvety red dress and hastily put it on. It would do and I had some nice red lipstick to match. Once I made myself up, I fixed my hair and was feeling better until Nina knocked on my door. "Gregory is waiting for you!" she said with a giggle. I double-checked my appearance in the mirror and then grabbed my gray wool jacket and hat. "You look so pretty!" said Jessie as I passed her in the kitchen. "Don't be late for the show." ordered Nina, not looking up. I rolled my eyes at Nina and mother whipped her with the dish towel. "Have fun, dear!" mother said to me. I wanted to. I really did. I just wasn't sure I knew how. I ran downstairs and gave Mrs. Hilliard a little wave and a smile as she peeked at me from behind her chain on her door. She always needed to know everything, that nosy crone. I stepped outside and there was Gregory waiting for me on the sidewalk with a lovely bouquet of scarlet-coloured roses in his hand. "They're beautiful." I said, stunned. "So are you." he said. I didn't look at him, and instead purposefully examined the flowers. The compliment was silly and it sounded like something he'd said before. Not in a bad way; it just didn't feel like a compliment aimed specifically at me. But that was my ego, I supposed. "Shall we be off?" I asked. He nodded and offered h is arm. I was reminded earlier of Simon's earlier. These men. I took it. We went for a nice long walk and ended up at an Italian restaurant called Enotoco Rosso. I'd never been and I was quite excited about it as I took off my coat and he pulled out the chair for me. I sat down and took off my gloves as he sat opposite me. We were right by the window, and the glass gave off a bit of cold, but it was nice to be able to watch people pass by. Otherwise we were surrounded by other patrons in the restaurant enjoying their meals, and the staff that work there. The restaurant had only just started its evening shift. "It's very nice of you to accommodate my schedule." I said. "Of course! With my line of work, schedules are all over the place. Why, I had dinner with a kind lady the other night at midnight because it was the only time she and I could meet up." He said with a laugh. I laughed too. Generally, midnight was a quiet time in Kensington. I decided not to tell him I'd been staying out and having meals that late since I was fifteen. "Where do you work?" I asked. I was instantly curious. "British Museum. I'm a tour guide. I'm an expert on ancient civilizations, too. I used to work in the gift shop, but my knowledge of the ancient world stood me in good stead. Someday, I hope to be the curator of the museum, or failing that, an archaeologist specializing in ancient culture, like music instructions on cuneiform tablets." He said, contently. "Oh, how interesting. I am considering going into science, myself. If I had my choice of field, I'd go into chemistry. I have a chemistry kit at home that my younger sister brought me. Right now, I work at a nightclub where I help exotic dancers with their outfits. But I am doing that just to pay the bills, you know. But I will go into science someday, I just know it. If my parents let me stay in school, I probably would have gone to Cambridge or Berkeley. The latter being located in America. It would have been interesting. I knew enough about science that if my parents let me keep going to school I could have gotten into higher education. But it's all water under the bridge." I said. I knew I shouldn't have just said all that but I had been thinking such things and it just spilled out. Why on earth would he care what could have become of me if my parents let me stay in school? Such a silly hypothetical. But there I went again, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Focus, Wilhelmina, focus. "Chemistry, huh? That's neat. I always liked science. If I went into science, I might have been a geneticist. But of course, history is my first love. Metaphorically speaking of course. You mentioned your sister bought you a chemistry kit. She sounds like a good girl. I find History very fascinating…I like the questions of what was humanity like billions of years ago." Gregory said. I nodded. I was partially grateful he'd sidestepped my brazenness and continued on his own track as I should have done with this conversation. I could do this. I could be normal. "Historians do seem to have such interesting lives." I said, never having met a historian, or a tour guide before. "Oh, they really do. One of my old teachers invited me for dinner the other day and he said the funniest thing." Gregory paused, trying to remember it. I smiled as he thought. The waiter arrived and hovered nearby. We all waited in anticipation. "He said "You look a little young to be a tour guide!"." he said. It was admittedly hilarious so I laughed with everyone else in the restaurant. I was getting better at this. Maybe it was because this was our second encounter? Maybe it was the oddness of the evening? "May I take your orders?" asked the waiter. I opened the menu. "I haven't even decided yet." I said. "We'll each have the Spaghetti All'amatriciana. For drinks, I'll have a Negroni and the lady will have a Schweppes Lemonade." said Gregory with a smile. "Very good, sir." replied the waiter. "Thank you." I said, handing him my menu with a smile. I wasn't against the spaghetti as an idea, but I'd been rather excited to go through the menu, to imagine what everything might look and taste like. I hadn't even had a chance to open it. Oh well, that was dating for you. "Sorry about the Lemonade." said Gregory. "It's ok. I like lemonade." I lied. "You must get so used to being able to drink wherever and whenever. Of course it wasn't always ok to drink alcohol. Even champagne. I'm sure that disappointed a lot of lovers. Except for the ones who cheated." He said with a laugh. He seemed excited by the thought. "As a historian, I'm sure you would know." I said. I didn't mention that I really had never had any interest in drinking, and was pretty sure that even though I was of age I wouldn't be too keen. Oh, maybe I'd have a sip or two of merlot, but I preferred to keep my wits about me and I'd seen too many drunken tumbles and brawls on the street to convince me it wasn't exactly my thing. My statement flustered him for a moment and he carefully straightened his fork. "Oh, yeah. There was a time, over one hundred years ago that it was illegal to drink or even distill or brew any form of alcohol. Banned alcohol was called "Moonshine". The term "moonshine" comes from the fact that illegal spirits were made under the light of our moon. In every part of America, which was where the bulk of illegal alcohol smuggling took place, early distillery workers that the Americans called "Moonshiners" worked their stills at night to avoid detection from authorities. When they were caught, the alcohol would be poured out to the last drop. The act of illegally distilling and brewing alcohol at the time was called "Rumrunning." Now the term means to smuggle alcohol across a border to a country where the alcohol in question would be prohibited." He said with a smile. "Oh really? Tell me more." I replied. "Thank you, Jessie, for the little lessons you taught me along the way" I thought to myself. Getting a date to explain something to their partner definitely raised their spirits and passed the time. Gregory was no exception. The rest of the dinner continued without incident. I enjoyed my Spaghetti even if it wouldn't have been my first choice, and was able to eat it quite peacefully since he took up most of the conversation. He was interesting at moments. He knew his history, and I did especially find the history of Prohibition in the United States kind of compelling. He even told me about a warehouse somewhere in Kensington where "Rumrunners" worked, away from the jurisdiction of the United States Government, and then smuggle it to America, disguising it as food supplies. He also told me that the warehouse was also used by drug smugglers in the 1980s, long after Prohibition was lifted and people could imbibe alcohol again. I was glad I was able to tell him about my desires, but he kept talking after I asked him to tell me more. I knew it was rude to interrupt, so I didn't. He was having a good time, talking to me. After we finished, we both had the tiramisu for dessert. After that, he paid for us. He helped me with my coat. Then we walked over to the Chick Trap and parted ways in front of the nightclub itself. As we stood there looking at each other. I felt those butterflies from last night. But I also wasn't sure I wanted to kiss him. I could tell he wasn't so sure about that either. "Did you know that I did nudity for an art film shoot once?" I asked him. He stared and blinked once then said with raised eyebrows, "What?!". "Thank you for the dinner. It was wonderful." I said, extending my hand, and he took it, still shocked, but less so than before. I smiled, but it was more to myself than anything. If he hadf only asked a single question about me. As I headed down the stairs, he called out after me. "May I see you again somewhere down the road?" he asked me with a grin. A couple of dancers near me giggled. "Yes. Why not? You seem decent enough." I said to him. Then I stepped inside the club.

Chapter 14: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

After the screening I was feeling inspired. I was fast at work at the computer at the office. I could tell Mr. Thomas was watching me. Not all the time, but he'd sometimes poke his head out of the office and squint at me. He clearly didn't want me writing the story. Not when Mr. Winchester III was an investor in the paper itself. But this was just too good an opportunity to pass up. Those men from Japan. I didn't recognize any of them yet, but there was a good chance if I did some cross-referencing in the files…if they didn't look suspicious I'd bite my tongue. And I happen to enjoy having my tongue firmly inside my mouth, thank you very much! I left that afternoon practically skipping down the street like my little sister. I had an idea then, just to head back toward the club. Maybe I'd run into Simon again, or his father, or those me. Then I realized, no, the Park City Plaza Grand Kensington Hotel. It was by far the grandest hotel Mr. Winchester III owned and there was no way he wasn't putting up his guests in one of their prime VIP suites. I'd stake out the lobby. I turned on my heel and made my way toward the waterfront. As always, the air got colder and windier as I got closer to the water. Some days it made you feel frigid, but today it felt invigorating. I was ready to take on the world! I arrived at the hotel and awkwardly smiled at the receptionist when I entered into the large foyer. Sure, it had been fine when Simon had been with me this morning, but on my own I suddenly felt very out of place. I had to admit I didn't tend to visit these buildings very much, even though I assumed it was free to do so. They were snooty, sure, but also I consider the ostentatious wealth, the expense of having gold imported, and a giant space filled with nothing, while others lived paycheck to paycheck and were barely able to put food on their tables, which made me uncomfortably twitchy. "Can I help you, sir?" asked a man in a tailored Jacket with the hotel emblem embroidered on his lapel. Right. There was the other reason. When you looked and dressed like me, you weren't going to be allowed to loiter for too long. "Just waiting to pick up a package. I'll just stay back here." I replied, nervously. "Shall I call up to the room, sir?" asked the man, clearly not believing me. "No. They explicitly said not to disturb them." I said, hoping they would believe me. The man looked at me with one eyebrow raised. "I can wait outside." I said, and backed away slowly. I passed once more through the door. A passing Bald, lanky man I assumed was in his late fifties-early sixties with a small grey moustache gave me a sympathetic shrug. "A word of advice: Try not to draw attention to yourself in buildings such as this. You look a bit of a mess as it is." He said to me. I just nodded and went outside. I crossed the street and stared out into the ocean. The sky was blue and bright, the sun was just beginning its descent and gave everything a warm glow. The water looked almost welcoming You could be deceived it was as warm as the tropics if not for the cold wind blowing. I turned and leaned against the railing of the boardwalk, watching the entrance to the hotel. It was cold, but it was just as good. Besides, my excitement was keeping me warm inside. "Archie?" someone called out, from the streets ahead. I looked ahead and saw Simon waving at me. That was an unexpected and very welcome sight. "Simon!" I called out, waving back. Simon came up to me, giddy with excitement. "What are you doing here, mate?" I asked him. "Collecting stones. Come and join me!" he said. Stone collecting? That didn't seem like the hobby of a rich kid, but then again, what did know about the hobbies of rich kids. "Sure!" I replied, with a smile. I made my way to the stairs and joined him on the sidewalk. The dust slipped under my shoes, and I struggled to make my way over to him. "Stones?" I asked, once I finally made it. Simon nodded and held up his hand. He had half a dozen or so stones, mostly small, but quite detailed and polished. Finding good, polishable stones did take some doing. "Fancy seeing you here." He said. "I needed some air before heading home." I said to him. He nodded. I wondered now if he trusted me. I thought we'd had a good thing going, but it hadn't occurred to me that he might not be entirely falling for my friend act. I turned and pointed over toward a smaller hotel a few buildings from the Park City Plaza Grand Kensington Hotel. "That's your dad's also, right?" I asked him. He nodded again. "He also owns that one, and that one, and that one." He said as he pointed them out as they disappeared into the distance along the sidewalk. "What's that like?" I asked him. "What's what like?" he asked in confusion. "Having a dad who owns a good part of a city?" I said, pulling my coat tight around me and starting to walk a little in place. "Honestly?" he asked me. "Why would you not be completely honest with a stranger you just met yesterday?" I asked back with a grin. He finally smiled. "Mostly I don't think much about it. I just want to live my own life. I don't want to own all this. It's too much work and too much…" He said before stopping himself. I waited for him and didn't press. "Sometimes it's dangerous." He finished. "Dangerous?" I asked him. He gave me a look. "You know what I mean." He replied. Did I was he confirming what I was thinking about those men last night? "Those men from Japan." I said. But he didn't say anything. Just looked back towards the sea as we passed by Kensington Pier. "I get wanting to do your own thing. Have your own desires. Why do older folk always try to push things on us? They make up their minds about everything now that they're old but when they were young, they were rebels." I said this, thinking about my aunt and uncle. Thinking about how they took me in. Thinking about what they sacrificed for that. I felt a little guilty. "Exactly." said Simon. "I feel a little bad." I said. "You do? Why?" asked Simon, concerned. "All this talking about dreams and such, and I told you not to pursue yours." I said, feigning sadness. "Show some empathy. Remember the details. Make them feel special." I thought to myself. Simon smiled. "Oh, that. That's just silliness. What purpose could it serve? Besides, you were right, I didn't want to take employment from anywhere else." Simon said. "Or maybe they have no plans to hire anyone, but you were the exception. You know, you could offer to work for free. A small business always can use the help. It would be more like, I don't know, a charity act." I said, an idea just occurring to me. "Charitable act…" he said. He seemed to thin k about it for a moment for a moment but then dismissed it. "Well, it's neither here nor there. I should get going. There's a dinner I'm obliged to." He said. "With those same men?" I asked. Simon nodded, looking a little distracted. "If you'd like some company…" I said, hoping I could come with him. He looked confused. "I have no plans for tonight." I said to him. "Archie, desperation does not suit you." Simon said, frowning slightly. "Oh. I didn't mean to push." I said, nonchalantly. Too far, Archie. Too far. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just tired of people wanting things from me. I know you aren't like that." He said. "I understand." I said. I felt like I'd just tried to capture a stray dog by grabbing it by its scruff. "Next time." I told myself. "Well, have a nice dinner!" I said. "Thank you." said Simon. HE looked at his hand for a moment, then turned and threw the stones out into the water. He rubbed his hands together, gave me one last nod, and made his way along the street and up the stairs. I sat down on the sidewalk and pulled my jacket collar up. This always happened. I always went just a little bit too far. People just gave me an inch, and I took a mile, as the saying went. My uncle said it was a good quality, especially as a reporter, but I guess sometimes it's not. Especially with skittish marks like Simon Winchester. Next time I'd do better. Next time I'd get the scoop!

Chapter 15: Simon Winchester

I was standing in the dark little street made darker by the night sky hidden behind the dingy grey buildings. I looked around. Time had slipped through my fingers again. I couldn't remember the exact moment I'd decided to bail on dinner, decided to follow an address on a business card given to me by a blonde, bearded man. But here I was. And so I must have. I double-checked the card in my hand and then looked up at the address in front of me. This was where the El Corporation Flagship Headquarters was supposed to be. I was looking at a tall brick building with polished windows. There was a sign reading "El Corporation—Est. 2022" On it I looked around. I was amazed. Was this really the place? I thought for a moment "Maybe I should just head back to the hotel, actually join my father and those men for dinner like I'd told Archie I was doing, but no. No, I just couldn't stomach that. I knocked impulsively.. After waiting a few moments I knocked harder. And then finally the sliding doors opened. As I passed through the doors, I was met by a familiar face. I couldn't help but yelp. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the film projector chap. Mr. Circuit breaker himself." He said. "Steven Shrader, at your service. But you can call me Steve." he said to me. "Simon Winchester. At yours." I said, with a grin. Steve was looking at me with a smirk on his face. "You startled me." I said. "I think it was perfect timing myself. That was a reaction worthy of Lucille Ball." He said to me. "Well, then…I aim to make a positive first impression." I replied. I stepped back onto the street, letting Steve out of the building and watching as he closed up shop. "I hate to break it to you, mate, but this is your third impression." he said. "Right, right." I said. I was not usually at a loss for words, especially not in a business context, but right then I felt very…well…silly. And very awkward. "So, what can I do for you?" he asked. "An older man had approached me and offered me a job. I came here to say that I would like to take him up on his offer. I'd like to learn, and I would do it for free. I don't need the money." I said. It felt stupid to say the moment I'd said it. It was like bragging. I hadn't meant it to. I wanted to sound charitable, like Archie had suggested. Instead I just sounded prideful. "Well, I can definitely say that my boss will be thrilled. You've got skills, mate, and also, free is, well, free is pretty fantastic. Can't do better than that." He said. "Unless I paid you." I joked. Steve looked for a moment suddenly like the idea had merit. Shit. Why did I say that? "Just don't tell my father. He believes that hard work should be rewarded properly and fairly, and he doesn't always understand that can mean more than just money." I said to him. Steve nodded. "Of course. Not that I would be having an intimate chat with your dad, but I'll make a point not to tell him that." He said. "Thank you. So, do I get the job?" I said, still feeling awkward. "Let's see, we've agreed you'll work for nothing, and you're talented and motivated. I guess, sure we could give it a whirl. What do you say we go meet the company CEO?" he said, grinning. "Great, perfect. I'd love that." I said to him.

I soon changed my mind as we sped through the city streets in the man's car. It was if he thought he was on some racetrack, taking corners at speeds that made my stomach turn, and I felt fairly sure this old car would fall apart any minute. Or at least I'd lose some of my teeth from knocking together when we did. "Where are we going, anyway?" I asked. I thought I had known Kensington well, vut this insane driving had completely thrown me for a loop. "Fantastic tavern. It's called the Scarsdale Tavern." Replied Steve, wrenching the wheel and spinning us almost 180 degrees in order to take a very normal right turn. I felt queasy. "I'd never heard of that one." I said. "It's on Edwardes Square." He replied. "Oh." I replied. I didn't say anything else. I worried if I did, I might vomit. "You all right with that?" he asked, looking at me. Please stop looking at me, keep your eyes on the road. A teenage girl with auburn hair and pigtails was crossing the street in front of us. Oh my god, this was like something out of a high speed chase film. "Of course." I said. "Because if it makes you uncomfortable—" he said before I interrupted him. "Why would it make me uncomfortable…Oh my god!" I yelled. Steve looked back at the road and casually swerved around the girl and gave her a friendly wave. "Oi! Watch where you're going! You muppet!" I hear her yell. "Well, all right then! You will love the boss. He started the company from almost nothing, you know. He was seventeen when he started the company. His son was dealing with a lot of stuff in Japan at some point." He said. "Japan?" I asked. "He got fired, got the job back, didn't want it back, it's a whole thing. He told the CEO about it. Maybe he'll tell you about it one day. He can be agreeable, but please let him ask the questions." Steve said. "Let him take the lead. I follow. Most bosses are like that." I said. The rest of the ride was mercifully quiet as Steve raced the streets to the Scarsdale Tavern. I held fast to the underside of my seat and tried to just breathe my way through the experience. When we finally stopped and I was able to peel my way out of the truck, I almost knelt on the pavement to kiss the ground. "This way!" said Steve, completely unaware of the ordeal he put me through, or the opposite. I couldn't tell. I joined him as we walked along the busy streets to a small tavern with a marquee reading "The Scarsdale Tavern". We made our way inside. The tavern was small and modern looking, but the effect was cozy and intimate, not dingy. The place was very casual, quite the opposite of my father's club. I followed Steve to a table in a back corner, a curved dark red upholstered banquet on one side. Sitting there was the same tall, blonde, bearded man who gave me this offer, a grin on his face. "All right, boss?" said Steve, sliding in beside him. "Remember this chap?" he asked. I quickly took off my hat and held up my hand. "Hello! I'm Simon Winchester." I said. The man looked at me for a moment, looked at Steve, and then looked back at me. He then shook my hand. "Howard El Bridget. CEO of the El Corporation." He said. "Well, Mr. El Bridget, I'm really excited about this opportunity. It seems to me that your company is doing some truly innovative things." I said to him. Mr. El Bridget stared at me and then once again, looked at Steve. "Did you tell him anything private?" Steve raised his hands in front of him. "Hold on now, nothing! Just that we were happy to hire someone to work with us for free!" he said. "For free, you say?" Mr. El Bridget asked him. "Yeah." Steve replied. Mr. El Bridget looked at me again with a knowing smile. "Why would you want to work for free?" he asked me. "What can I say? I'm rich." I said. I said it just like that. In the way I might have when I was around seven years old and learned the difference between me and the "common people" as my father called them. Mr. El Bridget stared at me. Then he shook his head. "Have a seat." He said. I sat quickly on the other side of him on the banquet. It felt oddly intimate, all three of us sitting curved like this, next to one another. I tried to sit as close to him as possible. "I'll go get us some drinks." Steve said. "Red wine for me, if you please." Mr. El Bridget requested. "Just a soda for me." I said to him. Steve went to the counter to get our drinks. After a long pause he came back. An even longer pause followed. I would say it was silent, but it wasn't. There was music playing in the background. Something bright and cheerful, and the customers at the other tables were loud and raucous. It was a very lively scene, except in this corner. In this corner, well…things were uncomfortable. "Is everything on schedule?" Steve asked Mr. El Bridget. Mr. El Bridget nodded. "As well as could be expected. Luis made the necessary preparations." He said. "Who's Luis?" I asked him. "My son. A bit of an unpredictable sort. I trust Steven told you of what happened between him and an old friend of mine?" he said. "Some of it." I replied. "I can't believe he did this for you. After everything that man did to him." Steve said. "Not now. I do not wish to speak of it at the moment." Mr. El Bridget replied, solemnly. With our drinks on the table, I was grateful to have something to occupy myself with during this, the world's most awkward job interview. "I just find it weird." said Steve, sipping his beer. "A man has his responsibilities. Even after everything. It was a good thing. Luis made the right call. To move the machine away from Chevalier." Mr. El Bridget said. "Chevalier? Do you mean as in "Maurice Chevalier"?" I asked him. "No. I refer to the company, of which an old friend of mine is CEO." Mr. El Bridget replied. "I think the right thing to do would have been to let that ship sink to the bottom of the ocean." Steve said. "To each his own. Do you have any idea what would have happened then? You know how Stigmata would react to seawater." He stopped. I was remembered. Mr. El Bridget turned to me. "So, you enjoy tinkering?" he asked me. It was so sudden, I just nodded. "Well, I expect big things from you. There is much that requires tinkering with." Mr. El Bridget said with a smile. "Is that a metaphor?" I asked. "It most certainly is not." He clarified. "Right." I told him. Except I was pretty certain it was. What on earth were they discussing? It captured my imagination, that was for sure. It struck a cord in my gut, and I felt, well, a little unsure. But certainly intrigued. "So, do I have the job?" I asked. Mr. El Bridget nodded and extended his hand. "Why not. You sound very skilled. Welcome aboard, Mr. Winchester." He said, grinning.

Unknown

Anxious anticipation. Of something unknown We're here waiting. We can't see anything in the dark. But we can feel it. We aren't alone.

Chapter 16: Simon Winchester

Time passes. Always moving forward no matter what else is happening. Sometimes you feel like you're running to catch up, other times you feel like it is pushing you forward so fast you will trip over your own feet. It passes, and moments that have significance stand out, but the rest is a series of quick images in your mind. Snapshots of a life lived. My time jumps. Ignore the concern, ignore the bits that tie things together. I really wish now that I had paid more attention. I wish that the weeks that passed working for the El Corporation had been something I'd been more considerate to imprint on my mind. But it all blurs together now. The days were so similar, even if the jobs were not. I'd wake up, have breakfast, and read from a new book. I'd go to the headquarters and meet with Steve and we'd be out all day to tinker with various machines. IT might as well be as simple as a circuit breaker, or as fascinating as a neon sign. We might even have had time to climb the ladder to the top of a marquee or climb down into a cellar to work on a power generator. It was all a lark. Steve was like my supervisor, and Mr. El Bridget was like a mentor to me. I saw Archie a few times too. That lad had a way of suddenly appearing at the oddest of times. Had I been my father, I would have thought he was stalking me. He was a decent fellow and a good conversationalist. So I didn't mind his company, as unprepared as I was for the next time he magically appeared.

Chapter 17: Wilhelmina Dorrance

The thing they tell you is that love conquers all. I always thought that meant that no matter what happened in a relationship, if you were truly in love, it didn't matter. But what I was discovering was how being in a relationship meant that nothing else mattered. Not to me, but to everyone else. If I was late to help the girls get ready, they'd giggle and blame Gregory. Nina was suddenly interested in conversation, talking about her many suitors and asking if Gregory would have done such and such terrible thing and fawning over flowers he sent me. Even my parents, who had always been so supportive of me and my quiet ways, seemed so pleased. IF Gregory was taking me out of town for the evening, suddenly I no longer needed to clean up after dinner. Worst of all, my new chemistry kit just sat there collecting dust, being pushed to the side as little boxes with necklaces and broaches filled my desk. Love was literally conquering my hobbies, my interests, and my passions. Love conquered all. All things. All that mattered was love. There was, of course, only one problem I wasn't in love with him. He was in love with me. It was his love pushing everything else to the side. It was his love that mattered most. To my family. To everyone who smiled knowingly at me. Everyone was so please, so who was I to spoil their joy. And Gregory was perfectly acceptable. Interesting in his own way, kind, respectful. I supposed the proper thing to do would be to let the relationship deepen and wait for him to pop the question. That seemed the way of things. What could I say? How could I express the resentment I felt in this scenario? How could I hurt all these people? I wished then that I was rich like Simon, and non of this would matter then. But it probably would. Time was, a girl needed a suitor, to marry. They say that that was a girl's true calling in the old days. Now, women have more social freedom and sometimes, women did the seeking and women held jobs, and women even hold respectable positions of power. Oh, how times have changed in the last 150 years. I picked up one of the small glass vials of liquid from my dusty chemistry kit. I raised my arm to throw it against the wall. I imagined how satisfying the shattering would sound. How pleasing the liquid exploding everywhere would look. Then I sighed and placed the vial back in its box.

Chapter 18: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

I made a point of learning Simon's routine. It was easy. The guy was a full-time employee for the El Corporation now, thanks to me. Only problem was that meant he was spending a lot less time with his fancy father and his powerful pals. What was the story now? Rich kid volunteers to tinker with the city his father broke? Not a bad headline, but not exactly front-page worthy. There was not much I could do now. I just had to keep up with the friendship. I knew that someday, somewhere the story would appear. This kid had too much surrounding him to not slip and fall headfirst into something. Meanwhile I had to thank Mr. Thomas for taking me under his wing. I was editing the obituaries now, officially out of the mail room. It wasn't much, but it meant an increased paycheck, and you know, it was kind of interesting reading about the lives people lived before they died. Most deaths tend not to be front page news; it just happens as naturally as being born. People are in our lives and then gone. Kind of like my parents, I guess, not that I'd ever known them long enough to notice that they were gone. So yeah, it's neat to see the lives lived. The kids, grandkids, and sometimes—not often—but sometimes, even great-grandkids. It can also get pretty repetitive. Which again, maybe that's a good thing too. Maybe it shows that most people are living simple, predictable lives and are pretty happy. I wondered about that. Was it because I had such an unusual upbringing that I didn't think much about a wife and a family in my future? That all I cared about was making it above the fold? Or was it that the future didn't seem to exist for me? It was all just this black void out there, just a dark, desolate void. Well, that was a creepy thought. I shook my head and went back to editing.

