The Immorality Engine

CHAPTER
30

The audience chamber was shrouded in a blanket of impenetrable gloom, so dark that he had no real way of discerning the true size of the place. It might have been as small as his own drawing room or as large as a dance hall, but without a point of reference, without a light source to anchor himself, he had no way to be sure.

He supposed that was precisely the point. The Queen, he had been told, had a flair for the theatrical. He supposed she did it to unnerve her callers, to remind them of their insignificance, their place in the grand pecking order of the Court.

He peered into the stygian depths. There might have been a hundred other men in the room with them, or there might have been none at all. Not that it really mattered to him. He was here to see the Queen.

He had been there only once before, a meeting that-as far as any official records were concerned-had never actually occurred. He supposed he would have to get used to that. It had been dark then, too. He’d hardly even seen the Queen during the course of his interview. But it had most definitely been her. That sharp, acidic voice, the sound of Fabian’s labouring machine: they were unmistakable.

The man could hear the machine now, wheezing noisily as it inhaled and exhaled on behalf of the monarch, accompanied by the creak of the wheels as the Queen herself slowly rolled the life-giving chair towards him.

He remained still and silent, partly to avoid a transgression of etiquette, partly in an effort to discern how well she could see him in the darkness.

The mechanical chair drew closer and then came to an abrupt stop. Still, he waited for the Queen to be the one to break the silence. He sensed her close by, heard her chuckling softly under her breath. Then, a moment later, she spoke. “Good day to you, Physician. We hope you bring us pleasing news. It has been a… trying week.”

“So I understand, Your Majesty.” He hesitated, unsure of the best way to deliver his news. In the end, he decided simply to spit it out. “It is done. It worked.”

Victoria clapped her hands together in obvious glee. He imagined her fat, pink face grinning evilly in the darkness. “Is she here?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. She’s here. I thought you might like to meet her.” He swallowed. His mouth was dry.

“Most excellent, Physician. Show her in!” He could hear the anticipation in her voice.

“She is already here, Majesty. She is standing beside me.” So she couldn’t see him in the dark, after all. He made a mental note of that.

Victoria laughed again. He heard the grating of a metal hood being lifted from a lantern, and then suddenly a bright globe of light bloomed into existence, stinging his eyes. They took a moment to adjust to the yellow glare.

When they did, he found himself looking upon the seated Empress. He didn’t know whether to feel revulsion, admiration, or fear. She was everything he had been told to expect: Fabian had turned her into some sort of bizarre marriage between woman and machine. She was inexorably welded to the life-giving chair, large tubes jutting out from her chest, pumping air into her failing lungs. Bags of fluid hung on overhead frames, feeding her veins with whatever preservatives stopped her body from rotting. He would need to find out. He would take a sample of the fluids away for analysis.

“Where is she, Physician? We cannot see her.”

He realised that the child, scared, was hiding behind his legs. He coaxed her out, leading her forward towards the light-and, he thought, toward the monster waiting at the heart of it.

He watched the little girl as she approached the monarch. She was pretty, if a little undernourished, with long dark hair and big, frightened eyes. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said she looked around six or seven years old. But this girl had not been born of natural means, and had not lived for more than a week.

“She’s a pretty little thing,” said the Queen, making it sound as much like a threat as like a compliment.

“She has your eyes, Majesty.”

The Queen emitted a wet, rasping chuckle. “You have done well, Physician. You shall be rewarded for your loyalty.”

Victoria turned to the girl, holding the lantern high so that the child squealed and covered her face from the sudden glare. “Do not be afraid, girl. You must learn never to be afraid. Fear will be an emotion you inspire in others, a tool for achieving your aims. It will not form part of your own emotional vocabulary.”

The man frowned at her words, and wondered, not for the first time, whether he had done something calamitous in aiding her in her machinations.

Victoria regarded the child coolly. “You shall be named Alberta. We shall teach you many things. You shall know glory and power, and you shall understand the importance of Empire. You shall refrain from knowing men, for you shall be married only to your country. One day, Alberta, you shall be Queen.”

The child nodded, but remained silent.

“We have arranged a nanny for you, Alberta, and she will show you to your room. There will be time later to discuss your education.” The Queen turned to look at him. “Take her to Sandford, Physician. He will make the necessary arrangements.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He turned to leave, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder as if to shepherd her towards the door.

“Oh, and Warrander?”

“Yes, Majesty?”

“There is a switch embedded in this chair that we require you to disable-a legacy of the unfortunate Dr. Fabian.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Of course,” Warrander replied. “I’ll attend to it directly.”

He led the girl away from the seated Queen and into the darkness of the audience chamber. He felt a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. A new era was dawning, and when the time eventually came, he’d have no need of a switch. Unlike Fabian, Warrander had never minded getting his hands dirty.