Hauntings and Humbug: A Steampunk Christmas Carol

5 The Ghost of Christmas Future

The clock bonged once more. Opening my eyes groggily, I looked at the old timepiece on the mantel. It was three o’clock. I was still sitting in the chair in my chamber, but the bright fire had grown dim, casting long shadows across the room.

There was a clatter in the corner of the room. Turning, I gripped the arm of my chair and stared wide-eyed into the darkened shadows.

The third spirit. Marley said that I would be visited by three ghosts. The fairy had shown me the past, the Scotsman the present, so that meant…

I heard the clatter of cogs and gears, and a moment later, two cyan-colored lights clicked on, casting a hazy blue glow over the bedroom. With heavy footsteps, the automaton appeared from the corner of my bedroom.

I stood up. “Dickens,” I whispered.

The machine turned and looked at me, its blue eyes flashing into my face.

“Power down,” I commanded.

Nothing happened.

“Power down,” I repeated firmly.

This time, the automaton turned away from me and crossed the room to the window. It paused a moment before motioning for me to join it. The steel and brass gears and outer plating of the machine gleamed in the dying firelight.

I rose on shaky legs. “You do not need to speak. I know who you really are. You are the spirit of things yet to come.”

Dickens turned and looked at me once more, those blue orbs glaring into the hollow of my soul. Again, it gestured to my window.

Moving hesitantly, I joined the machine and looked outside.

When I did so, I gasped. The city was on fire. The entire skyline was filled with smoke, and orange flames licked the buildings. From overhead, airships dropped devices, which exploded on contact, shaking London to the ground. But below…it was far worse. On the street below me, I saw movement. At first, I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. And then, I comprehended. A legion of machines, just like the one at my side, were making their way down the street. As they did so, the automatic guns on their arms blasted civilians, murdering people in an instant. I let out a small shriek and grabbed the arm of the automaton only to feel its cold, metal skeleton.

The machine looked down at me, its glowing eyes narrowing.

“This is me? I did this? By inventing…by making you?”

My mouth grew dry as I watched the horror unfolding on the streets below. Marley was the one who’d made the connections with London’s criminal underbelly. We’d been selling tinkered devices, making bombs and weapons, creations of death. I never thought much about it. I somehow fancied myself still a tinker; I was just making sophisticated firearms. But that was a lie. Where once my creations sparked joy, now they brought death. And in the wrong hands—exactly the kind of hands I was currently making deals with—far worse.

“No more,” I whispered, then pulled the drape closed. “No more. I see,” I said, closing my eyes. “I know what I need to do.”

I had turned a blind eye to everything. Not only had I neglected those I loved, but I cared little for the world itself. I knew only my own pain and what I had to do to prevent myself from feeling it. “Take me away from this sight. Show me there is still some tenderness in this world.”

I felt a metal hand on my shoulder.

I looked up into the eyes of the automaton. This time, they did not glow bright blue. Instead, I could see a scene unfolding inside those eyes. I stared, trying to make out the figures. A moment later, I was transported into the scene I had witnessed in the machine’s eyes.

I was, once more, in the home of Robert and Bailey Cratchit. The whole family was huddled together, hugging one another. How sweet they were. How loving. I had always dreamed of having a family like that. I had planned to have more children, many more. But then…everything had fallen into pieces. My heart lightened at the sight of them, but then I heard the crying. The family held onto one another as they wept.

Bailey kissed her children, pulling them tenderly toward her as they cried. Martha was hysterical in her misery. Bailey’s husband, who was standing once more, held his wife from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist.

Their misery was palpable.

“What’s happened?” I whispered.

The automaton pointed.

There, in the corner, was an empty stool. And beside it, a cane leaned against the wall.

“Timothy,” I whispered. The boy was gone. I turned back to my apprentice. “Oh, Bailey.”

My heart broke at the sight. I knew her pain well. I lived with it every day, knowing it would never go away. There was nothing more horrible than losing a child.

“I must do something. I must,” I said then looked up at the automaton once more. “I will do something. I swear it.”

But the machine simply stared back at me. And once more, I saw an image playing in his eyes.

“I don’t want to see,” I whispered, but even as I spoke the words, I felt that strange pull once more.

A frozen wind chilled me to the bone. We’d been transported outside. A whirlwind of snow dancing around us. It was dusk, and we were in a graveyard.

Standing down the row from us, I spotted Fawn and Charles, and Bailey and Robert, along with Bailey’s children, save little Tim. Bailey wept and lay down a wreath on a tomb. Leaving the automaton behind, I joined them.

“Fawn?” I whispered, reaching out for her arm. But my hand only connected with air. “Fawn?”

Fawn wept hard, then turned and put her head on Charles’s shoulder. His arm wrapped around my niece, he did his best to console her.

“To die alone in the workshop like that,” Bailey said, shaking her head. “It is a great pity.”

“Her heart gave out on her, as if it had gone dry from want,” Fawn whispered. “She was well-loved but never knew it. My father once told me she’d once been full of mirth. She created such wonders. But then her child died, her husband left, and my mother passed… Some people cannot withstand grief. It changes them. Forever. I had hoped I could reach her, bring her back from that dark place. But I couldn’t. No matter how much I tried. I failed her,” Fawn said then wept once more.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Charles whispered.

I didn’t need to look to know where I was. I recognized the graveyard. I stared at the headstones. On the smaller of the two was a small lamb and the name Maisie Victoria Scrooge. Beside that tiny headstone was another grave. On this, I saw my own name: Ebony Kenworth Scrooge. Not far from these headstones were those of my mother, father, and sister.

“At least they are together now,” Fawn whimpered.

Bailey took her hand. “Why don’t we get you out of the cold?”

Fawn nodded solemnly, and the group departed, leaving me alone with Dickens.

I watched the others as they went. My sweet niece, how like my sister she looked.

The automaton stood beside me, still and silent as the grave.

“Can I change the future?” I whispered. “Can I…can I change all of this?”

At that, the automaton turned.

This time, I noticed an odd light inside its chest. Rosy light emanated from its breastplate in the very spot where it might have a heart—if it wasn’t made of metal. The automaton reached out and took my hand. I thought to resist, but then I relented.

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

The machine moved my hand, setting it on its chest. I was afraid I would be burned, but then I heard it: a low, beating sound emanated from the machine.

When my fingers finally touched the metal, I felt a massive shock that rippled through my entire body. The blast was so strong that it knocked me from my feet, sending me flying backward to the ground. As I landed, I realized I was lying on my own grave. The realization of it was so abhorrent, I screamed.

With a jerk, I woke. Once more, I was lying on the floor of my bedroom. The deafening sound of a beating heart rang in my ears. Quickly standing, I cast a glance around the room only to find myself alone once more.

A dream?

Had it all been a dream?

But if so, why did my hand still feel warm.

I set my hand on my own chest and closed my eyes, listening to the sound of my heart. It was beating quickly, a scared and nervous thing. I inhaled deeply and slowed my breathing, my heart calming. I dipped into my dress and pulled out the button necklace hanging there. I wrapped my hand around the beloved charm.

“All right, you machine made of flesh. It’s time to see if I can tinker you back to life.”