Chapter 19: Simon Winchester

It was 5:00 p.m. and already dark outside. I was standing out in front of the empty El Corporation headquarters, shivering a little in my long, black wool winter coat. I was trying to lock up but my fingers were numb with the cold. In retrospect, I should have worn gloves. "Are you here alone?" asked an ominous voice behind me. I spun on my heel, my heart beating fast. A large figure towered over me, and when I recognized him, I didn't do much to assuage my surprise. "Hello there, Mr. El Bridget." I said, feeling nervous as I always did around him. I hadn't seen him in just over two weeks, since that evening at the tavern. His son had gone back to Japan and that had been that. Or so I'd thought. "Simon." He replied, acknowledging my greeting. We stared at each other, then: "Where's Steve?" I asked him. "He had to leave early. His son is ill." Mr. El Bridget replied. It sounded like a lie, but it was actually the truth. There was just something about how Mr. El Bridget stared at me that made me feel like everything I was saying was somehow clumsy and just barely adequate. "Oh dear." He said with a hefty sigh. "What's wrong?" I asked, then immediately doubted if anything was wrong in the first place and that I shouldn't make such assumptions about people, especially large, powerful individuals who looked like they could eat me alive if they felt so inclined. "I require assistance. However, it is…" he said, before stopping in mid-sentence. He stared at me hard. I raised my eyebrows and tried to smile a little to show him I was a reliable sort of fellow who was of no threat to him whatsoever. "I am at your service. Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked. He continued to stare at me. "I've been really improving. I think you'd be proud." I continued. Why was I insisting so hard? There was something about Mr. El Bridget that made me want to impress him. "It is not a question of talent. From what I had seen of your work, you do seem skillful. It is more of a question of trust." He said. "Trust?" I asked, confused. "Can you be trusted with this?" he asked, firmly. I felt mildly offended. "Of course." I reassured him. "With secrets, mind you. You cannot speak of this to anyone else without my authorization. Otherwise you will never tinker with another machine in this country again. Is that perfectly clear?" he said, firmly. Well, with a secret like that, how could I say no? "I'm very good at keeping secrets." I told him. I wasn't about to go into detail about how I kept secret all the things I knew my own father got up to and how he'd earned all his fortune. Because, well, it was a secret after all. Mr. El Bridget nodded. He seemed to understand. It wasn't like rumours about my father didn't swirl around Kensington like the waves in the ocean. "Well then…will you accompany me?" he asked. I nodded and followed him. We rode in a limousine to a part of Kensington filled with garages and packaging factories. A place of low-roofed buildings and dirt and soot. It was all purpose-built, no attention to details that might please the eye. Mr. El Bridget's chauffeur pulled up to a brick building with a nondescript door and got out. I looked around. WE were at the edge of town. Not quite on the water but I could hear waves in the distance. The smell of oil and gasoline mingled in the air. This was a place for hard work. Our path was overrun with dead weeds; Mr. El Bridget's limousine was the only car parked in the empty lot. We entered the building. Mr. El Bridget flicked on the lights and only half came to life. We were in one large, empty room with a few hooks hanging from the ceiling. "It looks like this was once a abattoir that doubled as a meatpacking factory." I said, looking around. "Indeed, yes. Twenty years ago. But this was an assumed front. It started as an abattoir, and although it continued to serve as that on the surface, rumrunners were hard at work behind the scenes distilling and brewing alcohol. Eventually the culprits were caught and their work poured out. It was also used by drug smugglers in the 1980s." Mr. El Bridget explained. I understood now. "It seems that the real operation was hidden from the abattoir itself, wasn't it?" I asked. Mr. El Bridget shook his head but was somehow agreeing with me and led me to a set of stairs toward the back. We descended to a small landing with shelves along the opposite wall. He quickly opened the top of the old newel post and pushed something. The wall to our side suddenly started to open. It was heavy and the gears were grinding hard. If Mr. El Bridget was right, and I was surer he was, then this was a very old door used during the prohibition era, which also saw use as a haven for drug smuggling in the 1980s. Its purpose: Alcohol production and later drug making. WE walked into a small, dank room and then through an opening in the wall and down another creaky flight of stairs. It opened up into a large room. This one had so much more equipment in it, almost as if it was left behind in haste. There were large tables, and sinks along the wall, baskets hanging from the ceiling. There was a huge old fridge with a chain around it, and bottles scattered about on the floor, with a dust like substance covering parts of the floor—likely from the drugs that were being made there during the 1980s. All this I noticed and processed but I hardly looked at. I hardly looked around at all. I mostly stared. At the machine. I'd never seen a machine like this in my life. It was large, with pipes running in and out of it, but not connected to anything else. There was a large human-sized opening at the bottom of it, like it was made for building living creatures or something of the sort. It looked new but used. The metal had a sheen to it, but the seams were rusting a little. And there was this sickly green substance speckled everywhere. Sludge perhaps? "What is that?" I asked. "The Fabrication Machine." replied Mr. El Bridget, approaching it. "What does it do?" I asked, following him. "That is a question which lacks importance at the present moment. I require aid welding this side together." He said, taking off his coat. I nodded and followed suit. "What do I do?" I asked him. "You need to pull the panel from its housing on the other side and pull the lever to control the internal pressure." He instructed, passing me a screwdriver while settling down beside the machine. I walked around to the other side of the giant machine and found the panel. I quickly unscrewed it and reached inside. "Now?" I asked him. "Now." replied Mr. El Bridget from the other side. I pulled out the lever and there was a sudden explosion of light. I thought I had caused it until I remembered that Mr. El Bridget was welding on the other side. Sparks flew. Literally. I could see them rise from the top of the machine. I looked back down at my hand inside the machine and leaned down to peek inside. It was as dark as you'd imagine. I could hear the welding on the other side. Then silence. "What is a "Fabrication Machine"?" I asked, trying again, now that we were working. Maybe some idle chatter would inspire him to answer me. "From what my son told me, it seems that it was something that no one should ever have invented." He replied. "Oh. Why not?" I asked. That did not make me feel good. There was another burst of sound and a flash of light. I waited there, holding on to that lever, for it to be over, for an answer. My excitement had been poisoned and now turned sour. "You are an inquisitive one. Now then, you may now release the lever and close the panel." replied Mr. El Bridget. I looked back into the machine as I slowly released the lever. I heard a small popping hiss and then I was sprayed in the face. I stood up sputtering. As I backed away from the machine, Mr. El Bridget was suddenly beside me, handing me a cloth. "Wipe that off! Quickly!" he said. I nodded and did so, cleaning my face as carefully as I could. I looked at the rag, sickly green with the same sludge or whatever that was speckled on the machine. The cloth was snatched quickly out of my hand, as Mr. El Bridget stuffed it into his trouser pocket. He said nothing, just turned and stared at the giant metal beast before us. So I did too. Gazing at it. Trying to figure it out, to deconstruct it, to understand it. "The man who wanted this machine built fancied himself a man revolutionizing the history of scientific discovery. Instead, it created a monster." said Mr. El Bridget then. "What do you mean?" I asked, turning to him. "You do know what a monster is, do you not?" replied Mr. El Bridget, not looking at me, still staring at the machine in front of us. "I know monsters. The Jabberwock, for instance." I said to him, though I wanted to say my father was a monster. "What?" he asked, confused. "Oh. I'm rereading "Alice in Wonderland"." I said to him. "Ah yes, the old children's book." He said, dismissively. "Do you know what happens when a man constructs a machine, which creates a monster?" he asked me. I shook my head now. I was speechless. This man who spoke overly formally in conversation now spoke in strange twisted metaphors. It was unnerving. "The man loses everything." He said. "I see." I replied. Mr. El Bridget sighed hard. "You clearly do not. You clearly do not see. No one does. He purloined it from him. Then implored him to return. Implored him to bring it here. I should destroy it." He said, solemnly. "What are you talking about?" I asked him. "A man. A very dangerous man. A man I once considered a friend. My son designed and built it, so there you are. It is his mess, and I intend to clean it. Therefore it is my responsibility." He explained. "Mr. El Bridget, I'm sorry if I am being rude, but I am very confused. Who are you talking about?" I said. Mr. El Bridget laughed. "You speak true. I admire that about you, Mr. Winchester. I refer to a certain Professor Aoi." he said. "Oh." I simply replied. Why did that name sound familiar to me? "And Luis, as well." he said to me. "And Luis?" He invented this." I said. It made sense then. "He did. It was my fault for allowing our respective corporations to collaborate on this project." He said. "When you say monster…" I started to say, only for Mr. El Bridget to shake his head and then suddenly he was done with the conversation. He turned and made his way back toward the stairs, turning off the lights as he did so. I stood for a moment in the dark, watching his retreating back. A shiver ran up my spine. I turned to look at the machine once more. And then quickly I followed him.

Chapter 20: Wilhelmina Dorrance

"Billie, this is exactly the effect I was going for!" Mike the manager said., We were looking at beautiful clouds of fog filling the stage, making everything appear quite magical, even the mop and bucket standing front and center. "You are a hell of a gal sometimes." He said. "Thanks, Mike!" I said. I couldn't believe it. Finally after all the days with Gregory, I had been given a whole weekend to myself. He had been so apologetic that he had to go do something "private". I had reassured him that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but inside mine was bursting with joy. Time to do whatever I wanted. Time to finally play with my chemistry kit. Which I used to create the fog effect for Mike. Or at least a fabulous catwalk fog that looked fantastical in the lights. "You keep making things like these, I'll compensate you for the materials, and a little extra for that brain of yours." Said Mike, hands in pockets, nodding happily. "Best of all, it won't stink up the costumes." I added. "Okay, okay, you'd better get backstage. The girls are going to need you!" Mike said, dismissively. I nodded and jumped up onto the stage as light as a feather. I ran backstage and stood for a moment. Then I did a little dance and clapped my hands together. I was so happy. I didn't know I could feel quite this happy. Nothing else had done it before this. Not nude cricket bat swinging, or men, or helping out with the costumes. Making something like this, that was truly magic. No. It was science. I barely heard a word anyone said to me backstage. Though I did notice Luci say something about me being in love and lost in the clouds. I found that almost insulting, but I didn't say anything. I never said anything. Besides, for some reason it didn't upset me. Because at least I knew it wasn't true. And maybe I was lost in the clouds. But the clouds I was lost in were clouds of man-made fog! Or in this case, WOMAN-made fog! I stayed in the dressing areas during the show, cleaning up and just feeling overall proud of myself, and then happily entered the whirlwind of activity after the performance, untying knots and collecting items that needed to be cleaned. I was in such an incredible mood I wondered if it would ever go away. I even said yes when Lucy pressured me again to go out, and borrowed another fancy dress. "Would you like to try my lipstick?" she asked. Normally when asked I'd say no. Not that I was often asked my opinion on my makeovers. But this time, for some reason, I said yes. "I would, thank you." I said to Luci. I carefully put it on. It was bright and bold, and made me a little nervous, but I was feeling bright and bold so I took in a deep breath and admired the look instead. "Wilhelmina, there's a man waiting for you." said Wendy, poking her head in from the hall to the catwalk door. And then there it was. My good feeling popped like a balloon. My face fell. I had thought Gregory had "private business" to take care of. I nodded. "Are you okay?" asked Wendy, noticing my expression. "Why do men always ruin everything?" I asked, standing up and straightening my dress. "The right men don't." she replied. She gave me a little squeeze from behind. "It's okay to decide whether you like a man or not. If you like him, you like him. If you don't like him, just say so. It's better than just faking it for the sake of making him feel comfortable." She said. I nodded. I wasn't sure there would be a right one. Right now, I really wanted to play with my chemistry kit. It wasn't that I didn't like men, and didn't get all aflutter around them. I just felt that right now, that wasn't really my priority. Even if for everyone else it seemed to be. I grabbed my things and made my way to the catwalk door. I took in a deep breath and smiled then opened it. "Simon?" I asked surprised. "I'm so happy you're here! But why aren't you onstage?" he asked, all smiles. "Because I'm not a performer, silly!" I replied, still stunned as I stepped out. "But the cricket thing!" He said. "Oh. That. That was just a favor for my younger sister, Nina. I prefer to help out behind the scenes. My older sister, Jessie helps with makeup here too, as a matter of fact." I replied. Simon nodded as if that sounded perfectly reasonable. "Can I buy you a drink? It's so wonderful to see you!" I asked him. I noticed some of the girls lingering by the edge of the stage, watching. I wondered what it must be like to be a Winchester. To always have people observing you. But it was strangely nice to see him. "Yes please." He said. I led him past the tables by the foot of the stage and straight to the bar area of the Chick Trap. I then directed him and pulled out a chair for him at an empty table. "Were you here alone?" I asked, as he sat down. "Yes. I like to do things alone. It's weird, I know." He replied, shaking his head. "Not that weird." I replied with a smile. I understood. I wished I had that privilege. It would be nice just to have the time to not be around anyone. "So, what do you do backstage then?" He asked. I flagged down a waitress, who arrived almost instantaneously. I supposed she had not been expecting Simon Winchester to be seen here in a place such as this. "Oh, nothing major. I help with costumes. Changing into them, quick changes, even cleaning them sometimes." I said to him. "Sorry to interrupt. Just waiting on your order." The waitress said. "Oh, right. What do you want to drink?" I asked. "Oh, uh, just a soda." Simon said, turning to the waitress. "Two sodas!" I said to the waitress. Then I turned back to him. "Now, what was I saying? Oh, right! It was just about costumes." I said. "Well, it sounds fascinating. The world of backstage has always sounded so intriguing to me." said Simon. I laughed because it was quite the opposite. Messy and smelly. Did I dare tell him that the girls here smelled? "But oh!" I said suddenly. "Yes?" Simon said, attentively. "I did something amazing today." I added. Why not share after all? That bubbly feeling was flooding through me again. "I came up with the perfect recipe for fog!
I said, excitedly. "For fog?" he replied, confused. "For fog, for the stage, that is. I made it at home. I have this little chemistry kit. It's nothing fancy, but I made it. And I did it. And Mike, the manager, is going to use it." I said, grinning wide. "That's wonderful!" said Simon just as the sodas arrived. "Perfect timing!" I said as I held my glass and Simon did so too, following my lead. "Here's to inventing things!" Simon said. I couldn't stop smiling. "To inventing things!" Simon said, before we sipped our drinks. "I know you like machines and how they function. I saw you the other day with that projector." I said. "I do, but I need to ask you more questions about this chemistry kit of yours." said Simon, waving off the question about him. I nodded even though I couldn't think of the last time anyone had wanted to ask me about anything. So I told him. I told him about how it all started in school when I was around seven, playing with the classic volcano experiment. From that point on I thought it was fascinating that you could mix things to create other things. We got another soda and then I suddenly found myself talking about my family and how I loved them, but I couldn't be them, and how doing nudity in film terrified me ("But you were so good at it!") and how I liked being alone like he did. Eventually it got to a point where I genuinely wanted to know more about him, and I wondered if he was trying only to talk about me to avoid that subject. He couldn't truly be interested. "Well, it's just because I'm not that interesting. My life is all planned out for me. I will take over my father's businesses eventually. Sometimes I go into the office with him and he forces me to attend these awful parties with these equally awful people. I need to get to know who's important. But honestly, I'm like you." He said. "Impossible!" I replied. "Very possible. I enjoy science as well, as you know. How to fix things. IF only I could just work for the El Corporation forever." He said, leaning forward. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asked me. "Absolutely!" I replied. "I've been volunteering with them. I'm a tinkerer." He said with a laugh. "No!" I said with surprise. "Yes! I go out every day with a man named Steven Shrader, and we tinker with things. And I just love it. I believe they think I'm quite good, too. The other day, his, I guess 'our' boss, Mr. El Bridget, took me to help him on a top-secret project." He said. "Ooh." I said, giddy with excitement. His excitement added up onto my own and it was such a wonderful feeling. "It's the most incredible machine I've ever seen and I have no idea what it does!" said Simon wide-eyed. "It's both terrifying and beautiful at the same time." He added. "That sounds so interesting!" I replied, my eyes also quite wide. There was something a little different about Simon tonight. He was always enthusiastic and kind to me, but this was something else. I couldn't' figure it out. It was almost manic. I noticed a small speck of green paint or something just below his left eye. I found myself fixating on it until Simon slammed his soda glass on my table, spilling the stuff over his hand. I nearly jumped out of my skin. "You like science! I'll show you!" he said, excited. "I do like science. Okay!" I replied. Why not? This was too much fun and quite exciting. We stood up, and I flagged down the waitress as Simon attempted to put on his coat. For some reason, one of the sleeves refused to behave. At least I think it refused to behave. But then, it was not my coat. "I'll help, I'll help!" I said. Yes, he was quite giddy. It gave me pause, but only for a moment. It was hard to suppress the joy at being taken seriously for once by someone outside my family. Together we managed to get Simon in his coat and then he grabbed my hand and pulled me across the area. I was laughing so hard and I didn't care that people were standing. Today was such a good day.

Chapter 21: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

I watched Simon and Wilhelmina from the shadows in the club. I felt like a spy. The two of them were having a grand old time, especially Simon. He was behaving in a weird way. I would have thought maybe he was drunk if they hadn't been drinking sodas the whole time. It was strange. Something was up. And I was going to figure out what. They stood up and I quickly tried to flag down a waitress. I was ignored. OF course. So I dropped five pounds on the table and quickly got up to follow them. I didn't know where they were going or why, but I needed a story. I needed a way in. I had overheard Simon say something about a machine, and that was all I needed to know. Those men from Japan, and now a new kind of machine? It all had to be connected. That's how it was then. Making connections without any proof. But not noticing the things right in front of my face. Not until it was too late. I followed them at a distance, leaving the club and then to the streets. This part of town was far more seedier than the city plaza and I felt less comfortable here. There were also plenty of places to hide and watch. They got on a bus. Shit. I quickly made my way to the exit and outside just as they got in. I waited for the next one and wondered if I could go back inside and grab those five pounds. But I had a bit more money on me. It was all the money I had on me for the rest of the week. This had better be worth it. I got onto the bus and said, "Follow that bus!". I couldn't help but smile. That was not something you got to say a lot. It was fun. The bus driver, a lanky man with a thin moustache, wearing a red plaid cap with maroon-coloured suspenders and a white dress shirt, and brown oxfords on his feet, for his part didn't seem as thrilled at the idea of chasing someone. "Really?" he asked, giving me a look. "No joke! I really need to follow them." I replied. The bus driver sighed and said, "You're lucky there's no one else on this bus or you'd be out of luck, mate!" the driver told me. He started tailing them. I wondered if he got asked this a lot. I thought it was just like that cliché from American cinema where the man says "Taxi! Follow that car!", but here I was chasing a bus, so circumstances must arise for other people as well. Funny to think about. We chased the buss through the city to the edge of town. When they pulled over, we drove past them and around the corner. The driver knew to do that without me even having to ask. I probably wouldn't have thought to do that in the first place. What a clever man. I paid him and tipped him in exchange for what he did for me. He gave me a nod and said, "Good luck, mate.". I smiled at that. I retraced my steps and Simon and Wilhelmina were gone. I quickly jogged over to the building they'd been dropped off at. There was a single door in a wide wall. Sure, why not? I opened it slowly and carefully and looked around. It was a large empty room with some hooks hanging from the ceiling. There were also what appeared to be booze stills and drug making ingredients. Weird. Simon and Wilhelmina were nowhere to be seen. Then I heard a creepy laugh. It came from somewhere toward the back of the room. I raced across the open space to the staircase and looked down. I could hear them talking. Okay. I'd wait, just for a moment. This was thrilling! This was what I'd been waiting for! Finally! Byline, here I come!

Chapter 22: Wilhelmina Dorrance

A stairway to nowhere. I'd been to my share of former clubs. They were the kind of places that delighted exotic dancers and drew the fascination of potential suitors. SO I assumed there had to be more to this empty cement room. I walked up to one wall and looked at it closely, running my fingers across it, trying to find a hidden door. "Do you want me to just show you?" asked Simon. His energy was still off, calmer now, but strange, almost antsy. I shook my head. I didn't want to admit that these kinds of puzzles frustrated me, but I wanted to figure it out, nonetheless. The cold air from outside had helped clear some of my excitement and I was feeling mildly more focused now. I could do this. I took a step back when I realized that there were no secret doors cut into the wall somehow. Which could only mean one thing: The wall IS the door. Simon smiled a knowing smile and I sighed inwardly but smiled back. Men enjoyed smiling knowing smiles around girls. Most of the time it was because one of the dancers would pretend to not know what a particular drink was, or a food dish, so that these young men could share their wisdom. But this time at least it meant something. It was a smile indicating that Simon knew something that I did not. "So then…" I said to myself. I felt that little feeling of anger I sometimes felt in these kinds of moments. When I didn't understand something and someone else did. I pulled it down; it was silly to feel this way. He had offered to tell me, I was the one being stubborn now. I felt this need to prove that I knew the secret. Despite knowing the secret was a secret. That was kind of the purpose of secrets. It didn't help that he was up a step, literally looking down at me, leaning so comfortably on the newel post. Oh, of course. I stepped up to join him and gave his elbow a quick shove. As he slipped off the post with a "Hey!" I examined it. There was a hinge on one side, clear as day now that I was looking for it. I pulled at the top of the post and swung it open. Inside was a copper button, extra shiny right in the middle. Right where clearly many a thumb had pushed on it. So I pushed on it. There was a loud clank and then a rusty whirring sound. I turned quickly to watch as the wall opposite us slowly opened. I approached and examined it. It wasn't cement after all. IT was a heavy metal painted gray to match the rest of the walls. "What purpose does this serve? A second secret entrance?" I asked. "I assume this was where they made the booze and later where the drugs were made." replied Simon, joining me at the door. "They needed extra protections." He continued. "I suppose so." I said, looking into the empty gray room beyond the door. "There's more to go. Quite the adventure." Said Simon as he walked into the room. I followed him. I was feeling a little nervous now, not as excited as before. "Quite the Adventure.". We passed through the plain empty room. I imagined knowing what I knew now, that this room was used for storing goods before they were shipped out. We made our way to a large hole in the wall to our left and down yet another dark staircase. At the bottom we were greeted by a large room. I looked up and saw rusted buckets hanging from a line that ran around the room like a track for an old model train set. Across from us were two giant tubs and, beside them, tables and overturned tools. The whole room felt ancient, like we had opened an Egyptian sarcophagus. Dust and ruin. Except for the machine. "Isn't incredible? It's both terrifying and fascinating, don't you think?" Simon asked. I wasn't sure about that. "What is it?" I asked, staring at it. It was the opposite of everything else in the room: new, shiny, but covered in some sickly green spots here and there. IT was completely modern and huge. Not at all like the old-fashioned bootlegger setups, or the drug making set ups for that matter. "As the walrus said, "The time has come to talk of many things…".". "The Walrus?" I asked, feeling a little concerned. HE was sounding weird now. Not giddy or anxious, now he was sounding almost mesmerized. I noticed as he turned toward the machine a few more specks of green at the nape of his neck. Green spots. I glanced at the machine. Simon placed a hand on it, almost like he was touching the side of a giant animal. He was deliberate and slow, drawing his hand across the side of the machine towards a massive opening on one side. He placed a hand on one of the large cogs and pushed at it gently. I wasn't sure why, but something moved. "From "Alice in Wonderland". Have you read the book?" he asked, still looking at the machine. I didn't want to admit that I was not much of a reader of fiction. The only stories I knew were the ones my parents read to us from their giant worn copy of "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare", which they did more for their own amusement than for ours. The books that interested me were the science ones. Or rather, I suppose, book. The one book I stole from school last year. I still believe I borrowed it. I knew someday I'd return it, once I had memorized it completely. "I know of it." I replied, standing next to him now, but I didn't want to touch the machine. Something about it made me uncomfortable. "Well, it's a poem from the book. The Walrus and the Carpenter take several young oysters for a walk along the beach." Simon explained. "How very odd." I replied. Perhaps odder still was why on earth he was telling me any of this. Why was he acting so strange? It occurred to me then how dangerous innocuous strangeness could be. The beginning of our night together had been such fun, but now it had turned, like overripe fruit. I felt my defenses rise. Simon gazed at the machine; he looked like he was almost in a trance. One could possibly say he was a man in love. But it was different somehow. Not love, but infatuation? Obsession, perhaps? ""The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things. Of shoes—and ships—and sealing wax."". he said, one more time, turning the corner of the machine where a large opening could be seen at the bottom, almost human sized. Simon stared into the machine's large, gaping mouth, almost stuck his entire head in. ""Of cabbages—and kings."" He continued, his voice echoing now a bit and I took a small step backward. ""And why the sea is boiling hot—and whether pigs have wings."" He pulled his head out of the machine's maw, stood upright, and looked at me. "And what on earth is this thing for?" he finished. "That does not seem to be part of your poem." I replied. He shook his head. "You should look here, mad scientist. What is that green stuff?" he said. I suddenly didn't want to. I was feeling more and more concerned for Simon. Besides that, I was quite intimidated by the machine, and that giant opening looked like it might bite my head off if I wasn't careful. But I couldn't bring myself to tell Simon that. I didn't want him to react badly, and at this point I really had no idea how he would. I approached the maw of the machine and bent my knees so I could look inside it. It was dark green inside, like it had been painted as such. But it seemed wet. Like it had only just been painted. I wasn't keen on touching the stuff, but I assumed it was paint. Paint of a deep sickly green colour unlike any I had ever seen. A green so sickly it felt like I was looking into the sewers of Kensington. A hole, like Alice's from her book. I knew that much. She fell for forever and ended up in a completely new world. I felt a shudder rising in me. I didn't want to fall down any holes today. I backed away and stood upright. "It's paint. A very sickly green paint." I said to Simon. "Like looking into a sewer." said Simon, agreeing. I appreciated that he understood. "I've never seen anything like it." I replied. "You should take a sample for your chemistry kit." He said. IThat spot deep inside me felt something different then, not fear or anger, but excitement. "I don't have a vial with me." I said, wishing then that Simon had given me time to properly prepare, not been quite so spontaneous with this visit. "Then we'll come back with one." He said. I could hear my excitement echo back at me in Simon's voice. "What is this machine? What is it for, Simon?" I asked. He shook his head. "I have no idea. I came here with Mr. El Bridget to help fix it. But what it does? No one told me. The fellows at the El Corporation have been so secretive. I thought it was maybe something to help with the plumbing at a large club, but the more I examine it, the more it looks like something that is meant to make something." He explained. "Make something?" I asked, confused. "Don't you think so? There are other pipes, there is no passage from one part to another. It's all self-contained. Except for this one door thing." He said, indicating toward the maw. "It could be an exit or entrance." I said. Simon nodded. "Maybe." He said, pausing. "It's a little funny." He added. What is?" I slowly started to walk around the machine. My feet were taking control over my body, my curiosity was getting the better of me. "What are you? Why are you hidden?" I thought to myself. "Something Mr. El Bridget said. He mentioned a monster. I thought it was a metaphor, but he seemed to imply that it wasn't." Simon continued. "You think they made a monster?" I asked. I was skeptical. When I arrived at the side Simon was standing by, I, too, placed a hand on the giant cog toward the bottom of the machine. I looked at Simon. He looked, well, for want of a better word, scared. "I don't think that's true." I said, trying to reassure him. He shrugged and didn't say anything. I ran my fingers over the teeth of the cog, up and down and up and down. "How does the rest of the poem go?" I asked, trying to make him feel better. I looked up at the machine. It rose so high when standing this close. It was overwhelming. There were pipes leading to the inside, toward a gaping, human sized maw, almost like a door. "Oh, it just goes on and on, more absurdity, very typical." Replied Simon, standing up next to me and looking up as well. "Of why the sea is 'boiling hot'?" but of course that's not true. Was that what absurdity was back then? Just a lie? "What was the point of it?" I asked him. "They eat all the oysters." said Simon. He was looking closely at the maw. "I don't understand." I replied. "They invite the oysters for a walk and then eat them." He said, tapping on the pipe. It made a small hollow sound. He moved his hand up the maw and tapped again. The same sound. "That's the point of the poem?" I asked, shocked. Something about that horrified me. "I don't know, but it's what happens." Simon replied. Another tap. Another hollow sound. "Oh. It's what happens." I said to him.

