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“Sinnessteuersymphonie”
A tale of mad science in six movements, with coda © E.O. Costello, 2008 *****
MOVEMENT SIXTH: Allegro con fuoco Dear, dear Langford. You almost dropped the Necklace! It was only a matter of a few hoof-steps, and he was beside me, and behind me, on the sofa. The Necklace was warm to the touch as he slid it on, and then fastened it on the nape of my neck. “How does that feel?” “Heavenly.” “It suits you, my dear.” “You have, I’m sure, an idea how.” “Of course. It is to your brain what a pair of glasses is to a fur with myopia. But better! You will get stronger and stronger every day, every hour. Soon, you will have no need for it.” “Oh, dear. What a pity. And it is so beautiful. I love it.” “I’ve been a fool, and a complete fool.” “Langford! Nothing of the sort. It took hundreds of experiments to get something even as pathetically simple as a light-bulb to work, let alone something of the breath-taking scope of your work. The details of your journey are not important. You have…arrived!” “But there is still so much work to be done, so many refinements to make!” “Hmmmm. Perhaps. Fewer than you might imagine.” “How do you see that?” “It is a mere matter of reaching the tipping-point. I would suggest, for example, gathering a few furs from a bread-line.” “A bread-line? But what do they know of the Silver Note?” “Nothing…at first. You start them off with some kindness. Clean clothes, a hot meal, a soft bed. The traditional things.” “And a fur singing hymns, and preaching to them?” “In a manner of speaking. Nothing oppressive and dreary. Short, practical and to the point. When their minds are receptive – and a few dropouts here and there do not matter – you gather them together for a wonderful evening. Dinner, followed by a concert. In a hall carefully and strategically decorated in the best of taste. With the proper acoustics, of course, you would see to that.” “And that is when…?” “Yes, darling. We receive our first recruits. Recruits that bear no marks, inside or out. Clean, presentable furs. Fully functional. The kind of furs who will cheerfully do one’s bidding in return for an occasional treat. One whose dispensation is in your paws.” “Our paws.” “Mmmmm. How can I refuse? Yes, our paws. Our very safe paws.” “It sounds like slow progress, though.” “Oh? In these times? With furs hunched about their radios, fearful of where the bombs will fall next? No, no, I think something that gets results will have an immediate appeal. And results we shall get! Recruits to do our bidding, building on the work of their fellows. Ballet, not bullets. A theatre of art, not a theatre of war. There is no armour that can stop an idea, once it has achieved momentum. We can achieve a great symphony all of the furs in the world, each playing a part in harmony. A great symphony where minds are at the command of the maestro. A symphony of mind control.” “Slaves, yoked by kindness. Is it possible? I…confound it!” “What? What is the matter?” “Omega has slunk into the room. Pardon me, I shall deal with her impertinence and presumption and…” “Wait.” “Hmmm?” “No…no, in fact, her timing could not possibly be better. Oh, Langford, darling, I must ask you something. Say that you won’t refuse me.” “Refuse you, my mistress? How could I refuse you? What is it you wish?” “It is something very simple, but it demonstrates a point. I want you to give me Omega. For my very own.” “You…you want Omega? Whatever for? She’s a failed experiment.” “Is she?” “But she lacks some of the most elemental…ah. I see the look in your eyes. Very well, Omega is yours to dispose of as you see fit.” “Mmmmmmm, thank you, Langford. Now do watch…” A mere matter of a paw, stretched out, fingers dangling. “Omega! Come!” A clatter of paws, and a yellow gleam of eyes. “Who is your mistress, Omega? Who do you serve?” The result I of course expected. “Fascinating…” “Yes, I think we can say that the way she is kissing my paw and wagging her tail is sufficient answer, do you not think so, Langford?” Indeed, my paw is being well-washed, and I am very pleased with the expression of worship in her eyes. “And to your point…?” “Ah, yes. My point. It is the furs that are most without hope, whom life has forsaken, that are the most fertile ground for change. I believe any fur in Moscow, New Haven, Munich, Rome or any of a thousand cafes where revolutionaries gather would agree. But you see, it is not necessary to break another fur, to crush them, to win over your target fur. And then, that other fur in its turn becomes your target. And so on.” A gentle lean forward, a stroke of the headfur, and a kiss willingly given to a loyal slave. “You are the first to kneel in front of me, Omega: you shall not be the last. But only you, out of all of the millions of furs, will be part of me. You cannot have an Alpha without an Omega. Show that you love your mistress, Omega.” And she did, willingly, with a kiss in return. “I am very pleased with you, Omega. We will discuss the particulars of your service later. For now, seat yourself at that sofa, and watch your mistress.” My order was complied with instantly, and soon she was curled up a few feet