Steam City Pirates (7 page)

“No, not quite. First of all, this group has obviously been at their craft far longer than we have. Secondly, they seem to be collecting a group of professionals who can use technology from the future in order to take advantage of our inferior technology in the present. Finally, we have no idea when they will strike and how they will accomplish it. We can only make educated guesses.” I stood up. “I want to stay with you tonight, Becky. I don’t want to risk another entry by our golden lady until we can talk to Seth.”

Becky also stood up. She placed her arms around my waist and looked up into my eyes. “I am happy to have you home, Patrick James O’Malley. Will we all be moving into the temple starting tomorrow?”

“Yes. That is the plan. Even McKenzie and his men are going to stay there sometimes. Until we can see where these adversaries of ours strike first, we can only protect ourselves and attempt to learn how to use our own time travel machine. It’s our only hope. If this group is as cunning as I believe it is, then we will need to investigate every clue in order to prepare our defenses.”

Becky took me by the hand and led me into her bedroom. As we were lying together under the covers, I kept thinking back to our house guest. If she could fly, then what prevented her from flying over to me and taking my gun away? This was another question I needed to ask my little genius, Seth Mergenthaler.

It took me a long time to fall asleep. Becky seemed to easily drift off with me there because I could hear her deep breathing. I reached down beneath the bed and got my pistol out of its holster. I brought it into bed and placed it under my pillow.

This new enemy was much more insidious than any Rebel. Johnny Reb had fought for his own way of life and his own independence. There is a kernel of nobility is such a quest, no matter how racist and hateful it was in practice. This new rebellion wanted to strike out and build a powerful following. They might even have in mind their own version of Utopia, just as Sir Thomas Moore and Plato had planned their versions. I had fought for an American version, and although it might allow for some very greedy people to acquire power, it kept a basic value system that was built upon change when we needed to have it. I was afraid that our new group of utopians was being led by someone who wanted a world shaped in his own image. Who was Inquisitor Manette? What was his next move?

I knew that the word “inquisitor” meant someone who questions in a harsh manner, but it could also harken back to the Great Inquisitions in Spain, Portugal, and Rome as well as the terrible slavery of the Jews in Egypt. The Medieval inquisitors killed suspected mystics and soothsayers and tried them as witches and warlocks. The war was often between science and religion.

I remembered a play Becky took me to see on Broadway. It was an old one by a German historian and philosopher by the name of Friedrich Schiller. It was called
Don Carlos
. The play was quite dramatic and was, of course, about unrequited love for a woman. However, it was Becky’s historical assessment after the play that gave me my education about what was really going on behind the play’s creative struggle. In the play, Don Carlos becomes a heroic humanist who fights for the rights of the people during the cruelty of the Spanish Inquisition.

I now wanted to talk about that play, so I gently shook Becky’s shoulder. “Becky? Remember that Don Carlos play we saw?” I said.

“What?” She sat up in bed.

Becky had told me that the Don Carlos character, in reality, was a mutilated and ugly man. His physical deformities were caused by the genetic inbreeding of the royal classes in Europe. As a Vassar-educated woman, Rebecca Charming Jones knew all about how certain people wanted to use history in order to manipulate the audience to their own idealistic purposes. I now wanted to hear the details about this historical character of Don Carlos.

“Tell me again what this Don Carlos was
really
like,” I said.

“Why on earth do you want to know?” she asked.

“I think we may be facing some kind of leader who fancies himself a fictional Don Carlos, but, in reality, he is a monster,” I explained. “Let me know about this Don Carlos. Let’s just say I want to meditate upon him the way you taught me to do to come up with clues and other deeper, more intuitive information,” I added.

“All right, Patrick. Let me see now. Don Carlos was not the handsome prince oppressed by his stern unfeeling father that Schiller depicted in his play, but rather he was a pigeon-breasted hunchback whose right leg was considerably shorter than his left,” Becky said, stroking my cheek with her soft right forefinger. I could hear a light rain falling outside.