Chapter 23: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

I caught the door just before it slammed shut, my hand barricading it from closing fully. The sting ran up my arm, and I pressed my lips together firmly. I was not going to cry out. I knew I was close to blowing this whole story wide open. This would be my way onto the masthead. This would earn me that byline. But man alive, did my hand hurt. I pulled, my left hand joining my right as the door slowly, heavily slid open bit by bit. Voices floated up to me, Simon and Wilhelmina. I couldn't hear what they were saying. I pulled at the door, my whole body straining at the effort. The thing must have been made of solid metal. Back in the days of Prohibition there was likely more than just nosy bureaucrats and police they wanted to keep out. This thing was bulletproof. And gang warfare was a common and bloody business. There was a click, like a heavy sound, like a decision had been made. I slowly relaxed my muscles still holding on to the side of the door. Then I quickly jumped through the open space into the room on the other side. I felt like a contortionist or a mime, still holding the door. I was not about to be crushed to death by some century-and-a-half year old piece of hardware. I let go then. The door stayed in place. I sighed and looked at my right hand. There was a deep gash running down the middle of my palm where I had grabbed at the serrated edges. I flexed my hand slightly; the sting was impressive. It radiated through my whole body. I thought about characters I'd read in books making blood oaths and slicing their palms to do so and found it absurd. Of all the places to cut yourself willingly? The palm? Seriously? The voices were growing quieter and I realized I was losing track of Simon and Wilhelmina. I looked around the small, gray cement room. It was completely empty, like an old jail cell. But there was a gap in the wall, the width of a large man, with rough-hewn edges as if the thing had been made quickly once upon a time. I ran through and made my way down the narrow wooden stairs in the dark, tripping over my feet. I stumbled toward the bottom of the staircase, my heels missing its step, and I managed to arrive at the floor upright, but shaken up. That feeling of missing a step feels like you are stepping off the edge of a cliff, even if the next step is just a few inches down. My hear was pounding in my chest. "Archie, was it?" said Wilhelmina, and I looked up. She and Simon were standing in the distance beside a giant machine. It took up the entire other side of the room, and almost touched the ceiling. It was square with some curved pipes leading out and then back in again. And there was an opening to one side. The inside looked painted a sick green. The whole thing looked relatively new; the metal gleamed. There was no sign of rust. But dark green stains followed the path of its seams. I couldn't tell from where I stood if it was some kind of moldy slime possibly? "Archie, lad!" Simon said, looking shocked but not unhappy to see me. Almost relieved in fact. I smiled tightly. I knew if I wanted the inside story, I needed to keep up the act, but being called "lad" felt a bit condescending. "Hello, Simon! Sorry about the silly intrusion." I said, laughing a bit. It wasn't like I had stumbled into his father's office or anything. Here we were, in the underbelly of the United Kingdom, somewhere we had no right to be. I was hoping that fact would prevent Simon from any bigger questions, like, say, why was I here in the first place. "No intrusion at all! In fact, I'm glad you came. I was just showing Wilhelmina the machine. You'll probably get a kick out of it as well." Simon said. Something sounded off about Simon's voice. But I couldn't put my finger on it. The machine. I joined them and looked more closely at the thing. IT was huge now that I was standing right next to it. "What does it do?" I asked. ""That is the question", as Hamlet once said." replied Simon. "Something supersecret, apparently." I thought to myself. "I'm not even supposed to tell anyone it's here." replied Simon. "How did you find it?" I asked, slowly starting to walk around the machine, examining it closely from every angle. I arrived at the large opening at one side and peered into it. The dark, smelly void stared back. "I've been working with the El Corporation." Simon said. I already knew this, of course-I'd been spying on him for weeks—but I turned to look at Simon and raised my eyebrows like it was a pleasant surprise. Then I looked back inside the machine, this time reaching up and touching the slime. A sticky, green residue covered my fingertips. Then there was a sudden bang. I jumped. My heart was racing fast from the shock, but instantly I felt ashamed for being such a coward. I turned to smile at the others even as I dried my sweaty palms on my trousers. "What was that?" asked Simon. "It sounded like it came from over there." Wilhelmina said, pointing toward a large, white, rusted box, almost like the height of the room, standing beside one of the sinks. A thick chain was wrapped around its middle like a belt. "Looks like an old fridge." said Simon, approaching it. I stayed where I was and watched the two of them examine the fridge for a moment. I turned back to the machine, to the dark void. I stared at it hard. Had it been a coincidence that the loud jarring noise had happened when I'd touched the inside? I swallowed hard. But it wasn't fear anymore, it was overwhelming excitement. I was so close to my story, to the truth. I felt elated. "It's got a lock." said Wilhelmina. "Looks new." Simon added just ad I reached up inside the machine again. I felt this draw, a need to touch the darkness once more. Just to see…just to try. My finger grazed the inside. Bang. Wilhelmina screamed. I whipped around. "Are you okay?" I asked. But I wasn't worried, I was excited. There was some kind of correlation, there had to be! "There's something in there." She said, not turning to look at me. "There's something someone is keeping in there." She said, glancing over at Simon, who looked white as a sheet. "Then we need to know what it is, obviously." I thought to myself. I marched over to the fridge. "Okay then, let's see." I said, examining the chain and the lock. No rust. Definitely new. This was it. This was the story, right here. "I don't think we should open it." said Wilhelmina. "We probably shouldn't." I replied with a grin. "That's why we're going to!" I added. I turned to look at Simon, trying to get him on my side. "Can you pick a lock, Mr. Fix-it?" I asked. I knew he'd do it. I could see the indecision plain on his face, but I knew ultimately he'd do it. He was like me, curious about the world. "Yes, I can." Simon said, approaching the box tentatively. "Wait!" said Wilhelmina. I inwardly rolled my eyes. She marched over to the wall and picked up a bottle from the ground. She looked at it for a moment and then smashed it against the wall. "Are you crazy?" I asked, looking at her. She returned holding the broken bottle in her hand, the sharp edges sticking up like a demented torch. "You two might want to encounter whatever it is unarmed, but I'm not fool." She replied, and held the bottle in front of her, staring hard at the fridge. Okay, so maybe she wasn't so scared after all. There was the sound of metal on metal as the chains suddenly slipped down the fridge. "It's done." Said Simon, holding the lock and looking a little lost. I grabbed the fallen chain and wrapped the end around my hand. Wilhelmina had a good idea there with the whole weapon thing. "So are we certain that we should open this door?" asked Wilhelmina. "I am." I replied. I'd never felt more sure of anything in my life. "I'm going to try to jump whatever it is, so you should back away to the side." I told her. She did, standing by Simon, his hand on the edge of the door. "On three. Ready?" I asked. "That's a complicated question." replied Simon. I didn't have time for his convoluted way of talking. "One, two, THREE!" I shouted.

Chapter 24: Simon Winchester

I flung open the door as Archie stood in front, the chain in both his hands, ready to strike. I, for my part was ready to grab Wilhelmina and run. I felt certain that whatever this monster was that Mr. El Bridget was going on about, metaphor or no, human or…not, this was it. Right here in front of us. My hands were shaking. There was a stillness that felt both welcome and not in the moment. There should have been a monster charging at us for all that noise coming from inside the fridge, but instead there was quiet. "It's empty." said Wilhelmina, gripping her broken bottle tightly. "It can't be." Said Archie. He was standing right in front of the fridge. Right there, staring into it. How could he doubt what his own eyes were telling him? Then again, my own mind played tricks on me all the time. I joined him at his side and looked into the fridge. It was indeed empty. Not even a dark void like inside the machine. Just the back of a fridge, dirty like its exterior. The world around us seemed to get darker, murkier, like we were being drawn into the thing. I shook my head, trying to make the world brighten. It was my mind playing tricks on me again. I hated that I had so little control over it. "Did a light just go out?" asked Wilhelmina, her voice turning into a whisper. My heart leapt into my throat. It wasn't just me then, a figment of my imagination? It was real? I turned around. The lights still buzzed overhead. But she was right. It really seemed darker in the room. Why What was happening. I felt the urge to run, but I calmed myself down. There had to be a logical explanation, there was no room for panic. Not yet. "The shadows." She whispered and pointed at the wall. "Well, that's strange." said Archie, finally speaking up, sounding as confident as ever. "What do you think makes a thing like that happen?" strange shadows seemed to drip down the walls while others oozed out from the floor to meet them. We seemed to be at some kind of gruesome center, where all the shadows were aiming to meet. How could Archie be this calm? Wilhelmina stepped forward toward the shadows and bent down to look closer. This was wrong. This was so very wrong. "We should leave." I said. Dread crawled over my skin. "Don't you want to know what's happening?" asked Archie. "No!" I sharply replied. I did not. I wanted to leave. We all needed to leave. "There's nothing there." said Wilhelmina, returning to our little trio, speaking quietly, but urgently. Her eyes were wide with concern. "It's nothing tangible. It's just a shadow." she said. "A shadow of what?" I asked, watching as it seeped closer, noticing as it did the room was growing darker and darker. "I don't know." She replied. Her voice quivered as her eyes looked about the room. We stood there, frozen to the spot, not by any outside force but by the weight of our own fears and confusion. At least…at least I did. The room got darker and darker. And darker. It seeped around us. AT any moment it would seep into us. I felt drawn to it even as I was repelled by it. We needed to move. We needed to move now. We stayed still. "You know what?" asked Archie, suddenly a lot closer to me than he was a moment ago, his voiced finally tinged with concern. "You're right. We should leave." he said. That's when the lights went out. There was no circuit breaker to find this time. There was no reasonable solution to the darkness. No wires to connect. It was a kind of darkness you only see when you close your eyes. A piercing scream. Wilhelmina. Then I was whipped onto the floor. My whole body slammed into the cold stone hard, but the searing pain I felt was something else. Something had grabbed my foot and was dragging me, something sharp was digging into my ankle. I wanted to scream from the pain but my fight-or-flight response took hold and adrenaline filled my body. I turned around onto my back and kicked with my free foot. I kicked straight down at whatever it was. My foot connected with something solid. There was something there, something real, something that wasn't in my head. I yelled loudly and kicked again with all my strength. There was an otherworldly, piercing scream that sounded like a roar. I kicked at it again and again, my heart beating furiously out of control. The sharpness scraped down my foot, causing me to cry out in pain, but I was free and scrambling up, being pulled by the back of my shirt by someone above me. I was on my feet, my ankle stinging hard, and Archie said, panting, "Are you okay?" he asked. "Let's get out of here, boys, now!" Wilhelmina yelled. I whipped my head around and found her. She was over by the exit, a dried green substance on her face, her dress torn at the shoulder, and I realized then that I could see her. The darkness around her was retreating. The shadows were slipping deeper and deeper into the room, where Archie and I stood, leaving light on the fringes. There was a sudden crash and I turned around. IT was hard to see into the depths of the dark, but with the little light from our escape route, I saw a large, hulking shadow of something that looked like it was attacking the machine. It ran into it like a bull in a china shop, but the machine was solid and stayed put. A monster. Not a metaphor. A real monster. I could taste bile in my throat, my head burned from the fear. "Simon! Now!" I heard a voice yell. I felt Archie pulling on my shoulder, but I was drawn to the show in front of me. What was that monster? It looked tall and femininely proportioned, like a beautiful woman, but its hair, if it could be called that, was white as paper, like its face. It thrashed at the machine with claws that glinted in the light. Suddenly the machine came to life, lighting up the surrounding area with a sickly yellow glow. Large, horribly misshapen canine-like teeth reflected in the illumination. Like a worst fear come to life. A nightmare, almost. The machine sputtered and cranked to life like a beast of another kind. And then began vomiting all over the ground, right where we had been standing. Out of the maw of the machine came a thick, green liquid. It poured out, quickly flowing into all corners of the room. The monster roared again. "SIMON!" this time it was Wilhelmina, and hearing her voice so loud and so angry, I was jolted back to reality. I turned and ran toward her, with Archie close behind. We ran for the exit and up the stairs, the sound of the ungodly roar still echoing in my ears, mixing with the sound of my blood rushing to my head and my heart racing. It was a cacophony of noise. The pain in my foot snaked its way up my leg like a lightning strike. I heard another roar from behind us and it made me take the stairs two at a time, sweat now dripping down my forehead. I looked back and saw the shadows chasing us, climbing up the walls like vines. The green goo was floating at the bottom of the stairs, slowly rising. If we weren't killed or eaten alive by the monster, then we might very well drown. The secret door was closed at the top of the steps, but I knew how to open it. There was a small button hidden in the shadow of the corner. I'd seen Mr. El Bridget push it on our way out. I reached out with my shaking hand and pushed it. I heard the gears grinding. It sounded off, something was wrong. "This isn't right." I said, more to myself than anything. I fiercely shoved aside my rising panic to focus on solving the problem. I wiped the sweat from my brow. "I had to wrench it open to follow you." said Archie, panting at my side. "That might have done something." He added. I looked at him, but could only see him faintly in the shadowy dark. There was no time to point fingers, but I really wanted to. Why would he do this to us? What on Earth was he thinking? I turned back to the button, and felt around it. There had to be a panel of some kind. "It's rising." Said Wilhelmina, a desperate edge to her voice. "I know." I replied, trying to stay calm, but trembling all the same. I got on my knees and traced my hand over the wall all the way down to the floor, trying to feel for anything, anything at all. There had to be something….something! My finger caught on a divot and I pushed. A panel moved under my hand and I quickly removed it. My eyes were adjusting to the dark, but the dark was leeching more and more light from the air. I couldn't see. I just went for it and reached my hand into the small hole in the dark. I felt around and came to a lever. My heard stopped and I remembered earlier, a similar lever, a spray of green wet. I could do this, I had to do this. I pulled down hard. More grinding sounds, and then a clang. "It's opening!" said Wilhelmina. "I've got it." added Archie. I stood up to see the door open just enough to fit a single body through, Archie straining to keep it that wide in the first place. "Wilhelmina, go!" he ordered, and she looked at the both of us before slipping through. "I can help." She said from the other side, her gloved hands appearing around the edge of the door, pulling at it from her side. "Simon, come on." said Archie, his voice now straining with the effort. I just stared at him, and then at the door. I heard the gears grinding, I could even smell the friction of metal on metal. The thought of the door slamming shut, slamming into a body, crushing it. "Simon!" Archie yelled. I found myself through the door. Just like so many other moments I've lost in my mind. I was just there. "Simon!" I heard again. This time it was Wilhelmina. She was till attempting to brace the door open with Archie. I immediately joined her, grabbing hard while the door pushed back with all its might against us. We weren't strong enough for this. It was only thanks to the grace of some gears that the door was open this much at all. "Archie, you have to jump through." Said Wilhelmina, her voice strained. "You have to do it now." I added. The smell of burning filled the air. Archie took in a deep breath and nodded. I felt the door pushing into my hands hard now. I heard another clang, and suddenly there was a sickening weight against my palms. Wilhelmina cried out but didn't let go. He had to do it now. Archie jumped. There was a loud clank and I instinctively grabbed Wilhelmina and pulled her away as the door mechanism took control. We fell onto the ground and I stayed there for a moment, panting hard, feeling the sting in my palms, and in my ankle. "Archie!" I heard Wilhelmina yell. I sat up and turned to see her on the ground, pulling at Archie by the door. I stood and scrambled over, and then stopped at the scene before me. Archie's torso stuck out through the door, his bottom half trapped on the other side. The door was crushing him. If we didn't do something, if he we didn't help him… "Wilhelmina stop!" he said, wheezing. The landing was brightly lit. Being able to see so clearly almost felt like too much. But it made finding the opposite panel much easier on this side and I could even see what was behind it. I found the same lever, but it was too loose to the touch; moving it did nothing. I looked past it, farther into the darkness of the wall, and saw a large brass button with a label reading "Stop/Start" on it. I hit it with all my might. The grinding stopped. The smell of metal on metal lingered in the air. I felt my body go limp with relief. "Archie, stay with us!" cried Wilhelmina. Please Archie, don't die on us now!

Chapter 25: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

"BEGIN DICTATION: I'm more than likely not going to make it out alive, so I'm dictating this journal entry this time. Just for documentation's sake. But It's probably too late for me. Well, here goes:

There was a part of me that couldn't believe this was happening. Then there was the part of me that was in a lot of pain. Pain. Intense, terrible pain. And a terrible, terrible understanding. I stared at Wilhelmina's hands in her white kid gloves. Feeling her pull my arms, and the desperation in that moment. I couldn't make eye contact."

"DICTATION INTERRUPTED; VOCAL DISRUPTION: "Archie!"

"CONTINUE DICTATION: I couldn't think to describe the sensation. The tightness around my torso, crushing the air out of me. Feeling like at any moment I might burst like a balloon. And the sharp stabbing pain in my waist. But then there were my legs, the growing wetness up from my ankles, like I was slowly slipping into the ocean. It was so cold, shockingly so. It shouldn't be that cold. I didn't understand. Until suddenly, I understood. The green ooze. It was still rising from the basement. Still making its slow but steady journey. As it climbed up my legs, I felt it tighten around them and start to pull me back. Back toward the darkness and that thing. Wilhelmina pulled on my arms; the sticky, slimy, green liquid pulled at my legs. "They will pull me apart." I thought to myself."

"DICTATION INTERRUPTED; VOCAL DISRUPTION: "Stop."

"CONTINUE DICTATION: That word barely escaped my mouth. It's my fault. It was my idea to open that fridge. It was my idea to follow Simon. It was my idea to write a story on him in the first place. It was all my fault, and now my stupidity is going to cost me my life. It's kind of funny, in a sad sort of way. It's all too much. It's time to just let go. To stop fighting. I felt okay with this decision. I felt light-headed like I was drunk and perfectly okay with this decision. I could now make eye contact. WE did. She was staring at me wide-eyed, tears streaming down her face. She'd probably never seen death before, or if she had she'd never held it by the hand. I smiled. I wanted her to know I was okay. "It's fine." I thought to myself. My only regret was I never wrote any of it down. None of it. No notes, just kept it all in my head like I always did."

"DICTATION INTERRUPTED; VOCAL DISRUPTION: "Archie! Stay with us!"

"CONTINUE DICTATION: Why did I never write any of it down? I should have written it down. Mr. Thomas, if you read this, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have risked my life like this. But I go out knowing that someone will finish what I started. Mom, Dad, I'm coming home. To that home in the sky. Goodbye everyone…"

END DICTATION

."

Chapter 26: Wilhelmina Dorrance

Archie went limp. I instantly felt for a pulse on his wrist, tears in my eyes. I knew this was something you could do. I'd read it in my old science book. "Be alive, Archie, please be alive. You have to be alive." I thought to myself. Archie's skin was slick with sweat as I felt around his wrist. There it was, faint but it was there. I felt a relief and there was an instant sense of urgency. "Come on, Simon, we have to pull!" I said, keeping all my focus on Archie's limp body. "There's nothing that can be done for him here. As much as I am loathe to admit it, he's trapped. Even if we were strong enough, we'd pull him apart, not to safety." He replied. "Then open the door, make it work, make the door work!" I said. That's what you're good at, Simon, make it work. I was desperate, but I was also right. I had to be right. "I can't." he replied softly. "Then go get help." I said, finally turning to look at him sitting across the landing from me, and he stared at me with this expression I didn't understand. He looked almost like he was in a trance, but it wasn't that. He was just scared. "We can't." he said. "Of course you can!" I yelled. This was ridiculous! Simon looked down and closed his eyes, then opened them again. "This is our fault. Can't you see that? There's something secret down there, something we were never supposed to know about." He said, somberly. "It doesn't matter, we can deal with that later. Just get someone. Anyone." I said, before turning back to Archie. I couldn't let go of his hands. This couldn't really be it, could it? This wasn't it. A day couldn't start so lovely and simple and end in this way. It just couldn't. I could sense Simon move and get up. He was standing beside me. He was using a different tactic, I supposed. It infuriated me. "Wilhelmina, we have to leave. You need to let go of him. He wouldn't want you to hold on like this. HE wouldn't want you to have to suffer the burden of his mistakes." Simon said to me. "I don't know what he would have wanted. We barely knew each other." I replied. I stared at the body of the young man in front of me, limp on the ground. He was still there, he could still be saved. "Well, I knew him and you have to believe me." Simon said. I looked at him again. I'd never seen Simon like this, all disheveled, a blotchy red face, hair out of place. He was terrified. I was too. Of course I was. But I couldn't just leave Archie. I couldn't. Even if he would have preferred it that way. People don't always make the right decisions for themselves or others. His life was worth that risk. I turned back to Archie. I needed a sign telling me what to do. Should I let go or not? Could I even let go? Could I ever let go? It was then that I noticed the slimy green liquid spreading up over his torso. The ooze. From downstairs. It had found its way up to us. To him. I inhaled sharply. Then a thought passed over me. I hadn't really taken a good look at the substance yet. I was horrified but fascinated. I leaned closer to look at it carefully. It was so thick, it looked sticky, and it seemed to grow up Archie's body in branches, reaching and clawing its way up like fingers. I couldn't understand what liquid would work that way, that it didn't ooze and flow; instead it had sharp edges and points. "Wilhelmina, we have to go now." Simon said, putting his hand on mine, trying to physically pry my fingers off Archie's. "What is it?" I asked. I leaned in and over Archie's body even farther. The ooze was up to his shoulders at this point, enveloping his torso in thick, smelly darkness, dripping on the floor beneath him. "It's that green stuff, from downstairs." replied Simon, pulling at my hand harder. He was no longer begging me to let go. He was basically forcing me to. I did not appreciate that. Not at all. "I know that." I replied, snapping at him. He recoiled as I stared him down, and removed his hand from mine. I'd never snapped like that before. I calmed myself down to explain. "But what is it made of? Why is it behaving like this?" I asked him. "Wilhelmina, this is no time for analysis." Simon replied. HE wasn't wrong. But I just couldn't let go of Archie. OF this need to know. Of any of it. Something inside me was twisting in a way I didn't understand. I stared as the slime climbed up Archie's neck toward his head. "Simon, it's going to drown him, we have to get him out NOW!" I yelled. I pulled so hard now but it was so stupidly futile, looking back on it. I watched, horrified, as the ooze poured and clawed its way over the side of his head. As it sank into his ear, as it spilled over his closed eyes, his nose, into his slack mouth, until his face was gone and just a slimy mass remained. And still the slime defined all reasonable behavior and snaked its way along his arms, pulling at them as it moved toward his hands, my hands. I felt sick. I was beyond fear now, I was something else. Somewhere that hollowed out my body, made my skin feel like paper, my eyes sinking deep into my skull. I felt aware of myself as a shell holding in blood and bone. I didn't feel human. I looked at my hands holding Archie's hands. They were there. They were real. I was real. I still existed. And then Simon was pulling on me, on my shoulders. I looked up at him. All his manners and over-the-top gentlemanliness thrown to the side to get me to just let go. There was something about that I liked. The veneer never seemed sincere. That rhymed. I giggled to myself. I felt like how it must feel to have one too many glasses of champagne. A strange, light-headed feeling. Archie's hands squeezed mine and I flinched, shocked at the sudden movement. He was awake? I looked down at my hands. The liquid was climbing up them. I realized it wasn't Archie squeezing me. It was the strange substance. It was tightening my grip, pinching my hands tight inside the gloves. For the first time the urgency to let him go surged through me. I started to pull away, to pull my hands out of Archie's. But they were stuck together, fused together like melted metal. "I can't let go." I said. Simon still had me by the shoulders. "You have to." he replied. "No, I mean I'm stuck; I'm stuck to him." I said, pulling harder, the panic rising as the green goo made its way over my fingers and up my hand. I was pulling so hard now I was swinging both my arms and Archie's, like I was puppeteering a hellish marionette. "Let me pry his fingers off." Said Simon, coming around to beside our arms. "No!" I said it with such force I was surprised. "What?" Simon asked, confused. "No, if you touch the substance, if you touch it…" I said, before pausing. I didn't know what the rest of the sentence was, but I knew I was right. I thought about Simon and the green specks on his face, about his strange draw to the machine. About all of it. "No, let me do this. It's the gloves. If I can just…" I said, before stopping in mid-sentence. The ooze made it hard to relax my fingers within Archie's grasp but I was able to wiggle them a little. The icky substance ran up to my wrist, toward the edge of my gloves. "How can I help?" asked Simon. "I don't know." I replied. He reached over me and grabbed at both my forearms, taking them gently in his hands, and started to pull, not hard, not so it hurt, but to help, I supposed. I wasn't sure it was really all that helpful, but I let him. I felt the gloves slip down my fingers, catching at the tip. The top of my hands were free, but the goo quickly grabbed hold. I pulled hard now, not caring if I tore my own skin away. I was frantic at this point. "Pull!" I ordered. Simon pulled lightly at my forearms, his fingers grazing my skin as if he were petting a skittish cat. Anger was rising up inside me. Why was he so completely useless? "Pull harder, damn it!" I yelled. My voice was sharp, but I kind of like it. I felt the anger in my chest and I pulled as well. Simon clearly took me seriously and finally grabbed my arms tightly, almost to the point of cutting off my circulation, and pulled. We synchronized our actions and pulled and pulled. The tips of my fingers stung as the gloves ripped away from my skin. Then with great momentum and in complete shock we flew backward, my fingers free of my gloves. In the same instance, the green goo exploded, and I raised my arms instinctively to protect my face. Droplets rained everywhere, and when finally there was stillness, I looked up to see what had happened. Before me, where Archie's body had been, covered in the green goo, was a seeping puddle. There was no sign of Archie. Just a puddle that seemed to reach out toward me and Simon until suddenly the heavy metal door slammed shut. I screamed, and held up my arms once more. Then when I realized what had happened, I lowered them and stared at the small, slimy puddle before us. It started to sink backward, toward the closed metal door, sneaking away from us, slipping through the cracks Then it was gone. He was gone. Archie was gone. "Are you okay?" asked Simon. What a question to ask; of course I wasn't okay. But I knew he meant if I was okay physically. I supposed aside from my stinging fingers, I was. "Yes." I replied, bringing my hands up close to look at them. The fingertips were red and raw, and there was green at my wrists where the slime had seeped under the edge of my gloves. I noticed then the green on my sleeves and looked down at my skirt. More droplets from the explosion. I turned and looked at Simon. He had more speckles on his face and some now in his hair. "How about you?" I asked him. "I'm okay." Simon replied. He didn't seem okay. "Come on, let's get out of here." He said to me. He was right. It was time. The idea of just leaving felt overwhelming but it was the only thing to do. WE were tangled together so it took a moment for us to help each other to standing. I stared at Simon. The slime was splattered across his body from head to toe and I assumed I must look the same. He looked down at himself. "Well, my father's going to kill me." Simon said, somberly. The anger welled up inside me again, like a sudden explosion of light in the darkness. "At least that's just a metaphor. At least you aren't Archie." I said to him. Simon looked at me. There was a look of betrayal in his eyes, and I immediately felt guilty. "I'm sorry. I'm just upset." I said quietly, looking down. "I am too." He replied, also quietly. We stood there in silence and then when not quite enough time had passed, he said "We have to get out of here.". HE was right. I knew he was right. Archie had just been exploded into goop, and here we were, the only two survivors of this incident. We would be blamed for it all. Then again. Was it not in a way our fault? Should we not be blamed? I looked at the small green stain on the floor, and my mind just couldn't fully wrap itself around the idea that Archie had vanished like that. That he had been there, and now he wasn't. I wanted to cry but it was all too unbelievable. All I felt was guilt and a burning ember of anger. "Let's go." I said, bending down and picking up my gloves carefully, pinching them from the inside. They were coated in slime but I couldn't just leave them there. Evidence. OF a crime. What had we done?

