Authors: L. Woodswalker
As she spoke, the pearly screen glowed more brightly and the people's stare became more fixed. “Go back to the simple ways. Destroy the machines of the Evil One! Bow to the Heavenly Ones and hear their words: 'Science is of the Devil. I want your simplicity and obedience!'”
It went on like this for quite some time. Some of the people quivered with ecstasy and fainted on the ground.
“The Angelic Masters say, 'bring others to our Holy Chambers! Spread the word all through the earth...but let not the Unbelievers know the secret of our Mission yet'. The time shall come when all shall receive the Holy Ones. Those in high places shall bow low!” Sister Shelia extended her arms. “Brothers and Sisters, come to me and receive the Blessing of the Angels!”
The people obeyed as if entranced. They approached and received a tiny jewel in the back of their neck, on their ankle, or some other concealed location. After they received it, they drifted out of the chamber. Most would never recall what had happened in the Silver Chamber, but their eyes retained a peculiar glow, and their brains waited for a summons.
***
Niko walked with brisk determination. He was finished with self pity, and with begging rich men for help.
He had already been evicted from his hotel and seen his belongings put out on the street. Now he had no wish to see the creditors pounce on his lab and dismantle it piece by piece. Rather than endure that, he would move his laboratory someplace where creditors wouldn't follow: a secret place, forgotten by the world. He knew of a location like that, just a few blocks away: an abandoned generating station which had once belonged to Thomas Edison.
His self-image had undergone a radical transformation. No longer a gentleman of class, he had become an un-person...an outcast.
Because they are frightened of my ideas.
Very well then,
he decided,
let them reject me. Let them do their worst!
He had no intention of stopping his work. He could live without fine suits, lavish dinners, classy company.
I didn't come to this world to bow down to the wealthy.
Night was approaching as he passed Frankfort Street and turned up Pearl. The tall blocks of tenements lay in shadow; the crowds had diminished. The last few pushcart merchants were closing up shop. An Italian baker cranked up his awning. Two drunks shared a bottle. A woman asked him if he would like some company. But Niko kept walking, absorbed in thought, planning his move. He could borrow a wagon from Robert tomorrow...
He passed a teenage boy in baggy overalls and a driver's cap. The youth leaned leaned against a lamp post, following Niko with his eyes, while clutching a walking stick under one arm.
Why is that hoodlum watching me? Planning to rob me?
He repressed a twinge of fear. Lately his world had begun feeling less secure. Was his imagination getting the better of him?
Morgan wants me to disappear.
Suppose the banking magnate sent strong-arm men out to silence Niko permanently?
Don't be ridiculous,
he told himself.
As he rounded the corner and turned onto Fulton Street, his worst fears were realized: he spotted two men slipping out the door of his lab. “Hey! You—stop!” he cried, and dashed after them. Rage eclipsed his fear. “Bastards! What are you doing in my—”
Blind anger made him reckless. He barreled into them and pulled one down. “Scum!” His hands closed around the man's neck. “Trying to sabotage my lab?” he cried, banging the man's head against the sidewalk.
“Kirk, help,” the man cried, “get him off me!”
Of course it would be Kirk—Edison's thug!
Kirk grabbed Niko from behind, pinning his arms. The first man rose up and swung a blunt object. Stars exploded behind Niko's eyes as the blackjack connected with his temple. He landed on the pavement, caught sight of a blade in Kirk's hand and twisted away at the last second...
Another figure jumped between them, shouting and wielding a staff—a weapon that spat lightning! Screaming in a foreign language, this fellow thrust the lightning staff at Kirk's neck. Kirk screamed, dropping the knife. Both hoodlums ran like hell, while the lad yelled foreign curses and made threatening motions with the staff. Sparks still danced from its end.
“You all right?” the lad turned to him.
Niko blinked, trying to clear his vision. What in God's name...? Hadn't he just seen this lad a few moments ago, leaning against a lamp post?
A whiff of smoke drifted to him. A coal stove nearby? Or...
“The lab,” he cried. “It's on fire!” Oblivious to his throbbing head, he tried to spring up...but the nausea and vertigo felled him.
***
“You all right?”
“Who...” Niko put a hand to his head. “What happened?”
“Here. Drink this.”
He tried to sit up. Dear God, his head felt as if someone was banging on it with a lead pipe—from the inside. Blinking away the dizziness, he found he had somehow ended up on the ratty couch in the back room of his laboratory.
“Th-the lab's on fire!” He tried to leap up, but fell back.
“It's all right. Relax.” The rescuer turned on a small lamp, revealing a handsome face with dark eyes and delicate lips. “I got it under control.” The lad displayed a charred, wadded-up jacket.
“What did the bastards do?”
“They spilled some solvent...lit a few rags.”
Niko called down dire Serbian curses on Kirk's private parts. “Thank you. You're a hero,” he said to his rescuer. “It's so kind of you to help me. Who are you?” The boy's face looked so familiar.
“Never mind who I am. Are you hurt anywhere else? Those
goniffs
didn't cut you?”
“I don't think so. Head hurts like the devil...”
The rescuer brought a pot of water and a rag, wrung it out and placed it on Niko's forehead. Niko watched the boy's motions very closely. Most of all, his attention was caught by the boy's hands.
Niko had seen those hands before. Once they had pulled music out of the aether.
Clara Eps?
He lay very still, studying her. He wondered if the head injury had been worse than he thought. Was this all a hallucination? Better not say anything, or she'd disappear.