away, watching me with glowing and eager eyes. “I yield the point to you, my dear.” “Mmmmm. The proper scientific mind. Willing to change the theory when fresh data comes in.” “But all of what you say requires long journeys…” “Heavens, no! Why, there are the Spontoons nearby. I know they have a perfectly ghastly avian there who owns a rather powerful radio-transmitter. More to the point, they have their own symphony orchestra. It would be kind to call it a work in progress.” “In the Spontoons? I had not the slightest idea.” “I am sure reason, and a substantial cheque, can smooth things out quite nicely. As well as make the necessary improvements. Why, you only need an intermediary or two. One of the local lawyers will do. And there is so much traffic there in and out. I can speak to that point. Our acolytes can cycle in and out with ease, spreading the music to the four winds.” “You do not sound eager to travel for yourself, Alatheia.” A nice, leisurely, languid stretch. “But, Langford, why on Earth would anyfur wish to leave this wonderful place? You have all the facilities you need for your research, plus colleagues willing to help you.” “But what of you, hmmm?” “What of me? Hmmm…well, all I need is within paw’s reach. A well-trained staff of slaves, stimulating friends, beautiful clothes, delicious meals…” “Your facilities sound far more interesting than mine.” Langford has such a lovely chest. Firm support. Broad shoulders. Soft ears. “Perhaps.” A turn of the head, and the raising of the paw. “You don’t need these, for example.” Langford, like a good little fawn, let me unsnap and remove his goggles. Such pretty blue eyes he has. Cool and inviting, like a lake. “What else do I not require when experimenting in your facilities, then?” Such strong paws, too. He wants to know more, too. “You do not require a name, other than…’Master.’” There was no sound in the room, since everything had slowed to a complete stop. Which is why the shriek had such an explosive impact. *****
Langford and I turned to the source of the noise. There, standing in the doorway of the Music Room, was Beta. Dressed for a dinner that would be hers neither tonight, nor ever again. She knew it, as all of us did. The proof of it was before her eyes, and her impotent rage was apparent. She shrieked again, shaking from ear to foot, her long red head-fur trembling and tossing.. Langford gently put me aside, and scrambled to his hooves in a fury. “How dare you, Beta! How DARE you! You defy my order to remain sequestered…” *SHRIEK* “…and you dare not only spy upon me, but actively seek to disrupt…” *SHRIEK* “…affairs that have not the SLIGHTEST relevance to you…” *SHRIEK* “Stop this infernal noise at once, do you hear?” *SHRIEK* “Beta, I warn you for the last time, you will be severely punished…!” The buck took a step to rein in Beta, who had lost all semblance of self-control. Langford, by contrast, was a pillar of coolness, only his flagging tail and raised voice giving vent to his entirely justifiable anger. Beta stormed ahead, evading his grasp, and went to the orchestral platform. She began to flail her paws about, knocking over chairs, grasping instruments, and smashing them to the floor. “COMMAND 7246!” If there was any effect on Beta it was only to goad her to fresh heights of anger. She seized a large cello, and with blows from her foot shattered into matchwood. I turned my eyes. Omega, my precious, had not forgotten my orders to her. Her eyes were flicking from me to Beta, watching as the lepine engaged in her whirlwind of pointless destruction. “COMMAND 7246!” Beta tilted her head back, her eyes rolling, and heaved a tremendous scream that filled the room. It was sufficient to drive her to tear apart the kettle drum, shredding the skins and bending the metal with a shriek scarcely less violent than her own. Omega crouched, hackles raised and tail lowered. I held my own paw out, flat, to signal her. I did not want to interfere with whatever Langford was deciding to do with his recalcitrant slave. Omega saw my signal (wonderful intelligence!) and remained poised. Langford stood opposite Beta. He pointed a finger in the direction of her chest, which was heaving frantically and spasmodically. “You give me no alternative, Beta. I have warned you repeatedly that this is unacceptable. I shall summon your colleagues. You have passed the point of no return. This is the end. I am sorry, Beta. Truly sorry.” Beta slowed her breathing, and crouched slightly. Her lips peeled back from her teeth. It was clear that there was going to be the tocsin, produced by the Organ. Indeed, it could not be otherwise, and Beta knew it. He had already turned to seal her fate. That is why she grabbed the heavy, cast-iron conductor’s stand, and with a strength that belied her femininity, but was born of shattered dreams, she hurled it at Langford. He heard her yell of exertion, and reflexively dropped to the side, the heavy object missing his body by scant inches. The stand struck the floor, leaving a gaping wound in the wood. Spinning from the strength of the throw, it flew upward and beyond. It then struck the Organ, producing a blue flash, and a shower of red and yellow sparks, which lit