Chapter 28: Simon Winchester

When we left, Wilhelmina and I went our separate ways once again. I went inside the house, which felt dead. Not that that ought to have been a surprise. Some houses were built from dead materials after all, like dead trees, dried earth, muddy water. And they were built on dead land, killing everything beneath it, purposeful destruction, the removing of life. Digging up roots. Tossing away mountains of grass. But homes had souls. A hearth. Warmth and laughter. Homes had personalities that you could feel the moment you entered them. My home felt dead. Maybe it had always felt dead. There had never been a love between me and this building, that was for certain. But as I entered the foyer and closed the front door behind me, I felt a cold, empty feeling. Like I had entered a mausoleum. Then I was in my room. Time had slipped again, and I was standing there, in my drawers, my slime-stained clothes in a heap on the floor beside me. I felt numb and a little stupid. Like any thought I needed to unravel couldn't penetrate my thick skull. The term "combat fatigue" circled my head for a moment. My father had spoken about it. Not for himself, obviously. He had never fought in the Nova Clashes. I had no idea how he'd managed to get around the draft, when he was my age, but he had. Dodged it through some miracle, but he dodged any questions I asked him about how he managed it. But he still spoke of the Nova Clash as if he'd had firsthand experience. SO much so that maybe some believed he had it. Maybe he now believed he had, too. Saying something over and over can make you believe it. "Archie isn't dead. Archie isn't dead. Archie isn't dead." I kept saying to myself. "Combat fatigue was a made-up term for people who had no backbone." My father had said. That couldn't be true. Not after the Seventh Nova clash. I found myself on the floor, curled into the fetal position, nothing holding me upright. No bones, no muscles, no will. I felt empty. Severely empty. Hollow. Like a husk. The lack of something was overwhelming any other feelings . I felt like I was inside out. I felt. I felt. Archie had just burst like a bubble. One moment he was there and the next he was a puddle. I felt. This gnawing fear began to fill the empty pockets inside me. It overwhelmed everything, flooding over me like that sticky green ooze that enveloped Archie. I couldn't escape it. I closed my eyes and all I saw was Archie's body bursting. I opened them and all I saw were four corners of a room that couldn't protect me. Nothing could protect me3. I needed to escape; I needed out. I was on my feet, my backbone working again, it seemed. And then I was in my father's private study, at his minibar filled with crystal decanters that glinted in the light of something somewhere outside. Men have drunk themselves to death, they say. I'd never seen it. But I didn't need death, I just needed a bit of fake death right now. I had seen my father asleep on the settee in the formal sitting room facedown in a puddle of his drool enough times to see how alcohol could simulate a fake death. I needed to black out. I needed to force my mind to skip time. Why did it always jump and land in a moment when my brain was most furious, when my feelings were most raw? Why couldn't I skip these parts? I picked up a decanter of an 1858 Napoleonic brandy, the crystal container heavy in my hand. How did this work? Did I just drink it all? Like Alice's potion? Would it make me small, so small, smaller than the dust particles in the air? Would I vanish? Archie exploding into a puddle of goo. "Mr. Winchester?" I heard a voice say. I turned. Lena, the housekeeper, was standing near me wearing nothing but a bathrobe, her long hair braid over one shoulder. She stared at me and for a moment I was in her place. Looking at a pale child in his underwear holding a large decanter of brandy in his hand like a bottle of milk. "I'm fine, Lena. Go back to sleep." I said to her. She continued to stare at me. My words did not match anything happening in this room at the moment. Why would she trust them? But she slowly turned and did what she was told and left. I missed Mrs. Macready. She would have pushed the issue. She would have grabbed the decanter, put it back in its spot, and marched me upstairs, forced me into my pajamas and ordered me to sleep. She was strict and sometimes domineering, but one of the best housekeepers in the world. One of the best housemaids we had. I put down the decanter. This was absurd. I didn't even like drinking in the first place anyway. There was a much simpler way, I realized. To skip time: to fall unconscious. I walked across the office to the wall and bashed my head against it. Pain exploded through my body, stars sparked in my vision, but I was still conscious to feel it. Damn. So I bashed my head against the wall again. I don't remember anything after that. Not that night anyway.

Chapter 28: Wilhelmina Dorrance

When I was a child, our neighbor had a dalmatian named Tiny. He barked too much and ran into our apartment whenever Mother accidentally left the door open. "Out, damn you, out!" she'd say with a grin, and it wasn't until I was older and we three girls were sitting on Mother's bed as she read from her complete works of William Shakespeare that I learned a famous line from a famous play. The character was crazy, and saw spots of blood where there weren't any. She tried furiously to wash them away. But she couldn't. What they don't tell you is that blood is much easier to get out than that slimy substance I encountered that night, going back to the present. I tried to imagine Tiny the Damatian as I washed my dress in the laundry room. I sat on my knees, in my underwear waiting for my dress to finish washing. I tried to imagine Tiny in the doorway and telling him to get out. "Out now, please, leave. You little rascal" I whispered to myself to strengthen my imagination. But it wasn't enough. My hands were still stained and after a while of sitting on the floor waiting for my dress to finish washing and finally waiting for it to finish drying in the dryer, sitting in my underwear, were proving very much in vain. I washed and dried the dress again and again, and the more I tried, the angrier I got. The feeling just wouldn't stay down, the guilt was still there, oh yes, but it was holding the gate open now, enjoying watching the flow of rage fill and overtake me. I'd never felt anything like this before, and I couldn't even take a moment to notice it. That is until it got to a point where the dress burned from drying too much. I didn't think to empty the lint trap. Thankfully the fire wasn't serious. A burn mark on my skirt stared up at me. I leaned back on my heels and, with the wed back of my hand, brushed the hair that had fallen across my face. IT was then that I noticed my breath rushing to catch up with me. Like I'd run a race. Had I run? Had I run home? Or was it just the slime on my dress and my madness trying to clean it. "I think I ran home." I said, aloud. My voice sounded thin and too quiet, even for me. That made the anger in my gut bubble up again. "NO!" I said to it. Louder this time. I felt a strange elation at the sound of my voice echoing in our small laundry room. I smiled to myself and looked back at the dress. It was ruined now. Mother would be angry. But since it was ruined…I pulled the wet fabric out of the washing machine and dragged the dress out of the bathroom and into my own room. I knew somewhere inside that the water was trailing behind me, but I felt like I was walking in a dream. I sat on my little chair and put the wet mass of dress on my desk. It flopped onto it like a large dead fish. I looked around quickly for something to cut the material with, if I had the sewing kit in my room,…but then I realized, who needs scissors? I grabbed at the fabric and pulled, the sound of the tearing more pronounced now that it wasn't underwear. It was so satisfying. I pulled at the burnt fabric, the muscles in my arms and neck tight and engaged. When the piece of fabric came free from the rest of my dress, I felt that same elated feeling and smiled. My anger was almost turning joyful. I got up and then bent down onto my knees, reaching under my bed. My hand touched the edge of the box of my chemistry kit and my fingers grabbed for it. I pulled it out and sat admiring it for a moment, gently caressing the cover. It was such a beautiful object. I opened it. It unfolded into my lap, three separate sections with bottles tightly fixed to the carboard backing. It all looked so perfect; I didn't even want to use it. But of course I did want to use it. I unhooked the eyedropper from its little housing and then reached for the tiny bottle of bleach. That's were I'd start, in the obvious place. I quickly filled up the dropper. I carefully held it just above the slime. My hand was shaking a little and I reached up with my other one to adjust my goggles, to make sure they were tight around my eyes. I didn't know what kind of reaction this strange substance might produce, if it might be a noxious gas even. With that in mind…I held my breath as I squeezed the dropper. A single drop fell onto the surface of the fabric, onto the slime. But the slime did not mingle or evaporate, or do anything that I could have predicted. Instead it peeled itself away from the drop and moved around it, circling it. I leaned even closer, still not breathing. The drop was so small, but I had keen eyesight. Was the slime…climbing up the sides of the little droplet? I tapped the drop with the dropper to burst it, but it didn't spread like a bubble, but instead raced this way and that as if it was trying to escape. To escape the slime on all sides. Archie's slimy body exploded in my mind's eye. I sat upright. I yanked the goggles off and felt my throat constrict. I stared down at my hands, still stained.

Chapter 29: Simon Winchester

I woke up in bed, in my pajamas, to a sunbeam directly across my face. I squinted and felt my whole body ache. My ankle was stinging in pain, reminding me of its damage by a steady throbbing in tune with my heartbeat. What had happened? Had time slipped away from me again? I reached up to run my fingers through my hair and felt some fabric at my forehead. I touched it and flinched. A bandage on my head. Had I fallen down at some point. There was a light tapping at my door. "Yes?" I called out, still hazy and disoriented. "Sir, there's a young lady to see you. I tried to turn her away, but she's rather persistent." I heard Lena say from outside. "Yes, please send her away, thank you, Lena." I said, leaning against my pillow. Then: "Wait? What's her name?" I asked her, just realizing something. "It's a Miss Wilhelmina Dorrance." Lena said. Everything came flooding back to me then in such a rush that I turned quickly to the side of my head, bent over, and threw up. I stared at the puddle of vomit and flashed to the slimy one the night before, the remains of Archibald Stanton now a slimy nothing. I fell back onto my bed with the taste of slime in my mouth and the pain in my head throbbing. "Mr. Winchester?" Lena asked me. "Tell her…tell her I'll be down momentarily. I just need some time to freshen up." I replied. "Yes, sir." Lena said to me. What was she doing here? How had she found me? I felt fear wash over me again, and remembered the acute need to run away from it. Run away from everything. I remembered my father's private study. The crystal decanters. The wall. I lightly touched my forehead. What a mad thing to do. Yet it had worked. A dreamless sleep, passing almost too quickly. One night was not enough. I needed to sleep for days. For months. Wilhelmina. Wilhelmina who'd held Archie by the hand. Who'd witnessed his "explosion", too. She was downstairs, likely seeking solace and comfort after what we'd been through. It didn't assuage my fear, but it did motivate me to throw the covers off my bed in one swoop and then finally rise to standing. In the pool of my own vomit. Yuck.

"Wilhelmina!" I said a little too loudly as I entered the sitting room. Partly I was trying to hide my level of discomfort, partly it was the discovery that she wasn't alone. My father, of all people, was keeping her company, sitting in his large red chair, while she very daintily sipped a glass of water on the sofa by the window. "What happened to your head?" Father asked immediately. "Well, that answered that question. My mysterious nurse had to have been Lena then. "Why would it have been father at all?" I thought to myself, feeling a little stupid I had considered it. "I'm fine." I replied as Wilhelmina stood and I took her hand. "Wilhelmina, it's lovely to see you." I said. She nodded. "You too." For all we had been through the night before, she seemed quite, well, normal, for want of a better word. Her hair was perfectly curled, her jacket and dress, plain but neat and clean. Not a trace of slime anywhere on her person. "Father, may we have some privacy?" I asked, unsure if he would give it to us. He sat for a moment and then finally stood. ""Of course. Lovely to see you again, Miss Dorrance." He said, before turning to me as he passed and said, not quietly "She is lovely and very pretty. Have your way with her if you must, but she is clearly not the one.". I wanted to run away. What a thing to say. "Must you be so rude?!" said Wilhelmina. I glanced at my father, whose face had turned red. I turned to look at Wilhelmina, who had put her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. "Forgive me, sir." She said, apologetically. "Just who do you think you are?!" asked my father. I felt rooted to the spot, unable to think or do anything. "I am so sorry." She said again. "OUT!" he ordered, pointing hard at the front door. Wilhelmina nodded and stood immediately, keeping her eyes lowered as she passed by me and my father. "I know of your sisters, girl. The slut and the prim helper. I've seen them both out on the town with a different suitor every night. You're just like them, aren't you, trying to lure some rich man to marry you?!" My father yelled. Wilhelmina said nothing, but I saw her hand trembling as she reached for the doorknob. "Then there's you, holding the cricket bat, stark naked in front of hundreds. No modesty, no shame!" he continued. She turned around and stared down my father. "What right have you to talk down to me, you who hired me?" Wilhelmina asked. "You are correct. I was a fool to turn to you. I should have forced your sister to film the scene despite her illness. I wouldn't have cared if she caused an outbreak. I wouldn't have cared if she started another Coronavirus epidemic. Mark my words: I will never turn to your family for help again. Now leave. Or I will make sure you never act again!" My father ranted. "I never even wanted to act anyway." Wilhelmina said, bluntly. "Then why did you agree to the shoot, then?" my father asked, suspiciously, but still angry. "I just did it as a favor for my sister, Nina." Wilhelmina explained. "Sororal devotion…How touching." My father remarked, sarcastically. "As I said before, I didn't want to act." Wilhelmina reminded him. "Oh? What did you want to be then?" Father asked, surprised. "A chemist. I even have a chemistry kit at home." Wilhelmina explained, hurt by my father's words. My father laughed as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world. "You? A Chemist? That's a laugh! Who had ever heard of a lady scientist?! You waste your time with such things. I suppose that would make you the black sheep of the family. I can see why your older sister would call your experiments "Silly". My advice to you is to do what your mother did: Get married and become a mother. Look after the house, raise the children. And leave your silly scientific notions behind. Permanently. And sell your chemistry kit to someone who actually has a use for such things while you're at it. I have enough influence to make your life a living hell. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!" My father continued. "No!" Wilhelmina said, insulted. "Get out! NOW!" My father ordered. She turned and threw open the door and stormed out of the house. "You may be tempted to befriend my son, but I would strongly advise against it, if you value your life! Furthermore, If I ever see you in my home again, you will regret it!" called my father after her through the open door, then slammed it behind him. His rage was absolute, but there was something in it that felt weak. Small. Especially compared with Wilhelmina's Hers had a strange power behind it I'd never seen before. Meanwhile all I was feeling was a great shame; I was feeling more than enough shame for everyone in the room. In the whole street. I stared at the formidable door in front of me as I heard my father storm off into his study. And then I found I could move again. It was my turn to fling the door open. "Wilhelmina!" I ran down the walk and turned to catch up to her running down the street. She was fast. I reached out to grab her shoulder but she stopped short and turned. Her face was fire. "How dare he?! I saved him and his pathetic film. How dare he talk like that about a person? Any person!" She made to move past me back toward the house but I blocked her. Now I was no longer scared for myself, but for her. "He was wrong. Everything he said was misogynistic and wrong. I will admit. But you cannot confront him. You don't understand how dangerous and influential he can be." I said to her. Her eyes were wild. She paced in front of me like a caged animal. "After everything we've been through, I'm not scared of men like him anymore." She said. I didn't know what to say to that but I did know we needed to talk. We needed to talk about everything. "Come with me. There's a small park around the corner where we can talk." I said. She looked at me, still seething, and, then, finally, nodded. I led her down the street and around the corner to the park. It was so small, really just a plot of land, not big enough for a home in this neighborhood. But it had been a fine oak tree and a nice little white painted bench under it. It all looked a little bare this time of year, but it was a nice enough place to discuss monsters in the dark. "How are you?" I asked as we sat. "I'm fine." She replied, looking down and playing with a loose threat on her coat. "No, not like that, how are you?" I said. She didn't say anything. I realized then I needed to take the lead. I could share with her for some reason. Just like I'd shared the machine with her in the first place. I still trusted her that way. "I'm not well. I'm scared. I'm scared through and through. I don't understand what happened. It's like it was a nightmare." I admitted. "But it wasn't." she said quietly. "No." I replied. We sat for a moment as a cold breeze blew through the oak tree, its arms creaking in the wind, its fingers reaching out for something intangible. "Are you sad?" asked Wilhelmina then. "Sad?" I asked. "About Archie. I…I think I feel sad about it. But I mostly feel very angry. I also didn't know him very well so maybe that's why?" she said before stopping herself and closing her eyes. Then she opened them and looked at me. They were so blue. I couldn't find any comparison to describe how blue they were. They were just so very blue. "I think I'm a bad person." She said. "You're not." I said, instinctively grabbing at her hands. She let me take them. "We need to tell someone. Maybe one of those El Corporation people? They need to know something is down there, they need to know about the slime…" she said. I shook my head. I felt the fear rising in my throat again. "Absolutely not!" I said, sharply. "Simon!" Wilhelmina replied. "Absolutely not, Wilhelmina! Whatever it was, the El Corporation people already know about it. Otherwise why was it locked up? And the slime? That came from inside their machine. The El Corporation knows everything." I said. "Then we have to stop them! We have to before someone else…" Wilhelmina pleaded. Again I shook my head. Didn't she understand that this was not how it worked? She hadn't lived in my world. Any company that could afford such a machine, that could hide it, that had such dark, huge secrets, they had to be protected by something huge as well. "It's too dangerous." I said. At that she laughed. "More dangerous than last night? I want to do this, Simon. I need to do this…" Wilhelmina said. "And does it matter what I want?" I asked her. "What do you want, Simon?" Wilhelmina asked me. She was looking at me now with that fierceness from before. It was something I'd found so attractive about her yesterday. But now I was seeing the dark side of it. The side that spoke to unpredictable behaviour. I couldn't handle it. "I want to forget any of it happened. I want to move on, and agree that we will take this secret to our graves." I said to her. Wilhelmina looked at me for a moment. I couldn't tell what she was thinking but I could tell that there was a whirlwind swirling inside her. "I hear you, Simon." She said, surprisingly calm, ending the long silence. "Let's move on. We can't allow one night to consume us forever." Wilhelmina added. She was quiet then, and still. I squeezed her hand. She didn't squeeze it back. Instead she let go and sighed gently. I watched as she stood up slowly, smoothing the front of her coat and then reaching behind to make sure it fell down her back properly. All of it seemed unconscious, habit, the small things we do every day. "I should go." Wilhelmina said. And she left without saying goodbye or even turning to look at me. I watched as she went, no longer a whirl of fury. But something else. Something that concerned me even more. Something more contained and focused. Like a bullet. The fear returned. There was no way she was going to be able to move on. IT had been a lie. To make me feel better, I supposed. But it was still a lie. And I had no idea what she was going to do next.

Chapter 30: Wilhelmina Dorrance

"You're not eating." said Gregory, pointing out the obvious. He had a way of doing that. "You forgot your hat", or "The sky is very blue today". It was sweet but also incredibly dull. I appreciated his concern for me, I suppose but it was funny. My lack of hunger on a date was not at the top of my list of concerns. "What do you know about monsters?" I asked taking a bite out of the sandwich I ordered. Gregory laughed a little. "Monsters? As in storybook monsters? Snow girls, harpies, lamias, that sort of creature?" he asked me. I shook my head. That wasn't what I meant. But I also didn't know what I meant. "No. I mean in real life." I said. "Metaphorical monsters, then? Like murderers? Like the Nazis during World War II, or the Nova that currently plague us with the ongoing clashes?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea, and looking at me, amused, over the edge of the cup. "No, not like that either." I was getting frustrated. There was no reason to be annoyed with him. He didn't understand. He would never understand. Just like Simon didn't understand. Just like no one could understand. "Hey now, you're looking so serious. Are you okay?" asked Gregory, putting down the teacup and reaching across the table for my hand. I gave it to him to hold. "No gloves?" he asked. My stomach clenched. "Is that a problem?" I asked him. "No! not at all! I love being able to hold your hand. You are always so put together though. It's a nice change." He said, smiling at me. My gloves. My gloves caked in slime were sitting at home on my desk. I didn't know what to do with them. I couldn't figure out what properties the slime had so they seemed useless to keep. But I feared throwing them away. What if they were found? What if the slime contaminated other things? "Do you think monsters could exist? Dinosaurs existed. They are like monsters in some way. Is it possible that strange shadowy monsters, like the ones they say live in your closet…is it possible that such monsters do in fact exist?" I asked him calmly. Gregory stared at me. He was uncomfortable. All I wanted to do was tell him everything, was talk to him, was to be heard. This man was apparently my beau, was the love of my life, or so Jessie said. I should be able to tell him these things. I wanted to open my mouth and vomit out words, everything I'd ever wanted to say but didn't. I wanted to say no to the nude cricket bat shooting, no to playing dress-up, no to the idea of dating. Just no. I wanted to say no to everything and hear my voice ring out like church bells. "No." said Gregory. "Oh." I replied. I looked down at the white linen tablecloth, at the tiny empty jam packets we'd used up, the crumbs of our sandwiches. The little delicate mess around us. I felt an urge to upend the table. Just stand and flip it over. To make a real mess. Real chaos. To see the looks on the faces of the other people sitting so casually around us, talking in soft tones, being appropriate. What was the point of being appropriate when life was so meaningless? When one night could change the course of your life and could destroy a living, breathing person. A small black beetle climbed up casually onto the table and wandered across my line of vision. "Wilhelmina, I have something I'd like to ask you." Said Gregory, gently rubbing the palm of my hand with his thumb. "Do you see that?" I asked. I tried to pull my hand out of his, but he held fast. Just like Archie. Tight. So tight. I pulled harder. He didn't let me go. This time, white-hot rage really did start rising in my throat. "Let me go!" I yelled. I stood in a fury and Gregory rocked back slightly on his chair. I grabbed one of the empty glasses on the table and picked the beetle up by one of its legs, imprisoning it inside with the remaining flecks of soda, before sealing the glass with a coaster. "Wilhelmina, what is wrong with you?" Gregory asked, startled. "I have to leave." I replied, pushing my chair back and making my way toward the exit, easing myself between the tables, apologizing for disrupting the meals of everyone else in the restaurant. I knew they were all looking at me. They all thought I was mentally unstable. I stepped out into the air and almost right into a couple going for a stroll. "I'm so sorry." I said as they looked at me, annoyed. "Wilhelmina." Gregory said, grabbing me by my shoulder, to which I shook him off as I turned to him. "Don't." I said. "What's wrong? This isn't like you. Has something happened?" He asked me. He looked so concerned. He wasn't upset at all with me. He thought I was losing my mind. How could I tell him I'd never felt more like me in my life. "Nothing has happened." I said, slipping my imprisoned beetle into my pocket. "I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend." He said. I nodded. I knew he had wanted to ask something big. I had feared a proposal and felt a little relieved that he hadn't been planning one. After all, it had only been a couple weeks of courtship. Like a fling. The idea though that I had been dating others, that I wasn't already fully committed to him, shocked me. Did this mean he hadn't fully committed to me the whole time? Was Gregory Stevens even his real name? He did look Japanese. "Have you ever heard of dissociative identity disorder?" I asked him. I said it lightly with a smile. It seemed like the right thing to say. "There are times when I black out and I don't remember things. I wake up in a place I don't remember going to, or in a situation I don't remember being in." he said with a laugh. He took both my hands in his now. I couldn't. I just couldn't be held by his hands. It was too visceral. I pulled them away. "Don't be upset." He said. It sounded like he was talking to a pouting puppy. I wasn't upset with him. I was upset with myself. All this time I assumed "Gregory" and I were a foregone conclusion. All this time I had assumed that this was it. I had settled for him, decided the pleasantness of our interactions was good enough for me for the rest of my days. I hadn't even considered that I could still go window-shopping. Why hadn't I considered that? "I don't think I want to be exclusive with you. I need…to consider myself first." I said slowly, not being able to look him in the eyes. "I swear I love you Wilhelmina. I want to marry you someday. I promise that any forgotten memories and any time spent as other people was meaningless to me. I will find out who I really am! I promise!" he said, fidgeting quickly on the spot, not being able to hold me. "How nice for you." I said, almost more to myself. "Why are you so mad at me?" he asked. I shook my head. "I'm not. I'm not worried about who you really are. I'm worried about what I didn't do." I said. "I just don't understand why you're so mad at me." "Gregory" said to me. He blinked at me. "I don't expect you to understand anything." I said, finally looking up to him. "Let's just leave things as they are for now. In fact, let's just leave it. Let's call the whole thing off, like the song goes. Be done with all of it." I said. He didn't seem happy with that suggestion. But he nodded. "If that's the way you want it." he said, sadly. "That's the way I want it." I replied. It was what I wanted. It was actually exactly what I wanted. The feeling of knowing what I wanted and getting what I wanted was overpowering. What else did I want? "I think I would like to go home now." I said. "Of course. One more thing: I hope that someday…if we ever meet again…somewhere down the road…I hope we can at least be friends." He said, with tears in his eyes. "Maybe. Goodbye…my beau who once was." I said to him. And so I went home.

Chapter 31: Simon Winchester

"You are coming to the dinner tonight, whether you like it or not!"…that is what my father had said to me. I had no idea why father still insisted that I perform the dutiful son act, especially today, after everything that's happened. Did he want me to show up wrapped in bandages? Did he want me to apologize for Wilhelmina? The latter was definitely and definitively NOT happening! Maybe he intended to publically humiliate me. It was always a possibility. I stood in front of my long mirror, looking at myself all dressed up and ready to go in my three-piece suit and pocket square. The sun had set so I had the small table lamp on beside me. It cast strange shadows and made my face look even more gaunt. I'd removed the bandages and cleaned up the cut on my forehead. It was smaller than I'd imagined under the wrappings but still stung to the touch. I pushed my hair forward to hide it. It looked unkempt, not the usual slicked-back appropriate appearance. I like that. I liked not looking appropriate. Even as the thought twisted with discomfort in my belly. How could I just go to dinner after everything that's happened?! How could it be night again so soon? How could I ever live through another night without thinking about everything? Without this gnawing fear in my stomach? I could hear the wind blowing outside, the branches of the large oak tree tapping at my window. This happened when the wind blew and I was used to it. As a child I'd been so scared of it, thinking a ghost might strike, and I'd hide my head under the covers for fear of seeing anything. The branches tapped again and I was compelled for some reason this time to glance over at the window, at the darkness that loomed just outside the house. A black silhouette of a face. Outside my second-story window. I stumbled backward, tripping on my heels, my heart racing fast. It was impossible. It was a trick of the light surely. Of memories haunting me. I looked again. The face was gone that time. I steadied myself and took in a deep breath. I was terrified but I approached the window slowly to see, to look out. I looked out at the tree branches creaking in the wind. I saw the road and the sidewalk. I saw emptiness. I knew what was happening. I had read enough books to know how people dealing with guilt and fear manifested their nightmares as reality. It was all my fault. All of it. I had been told to keep it a secret, and what had I done? Shown it off like some trophy because I liked a girl. So, the fault was Wilhelmina's, then. No. No, that was wrong and thoughtless. Something my father would say. He would find anyone else to blame. He was a master at it. I looked away slowly from the window and turned into my room. I noticed then just how dark it was. How the single lamp by the mirror made the corners all that much darker. Like shadows seeping into the room. I tried to shake the feeling and returned to the mirror to straighten my tie. My hands were trembling. But I was almost used to that now. Fear was just starting to become a part of me. Never leaving, always there, in charge. I heard a sound. And whipped around to look into the dark corner of my room. There was nothing. Of course it was nothing. Why couldn't I control this fear? It was unmanly and unmannerly. "Have some self-control, Simon. You aren't a child anymore. You're almost eighteen. There aren't ghosts outside your window. There aren't monsters under the bed or hiding in the shadows." I thought to myself. And yet…They do exist underground. Here. In Kensington. Not so far away. My eyes focused in on the dark. On the empty nothingness. I felt that pull like I had in the room with the machine. I felt drawn into the darkness. It reminded me of that feeling when you are standing on a high balcony and looking down at the ground. You know you aren't going to jump…but maybe…I shook my head. No. No, I refused to allow my mind to go there. I turned back to the mirror and saw a tall black silhouette standing behind me. I jumped and turned. My heart in my throat. My breath constricted and tight. Nothing. No one. But still in my mind's eye I could see the figure. Faceless, like a shadow. I stared into the darkness once more. I took in a deep breath and walked slowly toward the corner, reaching my hands out in front of me, just to see, just to know, just to touch. I must be going mad. My fingers touched the wall. I found only empty blackness and the spot where two walls met. I released a sigh and felt my body relax even if my mind was still racing. I turned and leaned against the wall, staring now at the lamp that seemed far away somehow even if it was just across the room. This was a kind of madness. It had to be. I slid down and sat on the ground. I placed my hands next to me on the floor just to ground me. TO make me solid and not a mass of shaking jelly. The floor was wet. I raised my hands. They were covered in slime.