“Prone to indiscriminate and violent actions, he would rant and threaten in his high-pitched voice, made even more bizarre by his uncontrollable stuttering. He took sadistic delight in inflicting pain on young girls, servants, and helpless animals. In spite of his irrational comportment, he possessed a diabolical cleverness that permitted him to be even more malevolent. Court physicians were uncertain as to whether he would be able to impregnate a wife to assure the birth of an heir. He was betrothed to Elizabeth de Valois, but his father married her in 1560 for political reasons,” she explained, smiling over at me.

“So this is where our play began,” I noted.

“Yes, Schiller was inspired by Shakespeare’s
Hamlet
. This relationship between Don Carlos and his step-mother Elizabeth does figure in Schiller's work, as well as Don Carlos’s dream of leaving Spain and ruling over the Netherlands. In historical truth, Don Carlos even tried to approach the Protestant Dutch leaders in the Netherlands for support, but his erratic plans to flee to Flanders never materialized, and his relationship with his father became even more strained. He was accused of plotting to kill his father, and on 9 July 1568, he was judged guilty of treason. By 24 July the Infante was dead, supposedly poisoned on orders of his father, King Philip.”

“Thank you, Becky. I think I have enough. In the mind of one man, a man who thinks of himself as an artist and philosopher, history is merely a tool with which to manipulate an audience. This Grand Inquisitor Manette may see inventors from history the way Schiller saw the historical Don Carlos,” I said.

“How do you mean?” Becky asked.

“I mean, whereas Schiller used a monster from history and changed him into a hero of literature, Manette may use a chosen inventor from history and convince him that he’s a hero because of some grandiose purpose Manette alone has concocted. For example, what if Abraham Lincoln had been secretly angry at the world because he was tall, gawky, not educated at the finest schools, and thus he wanted to have personal revenge? What if he used the issue of slavery in order to reap huge profits from the South, holding them responsible for all the evil of mankind that was, in fact, inside Lincoln’s own mind?” I knew Rebecca would grasp my meaning.

“I understand you now. You believe our adversary might manipulate these inventors from history and science to aid his selfish megalomania. I suppose you have a valid idea, O’Malley. Now can we get some sleep?” She gently kissed my lips.

“To sleep, perchance to dream?” I said. It was back to primordial darkness once more.

Chapter 3: In Which Our Heroes Formulate a Defensive Posture

I arranged to have our personal belongings transported to Temple Emanu-El by delivery wagons. We were all going to meet over there at different times. Becky and I would arrive first, at ten, then Bessie and her son, Seth, at noon. Finally, Walter McKenzie and his men would be there at two in the afternoon.

As we walked over to the temple, I discussed with Becky the problems we needed to face. She was enthusiastic about moving into the new lodgings now that we had made the acquaintance of the evil
mazikeen
mistress. My darling was quite lovely in her French dress. It was blue and white and had a fetching laced apron in front. She wore a matching bonnet with the same lace and a red rose affixed to the lace.

“I want to ask young Seth if there is a way to combat the powers of the evil
mazikeen
. I want to know how many of these creatures we can expect. In addition, I want to know about this time machine that Doctor Adler has created. If we are to stand a chance at stopping this group, we will need the help of time travel.” I felt for my pocket watch. It was ten after nine. We would make it in plenty of time.

“That is all well and good, Patrick, but do you really expect to be able to devise the exact repellant we will need at the same time they use their device? We are not exactly the War Department. Our resources are minimal, and our ignorance is great.” Becky stepped over a piglet that was standing in front of her on the boardwalk. “If they don’t do something about these disease carriers, we will have another cholera outbreak,” she muttered, looking back at the sickly-looking porker.

“That is why we must learn to operate this time machine. If we can develop a way to use it, then perhaps we can counter the inventions that they create. It is obvious from the German inventor they brought back from the future to create the Huff-and-Puff Machine that they know exactly the time and place where they can obtain such men. We, therefore, must learn how to do the same!” I took Becky’s arm to maneuver us around two men who were carrying boxes of produce into a market stall. “If these pirates are successful, we won’t be able to get much food or other supplies into our ports. New York is one of the largest shipping destinations in the world.”