up Langford’s face, revealing a look of horror. The same lights lit up Beta’s face. A look of unholy glee twisted it, distorting it nearly beyond recognition. A mad scream of laughter erupted, indicating that she knew full well what she had done. And then, after she had finished her unearthly exultation, her eyes turned to me. It was clear what she wanted, and who she blamed for all her troubles. She tensed, and leaped, her fingers outstretched and crooked to grasp my throat and tear it apart, sinew from sinew. Her snarl was met by another snarl, as Omega herself leaped, and smashed into the rabbit just as the outstretched fingers grazed my throat. The force of the collision carried the duo to the sofa, crushing it into pieces and hurling the two to the floor, where they were locked into struggle. A struggle to the Death, between bravery and courage on the one paw, and maddened, frustrated lust and rage on the other. Teeth were bared, claws flashed, and eyes blazed. I dared not intervene, as I had no way of knowing whether a struck blow would hit friend or foe. My place was with my darling. “Langford!” “Keep clear, Alatheia! No, wait! The trapdoor! Open it and tell me what you see!” I did as he commanded, and looked. The Tesla Sphere was spinning and glowing as I had seen it before, but the Babbage Engine was operating under stresses it had not been designed for. The gears were spinning in a blur, and there was a wisp of smoke issuing from one of the upper corners. I relayed this. “Tell me all you see, Alatheia. I must relieve the stress. Let Omega do her work! What do you see?” My darling knew that machine better than any other fur, and he was turning dials and moving switches with paws that were mere blurs. I could only have confidence that he knew what he was doing. It gave me heart, so I continued to describe how the Babbage Engine stood the strain. The gears were shrieking like a locomotive in a high-speed curve, competing with the noises from behind me. “Alatheia! Come here at once and hold this light-sphere!” I rushed to his side, and held it as he wished, while he pulled socket wires and reconnected them, rerouting the power. The Organ’s lights were starting to flicker, but it was still holding, still putting out its steady heart-beat of the Control Melody. “So much damage…perfidy, complete perfidy! If I can just divert…Darling, the seventh switch on the console…” “Marked ‘Tone Compensator,’ coloured green.” “Exactly. Throw the switch twice…yes, yes…good. Once more. Very good. Now, quickly, the switch next to it…good.” He extricated himself from underneath the Organ, and took the light-sphere from my paw. “We shall see if that will hold. I dislike improvisation. On the other paw, when there is another set of paws to assist…paws that are capable…” He could have struck me with a live wire, the way he said those words. Wonderful…but why is it so…? There was silence from the opposite side of the room, from beyond the shattered remains of the sofa. Langford followed my gaze…and then followed my form, as I hurried over. Beta was dead, lying sprawled and face-down like a broken and discarded doll, with her neck at an unnatural angle. Justice delayed, but not denied. Omega was also face down, but her tail was slowly moving. “Omega! Omega! Come to your mistress! Let your mistress see you!” She did not obey. I could not believe that this would be of her own volition. My Omega would NEVER disobey her mistress. I knelt beside her and turned her over. A thin trickle of blood was seeping from the corner of her mouth, sliding down the line of her jaw to her throat. It was then that I saw that that fiend had taken a piece of brass, and had driven into my Omega’s body, with a last act of treachery, malice and envy. It was all I could do to gather her in my arms, and put her head on my lap. I knew that stroking her ears and headfur could do nothing, but anything was better than simply watching mutely. Her lips were moving soundlessly. I bent down closer. “Speak, Omega. Please speak to your mistress.” Through half-closed eyes, she swallowed and opened her mouth.. From somewhere deep within her, she summoned strength. “Mistress…” There was a small, fresh surge of blood through her lips. I had little time, but there was only one thing that I could do, only one way I could show my love. “Omega. I give you your freedom. Take this gift.” There was one last effort from her. She squeezed my paw. “Mistress.” And there was no more. She did not, and could not, have heard my wail of grief, or felt my tears. *****