"There's my boy, fashionably late, per the norm." boomed my father as I entered the private room on the second floor of the restaurant. I felt strangely winded from the climb, but I knew it wasn't because of the stairs. I had rushed to change my slimy clothes and then hide them under the bed like a child hiding an inappropriate film from a parent. My hands were still stained no matter how hard I washed them. Fainter now, but still with a coating of green. I had put on gloves but already I was feeling too warm. I was a disaster. I couldn't do this. But I had to. So I smiled and laughed and gave an awkward wave at the gathered crowd. It was more than just the men from Japan this time, I was relieved to see. There was also the usual gang I was familiar seeing at my father's parties. There was Mr. Mably, from Ipswitch, and his butler, Stevens. And Mrs. El Bridget and her daughter, Violet. And the Griffiths from Wales, being quietly shy on the edges of the crowd. There were also a few others I didn't recognize. Everyone was milling about, drinking cocktails, and I joined Mrs. El Bridget and said hello. "My word but you are growing so fast." She said as we kissed the air beside each other's cheeks. "Well, you haven't changed a bit." I replied. She laughed at that and I felt myself relax slightly. Mindless small talk, there was a comfort in that. I don't remember what else I had said to Mrs. El Bridget, but I overheard an older man speaking. "Recently we had been partnering with the El Corporation, of which a dear friend of mine is Chief Executive Officer. His wife and youngest daughter are even here, I am led to understand. The El Corporation is based in London with offices all over the United Kingdom from England to Ireland!" he said. I turned so fast, my drink sloshed over the side of my glass. I stared at one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. And I had seen plenty here in Kensington. We didn't just have commerce and culture; we had guests from all over the world and we were also home to such attractions as Kensington Palace and Royal Albert Hall. And yet, I stared at this woman. She seemed to glow from the inside out, and yet she was dressed in a white linen button-up blouse with a leather belt on her waist supporting a blue skirt that extends down to her ankles. Her hair was a platinum blonde. She was beautiful. She noticed me. "Yes?" she asked with her upper class accented voice. "I'm so sorry, I heard your friend say something about the El Corporation?" I replied, floating over to her. It felt suddenly as if there was no one else in the room. She smiled and I just about died—it felt like an arrow to the heart, but in a strangely good way. "I know someone who associated with the El Corporation. His father is the Chief Executive Officer of that Corporation." She said. "Father?" I asked. I thought of Mr. El Bridget. Tall, blonde, bearded Mr. El Bridget. I knew he was the CEO. He told me so himself when we met. But how is she aware of him. "Indeed." She said. "Luis El Bridget. A fine fellow with a brilliant mind, though he is a tedious conversationalist." A tall, older man in an elegant suit with wrinkle around his eyes suddenly joined us. "Professor Gengo Aoi." he said, extending his hand. I took it. "Wasn't he the man Mr. El Bridget had been talking about? My memory was foggy, filled only with images from last night. I couldn't push past them all to focus on the conversation. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Simon Winchester." I said as we shook hands. "The son!" said Gengo. "I am." I replied. "Well, it is indeed a pleasure. I always did admire your father's work. When I wore a younger man's clothes—if you know my meaning of course, I would travel to any cinema I could that was displaying your father's work. He truly is a genius. In fact, I had seen his latest film, not three weeks ago. I believe it was called "The Fourth Test Match". I especially admired the part where the lady swung the cricket bat." Gengo said. "I would advise against mentioning that subject. My father and the woman who took part in that segment had a falling out recently. If he hears of this, he might get upset." I replied, nervously. "Of course. My apologies. This fine hellion is Holly Rose. She aids with security in my company, the Chevalier Corporation. I assume you've heard of it?" he said to me. I smiled to indicate I had, but to be perfectly honest, I had not. "If you had not heard of it, you may have seen advertisements for our products. You may have even heard the name "Maria Lancelot" thrown about. She was the first Pandora soldier ever created." Gengo continued. Maria Lancelot…why did that name sound so familiar? Gengo Aoi…"You're the science man. You run a corporation. The Pandora project!" I said, finally understanding. Gengo smiled at me, slightly tight-lipped. I didn't think I'd said anything wrong. It had taken me a moment with the state of my brain to remember, but I had in the end. "You had a clever idea creating the Pandoras." I said. Personally I did not believe that to be true. I'd heard of the reports informing the public of the numerous Nova Clashes, and I believe there had been some propaganda ads urging women everywhere to get tested for compatibility with the serum that genetically modified them. I had little memory of them. "I believe someone in your family was a pandora?" I added. "My granddaughter, to be precise. Kazuha Aoi. She was one of the finest Pandoras that had ever been produced." Replied Gengo, still tight lipped. "Quickly change the subject." I thought. This was going quite badly for some reason. "What brings the two of you to Kensington?" I asked him. "Well, as I had said before, I always admired your father's films. I am something of an Anglophile, you might say. I always did have an appreciation for British culture. Especially the institutions in England that offered promises of a cultured education. It is almost as if this city is a living, breathing institute. You know, the Genetics Academies have a battle royale that we call "Carnivals". I coined that term. It came from a visit I had made to an actual carnival in Portsmouth. Even geniuses require a distraction once in a while." Gengo explained with renewed energy. "How did you become interested in English culture?" I asked him. "You could say it runs in my blood. My mother was Japanese. My father was an immigrant from Saville Row, Mayfair. My nationality and genetics were inherited from the former, which was why I identify as Japanese, but it was my father that taught me more about what culture was like where she came from. There is a book written about my biography. I would recommend reading it sometime.". Gengo replied, with a smile. "I will look into it. Did you have a hand in writing it?" I said to him. "For the most part, no. the brunt of it was written by an American novelist named Mordecai Lockhart. I am more of a scientist than a novelist. Although I did write one chapter. To make a long story short, that chapter is about a murder investigation I was involved in when I was around your age." Gengo replied. "In my opinion, I think Kensington is more than high education. We do boast quite a few famous attractions, for example." I said to him. "To each his own. Are you familiar with Nathaniel Alon-Grache?" Gengo replied. I shook my head no. "He is an incredible machinist. He worked on the Genetics Academies for me and he suggested that I pay a visit to see the new developments happening here. He also told me to make contact with your father!" Gengo explained. "Well, If there is something being built, my father finances it." I said. "He does well for himself." replied Gengo. It was a statement that felt more like a question. "I suppose he does, yes." I said. Gengo smiled. "Well, perhaps he could collaborate with me on something. I do enjoy working with the greatest minds that this Earth produces. He replied. That was my in. "And you also worked with Luis El Bridget, correct?" I asked. Gengo's smile faltered a bit. "I did." He admitted. "I had heard there were some complications over some machine or something?" I asked. "Careful." my gut told me. This was thin ice. I couldn't let them know what had happened, that I knew there were dark secrets about that machine. But I needed to know more. If not for my own sake, for Wilhelmina's. Brave Wilhelmina, who told my father what was what and did it with her chin held high. "May I ask who told you this?" asked Gengo. "His father, Howard." I replied. "You actually know him?!" asked Gengo with surprise. He clearly had a special friendship with him. "Yes, I do. I work with the El Corporation sometimes. As a lark. I enjoy tinkering with things. I've met Mr. El Bridget on Occasion." I replied. "This machine you speak of, have you seen it?" asked Gengo, suspiciously. That fear, that feeling that had haunted me ever since yesterday, filled me to the brim just then. He couldn't know that I had seen it. He couldn't know any of the things I knew. I wouldn't tell him. "No. I don't really know what it is. He didn't talk much about it, just that it had been a project for someone in Japan." I said, nonchalantly. "He said that, did he?" Gengo replied. Suddenly the man looked very different, like a dark cloud had passed over him. Nothing had changed, not his smile of his posture, but I could sense something dangerous. "What does it do?" I asked. I didn't mean to be so direct. I had intended to be quite the opposite. To stop talking about the subject. To compliment Holly's dress. To walk away and stand in a corner until dinner was served. But somehow I asked my most desired question. The question I'd had since that day Mr. El Bridget and I fixed the machine: "What does it do?". "I would advise you to refrain from pushing the issue further than you already have. You will never push the good doctor, or his compatriot into telling you anything of their secret contraptions. Trust me. I have tried." Holly said, with some warning in her eyes. Gengo leaned in, and with a slight smile he said, "Have you considered, my friend, that your questions were no more than figments of your imagination?". "I…had not considered that, no." I replied. "Well, I would advise you to do so now." He said. "I…will keep that in mind." I said. The little dinner bell rang at just that moment. A saving grace in a strange situation. I parted ways with them and took my assigned seat down the table between the Griffiths. Two very harmless people who loved my father unconditionally and therefore I could say nothing accidentally to ruin his reputation. For my part, I was glad to be far away from the mad scientist and his striking bodyguard-of-sorts. I had no idea what he meant, and I had no desire to consider my own existence in that way. I did think for a moment that my questions were so unbelievable that it could only be a threat to him. Maybe he was right in that way. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe Wilhelmina had a point. These people—Mr. El Bridget, Gengo, even the strikingly beautiful Holly—these people were different. They were up to something unnatural. What we had experienced, what had happened to Archie, that was not something that just happened. That was something created by humans. Like the golems that plague our world even now. What sort of people would create something like that? What sort of people held a creature that stalked its prey like that, underground, down in the secret places that still exist from secret pasts? I needed to speak with Wilhelmina again. I needed to tell her about these people. I needed to tell her she was right.

Chapter 32: Wilhelmina Dorrance

I held the empty glass with a coaster on top delicately in my hand. The beetle crawled along the inside, trying to find an escape but falling onto its back instead. There was something about staring at this little living creature that made me hesitate. Then I wondered why. What was I afraid of? I had planned on squishing it when I first spotted it in the restaurant, stomping on it and walking away from "Gregory" with no further thought. Still. I shivered. The walls of our apartment were thin, silly and useless. Silly and useless. I turned the jar around and the beetle fell again, its little legs flailing around, desperately trying to right itself. I stared at it. Then I imagined being the beetle in the glass. I imagined being watched closely and carefully. Examined. I suddenly looked over my shoulder. It felt like maybe Nina or Jessie was standing quietly in the doorway but no one was there. Just the dark hallway. I felt very aware now of myself, of being in the small pool of light at my desk. How vulnerable that could appear. How vulnerable I felt. I felt aware too of the darkness as an alive thing. Like the creeping shadows that had stalked us the other night. I had a vision of the blackness outside my door suddenly bursting in a wave into my room, swallowing me up, drowning me. Standing quickly, I marched over to the door and shut it. I felt a wave of relief. Then that familiar feeling of anger. I was frustrated with myself for being so weak, for fearing monsters in the dark. Whatever we had encountered was far away and locked underground. Or was it? Well, I was determined to find out, with or without the help of stupid simpleton boys. The problem was getting back to the machine. I heard a strange sob then. Quiet and almost like the wind or the creaking of floorboards. But it wasn't. It wasn't my imagination either. It was a soft desperate sound. Someone was in pain. Was it one of my sisters? I stood and clambered over my bed to the wall and placed my ear against it. Silence. Good. Nina and Jessie were well. I got up and went to the opposite wall I shared with my parents and did the same. More silence. I turned and listened carefully, straining to hear the sound again. I closed my eyes, as if shutting off the other senses might help make this one stronger. Something grabbed me hard by the wrist. I opened my eyes and yanked my arm away. "Get off me!" I shouted to the empty dark corner in front of me. I whirled around. Nothing. No one. I marched toward the switch for the overhead light and turned it on. My room filled with light and I examined it carefully. Again there was nothing. No. This wasn't right. I didn't believe it was my imagination. Someone was playing an elaborate game with me. I glanced at the light switch that I still held between my fingers and noticed then the green stain at my bare wrist. A sickly green handprint where I had been grabbed. Wet and fresh and oh so there. I wasn't frightened then. I felt anger that something had dared to attack me. I felt anger that it had just run away, disappeared like a coward. You want to fight me, attack me, drag me away, and kill me?! Just you try it! I was feeling so energized, my skin was buzzing. I could face anything right now. The anger was fuel; it was amazing. I raced back to my desk and removed the coaster from the empty glass. The beetle couldn't quite climb out of it and that was good because I needed my other hand for this. I held my wrist over the glass while my other hand held it up and the fresh green ooze dripped into the glass. It was like hanging something out to dry. Several drops fell into the glass and onto the beetle. I smiled and quickly sealed the glass again as best I could. I looked at my hand as it stained green prints on the outside of the glass. And I smiled. Now we would wait and see.

Chapter 33: Simon Winchester

I stared at the green stain on my floor the next morning. In the light of day I had hoped for some logical explanation. Like how a shadowy figure in the night turns out to be a coatrack by day. But no, my floor was stained with green sludge. It had dried, but before it had, it had wandered. I could see the jagged reaching stain, those fingers of slime. Just like in the old abattoir/prohibition factory/drug making hideout, just like over Archie's body, the slime had clawed itself forward, searching for something. It had not found it. There had been a monster in my room last night. Was it the same one that had clawed at my ankle in the dark? I assumed so. How could it not be? The thought that there was more than one was too much for me to handle. I quickly dragged my armchair into the corner, hiding the slime beneath it. I didn't need any of the servants trying to clean it up and getting into trouble. I dressed quickly and with great purpose and left my house only to stop a few blocks away and realize that I had no idea where I was headed. How was I to find Wilhelmina? Finding me was so much easier; our house was well known, the largest in the neighborhood. But to find someone who helped exotic dancers and lived with her sisters and parents in a city like this? That was a much harder task. The exotic dancers? That was it! I could meet her at the club tonight. That would surely do the trick. I would apologize and tell her what happened last night, all of it, the slime, meeting that Gengo Aoi fellow. Of course there was now an afternoon to kill until then. I had another idea.

I was brought a coffee as I sat on the plush green settee in the foyer of the hotel. "Thank you, Jeeves." I said. The old man in the hotel uniform nodded and turned and I had a memory then of playing hide-and-seek with him when I was young. The hotel had been my playground, and I had loved it even more than the grounds outside it. Now the hotel just felt like a burden, weighing hard on me, a reminder of things seemingly to come. There were days I wanted to run away from it all. Start a new life, maybe in Portsmouth. Things there sounded bright and cheerful, especially at the carnival. Everyone had left something behind. When I turned eighteen, maybe I would go there sometime. Maybe. The problem with fear is that while running can feel just perfect, there was also a fear of actually running away. Of what that would mean, of where to go and who to be. Of being without the safety net of my father's connections and wealth. Why was I so afraid? It was exhausting but the feeling just persisted, on and on, lingering, like a headache. He entered the lobby like he was walking onto a stage. There he was, in his finely tailored suit, the Professor Gengo Aoi from last night. I sank deep into the settee and pulled my hat low. I could see his feet now as he almost made his way across the floor. His shoes were freshly polished and made of a fine leather. I'd not seen shoes that well made in a long time. I wondered at the man's wealth. He was too showy for it to be obvious, that was for certain. He was then joined by another pair of shoes, or, should I say, boots. Those I recognized, though I did find it interesting I'd noticed them at all in the first place. They were brown and well worn and huge. I was surprised to see them. My plan had been to just keep an eye on this Gengo fellow, but there he was. This just made things a little more difficult. I sank lower. "Howard, my friend, it is most fortuitous meeting you again." said the shiny shoes. "Shall we be off?" replied the boots. "Always in a hurry." Replied the shiny shoes. "Much like accomplishing a feat." The boots said as they turned and made their way toward the exit. The shiny shoes stayed still for a moment and then followed. I raised my hat and watched the retreating backs of Mr. El Bridget and Gengo. I had to follow them. But I had to do it quickly and quietly. Even as my nerves kept me rooted to the spot. I managed to jump to my feet, spilling some coffee on the green settee. I looked down. The dark liquid seeped into the fabric and disappeared. I clenched my fists. I was still wearing gloves; the slime on my hands was almost gone but not quite. Not quite. I had to follow them. I chased after them out of the hotel and ran right into Mr. El Bridget. I fell backward, onto the sidewalk, onto my backside. It was like running face-first into a wall. "Just what do you think you're doing?" asked Mr. El Bridget, looking down at me. Gengo joined him and together they loomed over me like distorted anime characters. "No, Mr. El Bridget." I replied. "Actually, I am glad I caught you. I find myself in need of your aid once again." Mr. El Bridget said, extending an empty hand and I took it. He helped me up to standing. "Are you certain this is a sound idea?" asked Gengo, who seemed unsure of the answer. "I could do with the assistance. He has aided me in the past." Mr. El Bridget replied, turning and walking again as Gengo and I stared at each other. "You could have simply told me you knew of the machine." Gengo remarked. I wasn't sure if he was trying to trick me, but at this point, honesty seemed like the best move. "I was explicitly warned by Mr. El Bridget not to tell anyone about the machine. He even threatened to take steps to ensure I would never tinker again. You should know how he is." I told him. Gengo thought about that and then suddenly his whole disposition brightened. "Well, that is understandable. A word of advice: I happen to be a friend to Howard. He trusts me. You may have taken your secrecy pledge a step farther than you may have meant to." Gengo said, as he smiled and gave me a hearty pat on the back. "I suppose we should catch up. We do not want to keep Howard waiting." He added with a grin. I smiled back, not sure if I was considered a friend yet, but I was happy to have won him over for the moment. We walked speedily to catch up with Mr. El Bridget, who was waiting for us by his limousine. As I climbed in and got squished in the middle of the bench, I asked, "What about Steven?". Mr. El Bridget said nothing. He signalled for his driver to start the limousine and we were on our way. Considering the company and the direction we were heading, I assume our end destination would be the old factory. I was not happy about this, but what had I expected to find if I had followed them? OF course this is where they were going and I simply had to deal with the very real fact that I was about to enter a place where I had seen a man explode and were a monster had chased me in the dark. I laughed to myself at the everyday thought of "simply having to deal" with it. This was not really something one easily did. "What amuses you, friend?" asked Gengo. "Oh, it's nothing." I replied, absentmindedly, rubbing my hands together. He didn't press, which was good because for the life of me I couldn't think of a single joke I could use as my excuse. "It's just funny, the kind of history that place had, where I helped Mr. El Bridget work on the machine." I said. "It is? He asked. "It's been through a wide myriad of owners throughout its history. It might be older than even you." I said, giggling. "That would depend. I was born in 1988." Gengo replied. "This place was founded, I think, in the late 1800s. It was used by a lot of people. It started as an abattoir, for slaughtering pigs and cows and other creatures for harvesting meat. The meat would then be sent to butchers' shops worldwide." I replied. "Hmm…interesting…what else do you know of this place?" he asked me. "In the 1920s, when it was illegal to imbibe alcohol, and yes, it is a strange idea for a law, it was used by booze smugglers behind the scenes. In other words, the original abattoir operation was now an assumed front. Meat still came from that place, but behind the scenes, rumrunners were distilling and brewing moonshine in secret, to sell them in underground nightclubs. This law was most prevalent in the United States, but this factory here in England, mainly distributed alcohol in secret to the United States, so it tracks." I explained. "It is a strange thought. I had heard the rumors. I believe it was referred to as "Prohibition". But I am unsure I understand the terms "moonshine" or "rumrunners"." Gengo replied, confused. "Well, "moonshine" was a colloquial term used to refer to illegally made alcohol. It comes from the fact that Illegal spirits were made under the light of the moon. In every part of the United States, and in that abattoir, early workers in those hideout, or "moonshiners" as they were called, worked their booze stills at night to avoid detection from the authorities. A "rumrunner" was someone who aided in the illegal business of smuggling alcoholic beverages around America. Now, the term "rumrunner" refers to any person who smuggles alcohol past the border of any country where certain kinds of alcohol were forbidden by law." I explained to him. "Hmm…this abattoir you speak of…did it have any other owners?" Gengo asked me. "It was also used by drug smugglers in the 1980s." I explained. "I would have been merely a child at the time." Gengo remarked. "So this place that the machine is stored…it sounds a place that had quite a bit of history." Gengo commented. "Some of the old booze stills and drug making ingredients are still lying around." I replied. "This history amazes me. I had never even heard of prohibition until you mentioned it to me! t is quite fascinating, what history surrounds various buildings throughout history." Gengo remarked. One thing that lingered in the back of my head was: "What happened to Archie? Did he have any family? Were they missing him? Would the police start looking for him?". It was a saddening thought. We pulled to a stop, and as usual and with no ceremony, Mr. El Bridget opened the door and stepped out of the limousine. I was shocked. WE weren't at the factory. WE were in a grimy little part of town at a dirty little tavern evidently called "The World's End". Gengo opened his door casually, put on a white coat around his suit, slung what appeared to be a violin case around his back, and slipped out of the limousine even as Mr. El Bridget walked with purpose and opened the door to the tavern. He had disappeared inside before Gengo could accidentally close the limousine door in my face. "My apologies." He said with a grin, and opened it again. I smiled and stepped onto the sidewalk, staring at the tavern. I didn't understand anything right now but I wished Wilhelmina was with me. We stepped into the dark, dingy, derelict tavern, both of us removing our hats as we did so and looking around. It was early afternoon so there weren't may people there, and those who were seemed like they always had been, as if they were part of the furniture. Dust particles floated in the sunbeams and landed on drink rings on tables but seemed to illuminate nothing else. "Come." Said Mr. El Bridget from across the room. He was at a door by the sticky tavern and we followed him into a back room of dark-paneled wood. There was a table and chairs piled up on top of it. There was an acrid smell in the air, and when I walked over to join Mr. El Bridget by one of the wood panels, my shoes stuck to the floor slightly with each step. "This is not particularly what I had in mind, Howard." said Gengo. "The other entrance is inoperable." Replied Mr. El Bridget. Other entrance. "Your company builds machines, Howard." replied Gengo. Mr. El Bridget shook his head and pressed on the wood panel. It slipped back an inch from the wall and he dragged it then to the side. "There are some things that are broken forever." He said, before stepping through the hole. "Thankfully, I have this." Gengo said, as he pulled something from the bag slung around his labcoat. It was an old-looking submachine gun that looks like it was built in the 1920s, with a circular drum-like object at the bottom of it. It had two handles, one trigger, and a long barrel at the front of it. "What is that?" I asked. I am not an expert at firearms, so it only felt right to ask. "Impressive, is it not? The 1928 Thompson Submachine gun. Many were made in its time. This was given to me when I served in the war in Iraq, many years ago. I call it "Stradivarius", named after the line of violin, that is normally kept in the case you have seen around my back. During the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, one hoodlum concealed this weapon in such a case and slaughtered many with it. You are not the only one among us who knows their history. I brought this because it is helpful to use in case of emergency. We would be helpless without this. Thankfully, I am a decorated war hero." Gengo explained. "Moving on…" Mr. El Bridget said, beckoning us to follow him. I didn't think it was good form to follow, so I extended my hand to allow Gengo the right of way. He took it without even acknowledging me and I followed behind him into the dark. We found ourselves in a tunnel sloping downward on a steady decline. It flattened out soon enough and Mr. El Bridget turned on a flashlight ahead of us. "Break right." He ordered, and just as he did, my leg caught the edge of something and I stumbled forward. "OW!" I yelped. Mr. El Bridget turned the flashlight on me and then to the left of the tunnel as if pointing with it. There was a metal table next to us. Or no, not a table. As Mr. El Bridget dragged the light along the wall, it revealed a long conveyor belt. "There are crates on this assembly line. " Gengo said. He went to inspect one of the crates, opening the lid. Inside were bottles of liquor, still unopened, but probably warm after over 150 years of neglect. "There is liquor in these crates." Gengo remarked. We looked at a corner of the room where there were plastic bags on the table with a dust like substance inside them. Gengo picked on up and sniffed it. "That is an unusual smell." Gengo said. "It's cocaine. You'd better put that down. Best to keep our wits about us." I replied. "Oh. Yes, of course." Gengo said, putting it down. "Moving on…" Mr. El Bridget called out. We regrouped quickly. Mr. El Bridget aimed the flashlight in front of him, lighting the large tunnel and showcasing the dark void in the distance. His hulking silhouette led the way and we followed him, a point of light with darkness behind us and before us. I understood now what was happening, and dread filled me with every step we took. Obviously there would be more than one entrance into this derelict abattoir. That there was another way out that entire time. That we could have gone out a different way, and if we had…maybe Archie would still be alive. Something darted across the path of light in front of us. "Did you see that?" I asked, stopping short. But no one else stopped. They just kept walking, the light getting farther away from me, the darkness surrounding me. Like shadows climbing up a wall, I ran to catch up and held my breath as we approached the spot where I'd seen the something. Nothing happened. So I let out my breath in a long silent sigh. "Simon!" I heard someone call out. I cried out as I fell flat on my face onto the rough floor, something heavy on my back. Something that knew my name. I tried to push it off, tried to turn it over, but it was squirming and fighting back, leaning hard on me so my face was rubbing roughly against the gravel on the ground. I couldn't even cry for help—the wind was being crushed out of me. I heard the sounds of a scuffle above me then. I heard the sounds of a fight. I also heard gunshots as well, likely from Gengo's submachine gun. Why did he even have that? I heard yells, and then a mighty grunt as the something was pulled off me in one swoop. I scrambled onto my back, sitting there on the cold cement floor, panting hard, trying desperately to fill up my lungs as fast as I could. The flashlight had fallen and was shining at Mr. El Bridget's jackboots. In the distance I could see the faint shadow of Gengo in a scuffle. I quickly reached over to grab the flashlight as I got to my feeth. I shone it at Gengo, over Mr. El Bridget's shoulder. Gengo was holding a figure at gunpoint with his submachine gun, the barrel pressed against his upper torso. The figure's clothes and hair were drenched in green slime, but he was not covered completely, not like Archie had been. This figure, you could see his face, his wild eyes. It was Steve. "What's going on?!" I demanded. "Silence!" hissed Gengo to Steve as he thrashed about in the air. "They're coming! They're coming for you all!" he screamed. He suddenly looked directly at me, at the beam of light. His eyes glowed in the light and his face contorted into a grotesque grimace. "Can you keep him quiet?" asked Mr. El Bridget, coming up beside me in an angry hiss. "How do you expect me to do that? Bullets do not seem to affect him. He was struggling with the effort of keeping Steve in check. "Just do it." ordered Mr. El Bridget. "It's all your fault. You're the real monster, standing there with your tommy gun like you're Al Capone!" Steve spat at Gengo. "GENGO!" Mr. El Bridget snapped. "How are you going to silence me, Aoi? What do you want him to do to me?" Steve remarked, laughing. It was high pitched and pierced my ears. The sound echoes in the tunnel. "DO IT!" ordered Mr. El Bridget. Steve thrashed around again and Gengo struggled to keep him in check. He twisted and turned and then leaned down and headbutted Gengo in the chest, causing him to drop his weapon Instinctively, Mr. El Bridget went to retrieve the deadly weapon as Steve escaped and ran off into the dark. There was a hollow thud in the darkness as Gengo and Mr. El Bridget raced to follow him. Steve was lying on the ground, unconscious. The tunnel had turned at a ninety-degree angle and he had charged right into it. I reached up and touched the wound on my forehead. I thought about how I got it. I backed away slowly from Steve. "Good. Let us leave him here to sleep it off then, shall we?" said Mr. El Bridget, joining us. He grabbed the flashlight out of my hand and continued down the tunnel. Gengo carefully adjusted Steve to make him more comfortable and then stared at his body for a quiet moment. The light got dimmer and dimmer, and as I stared at Steve and Mr. El Bridget, I felt the need to say something. "What did he mean by "monster"?" I asked quietly. "I believe we had previously discussed that." He replied. "What is going on. Please tell me." I said. I sounded pathetic. I sounded too desperate, like a small child. My father would not have approved of this at all. I was not coming at this conversation from a place of "authority". "I simply cannot." Said Mr. El Bridget quietly. He stood up and looked at the light disappearing down the tunnel in the distance. "We must repair this machine and then return it to Japan as soon as possible!" Mr. El Bridget added. "Okay." I said, but inside I was a mess of anxiety and fear. How could they possibly do that? How could they move the machine at all knowing there was some monster on the loose? Or… or would they take it to one of the most culturally-diverse country in the world and potentially unleash all the horrors there? "Let us move on, shall we?" said Mr. El Bridget. "I can't." I replied. I couldn't. I couldn't go back there. I couldn't. I couldn't be a part of this. Not after everything I'd seen. "Do not be foolish. Come!" said Mr. El Bridget as he moved on. I could barely see Mr. El Bridget anymore. Gengo had literally left us in the dark, taking his submachine gun with him. "No!" I snapped. Who did he think he was, ordering me around? I was Simon Winchester, the heir to a good chunk of Kensington. I probably owned these tunnels as well. I turned on my heel and started retracing my steps in the dark. "SIMON!" called out Mr. El Bridget, but I was done. I was not going to end up like Archie or Scott. I knew deep down how close I'd come. How close I was. I felt a madness inside of me that I had assumed was a human reaction to a horrific situation, but now, now I wasn't sure. Now I didn't know what was happening to me. I turned the corner and picked up speed. It was a straight shot to the tavern now. When the ground started to rise, I felt a wave of relief and I burst into the back room from behind the panel like water breaking through a dam. I stood in the room for a moment and collected my wits as best I could, though the fear would not go away. I thought long and hard. I needed to find Wilhelmina.