Just pretend to go to sleep...
he closed his eyes and faded back into darkness.
***
He awoke at dawn and staggered to his feet. His head ached terribly, but there was no more time to waste being sick. Not when Kirk was involved! “Professor” Kirk, he amended...
Edison's professor of electrocution!
Is Edison behind this?
But Edison had given up on electricity and was focusing on silly moving-picture parlors.
Then Kirk must be working for Morgan now?
Whoever it was, they were wasting no time trying to put Niko out of commission.
What else did they sabotage?
So dizzy he could barely stand, he held onto the table top and made his way over to the main power connection. His hand touched the switch—
Wait—no!
Too late.
The current surged through him before he got a chance to tune himself.
About 100,000 volts.
His muscles spasmed with the current and he could not get loose.
Forgot to check the grounding! Still not thinking straight.
His hand was frozen on the switch while every cell twitched in agony.
What irony—the King of Lightning—killed by electric shock!
***
His chest hurt as though an elephant was dancing on it. Someone was pushing on his ribs...
“Breathe,” said a voice. “Oh, my God. Mr. Tesla? Please breathe.” The speaker cradled Niko's head between two delicate hands, gazed at him with intense dark eyes. She touched her lips to his and forced air into his lungs.
For a moment he wondered if he was dead.
Mother?
No—it was the same 'boy' who had just rescued him from a gang of thugs.
He coughed. Grabbed hold of his rescuer's hands. “Clara Eps.”
“Oh, thank God! I thought you were dead for sure.”
“How did you... how'd you know that I...had an accident?”
“Because of the pocket watch,” said Clara.
“What?”
“It's tuned to your frequency.”
“What? How...how did you do that?”
“I'll explain later. Now lie back. You need to rest.”
“No.” He felt like hell, but he couldn't rest till he knew what was going on. “What are you doing?” For Clara had turned away to inspect his equipment. “Don't touch that—”
“I need to check this place over. Looks like you have an enemy,
boychik
. They're trying to rub you out—make it look like an accident.” She inspected the machinery more closely. “Ah yes...they cut all these connections here...disconnected your grounding.”
The girl knew something about electricity, that was for sure. Very unusual. “Just be careful. I don't need you getting killed.”
While he lay there, trying to regain his strength, she inspected the Tesla coil and the bank of oscillators. “Ah. I see how you designed these,” she murmured. “You added a feedback loop here. Very clever.”
He blinked the cobwebs out of his brain. “Miss Clara,” he began, trying to focus. “Did you rescue me so...so you could snoop in my work?”
“Sure.” She chuckled. “I'm fascinated with your experiments.”
“Is that right? Miss Eps, you walked off the job after three days. Did you just take that job so you could get a look at my lab?” He threw off the covers she had placed over his lap. “Perhaps you're a spy for one of my rivals. Who is it—Marconi?”
She turned to him with blazing eyes. “The devil with Marconi,” she cried. “It's
you
I'm interested in!” She came over cradling one of his large wireless bulbs between her palms, and a tear crept down her cheek. “Since I was 10 years old...all I wanted...all I
lived
for...was to meet
you,
sir.” She wiped at her eyes.
“Nikola Tesla—The Electrical Wizard!”
“Really?” he said in a faint voice. “Why?” He managed to sit up, clutching his sore chest.
“Don't try to get up. You got a knock on the head and an electric shock. Lie down and rest.”
“No. Not until I get some answers.” Though he still felt like hell, Niko called up all his strength to stay focused. “What are you doing here? You saved my life
twice
tonight. Why?”
“I was obligated. You saved
my
life.”
“I did? All I know is that you worked for me for three days, and then quit, right when I needed help. Very inconsiderate of you.”
But Clara had already gone off to set the teapot on his small burner. Niko lay back and watched her as she poked about his makeshift living quarters, searching for a cup and spoon.
“This is where you live, Mr. Tesla?” She turned to him with a pitying grin. “What happened to your fancy Waldorf Hotel suite?”
“I'm not answering any questions until you do, Miss Eps.”
“Suit yourself.” She put a cup of tea on the side table and sat across from him, clasping her hands around her knee and regarding him with the most intense, serious dark eyes. At least she wasn't showering him with hatred. Despite her baggy men's overalls and cap, now that Niko knew her identity he wondered how he had ever mistaken her for a boy.
“I idolized you, Mr. Tesla,” she said. “I saved every dime to buy all your books, every magazine article. I had questions...ideas. Suggestions for how you could do things. But you wouldn't have listened to a nobody like me—a mere girl. Would you?” Not getting an answer, she continued. “I thought if I got a job in your office...but when I finally met you, I had a...a disappointment. Did that ever happen to you? Someone you practically worshiped turned out to be a rude, arrogant son of a—”
“Indeed. That happened to me with Thomas Edison.”
“Well, that's what happened to me with
you.”
“But Clara...I never said a cross word to you!”
“No? They say you have a photographic memory. Try to remember what happened the day I left your office.”
Niko rubbed his forehead. “I...I was getting ready to go out to Colorado. I was preparing a shipment of copper wire.”
“And?” Her piercing eyes reflected light from the tiny bulb overhead.
“I...had a dispute with a vendor.”
“Yes? Go on.”
What could she be getting at, he wondered? “I ordered 100 spools of wire. I counted it and found the vendor had shorted me by one spool. I was furious. Time was of the essence!”