How long it was that I was there, and held Omega against me, I could not say. It doesn’t matter. I felt a paw on my shoulder. “Come away, Alatheia. Let her sleep. You have done everything that could decently be expected of a fur.” I looked up at Langford, and then down again at Omega. What had I done for Omega? “If it is of any importance, you should know this: for all my hauteur and hubris, I would not have thought to allow Omega to draw a last breath as a free fur. I stand shamed.” I looked up again. “Oh, Langford, she’s gone…” “I know. Come away. There is much of importance to discuss.” I laid Omega on the floor, straightened her and crossed her paws over her chest. The cover for the cello had been torn away in Beta’s rage, but there was a proper purpose for it in the end. Omega would have her modesty. Langford let me complete this task, and then gently led me away by the arm. “My dear, what has happened here tonight has put an end to our dreams, our plans. They cannot be.” It was an effort not to burst into tears again. “No. No, Langford. More than ever, it makes me want to go forward. There must never be another Beta. Ever. What we wish, we can accomplish. Through science.” “What we wish, my dear, will never be accomplished.” I looked up, surprised at this tone of voice. “Does…no, did Omega affect you that much?” He looked down at his hooves. “I feel remorse for my actions, do not mistake that. That she chose to die defending you, and not me, is indictment enough. And I am guilty.” “Then…then why…?” “Listen.” I did. “Langford, I don’t hear anything.” “Listen…and think.” “But darling, there’s nothing to listen to here…” “…” I could feel my stomach clench, and the bile rise in my throat. “No.” “Yes.” I moved him aside, and took some running steps forward. The Organ was dark and silent. The glowing dials, the underlit keyboard. All staring back, dead. “Cascading gear failure in the Babbage Engine. The stress of compensating for fluctuating power flows and blocked relays in the Organ was too much. I did not wish to interrupt your mourning for something that, in the final analysis, is not as important.” “The Control Melody!” A sad shrug of the shoulders. “There is nothing that can be done, my dear.” I tore open the trapdoor, and looked down. The Tesla Sphere still glowed, and it showed scorch marks on the surface of the Babbage Engine. The glowing wires leading from it were dark. “Tools. TOOLS! Langford, I can fix this. I can strip down aircraft engines! I’ve repaired engines in places forsaken by any shard of civilization. Give me tools, please!” “Tools, we have. Spare parts, we have.” “Then what is the obstacle?!” From below my feet, faintly at first, but growing louder in volume, came a roar. It must have been like the sound a fur would have heard in the gladiatorial arenas of Rome. Pent-up rage, hatred, and…lust for blood. “Had we sufficient time, Alatheia, I would have been content to bear a tray of tools for you. But that is one luxury that this house does not possess.” The roar was accompanied by the sound of stamping and smashing. “Weapons?” “None. Nor command words. Even if there were command words for the dozens of furs belowstairs, you yourself have seen twice that they are of little effect. One fur I could control, perhaps. Two? Maybe. But the entire mass, that is impossible.” I looked around the room, focusing on the piano. “It would require three pianists of consummate skill to even duplicate the Control Melody. And there would still be the problem of broadcasting it.” There were louder sounds, indicating that whatever was belowstairs was being destroyed in a passion. “Your foresight, incidentally, in sending away your maids was admirable.” “We can call for help…” “I am afraid the mixture of distance, narrow roads, and above all, self-interest on the part of any would-be rescuers makes that possibility unavailable.” I couldn’t think of anything else for the moment. “Darling…how long…how long do we have?” “Well, the building still has power, of course, so I have deployed the emergency fire and asbestos gates. The area belowstairs is sealed off. For now.” “For now?” A rhythmic pounding soon manifested itself. “That, I believe, indicates that some of the staff has encountered the first level of doors.” “But how long do we have?” “I would estimate that I have something in the range of twenty minutes at the low end, forty minutes at the upper end.” “…” “You find fault in my calculations?” “I find fault in the conclusion drawn from them. I distinctly asked you how long do we have.” “There is no error in the conclusion. I will die, and you will live.” He stated this so calmly that it staggered me, and I had to brace myself against the dead Organ. “No.” “If you will allow me…” “NO.” “Alatheia…” I do not conceal the fact that my own self-control was lost. Not in anger or in rage, but in the madness of longing. “No!!! You can’t send me away, Langford! Not now! You can’t!” “It must be, Alatheia…” I got on my knees in front of him. “I can’t let you die alone, darling! I won’t let you. Let me be with you…we can go down together, side by side, at the end…please, Langford, don’t refuse me!” For the first time, I saw something cross his face. His jaw shook, and his first words, after a long silence, came through in a strained voice. “For the second time, Alatheia, you shame me. To refuse an offer such as that is indecent. But refuse it I must. I have my reasons. Please. Don’t fall to your knees. Come here.” He took me by my arms and lifted me up, gently, and then held me to him. “I bear responsibility for all that has happened. The furs that are coming were my creations, my work. I, and I alone, must bear responsibility for when they run amok. To flee like a coward would spell the end of everything. I will sacrifice pride. I will sacrifice dignity. I will even sacrifice