Chapter 34: Wilhelmina Dorrance

The beetle died. Not because of the sludge; it hadn't been poisoned. I'd watched it all night as it got more and more agitated. As it raced in tiny circles in the glass. As it wore itself out and then just stopped moving. I'd opened the glass then and carefully taken it out, laying it on a cloth on my desk. The slime had had an effect on its behavior, that much I understood. But what kind of effect, I didn't fully understand. Had it made the beetle want to run and run? IT seemed a very specific kind of reaction that was too particular. I tried to stay calm in my frustration. I wanted answers. I needed answers. But when Nina knocked on my door, I was too quick to yell at her, too angry at her for interrupting me. What did she think she was doing? I was trying to solve a delicate problem. What was the sludge? "Mother wants help with breakfast." She said, sounding surprised at my response. "I'm sick." I said bluntly. "Oh no! Did you catch my cold?" she replied, sounding genuinely concerned. Of course she did. She was the sweetest, kindest girl I knew, despite her…habits with other men. I always tried to be like her. But I wasn't her. I had complicated and messy thoughts I wanted to shout from the rooftops. I hated to think it, but in so many ways I was more like Jessie, except Jessie had no reservations just being herself. What was I? Who was I? I shook my head to knock the thought out of it. Then I looked at my wrist. The slimy green handprint. I wasn't scared. I was determined. "Yes." I said. "OH dear. Would you like me to bring you some soup? Some tea?" she asked. "No thank you. I think I would like some rest for now." I said. I didn't shout, but there was an edge to my voice. I was so close to the solution and she kept interrupting me. I had this vision then of sitting on the beach at Kensington Pier. And just screaming. I sighed hard. I felt a wave of exhaustion pass over me. I had, after all, been up all night. But it was more than that. It was something deep inside me. Something buried deep, a part of my soul that had been crying out for so long and was so very tired. I stared at the dead beetle. It had run and run and run until it was so very tired. Something clicked inside me. Could it be? Oh, how I wished I could talk to Simon about all this. I wish he cared. How could he not care? It was so unfeeling, so dismissive and horrible. Rich men and their callousness. I stood in a rush of anger and let out a frustrated yell. My chair fell backward and onto the floor. "Are you alright?" asked Nina, who was again standing at the door. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine." I said, balling my hands into fists. But I wasn't. This wasn't normal. Even though it felt right, even though I'd never felt more like myself, none of this was normal. Sharing my feelings, letting them take over, not being in control. It all clicked together. The slime. The slime was doing something to me. Even though I had washed it all away, I clearly hadn't/ Somewhere inside me it lurked, and it was unleashing these tightly kept feelings, these carefully concealed emotions. I didn't want to run in circles, but I did want to be free. I picked up my chair and sat again at my desk. My gloves were still sitting there in the middle of all my little vials and experiments. I took in a deep breath. It was time to clean them.

Chapter 35: Simon Winchester

I stood outside the door to the backstage like some ridiculous pervert as the waitresses prepared the tables for serving drinks. I felt absurd just standing here. Waiting, knowing that down in the deep depths men were working on a machine that would threaten us all. Next to me was a tall, lanky fellow with somewhat shaggy black hair, with hazel-coloured eyes, holding a bouquet of flowers, waiting for his girl to show up for work, no doubt. He looked so normal, so very unaware of the evil happening right now. Where was she? Why wasn't she here yet? A dozen girls had already passed us by and giggled at the man holding the flowers, yet no Wilhelmina to be seen. I shifted in place. My nerves were so frayed, it felt like I was going to jump out of my own skin. "Henry!" a familiar looking girl with dark black hair done up perfectly in a ponytail, in a simple but charming outfit, bounded over to the man with the flowers. I expected some sort of embrace, but instead she stopped short and just smiled at him. "What are you doing here? The man smiled. "Hello, Nina, I'm just waiting for your sister." He replied. Oh, she's not feeling well today. Shall I take the flowers for her?"" she said, reaching out expectantly. "She's not?" he asked, looking concerned. "Just a cold. You don't need to worry about it." the girl replied, looking annoyed. "I need to see her." The man said. "There's nothing I can do. Now give me the flowers. I promise I will give them to her for you." the girl said, more annoyed this time. At this point, she reached out to grab the flowers but Henry yanked them back. "No! I'm going to see her." Nina sighed hard. "Fine then. She's at home; you can find her there. Tell her I tried to be a good sister. She won't believe you. Also she's in a bit of a bad mood, so don't expect a warm welcome." she said, grinning. "Simon, are you waiting for her too?" she added, turning to me. Suddenly she was looking right at me and that's when I remembered her from the streets. Of course! she must be Wilhelmina's younger sister. Wait was that the sister they had been talking about just now? "I am. You say she's at home, she's not well?" I asked her. Nina nodded and made to speak but she was interrupted abruptly by Henry. "Why are you looking for her?" he asked, suspiciously. Henry and I stared at each other. There was something going on inside him, something that seemed more than just a potentially jealous looking suitor. Then again, there was always something else going on inside us, something secret we never tell anyone else. A deep terrible fear of the future maybe? Or was that just me? "We're not romantically involved, if that's what you're implying. We're just friends." I said. "Henry Rhodes, this is Simon Winchester." said Nina in a meaningful tone. "You know who Mr. Winchester is, don't you?" she added. Henry nodded but still looked at me closely. "Shall we go together to see her?" I asked, trying to sound friendly, I also thought this was a perfect solution to my problem, considering I had no idea where she lived. Henry nodded again. The man had gone mute. "Come. I'll pay for the ride." I said. Henry scoffed at that and remarked "I'm surprised someone like you doesn't own a fancy car!". "I do. I just don't like driving." I replied. I hated everything about it. The speed, the potential danger. To be in control of something that could just as easily snowball out of control. I shivered at the thought. "Fine. Let's go. But I've got my eye on you." Henry said, reluctantly, walking off suddenly toward the exit, holding the flowers down and letting them just swing in his hand as if they weren't delicate things easily destroyed. Then again, I realized as I followed him, technically they were already dead.

Chapter 36: Wilhelmina Dorrance

There was a time when my sister telling me that two men waiting outside to see me would have filled me with joy. I had always dreamed of being able to attract the attention of multiple suitors. In a clean, non-trashy fashion, of course. In this moment, however, it was the last thing I was interested in. I had organized a series of test tubes and was working on a literal solution to eliminate the green goo. I had discovered that adding some iron and oxidized magnesium into the mix was having a promising result. I didn't have time for men who were irritated with me. What's more, I was more irritated with them. It made me question my old interest in men in the first place. Was romance something I was truly interested in, or was I only pleasing my parents by planning marriage and helping to support the family, in doing this? Was anything in life really about what I wanted? I huffed and stood up, feeling abject frustration in my veins. I didn't care to see either of them, and I didn't care to waste any more time than needed, so I slipped on my winter boots and grabbed my lined blue dressing gown. I rushed past Jessie, who was standing by my door, and through the kitchen before anyone could comment. I did however hear Mother react, saying "You can't possibly go out like that!". But what did it matter? What did anything matter? I didn't care what anyone thought anymore. I stormed downstairs and glared at Mrs. Hilliard as she peeked around her ground-floor door, the chain still on. I flung open the front door to the building. Standing there before me was Gregory, seething with a bouquet of flowers, and Simon, looking as if he had seen a ghost. "What?!" I asked, putting my hands on my hips. "You act so demure and hurt, and yet you are a hypocrite, my love who once was." Said Gregory, tossing the flowers onto the ground. "I beg your pardon?!" I asked. I wanted to laugh. These poor, pathetic little flowers on my stoop. They hadn't done anything wrong. For that matter, neither did I. "You're dating this stuffy nosed, fancy-schmancy loser?!" "Gregory" asked, pointing to Simon standing right next to him. "Now see here, Henry…" said Simon, with anger in his voice. "Don't "Henry" me! She's mine!" "Gregory snapped, turning to Simon. "Then what would you rather be called, "Casper"? Or should I say…Mr. Aoi? Mr. Kazuya Aoi of Tokyo, Japan?!" Simon asked, as if calling someone out. This made Gregory, or I suppose "Kazuya Aoi" as his real name seems to be, to react as if his blood ran cold, and gasp as if he had seen a monster that terrified him. "What?! Who are you?!" I asked. "This man suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder. I checked his medical and mental health records while we were on our way to you." Simon explained. "Go on then. You have my…brief attention." I replied, as calmly as I could. "This man has employment records under the name Gregory Stevens. He got that name from an alias used by a prank caller, whose most frequent target was a bail bondsman. He has a Burger Queen member's discount card under the name Henry Rhodes. He got that name from that of the main antagonist of a zombie-themed horror film made by George A. Romero called "Day of the Dead". He has citizenship records under the name Casper Dorrance. He got that name from a more modern film called "FeFe". The only other name I know of that he goes by is Kazuya Aoi, therefore, by process of elimination, that must be his real name." Simon explained in frustration. "Just how much do you know about me?!" Kazuya demanded. "Well, your real name is apparently Kazuya Aoi, fifteen years old, Japanese nationality, your favorite foods include grilled eel and lasagna, your blood type is O, your three sizes are 83-68-73, you are 169 centimeters tall in height, you are 60 kilograms in weight, your parents are Ryuuichi and Orie Aoi, the latter of whom was killed by your late sister, Kazuha after the mother attempted to smother Kazuya in your sleep when he was only a baby. His grandfather is Professor Gengo Aoi, founder and owner of the Chevalier Corporation, he you don't go to school at the moment but I've heard that your past grades were reasonably good. You apprenticed under your grandfather, who carried on your education using his numerous PhDs, you don't have a lot of hobbies, but you do like reading and collecting rare, secondhand books for cheap. you have no experience with romance, but you do like ladies with large breasts, you doesn't own any pornography but you sometimes indulge in watching old stag films from the 1920s-1940s and save images of that nature to your phone, only to delete them out of embarrassment later, before regretting it and the cycle repeats. The first time you ejaculated was when you were seven years old when you were raped by a young woman by the name of "Maria Lancelot", you react most sensitively to your hair being touched, as if it were a weakness." Simon explained further. As Simon said this, Kazuya was becoming more and more shocked. "That's freaky. The fact that you know that much about me is freaky. And embarrassing. All right, maybe there is something wrong with me." Kazuya said before turning to me. "I'm sorry. The fact is…I'm what you would call a draft dodger. The people who run the Genetics Academies have been trying to conscript me for years now. I'm sorry if I treated you wrong. All I can say is it won't happen again. Maybe it's because I'm just so lonely. I just wanted to be loved. My sister was the only woman in my life who had shown me any kindness. The closest thing I've had to a non-family companion was a stray dog named Spot. I didn't know he already had a name. I assumed he was an orphan. I called him "Barnabas". We did everything together. We had fun a lot. Unfortunately, one day…his original owner came and snatched him away from me. She was the one who told me the dog's name was Spot. I asked if I could visit him sometimes, and she said no. All because I'm a vagrant. But that's beside the point. He is right. I was abused in ways I don't like bringing back into my head unless I have to. Maybe that was the reason I black out randomly and wake up in a different situation or sometimes even another location or country. But ultimately, all I can say is, just give me a break." Kazuya said, remorsefully. "Oh please." I said, with a very hearty roll of my eyes. This was absurd. "Your apparent trauma is making you irrational." I said. "Maybe. But I am curious. Why was he looking for you?" Kazuya asked. "He's my friend, Mr. Aoi. You do know about friends, don't you?" I said. "No offense, but sarcasm doesn't become you." He said. "Well, deceit, mental illness, and treachery don't become YOU!" I said, shaking my head and looking at them both. I stood at the top of the three small steps; it gave me literally enough height that I felt literally above them both. Though, to be honest, I was rather glad to see Simon. I had so much to say to him. "What happened to the sweet, shy girl I wanted to go steady with?" said the man who called himself Gregory Stevens. "This man is obviously delusional." Simon explained. "There he is again." I said, reacting to Kazuya's sudden shift in personality. "I have enough of a basis in psychology to know what you're going through. But what you're saying right now, or rather, what Gregory was saying just now…that's the problem: I was never sweet nor shy. You were just too busy going on and on about pointless historical fun facts to notice, "Gregory". And maybe that was my fault, maybe I should have confessed sooner. I don't know. I don't know why I was always so quiet anymore, really." I replied. "Well, can't you be that way again?" Kazuya asked, though his personality was taken over once again by Gregory Stevens. Now I laughed. I closed my eyes and shook my head and I found that laughing this way felt freeing, like yelling or throwing something. It wasn't quite the same, but I felt this pressure release like a kettle whistling. "Laughing at me? That's harsh, miss. Really harsh." Kazuya said, feeling like himself now. "Don't ask me such a stupid question then!" I snapped. "I didn't. Maybe it was one of my other selves. But it wasn't my fault. I wasn't in control of myself anyway." Kazuya replied. "It's your mental illness and your lack of control over your other "selves" put me in this fix to begin with!" I replied. "You women are all the same! Abusive, arrogant, you think you're better than me. It wasn't my fault that you're mentally unstable, and now you want to pin that on me?! Well I won't let you!" Kazuya snapped. He rushed at me, but he was held back by Simon. "Enough of this, both of you!" snapped Simon in that way he sometimes spoke, imitating his father. I wondered if he knew how silly he looked. Like a small child wearing their parent's shoes. "You should leave now, Kazuya. Before I really get upset." I said, with warning. "It wasn't my fault. I swear." Kazuya pleaded. "Normally, I'm not one to judge, but based on what I've seen? You, sir, are a seriously disturbed boy. You don't need a girlfriend. You need a therapist! And you should've stuck to apprenticing!" I snapped, staring him down. He for his part attempted to do likewise, and I wondered if all those staring contests I had with my sisters had actually had a practical purpose in the end. "The lady has asked you to leave." said Simon, interrupting the battle. Kazuya looked at Simon and then back. "If I leave now, then that's it; you and I are through!" he said, now sounding like Gregory Stevens. "Gregory, it was over between us when I left you at the restaurant. You don't get to take that away from me to make yourself feel better." I replied. I had no idea where the words were coming from and how they flowed so easily, but it felt incredible. No, I did know where they came from. I just didn't care right at this moment. In this moment I was happy to let the feelings have free rein. "You're just like your sisters—you don't care about romance. You just want attention from me. Sometimes even sexual." He said, leaning in. And then he was leaning away, holding his face with his hands. I hadn't known I had the ability to slap a person. I'd never done such a thing before, but it had felt easy and right. "Don't you ever say anything about my sisters. Don't you ever come near any of my family again. Furthermore, if you do so much as touch my breasts, I will alert the genetics academies to your location, and then it's off to military school with you!" I yelled. I launched myself at him and straddled him. I then slammed him against the ground repeatedly. Do you understand me?" I asked angrily. "Why are you doing this? I just want to live the rest of my life in peace." Kazuya replied. I grabbed a post from the garden and held it above me. I really wanted to kill him for insulting my family. Suddenly, he was nervous and frightened. "Whoa! There's no need for that! Just put this down, let me go, and I'll be out of your hair." He said, nervously. "This ends now! If you want peace, death can be very peaceful!" I snapped, preparing to stab him, when suddenly he grabbed a handful of dirt and flung it at my eyes. I cried out in pain and then he yelled out, holding out his hands, and suddenly, I couldn't move. What appeared to be a light, neon blue field of energy came from his hands, causing an energy field to run across the ground, holding me in place. "What the-?!" I said, surprised. Suddenly he moved and got to his feet and dusted off his suit. "It's called a "Freezing Field". I usually use this to make a hasty getaway. I'm sorry, but I had to do it; you left me no choice, you were acting all crazy. Now…can we please talk through this like normal people?" Kazuya replied, lowering his mysterious, light-based prison. I growled at this and snapped at him. "Stop talking to me! I don't care if you're sorry! The damage is already done! The damage was done when you insulted my family. I've had it with your treachery! And your lies! And your blasted "Dissociative Identity Disorder"!" I yelled as I pushed his nose repeatedly to make a point. He gasped in horror and said, "What did I ever do to you?". I didn't want to be restrained again, so I simply made a list of demands. "Fix that hair of yours; it looks shaggy! Leave now! And seek mental help!" I yelled. "I don't think there's anything wrong with me. And I like the way my hair looks, thank you very much." Kazuya replied. "Very well. You leave me no choice. I did not wish to alert you to the Genetics Academies, but it seems as if I have the easy way out." I said as I reached for my cellular phone and dialed a number. "Hello? I wish to report a boy who is actively escaping your attempts to recruit him. He is a boy of about high school age, galivanting about alone, refusing to fight in your "Nova Clash". He seems to suffer from Dissociative Identity Disorder, so you may have difficulty identifying his real name." I said into the phone. After I heard a voice asking me to confirm if this is true, I said "Yes, that's right, around that area. Could you please send someone after him. They asked me for specifics, so I gave the person on the phone the information requested, such as his name, body information, nationality, favorite food, hobby, three sizes, blood type, and weak spot when touched. I then added "I would greatly appreciate it if you informed him, that the Dorrance residence is out of bounds. I say this in the event you allow him to wander during the summer season. I would also appreciate it if you would file a restraining order against him, stating that if he comes within, say, ten feet of me, he would be castrated and his tongue would be severed." The voice told me that they cannot file the order themselves, though they did say that they would have the authorities in Kensington file a restraining order against him. They then said they would sent someone to retrieve him. "Yes, thank you very much. Much appreciated." Then then asked me for my personal information to give to the authorities in the event they need to contact me if need be. "My name is Caitlin Wilhelmina Dorrance. I live at 23 Wimpole Street. I do not use email. I prefer handwritten sentiments. Is there anything else you need the authorities to know?" I said. They told me no. "Thank you. I greatly appreciate this." I said into the phone before they wished me a good night and hung up. "You know…law enforcement can be quite dedicated when pushed hard enough. The same can be said with the genetics academies. I alerted them to you this location here. You can rest assured their response should be swift and merciless…but fair. Now…I will be taking my leave of you, and you have any sense whatsoever in that plagued brain of yours, you will do the same to me. Now, I think you'd better run home before they find you." I said to him. "I'm going. You're crazy." He replied, staggering away. I watched him retreat like a dog with his tail between his legs. "I hope they catch him." I said. "He deserves better than what you would have done had he not fought back. He did deserve being ratted out. Are you okay?" he asked. "I've never felt better." I replied, finally shifting my focus to him. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I asked him. Simon still looked concerned and it was starting to annoy me. He was here for a reason and yet somehow Kazuya had ruined that as well. "Simon, please. What are you doing here?" I said. HE nodded and said, "I've learned so much about the machine in the last day. I have to tell you everything." he replied. I stared at him. I had anticipated an apology or possibly that he wanted to ask me out on a date himself. But that he had been doing the very thing he told me not to, I was both upset and impressed. "Did you lie to me then, to protect me in some grand gesture?" I asked. "No, absolutely not." He replied, stopping to think about that. "Not that I wouldn't want to protect you, but I swear that I thought it was the best course of action at the time. I still do." he explained. "You still do?" I asked, confused. I smiled at Mr. Ganderton and his little boy as they walked by and waved. "I think we need to go inside. We don't have the benefit of space like in your neighborhood. We're being watched." I said. It sounded ominous, but it wasn't. It was just a fact that Mrs. Pankhurst across the street on the second floor was absolutely watching us through her curtains. The neighborhood enjoyed a good gossip. "Okay." said Simon, looking a little worried. I opened the door and he took off his hat passing over the threshold. We walked in silence up the stairs and, as we approached my apartment, I took in a deep breath. I normally do not get any visitors in my apartment. Jessie always had difficulty taking her suitors seriously enough to invite them to the apartment. For Nina, it was because they were just flings for her, and for me, well, it was because I never, before that mentally deranged man I threatened into leaving that night, had had a male companion to invite over in the first place. Simon would be welcomed with open arms and that was part of the problem. The son of Cornelius Winchester III in our apartment. I worried my mother would be embarrassed without the notice to clean everything and my father would be aware of his poverty. I worried what Simon would think, if he would think less of me. He always seemed to think I walked on water. All of this I thought in a moment but I didn't pause before opening the door and loudly announcing "Simon Winchester has come to visit!". My mother and Nina came over, all smiles. They were already dressed to go to the cinema to take in a new film, my mother with her hat in hand, and Jessie wrapping her scarf around her neck. They froze on the spot as he entered the apartment. Father, meanwhile stood casually from his armchair, folding the paper and placing it in his seat. He looked very much as if he'd been expecting Simon and was not remotely taken aback by his presence. He and Simon shook hands. "Lad, you missed dinner. Can I offer you a cup of tea?" he asked. "I'm fine, Mr. Dorrance." replied Simon, all politeness. "Wilhelmina, dear, why don't you change into something more appropriate." my mother said, hiding her mortification that I was in my dressing gown in such company, but I know she was feeling it acutely. "I'm fine." I replied. "I'm going to show Simon my chemistry kit." I added, motioning for Simon to follow me. "I'm not so sure about that, young lady." said my mother. My father reached for his coat and nodded in agreement. I didn't have time for their sudden old-fashioned behavior. "He is coming with me to my room, and you will trust me." I said curtly. My mother looked at me with some surprise. I was getting used to this now. "Billie…" said Nina, as a way of gently telling me what I said was unkind. "Please, I'm under the weather. Just let me do this. You all go to the theater. I promise everything will be just fine." I said. My mother and father looked at each other, and finally mother nodded slowly. What could they do really? They could say no, but how often did this sort of thing happen? The three of them left, with Nina mouthing "Be good." To me as they did. I hated that mother didn't approve but I also knew that there were more important things happening right now than what she thought. So I quickly led Simon down the narrow hall and into my bedroom, closing the door behind us. Only then did I feel the weight of social propriety fall heavy on my shoulders. I was alone in my bedroom with a man. My cheeks got red and I hoped Simon didn't notice. "That is incredible." He said. He had made a beeling for my desk, not seeming to have the same concerns. Once again I felt anger at the double standard; it didn't even occur to him that a reputation could be injured in this way. Why would it? He was protected by virtue of being a man. And a wealthy one at that. I quickly joined him. "I've learned so much about the slime." I said. "And I've learned so much about the machine." He replied. "Tell me everything you know." I told him. Simon looked up at me and then glanced around the room as if someone might be lurking in the evening shadows that were growing up my walls. Maybe there was. I glanced toward the corner where I had been grabbed and instinctively pulled the sleeve of my dressing gown down to hide the green on my wrist. "The machine belongs to a Professor Gengo Aoi." He said. "Gengo Aoi? Do you mean like, Gengo Aoi, who founded the Chevalier Corporation?" I asked, shocked. "You've heard of him?" Simon asked. "Of course! I have used their products before. You know, until this very moment I had completely forgotten about that." I replied. It was funny how certain memories stay to haunt you forever and others just vanish as if that moment of your life had never happened in the first place. "Well, it looks like Mr. El Bridget's son, Luis helped build the machine for Gengo in Japan but then brought it here to Kensington." said Simon. "Why would he do that?" I asked. "From what I understand, they need to 'fix' the machine. It's supposedly broken I actually helped Mr. El Bridget a few weeks ago on that. I never did meet his son, however. But regardless, that was how I knew about the machine in the first place. I think they brought it here because the El Corporation has unique facilities and connections in Kensington." Simon explained. "Easier to bring a giant machine here than to send some El Corporation employees to Kensington?" I asked. That seemed very doubtful. Simon shook his head and said, "I guess so.". "Or maybe…or maybe what happened to us wasn't weird. Maybe it had happened before." I said, realizing something. "Maybe they had to get it out of Kensington, you mean." said Simon, following my train of thought. "There was a monster trapped down there, Simon. It wasn't just living underground. It was purposefully trapped." I replied, beginning to understand better what was going on. And it made me furious. "How dare they? How dare they bring a monster here, as if the people in Kensington don't matter like they do in Mayfair? What is wrong with them?" I asked, angrily. I sat hard on my bed, my brain swirling with rage. We all matter, and these men just thought they could bring something like this here and endanger us all. "Well, they plan on taking it back to Japan once it's fixed." said Simon, looking nervous now. Then again, lately he'd been looking quite nervous in general. "And of course machines never break again. And does the machine go with them?" I asked, squeezing my stress ball with my hands. I was boiling over to the point of cooking in my own juices, but I didn't have any outlet. "What have you learned about the slime?" Simon asked. That question helped to focus my mind. I loosened my grip on my stress ball. "I'm pretty sure I found a way to erase the slime, finally. I made a solution. It's in that vial there." I said, pointing at a stoppered test tube sitting in the little stand that had come with the book. It was a different color now, thanks to the iron and oxidized magnesium. The liquid was thick, similar in consistency to the green slime. "You did?" he asked, turning to look at the vial. He seemed almost mesmerized by it. "I also found that the slime does something. It seems to enhance something deep inside whatever it makes contact with. For a little beetle trying to escape, it makes it manic and desperate." I explained. I watched as Simon gently picked up the vial. He looked at it closely. Examining it. "I say." He said. "I think it's had an effect on me, Simon." I confessed. He didn't react. He didn't seem surprised. "Yes, that makes sense." he replied. "It does?" I asked, confused. He turned and looked at me. "It's had an effect on me too." he replied.

Chapter 37: Simon Winchester

Confessing to someone that the deepest part of me was a coward had not been something I was planning on doing today. Or indeed ever in my life. But here I was, looking at Wilhelmina and knowing that the truth was not just necessary in this moment. It was vital. "I'm scared all the time now. I think I've always been a little scared. OF what my future held, of being out of control, of the world. Never enough to feel it like when you see a scary film, but it was always there." I said. Wilhelmina nodded. "Now I feel like running away all the time. I have run away. I ran away today out of the tunnel. I tried everything to make us run away from Archie…" said, before stopping. My throat closed suddenly. I felt like I was about to cry. I couldn't do that now; now was not the time. I focused my attention on the little vial filled with serum. I didn't know what it was. It also scared me. I turned it around in my hand, watched the liquid run from top to bottom, oozing as I flipped it slowly over and over again. "I'm so angry." said Wilhelmina. "I'm sorry." I replied, apologizing for my confession, for my bad behavior. I felt terrible. I was such a heinous person. "No, I'm always angry. Like you, I think I've always had this need to be heard, to shout out, to feel understood. It's a lot." She said. I felt some small relief. She didn't judge me. She had her own concerns. Not everything was about me. "So should we take this?" I asked, still staring at the vial. I didn't really want to. The consistency of the liquid made me feel sick to my stomach. I looked up at her. She shook her head. "I don't know. I don't know if it's safe. It cleaned my gloves, but can it undo these effects? Do we…do we want to undo these effects?" she asked. "Of course we do." I said. I couldn't live like this much longer. The battle not to flee every moment was getting harder and harder. "You must want to be yourself again." I said to her. Wilhelmina sat looking at her lap, her hands tightly grasping the cover of her bed. "I think this is more myself than I've ever been." She replied, looking up at me. She looked scared. Almost petrified. She was shaking and I couldn't understand why. "Isn't what we are experiencing just a magnified version of ourselves? You won't lose yourself entirely…" I said only to be interrupted. "Simon, hold your tongue please." Wilhelmina said. No one in my life except my father had ever said that to me. It made me freeze in place. Hurt but also frightened. "Stay perfectly still." She said. I realized then that she wasn't looking at me, but looking past me. Just over my head. Behind me. I heard a dripping then. Like a leaking faucet. Drip. Drip. Drip. I heard it just by my ear. I felt nothing but pure terror. I couldn't feel my hands or my feet or my heardbeat. All I felt was a white-hot brightness inside me. A paralyzing, uncompromising level of fear that I had never felt before in my life. Wilhelmina rose very slowly, reaching out as she did, staring at whatever stood behind me. "It's okay." She said softly. But not to me. To it. I thought of the green slime under my chair in the corner of the room. The face outside the window. It was the monster. My mouth went dry. "Simon, you need to stay still." Wilhelmina said. Well, that wasn't a hard instruction to follow. "Hi." She said with a warm gentleness to the thing behind me. "We met last night, didn't we?" she asked. The drip sound sloshed behind me now, like something was moving. "don't be frightened." She said. I wanted to laugh at that. Whatever was behind me was not the one that was frightened. "I'm Wilhelmina Dorrance, this is Simon Winchester." She said. Whatever it was behind me made a strange soft moan sound. "Are you hurt? Do you need help?" she asked, walking toward me, toward it. I held my breath, terrified that the sound would antagonize the monster. The dripping behind me got quieter, as if it was backing away. "You can stand now, Simon, but very slowly." She said, not making eye contact and continuing to move slowly toward us. I wasn't sure I could, but I also knew I couldn't sit here with my back to a monster much longer. With all the will I could find, I forced the fear down, like swallowing burning bile in your throat. And I slowly stood, my legs shaking as I did. But I made it to standing and then I turned, keeping my head lowered. I didn't want to make eye contact with a beast. Finally I raised my head slowly and saw for the first time a figure. Feet first, legs, then body, then head. It was a familiar-looking figure in a fugue-like state. It stood there, near the wall, near the shadows. It seemed to be staring at us. The white-hot fear I felt dissipated slightly but now I could feel my heart thumping in my chest again, the panic rise, the desire to charge toward the door and run out of the apartment. "What do you want from us?" I asked it. I wanted to sound calm like Wilhelmina, but my voice quavered. It moaned again and then lifted up one of its arms. Raised it at us. It raised a finger then, and pointed at me. Right at me. "It's going to kill me." I said. I was lightheaded; I didn't want to die. "You want Simon?" asked Wilhelmina. The figure almost seemed to shake its head. Slowly, it moved side to side. And then the whole figure glided toward us. Toward me. It moved faster than I expected it would and then stopped, inches from my face. I could see the decayed-looking flesh now, flowing in and out and around. I was mesmerized by it. Suddenly the monster grabbed my wrist. I called out in pain. It held my wrist hard and raised my hand perpendicular to the floor. How could something so decayed looking still have the ability to grab, to squeeze, to hurt? "Oh my goodness, Simon. It wants the vial." Wilhelmina's eyes were wide with wonder. "Is that what you want? The solution?" The monster turned its head to look at her, despite having dead-looking eyes. "Give it to him, Simon." She said to me. It held my wrist fast. I couldn't open my hand. My fear was keeping my grasp tight around the glass. "I can't. I want to but…" I replied before stopping. Wilhelmina was beside me then. In my ear a harsh whisper. "Do it." She whispered. "Don't be angry. I want to." I said, trying to will my hand to open. I couldn't. "I'm sorry." She replied, understanding then. Remembering my recent confession. "I'm sorry. You can do this. You are more than just your fear. Just like I'm more than just my anger." Wilhelmina said. I closed my eyes but I could still see the monster in my mind. I opened them again and looked right at the creature. It didn't want to hurt me. It just wanted the vial. Just let go, just let go, just let go. My hand opened suddenly and Wilhelmina gasped as the vial fell. The monster caught it—it moved so fast, so inhumanly for a figure in a fugue state. It turned away from us and I started to breathe again, light-headed from the air flowing through my body. WE watched as the monster stood there, its back to us. As it consumed the vial, glass and all where its mouth should have been. "What happens now?" whispered Wilhelmina. I shook my head. Words could not form. The monster suddenly seized as if in great pain, bending over and against the wall. It fell to the ground and writhed onto its back, spasming and jerking around. I wondered if it was dying. I realized I wouldn't mind if it did. Just disappeared altogether, like a stain being erased. There were a few more violent motions and then the creature curled up into the fetal position, lying on its side like a small child. I didn't care. I wasn't going to feel sorry for it. Then it released a loud moan, a wail, a cry long and piercing, as if it were in great pain. Then pop. Just like that. Just like Archie. The creature exploded, spreading slime everywhere. I turned to protect my face and I held up my arms. Then stillness. "Oh my god…" said Wilhelmina beside me. "Is it gone?" I asked, not wanting to turn and look. "No." she said. But she said it in a way that made me curious. Despite my horror, I turned to look. On the ground lay a figure, a person, no zombie, no monster. They moaned again slightly and rolled onto their back. "Oh my god." said Wilhelmina again, this time bringing her hand to her mouth. "Knock Knock." The figure said. "Who's there?" I said, trying to sound calm. "Archie." The figure said. "Archie who?" I asked. "Archie Stanton." The figure said. I looked with surprise. It was Archie! I could not believe it. "Hi." Archie said.

