The Mechanical Messiah (25 page)

ife can, it seems, at times become so very complicated. Colonel Katterfelto would, in a way, have preferred to simply tick along at the Electric Alhambra. Spend afternoons at The Spaceman’s Club watching Darwin Snap. And occupy his mornings in the construction of the Mechanical Messiah, within the abandoned chapel that he now rented.

This big-game hunting trip had put the tiger in amongst the chickens and no mistake. Less than two days to get ready for
that
and what of the Great Quest in the meanwhile?

After all, he might be away upon the hunting trip for weeks, months even. He really should have discussed that with Corporal Mingus Larkspur. He had, however, got an advance from the adventurous Jovian. And this the colonel sought to spend wisely.

Upon the Great Quest.

Upon the creation of …

The Mechanical Messiah.

So, yes, life could at times become very complicated, but there were some days, some
very
special days, when things fell so perfectly into place that anyone could be forgiven for believing that a Divine Purpose lay at the heart of it all. For Colonel Katterfelto,
this
would be one of those days.

He bathed and dressed, eschewed a breakfast, and made off from his diggings. Eight-thirty of the morning clock found him in the back of an electric wheeler and on the road to Alperton.

‘Don’t drive out to Alperton too often,’ called the driver back to him.

The colonel considered this a statement that did not require an answer.

‘Had an aunt once in Park Royal,’ called the driver. ‘Don’t know whose aunt she was, though, but I had her all the same.

‘Are you a married man?’ asked the colonel.

Words of explanation followed and thereafter the journey to Alperton continued in silence. But for the puffing of cogwheels and sounds of late larks singing in the trees.

Alperton was a pleasant enough little village. Although the engineering works tended to dominate the skyline. Throwing much of Alperton into shadow during the afternoon. The villagers did not complain about this, for they were all employed by the engineering works. The words

were picked out imaginatively in electrical vacuum bulbs upon high. Which must have brought comfort to the villagers at night. Above the double-gated entrance ran a legend in scrolled ironwork to the effect that work would make you free.

The electric wheeler stopped outside the double-gated entrance.

‘Do you want me to wait for you, guv’nor?’ asked the driver.

The colonel nodded. ‘I think that would be for the best.’

‘I’ll want paying now for the journey here and five bob waiting time, in advance, in case you change your mind.’

‘I will not change my mind.’ The colonel paid for the outgoing fare and grudgingly parted with a further five shillings.

The driver of the electric wheeler waited patiently while the colonel passed through the gateway. Then put his vehicle into gear and drove straight back to London.

Colonel Katterfelto had words with the gatekeeper and was directed to the sales office.

The sales office was a triumph of decorative metalwork. Panels depicting the dignity of labour were elaborately crafted in various metals. Gilded steel columns supported a ceiling on which a fresco, dedicated to commerce, was colourfully featured. At the very centre of this, the smiling face of Mark Rowland Ferris, Fifth Earl of Hove, beamed down blessings upon all and sundry. Behind a desk of trellised copper sat a gentleman wearing a brass top hat with fitted goggle attachments. He bowed with his head and gestured with an artificial arm towards a vacant aluminium chair.

The colonel sat down upon it.

‘The Ferris Engineering Works of Alperton welcomes you,’ said the gentleman in the brass top hat. ‘And what might we do to add pleasure to your day?’

‘I wish to place an order for something,’ said the colonel. ‘It is a private project and must be handled with discretion.’

‘Absolutely no problem at all, sir.’ The brass top—hatter spoke in a confidential tone. ‘It is a fate that awaits us all when we reach a certain age.’

‘Excuse me?’ said the colonel.

‘Down below.’ The brass-hatter gestured with his artificial arm to an area just below his waist. ‘We can fit you out with a pneumatic prosthesis so lifelike in appearance that your lady wife won’t know the difference.’

‘How
dare
you!’ cried the colonel. ‘And I have no lady wife.’

‘Ah.’ The brass-hatter now added a lewd wink to go with his artificial arm gesturings. ‘All is in complete confidentiality here, sir. Should Mr Oscar Wilde himself come in for a fitting, we would not turn him away.’

Colonel Katterfelto reached towards his ray gun. ‘I’ll shoot you dead, you scoundrel,’ he declared.

‘But not in the heart, I’ll wager, sir.’ The sitter at the desk opened his shirt to reveal a large metal plate apparently bolted into the flesh of his chest. ‘Lost both heart and arm in the Martian campaign,’ said he.

‘You were in the service of Her Majesty?’ asked the colonel. Slightly less furious now.

‘Queen’s Own Electric Fusiliers,’ said the fellow with the artificial parts. ‘And you a colonel in the same by your uniform.’ He saluted with his ersatz limb, nearly putting his eye out.

‘At ease,’ said the colonel. ‘And enough of this nonsense. Don’t need any private parts refurbishing. Need a piece of construction work done. A metal figure. Clockwork minstrel kind of jobbie.’

‘Well, certainly, sir. We specialise in that sort of thing. Stage magicians’ illusions. Clockwork marionettes.’

‘Know you do,’ said the colonel. ‘That’s why I’m here. Need a job doing and doing well. Know you’re the chaps to do it.’