Doctor Adler greeted us inside Emanu-El and led us directly into our new basement headquarters. “I’m having the delivery men place all your belongings upstairs in a store room. You can get McKenzie’s men to bring your personals down here once they arrive,” said the rabbi, opening the trap door that led down below.

While Becky walked around the room getting herself acquainted with the environs, Doctor Adler and I had a conversation. I told him about the
mazikeen
who said she was sent by a man called Inquisitor Manette, and she also called him their leader.

“Inquisitor? Obviously, I don’t like the sound of that title,” said Doctor Adler. “We Jews have not been favorably treated by such personages. In fact, the prayer we have that is sung is called the
Kol Nidre
, meaning ‘all vows.’ We sing it during our holiest day, Yom Kippur, and it allows those Jews who have been forced, under threats to their lives, to convert to other religions or even if they happened to make a religious vow other than to our one Supreme Being, then the
Kol Nidre
absolves them of such vows, so they can return to their Judaic brethren. Many thousands of our fellow Jews were therefore able to attend Christian or other church services to prevent the inquisitors from killing them. This prayer gave them a way to return to worship Yahweh in secret and not be considered obligated to Christianity in any way.”

“So these inquisitors were forcing you to believe in their religion, and your prayer allowed them to be forgiven and welcomed back into the fold. I can understand the need for such forgiveness,” I said. “Catholicism also allows for such forgiveness through the Act of Contrition and the Sacrament of Confession. Both of our religions are criticized by other religions for this, but we have our own logic,” I added.

“Indeed we do. One must believe the Creator is all-forgiving because the ways of Man are full of chaos and fear. I don’t know about this leader Manette, but his title certainly pulls no weight in my culture,” Doctor Adler said, sitting down in a chair next to the time machine.

“Do you know how many of these evil
mazikeen
we can expect to confront?” I asked, sitting in another chair to his left. Becky was listening to our conversation as she fingered the chemistry tools on the laboratory table.

“No, I am afraid the only such creature I have encountered is our Seth. We can query him when he arrives. Although I knew what he was, I was as unprepared as you are for the consequent repercussions,” said Doctor Adler.

Becky was now standing next to the time machine touching one of the metal columns. “What did you find out from Seth about this machine?”

“We discussed this at some length, and although his technical details were beyond my comprehension, I was able to ascertain the general theory behind this device. As I understand it, the device creates gamma and magnetic fields between the two columns. These fields, in turn, create circulating light beams which then warp or loop time. This approach can twist space that also causes time to be twisted, meaning one could theoretically walk through time as one walks through space,” Doctor Adler explained.

“Light! No wonder most of the great spiritual and mystical books refer to some kind of battle between the forces of light and dark. Do you suppose we are fighting the dark forces?” Becky’s voice had a mysterious lilt.

Doctor Adler smiled and pointed to the Hebrew letters spelling “Michael” on the wall over the time machine. “The apocryphal battle between the angels in heaven is a good example. Lucifer, which means ‘morning star or morning light,’ decided the Creator had made a bad decision when he created us. Our Father gave us the chance to become part of His heavenly perfection by living our lives filled with love for each other and for Yahweh. As Lucifer saw it, the Creator was giving us the same chance at immortality as Lucifer had, and this angel, because he was jealous, chose to rebel against the Creator in heaven. Michael, who accepted Yahweh’s plan, decided to fight Lucifer and his angels. According to the story, Lucifer and his minions were defeated by Michael and the Sons of Light. Lucifer’s punishment was to be condemned to haunt our world until the end of time. Lucifer and his followers were afraid of the light of the Creator’s truth, so they chose to dwell beneath the earth in the world of lies and darkness.”

“I don’t want to be a naysayer, Doctor, but we seem to be located in a rather dark and shady space ourselves,” I said.

“On Earth, we are all bringers of the light. Satan brings the light, but his is the light of knowledge without love. Without love, knowledge becomes a tool for selfish desires. With love, knowledge becomes a tool to reach paradise on Earth. This is what we Jews call the Coming of the Messiah,” said Doctor Adler. “Mitzvoth increase among the people, and evil and death are defeated, so that heaven will reign on Earth.”