Chapter 38: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

Simon and Wilhelmina stared down at me with these looks on their faces. It made me laugh. Nope, still hurts. The one good thing about being a zombie? No pain. Being a person again meant that the whole squeezed rib cage situation was back in full force. I took in a deep breath. Ow ow ow. "Quick! Help him onto the bed." said Wilhelmina. Now I wasn't sure how they were going to accomplish that, so I shook my head and slowly started to push myself up. But instantly they grabbed me under my arms. I let them. Together we managed to lug this broken body to the bed and once again I was lying on my back. "Your antidote works!" said Simon as he sat next to me. "Well, it does seem to do something." replied Wilhelmina, sitting to my right. "Is there more?" Simon asked. I saw Wilhelmina shake her head no. What were they talking about? I had a flash of a memory then, of a viscous liquid, of reaching out for it, desperately needing it. "I'll find a way to make more, though." She said. Then they both seemed to acknowledge my existence again. In unison they looked down at me. "Archie, how are you feeling?" Wilhelmina asked me. "Oh swell, cricket girl, just peachy." I replied, closing my eyes and bracing myself against the pain of speaking. "This is impossible." Said Simon from my left. "Yeah, well, I'll be honest with you Simon, old chap, it happened." I replied. I felt a rush of shame flow through me, which was good because it distracted me from the searing pain. "Hey, chaps, I just want to apologize." I said. "What on Earth for?" asked Wilhelmina. "Well, this whole situation we find ourselves in." I replied, wincing and grabbing at my side. "Maybe you shouldn't talk anymore." She said, looking so wonderfully worried. "No. Anyway, it's all my fault. I made us open that fridge. Followed you two where I wasn't invited. So I'm sorry." I said. I was feeling a little light-headed now. "Please don't. Let me get you some tea." She said, vanishing from view. I heard a door open and close. I lay there with a thoughtful Simon staring somewhere in front of himself. The perfect view up his nose. Poor little rich lad. Finally he looked down at me again. "What was it like?" he asked quietly, as if he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Sorry, mate, what was what like?" I asked. "When you were…in that fugue-like state…" he replied. He was so pale, like a shadow of the fellow I'd known before everything had gone to hell. "It's hard to remember." I said, closing my eyes again, trying to look back. I saw only flickers, like still photographs in a book. Snapshots. There was a lot of darkness, but not like when the lights are turned out. There was a thick, swirling blackness. Like being caught in a whirlpool in the depths of the ocean. Then there were moments of bright white light in the distance and moving toward it. Like how many people describe dying to be like. But once I was at the light, I would suddenly be in a room. In a place I didn't recognize. I was aware then. I saw Wilhelmina. I saw Simon. I saw them and I knew inside that I was reaching out for them, trying to find them. Something inside me kept dragging me into that light. I don't know how I got to those places, I don't know where I went when I left. It was like a dream. Then tonight happened. IT was too complicated for me to understand, and how to tell Simon about it? It seemed impossible. "I'm afraid I can't explain it." I said, sadly. Wilhelmina was back with the tea. "Can you sit up, Archie?" she asked. I nodded and replied, "I can try.". Once again they gently helped me and for the first time I felt a little more human. Feeling human was a really great thing to feel. Wilhelmina handed me the tea and I took it. It felt so heavy to hold. There was so much substance to it. It was so…solid. It really existed in a really existing sort of way. I stared at it. "Archie, are you okay?". "Good question, cricket girl." I replied, taking a sip of tea. The warmth ran down my throat. I felt it in my insides. It was fantastic. It tasted so good. Better than any soda or fancy drinks I'd ever had. I had the sudden absurd idea that I should bottle it and try to sell it. "Bottled Tea"…that actually sounds like it could work. I was definitely still a little loopy. "So…what's new?" I said, holding the cup in both my hands, enjoying the warm feeling. Wilhelmina smiled and Simon frowned I felt like I was in that old movie, "Oz: The Great and Powerful", arriving in a new place. "The machine belongs to Professor Gengo Aoi." Explained Wilhelmina. "The scientist, sure, that's interesting. Does that explain the slime?" I asked. I noticed Wilhelmina glance at Simon and I turned to look at Simon's reaction. "W hadn't thought of that kind of connection." said Simon. "Okay." I replied. "They need to fix the machine and then bring it back to Japan." Wilhelmina continued. "And the monster?" I asked. "You're not the monster." said Simon, more to himself than anything. "I'm flattered you realize that." I replied with a grin. The shame welled up again. I didn't know where this feeling of remorse was coming from. I never normally felt like this. I guess I always had some guilt, taking on a job that didn't make much money for my own ambition and not helping my family out more. Then of course there was what I was feeling right now, knowing I'd been lying to Simon all this time. But usually I would push those feelings aside. "Oi! Simon." I said. He looked at me. "There's something I need to confess. Feeling a bit ashamed of myself right now and I'm not usually one for humility." I continued, laughing a little, trying to hide my discomfort. Then the sharp pain prodded my side helpfully. "Well, that's no surprise. You see, that's the other thing we've discovered. The slime seems to have an effect on a person, seems to latch on to one's inner demons, as it were." Wilhelmina said, looking so intensely at me. It was almost ridiculous. Then she said, "Unless you were joking.". "I was and I wasn't." I repleid. "So evidently the slime makes me terrified and I'm going to just say this now to you two. We don't have time to catch up like this at the moment. We don'[t have time for any of this." Said Simon, his voice actually shaking. It threw me. I felt really sorry for the guy. "What do you mean?" asked Wilhelmina. "What do I mean?! These men are fixing the machine as we speak. I was with them. They want to move it soon. Gengo said they want to move it tomorrow. I don't know if they're even still alive down there with that monster still on the loose, but we have to stop them." Simon continued, almost panting now, speaking so rushed and out of breath. "Well, that's what the police are for." Replied Wilhelmina. "Don't be stupid, Wilhelmina." said Simon. I felt a bit like I had an angel and a devil on my shoulders, debating each other for the moral high ground. It was kind of funny, but also exhausting to keep turning my head back and forth. "Why? That's what the authorities are there for." said Wilhelmina. "Well, maybe in other cities, but here in Kensington they are his father's personal security system." I said, wanting a say in this argument. Simon looked at me for a moment and then nodded. "Exactly. And it looks like my father and Gengo are considering working together." Simon said. "Ah, the missing piece of the puzzle. Those men from Japan—I thought they were Yakuza." I said. "I think they might be potential investors. I think Chevalier might be experiencing financial difficulties." Simon replied. "Their products certainly are not as popular as they once were…" said Wilhelmina. She thought for a moment. "That machine, and all that sludge. I wonder if it's part of a new product? Or perhaps invent a new form of scientific experimentation we don't even know yet. It's definitely no ordinary slime." Simon commented. "That's for sure." I said under my breath. "So if we can't call the police, what do we do, Simon?" Wilhelmina asked. She sounded anxious herself, but also almost…annoyed. "The fabrication machine must be destroyed." Simon replied. There was complete silence then. "Tonight." added Simon, in case we couldn't figure that part out. "How do you propose we do that? We barely survived last time." Said Wilhelmina, sounding even more frustrated. "Funny. I didn't." I added. No one found that funny. Once again I felt ashamed. This slime was definitely doing something to me tonight. "It's not 'we', Wilhelmina. I have to do it. I'm the only one here who knows anything about machines, and it's my fault that the two of you were brought into any of this. And it's my father's fault that Gengo has the money to make it work again. Besides, I fix things. It's what I do. I have to fix this." Simon said. "Oh, just stop it! I am tired of you men thinking everything is about you. You might understand the machine, but I understand the fuel within. So if this is the plan, I'm going to help you." said Wilhelmina. "it's dangerous." said Simon. "I don't care. I want to do something that matters. Why won't anyone let me do something that matters?!" she yelled, standing in a rush of anger. "I'll tell you what: let me help. I bet I can walk. Probably." I added, in an attempt to cut the tension with some humor, but again it failed. Tough crowd, as one might say. "Don't be a fool Archie." Said Wilhelmina dismissively. "Oi! Look, it'll make for a great story. Probably even above the fold." I said. "What do you mean?" she asked. "What?" I replied. "What does "above the fold" mean?" Wilhelmina asked. I realized then what I had said. The shame flowed fast and furious. I was drowning again, but this time not in thick, green ooze. I looked at Simon, who looked at me. The betrayal on his face was so easy to read, he might as well have written the word across his forehead. "You're a reporter." He said in that non-question way of his. "Of course you are. That's the only reason you wanted to be friends, isn't it? That's why you were there that night. You followed us. For a story." Simon said, surprised. "Look. Yes, I did do that, but I still think you're a good chap, Simon. I think we are real friends even if the beginning was not…as real." I said, trying to prop myself higher but slipping on the pillow. "I can't believe you! How could you do this to me?" Simon replied. "Simon, when you think about it, it's not so bad. People meet in all sorts of circumstanced. It's what happens after the fact that counts." I said. "You asked us to open the fridge. You did it for a story, to what, to better further your career?" Simon asked. "Well…" I replied, nervously. "That settles it! I will not listen to another moment of this! Are you both not aware that time is slipping away from us?! Who cares if you're real friends or not? In what world does that matter when a monster is on the loose and a machine filled with strange sludge that could destroy us all is being shipped to Japan tomorrow?!" Wilhelmina yelled, her voice loud and angry. There was more silence, mine, at the least, filled with mortification. And what if Simon had said was true about the ooze's effects on him, I would not have been surprised at all if he wasn't completely terrified of Wilhelmina in this moment. "You're right." He said. I nodded in agreement. "Good. Now, shall we go destroy this blasted machine?!" Wilhelmina asked, impatiently. "Yes." said Simon. I nodded in agreement again. "Good. Now, let me change out of my dressing gown, and then we can be off." said Wilhelmina, taking in a slow breath to calm herself and releasing it. She then left the room to change into more presentable clothing.

Chapter 39: Wilhelmina Dorrance

"You look simply smashing." said Simon as he stepped onto the bus. He said it quietly, under his breath, like he was afraid he might be insulting me and also like he didn't want Archie to hear. I reminded myself that everything he said or did would be tinged with fear. "Thank you." I said. I didn't think I looked that good, but I was wearing trousers, and I usually wore dresses, mainly because they looked elegant. For my part, I just thought destroying dangerous machines would be less practical in a skirt. The aesthetics of the choice had not ben on my mind. "So this is where the world might end." said Archie, coming up beside us and staring with us at the derelict little tavern. A fitting remark, I supposed, since the tavern was called "The World's End". "Hopefully not. Come on. Lead on, Simon. We don't have time to admire the scenery." I said. "Stay calm, Wilhelmina, stay calm." I told myself. Simon nodded and led us inside and toward the back room. No one stopped us; there weren't that many people to do that anyway, but there wasn't even someone to tend the bar. Did anyone even care about this place? We entered an empty back room and Simon put down his tool bag and carefully felt along the back wall. He stopped, smiled to himself, took in a deep breath, and pushed. The wood panel in his hands retreated an inch and then slid to the side. "I hate secret entrances." I said, thinking about that evil metal door in the abandoned factory. "I hate them more." replied Archie. We looked at each other and he gave me a wink. How he was standing upright in the first place impressed me, but that he was walking and joking was nothing short of miraculous. "Let's go, let's go, let's go!" ordered Simon frantically. I flicked on my flashlight and walked through the hole in the wall. The floor sloped downward and I shone the light around the space in front. The tunnel in the distance was all darkness, but to the side there was a conveyor belt. Those shady workers had thought of everything. More light flooded the tunnel and I looked behind me to see Simon and Archie coming up beside me. "Come on." said Simon, and he started walking down the tunnel. We followed, and I thought it was interesting how fear could also propel a person forward, not just hold them back. There was a fear of the thing. But there was also the fear of not doing the thing. In this case, I supposed, the fear of what would happen if we didn't destroy the machine. If it was taken back to Japan. We followed him down the tunnel, surrounded by the light of three flashlights. The darkness followed behind us and every once in a while I glanced back at the darkness, wondering if there was anything in the shadows. If the monster was stalking us and not the other way around. I squeezed the fire poker I was carrying in my right hand hard, just to remind myself it was there. I wasn't entirely sure what I would do with it—I had never been taught how to fight. But I knew that the constant churning anger inside would tell me what to do. The dark void in front of us turned suddenly brighter and brighter until we stopped in front of a wall. The tunnel forked now. We had a choice between left or right. "Which way, Simon?" I asked, frustrated at his indecision. He was supposed to be our leader after all. He'd been here before. "Left. Definitely left." He said, not sounding entirely certain. We followed him left, though as we turned I shone my flashlight right, just to see if there was any hint of a machine in that direction. All there was, was more darkness. We continued down the tunnel. Our flashlights highlighted sudden dark voids in the wall, turnoffs down other tunnels. We kept going straight but I marveled at it all. AT the size of this underground system. How had they build all this? Was it built to transport illegal goods, or had some of it existed before? It didn't matter. None of my questions did. All that mattered was the task before us. We had to do this. We just had to. We reached another wall. Another fork in the road. Simon stopped. "Which way?" I asked again, feeling more annoyed. This shouldn't be taking so long. "I don't know." He replied. "You don't know?" I asked. This was absurd! "I didn't make it this far." He replied, quietly. He sounded almost ashamed. He shone his light down one direction and then the other. "I…don't know." He said it again. "I don't know. I really don't know." He said. The light started to shake, and I looked at his hand. His whole body was shaking. He was panicking. We didn't have time for this. "Oi!" said Archie, coming up beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "We follow the conveyor belt." He suggested, pointing with the light to the right, and sure enough there was another conveyor belt along the far wall. Simon looked too. He nodded. "Yes, that make sense." he said. "Lead the way." said Archie, giving him a friendly pat on the back. Simon nodded and turned right. We followed him again. It felt like we'd be following him forever. I couldn't take much more of this. My skin was itchy with frustration. I felt like a small child wanting to cry out. "Are we there yet?" I asked. And then, we were there. A wall, but not other tunnels. There was a door-shaped seam cut into it and a divot at hand level. Simon immediately figured out how to open it by sliding it to the left. So many sliding doors. Then there it was. Right there. We were standing at the far end of the room, facing the far side of the machine. Instantly my heart was in my throat as the memories came flooding back. I didn't want to think about any monsters lurking in the shadows so I quickly marched across the room and turned on the lights. They flickered to life and highlighted the familiar space. I looked around. I saw the fridge, the door still open. Well, they hadn't recaptured the beast, it seemed. Of course they hadn't. Incompetent fools. "Well done, Simon." said Archie. Again, Simon just nodded. "Why don't you sit down and rest for a moment?" Simon suggested to Archie. "We don't have time for that!" I said from across the room. How could anyone possibly even think of resting at a time like this? "Yes, we do." replied Archie, giving me a meaningful look. Men and their meaningful looks. Half the time they didn't even know what the meaning was, they just expected the rest of us to assume something profound. "No, we really don't." I replied, annoyed, glancing at the open secret door. There was nothing but blackness beyond it. No, not nothing. Somewhere out there lurked a monster that wanted to kill us all. If I hadn't been so scared of alerting the beast to our presence, I would have screamed in abject frustration. Simon helped Archie to sitting, leaning him against the wall, then he walked over to me. I could see fear in every step he took. "We can't let the ooze win. Don't let your anger take over, darling." Simon said to me. "Don't call me that." I replied. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Let him recover. He can't do the work properly without hurting himself. It'll take less time this way. You know that's true." Simon said. I understood what he meant, but it felt impossible to just sit and wait for Archie to recover from pain that is paltry compared to the severity of the situation at hand. Just like I would never get over this rage. When we finished all this, I'd make another vial of the solution. I'd fix us. I could fix things too. I walked over to the machine, to what I had decided was its front with the human-sized door-like structure like a gaping maw. I stared at the ooze coating the inside, into the darkness and shadow. "Don't touch it!" called out Archie from his spot on the ground. "I'm not going to." I said as calmly as I could. I had no intention of touching the machine. I remembered that night clearly. I remembered Archie reaching up inside and then the sound of the monster. A monster that must still be on the loose somewhere. What do we do, Simon?" I asked. As for Archie, he was just sitting there like a lump, looking at the ground. HE took in a deep breath and let it out, and did it again. He was wasting time; he was being indulgent. He was being a selfish cad who clearly had never had actual real-world problems fall onto his shoulders until he was consumed by the slime on that fateful night. And now it was happening. He couldn't face them. Slime or no slime, this was who he was. I couldn't stand for it. I wouldn't stand for it. Why was I sitting there waiting for him to recover. I had a brain too. I knew what needed to be done. We needed to destroy the machine. It was as simple as that; I probably didn't even need Archie, or even Simon to do it. Breaking things is so much easier than fixing them, after all. I marched over to the other side of the machine where door-like structure stood. I raised my poker, and with a loud, animalistic yell from somewhere deep inside me I stabbed into the inside of the machine. "Wilhelmina, NO!" yelled Simon. The spear pierced the metal. I was shocked when it plunged deep into the machine. I hadn't really anticipated my plan would work. I thought I wouldn't be strong enough, or the metal of the machine would be impossible to penetrate. Green sludge gushed out and rained down on me. I pulled hard on the poker and dislodged it, falling backward onto the ground. I watched as the slime with its strange fingers groped its way along the floor toward me. I scrambled away from it, staring stunned at the mess I'd made. "Wilhelmina, are you all right?" asked Simon walking over and bending down at my side. "I'm fine. I…didn't think that this would happen. I was just…frustrated." I replied. I was shaking now. What had I done? What had I done?

Chapter 40: Simon Winchester

All of it was my fault. This wasn't some deep inner demon lying to me, trying to keep me here paralyzed, unable to move or breathe. This was the complete, absolute truth. If I hadn't offered to work for the El Corporation, if I hadn't brought Wilhelmina down here, if Archie hadn't seen us and followed, none of this would have happened. The monster would have stayed locked up. Mr. El Bridget and Gengo Aoi and whoever else worked for them would have fixed the machine and taken it away. It would have been like it had never existed. All of us could have continued our lives and been quite happy. As the slime sprayed out of the machine and started to pool around us, I wondered if I should just drown. If it would be best if I allowed the slime to cover my body and to explode like Archie had. I saw Wilhelmina walk over to Archie, who was still resting. "I'm sorry; Archie; if I can't live it, why should I expect you to?" she said, somberly. Wilhelmina's mournful apology seemed to echo around him, like she wasn't really there, like a spirit talking to me. "Please, Archie, you need to help us." She continued. "What help could he be? He's a reporter. He knows nothing of machines. What a joke. He messed everything up, just like my father. As for myself, I pretend to be something grander than I am. I went over to Archie to see if I could rouse him. "Archie, come on, back up!" I said to him, speaking into his ear. We were standing right next to him, but he didn't seem to hear us. "I can't it's a lie. I can't fix anything. I just made a mess. I was the one who suggested that we open that stupid fridge." Archie said. Archie could clearly hear us, but he just stared at the sludge pooling, reaching out, searching for us. "But that's the good news. Think of the story you'll be telling the news." said Wilhelmina. We all sat with that information. Archie clearly realized it was the truth, because he finally looked up. Wilhelmina was covered in green specks of ooze, with me holding her side. Archie stood up. It was time to do this. He slowly stood up. I could feel my whole body go numb. I couldn't tell if I was supporting my own weight or not. But I was upright. "Your tools, sir." Said Archie with a fancy accent. I think he was trying to sound like Stephen Fry. I wanted to explain that that's not how Jeeves would have sounded, but that's not the point. He was trying to make me laugh. I made my way over to the other side of the machine, carefully trying to avoid stepping in the puddle of slime that reached out to me as I passed. I made it to the side panel I'd helped Mr. El Bridget with, sat down, and wrenched it off. It was a nice feeling not having to worry about being delicate and careful. Destroying things took a lot less effort than fixing them. "Can we do anything?" asked Wilhelmina, crouching next to me. Keep a lookout for Mr. El Bridget and Gengo." I replied. "And the monster." added Archie. I hadn't wanted to say that part out loud. I was left alone then; the world was only this small square foot in front of me. I took my wrench and looked around inside for any bolts I could undo, or even just loosen. It was dark inside the machine, harder to see than last time, so I turned on my flashlight. "Simon, you have to hurry." said Wilhelmina, standing by the secret entrance. "I know." I said. "No, it's not like that. The shadows. They're back!" she replied. I looked up. The room was getting darker. The fear rose up to my fingertips, my hands were shaking again. Droplets of sweat appeared on my brow. "Focus, Simon, focus." I said to myself. If I just undid all the work inside, if I could remove that lever…I worked as fast as I could, but even with my bright flashlight, I could feel the shadows creeping in. Suddenly, the lever was loose in my hand. I pulled it from the machine and placed it next to me. Next I grabbed the gears behind it. Soon enough, I had a small pile of machine guts on the floor beside me. I grabbed them and shoved them into my tool kit, then I stared into the bowels of the beast itself. Was that good enough? It didn't feel good enough. It definitely wasn't good enough. I felt this surging fear, this need to eviscerate the whole machine, to turn it inside out. My flashlight glinted on something then. I looked close, almost stuck my head inside the machine. A shining chrome tup heading up into the bowels of the beast. It was small but significant. Made of a different metal than the rest of the machine, it had to be important. I picked up my wrench and started at the fitting where it began to bend upward. There was a sudden roar that nearly stopped my heart. It was nothing like a lion or a bear; it was almost more like a scream, and a high-pitched on with a low rumble under it. It chilled you to the bone. I looked up. The room was pitch-black. I couldn't see Wilhelmina or Archie, just the beams from their flashlights. "Where is it? I asked, my body paralyzed once again. I didn't have the strength to fight the terror inside me anymore. The beams from the flashlights raced across the room, searching. "Find it!" I ordered. I returned to the pipe, my hands were shaking profusely, I couldn't hold the wrench in just one anymore. I dropped my flashlight—what was the point anyway?—and with my two hands twisted down hard. There was another loud roar, this time just above me. I looked up again and grabbed for my flashlight, swinging it away from the machine and upward. I screamed. My beam landed on a mouth filled with horribly misshapen canine teeth. Sharp teeth looming above me. Like a strange force, just floating there. But I knew there was a body too, I knew the monster had claws. It looked at me, or at least seemed to. I was paralyzed. I couldn't run. I couldn't even turn off the flashlight. "Simon, get out of there!" I heard Archie call out. Yes, yes, get out of there. Get out of there indeed. What about the pipe? My right hand still held the wrench tight inside the machine, but I couldn't look away. The mouth seemed to crow wider and it opened, revealing the full sharpness of its teeth. Then something very strange happened. All the fear, everything, it was gone. I felt this lightness, this feeling of acceptance. I looked down and saw the slime pooling around me. I saw it climb up over my legs, pull itself up onto me. I suddenly understood the phrase "forgone conclusion." I turned to the machine, my hand steady as a rock. I pulled hard at the wrench, at the pipe fitting. I felt an explosion of slime cover my hand as the chrome pipe fell and I caught it deftly. I tossed it out of the machine with its other guts. I looked up at the monster once more. I win. "Simon!" called out Wilhelmina. And then Archie: "Wilhelmina, no!". Wilhelmina, it's okay. It's really okay. I stared at the beast's wide-open mouth the light glinted off the monster's twisted-looking body. Femininely proportioned, resembling a woman with platinum blonde hair, with flesh as white as paper. Its body shape as if its clothes were actually part of its body. All my life I'd been afraid of what my future might be. But here it was, staring me in the face. And as he was about to do something I never saw coming, I felt oddly warm. I felt at ease. I looked up at the creature. And for the first time in a very long time, I smiled. I do not think I will make it out of this alive. Father, if you read this, please know I only did what I thought was just. Of all that I risk in taking the steps that I took, what pains me most is just how upset you must be right now. Mr. El Bridget, I am terribly sorry for what I did. Your friend is doing something terrible. I never did know what it was. But it is something incredibly immoral. If you find this, please do everything in your considerable power to stop him. I can feel the monster about to kill me. Please tell my father I love him. Goodbye, everyone.