‘Do you have the plans with you, sir?’

‘Certainly do.’ The colonel drew Herr Döktor’s book from a jacket pocket. Hesitated a moment. ‘Complete confidentiality?’ he said.

‘Absolutely, sir. Discretion our watchword. Customer satisfaction our rule of law.’

‘There then, take the thing. Don’t have time to mess about having a bit made here and a bit made there. Need you to make the lot. Plans in the back. Think you’re up to the job?’

The brass-hatted fellow took the book from the colonel. It was all but falling to pieces now, but the plans for the construction of the Mechanical Messiah were still clear enough.

‘Ah,’ said the brass-hatted sales manager. ‘We haven’t had an order for one of these in a while.’

‘What?’ puffed the colonel. ‘What?’

‘I understand they were quite the rage when the book first came out. Before my time, though. Back in the days when old Mr Ferris the Fourth Earl ran the company. Sort of went out of fashion, you know. Used to come with a companion piece. The Automated Mary, that was the more popular model.’

‘Wellington’s boots!’ went the colonel. ‘So I’m not the first at this?’

‘Heavens no, sir. If you want a Mechanical Messiah making, you come to us.’ The fellow now affected a smirk. ‘You will never guess what,’ he said. ‘I had word, on the old engineering jungle drums, as it were, that not so long ago a chap in America had one run up. Employed various engineering works in Wormcast, Arizona. They made a right pig’s ear out of it and the fellow concerned was run out of town. Makes you wonder what it’s all about, doesn’t it?’

The colonel ground his teeth together. ‘It certainly
does,’
said he.

‘But anyway. Absolutely no problem at all. We cam have this all assembled for you in a couple of weeks.’

‘All assembled?’ The colonel gave a thoughtful nod. ‘Thought I would have to do the assembling.’

‘We provide a
complete
service, sir.’

‘And the cost?’ asked the colonel. ‘What about the cost?’

‘Seven hundred and fifty pounds, sir. Which would include packing and delivery. Within the London area, of course.’

‘Of course,’ agreed the colonel. ‘And I have the money with me.

And he
did
because he
had
got the advance from Corporal Mingus Larkspur.

‘I will give you the address it is to be delivered to and the key to the premises. I will be away for a while. I will pick the key up from you when 1 return.’

‘Absolutely splendid,’ said the man in the brass top hat. ‘But there is one thing that we must get altogether straight. Because it is our policy to please the customer. And we would not have you get all disappointed later and demand your money back.’

‘Make yourself clear,’ said the colonel.

‘Well, sir must understand that the Mechanical Messiah will not actually work. It is a purely decorative item. An inspirational item. It cannot be imbued with life. It will not do anything at all.’

‘Well,’ said the colonel. But he said no more.

‘You see,’ the sales manager tapped his artificial fingers onto his metallic desktop, creating a kind of xylophone effect, ‘and please do not think that I am an expert in such matters. It is only that I heard all about it from my predecessor, when the Mechanical Messiahs were all the rage. But folk tried to energise them and when they could not, they came here demanding their money back.’

‘I won’t be doing
that,’
said the colonel.

‘Splendid, splendid. You could say it’s a basic design flaw really, but without the missing component the Mechanical Messiah could never be energised.’

‘Missing component?’ The colonel was intrigued.

‘Again, don’t quote me on this, sir, but it is something to do with magic and magic not functioning upon this world. That Earthly metals cannot carry magic. You will note that the plans for the Messiah figure show an empty compartment in the chest.’

The colonel nodded at this. He was aware of the empty compartment. Although up until now he had not discussed it with anyone.

‘The component has to go into the empty compartment, sir.’ The artificial hand tapped at the artificial heart.

‘A mechanism, do you mean?’ asked Colonel Katterfelto.

‘No, merely a piece of metal, or more rightly a piece of mineral matter. To carry the magic, as it were.’

‘And cam you supply
that?’
asked the colonel.

‘Oh no dear no, sir.’ Laughter was now to be heard. ‘We deal here in purely Earthly metals. The component is not of this world. It carried magic because where it is to be found, magic would appear to be commonplace. The mineral in question is called
Magoniam.
But as no human being has ever seen a piece, let alone touched a piece, it is neither here nor there.’

The colonel’s face now suddenly shone. As if he had just received Enlightenment which in fact he
had.

‘So I will have to ask you to sign a disclaimer,’ said the sales manager, ‘stating that you are aware that the item we will construct for you will be absolutely non-functional.’

The colonel rose as one who had reached apotheosis. This was all fate. It had to be. Him coming here and hearing this. It had to be the very Will of God. A Divine Purpose lay at the very heart of it. There could be no other explanation. ‘This mineral,’ he said in a still, small voice. ‘This energising agent, as it were, that will carry magic—’

‘Magoniam,
yes?’ said the chap in the brass top hat. ‘I understand, but again do not quote me, that it literally lies all over the ground, there for the picking up, as it were. Not that any human being ever will pick it up.’ And he laughed again. ‘Not unless they fly to Venus. And that’s not very likely, is it, now?’