Chapter 41: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

I held Wilhelmina, flailing in my arms. I could barely hold her back, she was strong and determined. She had rage on her side, and her anger at me for resting when she didn't want me to. But I had my shame, my slimy shame, and it made me hold her tight. Because if we couldn't save Simon, then at least I was going to save us. He was just standing there. He could have run. He could have fought back. But he just sat there. We watched as the monster held him by the neck. A slimy explosion came from the machine as a pipe which Simon had attached his wrench to, had come undone from the machine. He was still holding on tight. At least he did some damage. More than I could say for Wilhelmina, though. Even when the monster grabbed him by the neck, he just smiled like a bloody fool. Just smiling. The monster acknowledged this by smiling back at him. And then the monster raised its right arm, claws extending from its fingers, like a cat does with its claws. Wilhelmina stopped struggling in my arms. We both just stared. And watched. As Simon smiled, the beast swung at him with its claws extended. "No!" cried out Wilhelmina, but I was speechless. For once, I had nothing to say. How was this happening? The beast stabbed through Simon's face with its claws, stabbing him through the eyes, nose, and mouth. Simon was killed by the beast. "You MONSTER!" screamed Wilhelmina angrily, and she turned to me. "Let me go now, Archie." she ordered. I couldn't do it. I didn't know what she was going to do when free anyway. "What can you do? all you have is a fire poker. If you go at the monster unprepared, you'll die too. But you can prevent this from happening to anyone else!" I said. That seemed to calm her down. "I can make some more of the antidote…" she said, piecing together what I'd said in her own mind. "Exactly." I replied. The monster screeched suddenly and we turned back. I held Wilhelmina tight, not really to protect her, but just out of a primal, personal fear. WE watched, frozen, as it seemed to notice the open door to the tunnels. It slowly stalked its way toward it, stared for a moment, and then disappeared through it. "Oh no…NO! We have to stop it!" said Wilhelmina. I let her go and I said. "Yes. I do." she looked at me in complete disbelief and said, "Don't be a fool. I can help.". "You could, but you need to escape, you need to make the antidote. So let me show this puddinghead who's boss!" I said with a smile. I wasn't feeling nearly as confident as I was pretending to be. I had no idea how to fight a monster, but I felt I understood it better than she ever could. I knew at least what it was like to feel death. I walked slowly toward the pool of blood and slime where Simon's body was. The light in the room was coming back now that the monster had gone. I stood over his tool bag and saw the pipe wrench lying there. I picked it up. The slime climbed over my fingers. Wilhelmina came up to my side. "I'll take his bag. Let's put the machine guts inside. I'll dispose of them." she said. We bent over and together put everything back in the bag. Something sharp pricked my finger. "Ow." I said. "Are you okay?" asked Wilhelmina. "I'm okay." I replied. Once again, I felt deep embarrassment. It was just a cut. I wasn't being killed alive. "So, we have a plan." I said as we stood up and Wilhelmina held the bag close to her body. Wilhelmina nodded. "No matter what happens, you have to keep going, do you hear me?" I asked. I had to get through to the reasonable part of her, past her slime-fueled rage. "I understand." She replied. We walked slowly to the tunnel, her holding the bag with her fire poker all in one hand, and I with my pipe wrench. We shone our flashlights down the tunnel; they glowed bright and we knew that the monster was far ahead of us, somewhere. We didn't have anything to say to each other—our plan was simple and stupid. I glanced down at the pipe wrench in my hand. Would this thing be enough against a malformed monster? Probably not. I laughed to myself. It was all so absurd. I noticed something then. I held up my hand so I could see it better, pretending I was examining the wrench even closer. I laughed again. Of course, of course. Wilhelmina looked at me. "What?" she asked. "It's been a funny sort of day, hasn't it? When you think about it." I replied. I couldn't tell her the truth. My little cut was bleeding. Which wasn't really a big deal. Except the blood was sickly green and I had a strong feeling it wasn't blood at all. "No, it's not." she replied. "Let's go." I said, lowering the wrench, and we walked slowly into the dark tunnel. We stepped back into the darkness. We were hunters tracking a beast. Never would have imagined I'd end up here. After all of this. A good story. Not that I'd ever get the chance to write it, but if anyone ever reads these entries that we wrote documenting these events, maybe it could finally be written one day under my name. I might even get a posthumous mention. We were so quiet, both of us. We were listening and looking. The darkness was empty in front of us…for now. "If anything happens, you have to run. You can't fight, understand?" I whispered, reminding her. I knew that her anger wanted to definitely do the opposite, but she couldn't. "I know." She said. She sounded obviously annoyed with me and instantly I wanted to apologize. But this wasn't the place or the time. "You run without me. I need to get it back into the room and trap it there. If I can't, Don't come back for me." I said. The idea kind of scared me a little. "Kill it." She said. I guess the idea didn't scare her as much. She was fierce, that girl, that's for sure. Maybe she should have been the one to take on the beast. I didn't know how much time I had left. I could feel it inside me. I could feel the slime in my veins. Should I tell her the truth? That her antidote was only temporary? "The light's getting dim." Whispered Wilhelmina. I hadn't noticed, but I saw it n ow. Our flashlights didn't seem to fill the tunnel with quite as much light. I sucked in my breath slowly. "Are you ready?" I asked. The light dimmed further. "There's a branch in the tunnel right there, you see it?" I added. There was a dark hole in the wall; it was her best possible escape. These tunnels all had to lead her somewhere. "I see it." She replied. "Good." I said. The light dimmed again. Here we go. This was madness. But weren't we all mad here? "If anything happens…" I said. "No more apologies." She replied in that curt way of hers. "Well, I just wanted to say it was a pleasure getting to know you and Simon, wherever he may be…" I said. There was a pause and she said, "You too, Archie.". She didn't know how I was feeling. She thought we'd make it. That we'd both make it. She didn't know, in fact, that this was it. That this was good-bye. Forever. That was for the best. I didn't like good-byes much, personally. They never felt satisfying. They never quite did the job. The light finally went out. "It's here." I whispered. There was a sudden roar and the monster was on my back, pushing me onto the ground. I could feel its strange, paper-white skin, its claws ripping at my shirt. The slime in my veins seemed to pulse and rush through my body faster. I gasped as I landed hard. But I was able to cry out into the darkness: "Wilhelmina, RUN!". I struggled on the ground and finally was able to twist my body and swing the pipe wrench and hit the monster right in the face. It howled in pain and stared at me, barely even flinching, and pulled back almost in confusion, giving me a moment to spring upright, blocking the tunnel's exit. I swung at it again, and it staggered backward, tilted its head slightly at me almost like it was surprised. This was good. This was very good. I glanced around. Wilhelmina was nowhere to be seen; that was good too. She was off. She was safe. Someone had to make it out of here, and she was a pretty fierce girl. I was struck across the face and flew up against the wall of the tunnel. I noticed in that small moment that one of the creature's hands had smaller claws. Interesting. I pushed myself off the wall and came at the monster swinging. "Come on! Queensbury Rules!" I shouted, flailing wildly. Every inch of my body screamed out in pain, not just my ribs, but my insides too. They just wanted to burst through my body, burst out like a bubble. I felt like I was holding on to my skin like a hat that wanted to blow away in a storm. But I couldn't give in. Not now. The monster seemed to realize that something was going on inside me. It lunged and it fought back, but it didn't bite, and it didn't claw, and I fell again onto the stone cold ground. It stood above me and screeched so loud I thought my eardrums would burst. There was no way I could defeat this beast in a one-on-one fight. But there was one thing I could do. I swung upward with all my strength. The pipe wrench hit its mark a few times, causing the creature to howl and slink backward and stop again for a moment and stand upright staring down at me. Once again it seemed confused, wondering why would I tap it gently with this small metal thing. But it was enough og a pause for me to pull myself up and slide through the beast's legs and start running. Come on, follow me, you fucking monster! I heard it behind me, coming for me. Good. I just had to get it back to the machine room. I just had to get it there. Then I could finally let go. I could just let go.

Chapter 42: Wilhelmina Dorrance

I ran. I ran fueled by rage and fear. No, I told myself, not fear. Nerves. Like Jessie called them. Make it a positive. I turned down the tunnel. I had no idea where it led to, all I knew was it led away from the monster. But it also led away from Archie. This was so unfair. He was in danger again. He was putting his life on the line again, so soon after I had brought him back. I was the one fueled the most by this situation. I was the one who ought to be fighting the beast. My stomach lurched, as if it was trying to pull me back toward him. Before it was too late. Before I lost him. Again. No. I shook my head to get rid of those thoughts. Even if the worst happened, I could save him. I had the antidote. With god as my witness, I'd save everyone. It was incredibly difficult to run with any speed, holding this bag full of tools and guts from the machine, as well as the poker and the flashlight. I hobbled along feeling ridiculous and annoyed that I couldn't just sprint. But what could I get rid of? Certainly not the flashlight, nor the poker. And the whole point was for me to dispose of the bag. I couldn't just leave it in a tunnel for any of the El Corporation people or this Gengo Aoi fellow. The Chevalier Corporation. They were the true villains in this story. I was running to prevent them from furthering their plans, the walls of the tunnel, passing me by, all the same, and it didn't seem to end, carrying an absurd amount of possessions with me. How was this realistic? I skidded to a sudden stop at a fork. There was no conveyor belt to tell me which way to go. I looked left, then right. Then just stared straight ahead. No, I wouldn't be intimidated by this blasted choice. I would use logic to get there. I took a step to my right. There was nothing to see but more tunnel. I could feel a knot form in my stomach. So I closed my eyes and listened. I strained to hear something, I didn't even know what, but maybe there was something. I smelled to, though all I could smell was that strange, viscous slime. I could feel the drops moving across my skin, trying to find some way to turn me into that thing that Archie was when I cured him, but no! I wouldn't let them. Then I opened my eyes and stepped to the left. I strained again to hear something. Anything. Waves. Did I hear water lapping? Did I smell salt and feminine secretions in the air? I wasn't a dog, I couldn't tell those things for sure, and my mind was desperate, so maybe it was all just in my head. But it was enough for me to choose the left side. I started running again. I didn't feel tired, even though my muscles and my breasts ached. I felt grateful for my rage. It spurred me on. It made me want to get out of here, and most importantly it made me confident that I was right in all my decisions. I knew this was probably problematic in the real world, but in this strange underground world, I was like Alice from Alice in Wonderland. This wasn't reality. It was like another world. I was falling down a hole, except I was running along it and the hole was sideways. We're all mad here., I heard waves now. I heard them properly, not just maybe. I picked up speed, holding the bag tightly to my aching chest. I ran toward the sound, and then the smell, the smell of air and salt and the outside world ."I'm coming!" I called out as I raced forward. I was almost there, I could feel it. I could feel it against my face, my skin. I was almost there .But then something yanked me hard from behind. My head snapped in a whiplash and I fell hard onto my back, dropping everything in my hands. My flashlight rolled, shining now from behind me. I sat for a moment in pure shock that quickly turned into rage. I reached for the poker that was just too far away for me to grab. I saw a shadow along the wall, a creature. The monster? No, it seemed to have long black hair. It was femininely proportioned and human sized. And fleeting. The shadow vanished down the hall. It left me. It had attacked me and then left me. I didn't understand. I turned to look at the mess around me. I watched as the poker rolled away from me a few inches and then suddenly vanished. I heard the waves louder now. Quickly I reached for my flashlight and shone it ahead of me. I stayed on the ground, crawling slightly forward. The sound of waves came rushing back and I was very aware of my surroundings suddenly. I wasn't in a dream. I was in a tunnel used by bootleggers in the 1920s. It was all very real. I crawled forward and then saw the edge. The ground just ended, stopped without any warning. Impossible to see in the dark. I lay on my stomach now and snaked forward, the rough ground scratching through my shirt to my skin. I reached out and curled my fingers over the side with my right hand and pulled myself. Slowly but surely I came to the edge and looked over. There was water down below, rushing and crashing into a cavern. It was maybe thirty feet down, with rocks protruding. I scanned my flashlight over it all and wondered why this place existed. What purpose could it possibly serve? Then it occurred to me. High tide. I shone my light into the dark void to my left. That wasn't more cavern. That was the sea. That was the outside world. They could ship out the moonshine from here, load the boats up. I wondered if that's how they got the machine here in the first place. Was this the way out? Did I simply wait? I had always had patience in the past; My whole life I had had to wait for things. I had had to wait on people, wait for quiet moments to finally be with my own thoughts. But now I thought I had run out of it. How on earth was I meant to harness a power that I resented so thoroughly now? I itched at the thought. I looked over my shoulder into the darkness. That woman had saved me from going over the edge. It hadn't attacked me. It wanted to help me. What other beings were in the darkness? Were they all somehow attached to the machine, drawn to it like a magnet, or did they live inside it, only to be released when we opened the fridge? Or when I pierced the door-like structure at the front of the machine? Or at some other point we hadn't connected yet to everything? Was there a science that could explain it all? NO. There wasn't. And who cared? This was dangerous and careless. This again was a certain group of people making decisions with no care for the rest of us. I picked up the tool bag and stood slowly. I felt a renewed confidence and stood on the edge, my toes just over the water far below. I held the bag in my arms and then I took in a deep breath, I harnessed all the rage I had inside me and I flung it into the churning water beneath me. I watched it fall into the waves and disappear instantly. I felt a weight lifted. That, at least, had been done. Now I had to do the other thing. And that was to escape. "HELP!" A voice shouted in my ear. I was once again grabbed from behind and this time yanked around to find myself face-to-face with a man with crazed eyes. He was in a fugue-like state, but I could see he was in coveralls with the word "El Corporation" sewn onto it. The name Steven Shrader was there too, underneath, slimy marks partially obscuring it. He wasn't a monster. He was human. But he seemed more animal than anything. "Help me! It's after me! Help me!" he yelled, staring at me with wild eyes and then looking over his shoulder and back again. My scientist brain took over and managed to keep me calm, even holding my anger at bay despite my desire to fling his hands off me. I told myself his behavior was likely the slime's effect on him, which was that it targeted his paranoia. "I'll try. Do you know the way out?" I asked, trying to control my temper. How could I possibly help him when I couldn't help myself? "There IS no way out." he replied, shaking his head. He repeated it again and again. "There is though. There's the way through the World's End Tavern. There are other tunnels." I said, trying to prick a memory of his. He had clearly lost his mind being lost down here with the monster for God-knows-how-long. HE kept shaking his head. "No, no, no. You can't help. No one can! They're coming for us all! The academies will come and they'll conscript you!" he shouted, sinking to the ground. He reminded me now of Simon. Sitting there. Just staring at the beast. Not fighting back. It made me so angry. I turned to the water. I walked to the edge once more and looked down with my flashlight. The rocks were jagged but there was some empty space. Right below. A small pool's worth. Like a small swimming pool. I turned back to Steven. "We should dive. I think we can make it." I said to him. He sat at the edge of the light. He shook his head. "No, no, no. THE NOVA ARE COMING!" he screamed. "Come with me." I said. I'd wanted to sound kind and soft, but it came out as a gruff order. He slowly crawled away from my outstretched hand. Shaking his head, shaking his head, shaking his head. Until the dark concealed him. I stared into the darkness, listening to the sound of an echoey "The Nova are coming!" and "The Pandoras will conscript you. They'll conscript any able-bodied woman they can find!", as he retreated back down the tunnel. Until it was gone. All I heard were the waves crashing below. Suddenly a giant screaming roar of agony rumbled through the tunnel, vibrating my very bones. The monster. Had Archie killed it? Was that the sound I'd heard? I remembered my task. Part one was done, I'd gotten rid of the machine parts so that the machine can't be repaired. Part two, hurry home to make the antidote. Time to get the job done. I turned and faced the churning water below. I shone the flashlight down and examined the small area that seemed safe and examined the small area that seemed safe. Straight down. That's all. It wasn't far. The water churned. I stared down at it. I closed my eyes. Keep your head down, Wilhelmina. You've got this. You've got this. Probably.

Chapter 43: Archibald "Archie" Stanton

I had managed to get it to stalk me to the entrance, and I was exhausted at our cat-and-mouse game. Any adrenaline that had been pumping through me, hiding any pain I was feeling, had now decided to unveil it like a special dessert at a fancy restaurant. "Ta-da!". And it was unbearable. I swung at the monster and it grabbed the pipe wrench with its hand. It was fed up with my little toy, I could tell. I didn't have the strength to yank it out and instead it flew up out of my hand, hitting me under my chin, knocking my teeth together hard. I fell backward, onto my back, hitting my head with a dull thud. I lay there, trying to catch my breath, and reached up to my mouth. I could taste blood, but it wasn't salty. It was different. It was familiar. I withdrew my hand and looked at it, sure enough it was green slime. It tasted like the kind of milk that comes from a woman's breasts—weird and bland at the same time, except this milk had a hint of salt, too. I was oozing from the inside out. My ears buzzed. I was so close and yet so far away. I felt entirely ashamed. I had one thing to do. Just one. I was brought back for one night to do it. One night only. I laughed. I was feeling that same drunk feeling again. "LADIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEES AND GENTLEMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEN! ONE NIIIIIIIIGHT ONLY AT THE WORLD'S END TAVERN! HERE'S A REAL HIGH CLASS BOUT! IN THIS CORNER: WEIGHING IN AT SIXTY KILOGRAMS…..ALL THE WAY FROM CHESHIRE, ENGLAND…..ARCHIBALD! LESLIE! STANTON! ANNNNNNNNNNNNNND IN THIS CORNERRRRRRRRRRRRR…..ALLL THE WAY FROM PARTS UNKNOWN…WEIGHING IN AT FIFTY EIGHT KILOGRAMS….probably….THE MONSTER OF SLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME! IT'S A GREAT DAY FOR A SWELL BATTLE! THIS MATCH WILL GET RED HOT! A BRAWL IS SURELY BREWING! IN OTHER WOOOOOOOOORDS…..A GREAT JAM AND THEN SOME! IT'S ON! ANNNNNNNNNNNND BEGINNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!" I yelled ceremoniously, hoping I could distract the beast. All it did was clap slowly. I laughed some more. Then I closed my eyes, I felt that pull, I could see the swirling darkness, I wanted to give in and melt away. I wanted to seep into the cracks of myself. The feelings were so familiar now. I'd been through this once before. No. No, not yet. I had to get up. I had to just finish this. I opened my eyes again. Looming over me was the monster. It was so close to me that I could feel its stinking breath on my face. I could see right into its mouth, past is sharp scissors like teeth and into the darkness. I didn't know what it was doing but I stayed completely still. I didn't want to move an inch. Slowly it pulled away from me, standing at its full height. My fingers carefully felt around the ground for the wrench. I touched something metal. It was a little too far for me to grasp. The monster raised its claws, and let out a sharp piercing roar, the sound that made your blood curdle. I kept trying to grab at the edges of the wrench. I glanced over at it and with all the will I had left, I lunged for it, just as the beast went in for the kill. Suddenly I heard a female voice ask me, "Mind if I tag in?, and suddenly it happened. Flying over me like Hawkgirl was a figure from nowhere. It tacked the monster by the legs and the monster teetered, slightly unsteady. The figure rolled out of sight and the monster turned, engaging with it. It let out a massive roar. I then watched the figures rise and race into the machine room, the monster hot on her trail. I sprang to my feet, adrenaline coursing for my body for one last hurrah. I stood and grabbed at the door, ready to slam it shut on the monster when I saw the figure. Slim, with ample breasts, with auburn hair in pigtails. She stood and turned to me for a moment. I swear she was looking at me. Then I thought, "Who is she? Why she helping me? How did she find me?". She was like a good Samaritan. I didn't want to close the door anymore. I wanted to help her. Fight the monster alongside her. Then she gave me a nod. A nod. "Who are you?" I asked. "The girl who's trying to save you, you silly muppet! Well, to be exact, I'm a Pandora." she replied. She turned back to the monster and, in a flash of light, four chains with spikes on the end of each one manifested out of nowhere. Suddenly, the chains lunged at the beast, restraining it. It was useless, but it was enough of a distraction that I managed to slam the door shut and lock it, heart thudding in my chest. I stood in the dark tunnel. I felt completely spent. Over. Done. I turned my back to the door and slid down it. There I'd done it. No, we'd done it. Thank you, my mysterious savior. I didn't think you Pandoras cared about people like us. I then wondered if there would be a long term cure in the future for people like me. Were there others? Were there other chaps in Japan who had suffered a similar fate? We had done our best to prevent it happening again. But had it already happened? Was it too late? "If there are others in my situation, at least I wouldn't be alone. We could be lost in the wilderness together." I thought as I closed my eyes. Wilhelmina, I hope you made it. IT was time. My body knew it; my mind knew it; my heart knew it. Time to be invisible. Time to let go. My other side deserves to live more than I do. And I don't want to share this body anymore. Mom, Dad, if I die before I'm cured long-term, I know I'll see you again. You too, Uncle. And you too, my dear Auntie. There's nothing left for me at the moment anyway. Good night everyone.

Chapter 44: Wilhelmina Dorrance

I took a moment to just lie there. I was just lying there, naked on the beach; I had to dump my clothes in the water. Their drag was slowing me down. I didn't even care that I was naked this time. I looked up at the stars and shivered in the cold. I took in a deep breath. Then I sat bolt upright. I stared at the ocean, dark and foreboding. I didn't have the time to gather my thoughts. I had to get back to my apartment, to my home. I had to make the antidote. I had to save everyone. I stared along the thin strip of beach I had landed on. I did swim here, but the current was what mostly dragged me along, after I had to discard my clothes. I did not enjoy that at all. The waves had pulled me back then. I had fought my way out of the cavern and into the wide never ending ocean, and because I was slowing down, I had to discard my clothes and my underwear. Then I eventually wound up here, on a shallow rocky beach that sat next to the highway just up the brown grassy hill. No cars had come by. I was so very alone. I stood up, shivering. I didn't know if it was the cold or the shock or the fear. It was probably all of it. I burrowed deep within myself and found my rage waiting patiently for me. I released it into the wild and I screamed. I screamed so loudly that I thought my voice would carry over the waves forever. Then I stopped over, hands on thighs, panting. Enough. It was time to go. But first, I had to cover myself up. Thankfully someone left a towel behind, so I wrapped myself up with it and marched up the hill, to begin my long walk along the road. I hoped for a vehicle to come by. I hoped for some kind of help. I walked and walked. No lights, no houses, just a naked girl with nothing to cover herself with but for a towel alone in the dark, walking. Her entire body, head to toe wet and freezing in the cold air, her hair just long icicles. Just get home. No matter how long it takes. Even if you freeze to death trying. But hopefully before that happens. The night was so long and so dark. The sun would never rise. All was cold and endless. I was despairing, I was angry at the world for everything. For the machine, for the slime, for all of it. At least we stopped it. At least we fought back. Simon. Simon was killed outright by the monster. Archie. Was he even alive anymore? Had he been consumed? I feared the latter. How could it not be? Even if I could make the antidote, how would I ever find them again? Would they still be trapped below that ground or would they find me? Like how Archie did before? Yes, I would wait for them, I would wait for them to find me and when they did, I would be ready. If I had to, I would devote the rest of whatever time I have left that God grants me on this Earth, to helping everyone if it meant no one had to worry about the machine anymore. Suddenly there was a figure in front of me, who was shining a light in front of me, which lit up the dark road in front of me. All I saw was brightness. I shielded my eyes. She walked slowly toward me. I took a step to the side, wary. I had relied on strangers for help before, but there was always a bit of a risk. You never knew. Suddenly the figure came into view. I had not seen her before. She was about 166 centimeters tall, 54 kilograms. Based on her appearance, she seemed to be 82-56-83. She had short brown hair, and had a fair complexion. She had a knowing smile on her face. She seemed pleasant enough. "Excuse me?" she suddenly said, coming up to me. "Yes?" I asked, suspiciously. "Are you alright?" she asked me, looking concerned. "Just cold." I replied. "Well, would you like some company?" she asked. "I'm headed to Kensington, actually." I said to her. "That's on the path that I'm headed. Come with me!" she said. I was so cold, and so tired. I laughed then to myself. I thought of the danger I had just been in, the life or death of it all. If I could face that, I could face anything. Suddenly a strange-looking military-grade helicopter arrived. The bay door opened. There was another girl inside as well. She was tall, had ample breasts, and had auburn hair in pigtails. She beckoned us three. Accompanying her was a familiar looking man I had briefly seen before. We stepped inside, as the bay door closed behind us. It was warm for a change. She went to take the towel away, only to gasp in shock. "Oh my." She said, realizing I was naked. She gave it back to me to cover myself up. "There's no escape! They're trying to conscript you! Get out! NOW!" said Steven Shrader from the El Corporation, staring at me wild-eyed. "They'll put you in a uniform! They'll send you against the Nova! You can never escape!" he added. "Oh, don't mind him, he's harmless. Mostly. I found this straggler wandering around this old factory-looking place. I saw a man there fighting what looked like a new type of Nova, but he died before I could get to him, poor lad." the girl with pigtails said. The girl with short brown hair looked at me, and extended a hand toward me. "I'm Chiffon Fairchild. President of the Student Council at the West Genetics Academy." She said. I stared. "No escape. No, no, no, no, no, no…" said Steven. The helicopter took off. I don't know why they're so interested in me. But it's better than nothing I suppose. One day, I will find a way out and make that antidote. I will save everyone. I promise! Whatever this war is, it seems paltry compared to the plague that could threaten us all. But that is a problem for another day.

Unknown

Swirling darkness wrapped so tightly, at first like an embrace and then it squeezes, crushes, smothers. It feels like fire but it's also cold. It burns. Cold can burn. A quiet buzz, then louder, like a thousand voices talking at once, screaming at once. Outside and inside. Our thoughts are not our own thoughts. Whose thoughts are these? How many of us are there? How many more will join us? We are all screaming. Waiting…lost. The light appears in sudden bursts. Too bright, it pierces at you, tears you apart even as you reach out for it. What is there to reach for? Why hurt yourself? Just sink back. Sink back in with your friends. Fear…Simon Thomas Winchester. Shame…Archibald Leslie Stanton. Anger…Caitlin Wilhelmina Dorrance. We sink back and back and back. We understand now. We see how all this time we were wrong. We understand the joke now. Knock knock. Who's there? We can't fix the machine. We never could Knock knock. Who's there? Who is there? Out there? Out here? We're all here. We understand now. It's the punchline to the joke. You cannot fix what is not broken.

Closing Remarks

There you have it. It was a depressing tale, for myself personally. Most painfully, I remember what happened to Wilhelmina Dorrance. As she predicted, she became as I am now. A machine designed for war. A Pandora. She did not enjoy it. She was generally distrustful around many, if not all who dwelled within the academy's walls. She had even begged me to end her when she accidentally touched me. From what I can recall, she said, and I quote: "Go ahead. You'd be doing me a favor anyway.", to which I replied. "Pathetic." And stormed off. She prioritized her own desires above the war itself. I had my priorities straightened, as one would say. As for Miss Dorrance, she was entirely focused on curing the public of the plague that incepted during the events of the tale presented in the pages I provided. Mark my words, one day…I will finish what she started, so that we may then let the matter rest and focus on the war. If what Wilhelmina stated was true, even the Pandoras and Limiters of the world are not safe from the plague. A pandemic may happen. I cannot allow this to pass. I started my journey searching for my partner. However, this is much more severe than the both of us. What I shall do is: Investigate what happened within the walls of the derelict laboratory I entered, cure the plague, find my partner, reclaim my blade, and explain my findings to scientists who have had more…experience with science than Caitlin Wilhelmina Dorrance. I shall also notify the families of those who perished for it to happen. The homes of Bacon, Winchester, Dorrance, and Sokolowiski. Regrettably, Archibald Stanton does not seem to have any surviving family members…at least none that would care if anything happened to him. I may not have a full image of Chevalier's dark dealings, but rest assured, dear reader. I am searching as hard as I humanly can. And I will ensure that we are saved from this plague. If it is the last thing I would ever do. Or perish in the attempt. Regardless, at least I will be safe from him who molested me repeatedly all those years ago. As to Wilhelmina Dorrance, the student council president discovered her intentions and attempted to prevent her from leaving. They fought hard, and although Miss Dorrance, or "The Furnace of Rage" as we referred to her as, within the academy, on account of her seemingly uncontrollable anger, managed to mortally wound Chiffon Fairchild, The latter of the two allowed her animalistic side to overcome her, and ultimately, Wilhelmina Dorrance died by her will. All due to her desire to cure the world of the plague that is on the verge of infecting humankind as I write these words. I understand this feeling. I myself was accosted and humiliated by multiple members of the disciplinary council and student council combined. I suppose Miss Dorrance's fate is their twisted variation on their treatment of me. It will be difficult to notify the victims' families. Regardless, I may finally find peace after the war is over. However, I must focus on investigating Chevalier's dark dealings and search for my partner.

Sincerely,

S.E.B.