life. I will not sacrifice honour.” He reached up, and stroked my head-fur, and the backs of my ears. “And I won’t sacrifice you, my dear. I hold you at the same level I hold my honour.” “But we had so few hours together...how could that be?” “How long does it take, Alatheia, to realize you have heard the Silver Note?” “It’s…well…it’s just there. It is. When I felt it last night, when I was holding…holding the Necklace.” I brought my paw up to it and touched it. “Just so. I had initially written you off, Alatheia, as just another unlucky off-islander, an ordinary fur. How fortunate I was that my initial impressions were so wrong. A unique combination. When I spoke this morning of the quality of mercy you have, I underestimated things. It is clear to me that deep within yourself, you have something that I lack, and will never have. Your gesture to Omega is confirmation of that.” He gently reached down and lifted my chin. “If there is any creation I can claim credit for…even if it is only being lucky enough to have engineered the right conditions…it is you.” A gentle nuzzle. Under other circumstances…circumstances without the rhythmic “DOOM” of a mob crashing against doors…it would be heaven. “Forget our discussion earlier, about grandiose, bombastic plans. Slaves, mind control symphonies, everything. Castles in Spain, the lot of it. It is, as all plans of that ilk should be, doomed to failure. I see it now. The penalty for playing at one of the Gods, is to be struck down by those whose company you desire in your foolishness to join.” “You are better than that, and I’m sure you will prove it. I want to give you that chance. Please, please take it. You gave Omega her freedom. Please let me give you yours.” I put my face into his chest and began to cry again. “Darling, please. I will turn the question on you. Are you going to refuse me?” “I know you are brave. You were of two minds when you came down tonight. But you stayed to see it through. It would inspire me, I’m sure, in the end. But two against a hundred is little better than one against a hundred, and to waste a young life, full of promise, is another.” Langford let me go, and walked over to my overnight bag. He held it out to me. “Sixty’s fishing boat is at the dock, around the terrace, and down the hill. It is a standard fishing boat, with nothing eldritch, nothing in it that would frighten another fisherfur. Little beyond the radio receiver from he receives…received…the Control Melody. You can take it safely, and there are islands within range that are reachable.” “But you must hurry. What is beyond the garden…it can sense things. Just like a predator knows the weakest of the herd will soon fall behind and be alone, they will sense things here. The glyphs at the top of the wall will not hold it back. It seeks warmth. Once you leave, you must not stop. Not for one instant, not for anything. Don’t look back.” I could only see him through a blur of tears. I could nod, and I could take the bag, both of which I did, but my heart was not in it. There was no convincing him, I could see. And I had no argument that could counteract his unshakeable logic. He was, of course, right. But the truth can be so painful. For both of us. There was a long silence between us, broken by a large crash and the roar of a mob. The first obstacle breached. My darling thought deeply, flagging, and then opened his eyes. “Alatheia? Come over to the piano.” I blinked through the haze of tears, and he beckoned to me. I followed as he picked through the debris on the floor, and retrieved a metronome. He set it upon the Schweinway, and gently set it in motion. Tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick, tick-tick. “My dear, what I would like you to do is close your eyes. Follow along with your mind.” He sat next to me, and I could feel one of his arms brush me. There was a brief pause, and then he began to play. It was an unfamiliar melody, but that was not the only reason it was refreshing. No, it was not a Silver Note, but it put me in mind of the Day Room, with the sun streaming in and soft ragtime music. “Now, you play it.” He held my paws, and placed them over the keys. I could see the notes in my mind, as I had done last night, passing more slowly this time. I followed along in their wake, repeating their message. It drowned out all of the other noises in the room. But not the sensation that there was somefur next to me. The notes ran out, and the melody came to an end. “There will be times, Alatheia, when you will awake in the middle of the night, and there is no one there. Or there will be disappointment, even injustice, that you are going to have to suffer. It’s the lot of every fur. When you feel those sensations, don’t let the rage or sorrow eat away at you. Find an instrument. If you cannot find an instrument, play the music inside your head. I will be beside you then, as I am beside you now. As long as you can hear the melody, I will be there.” He reached out, and stilled the metronome. Tick-tick, tick-. He got up from beside me on the piano bench. He walked over to the sofa debris, and from it, he picked out his goggles. He fastened them around his head, hiding his eyes. I don’t think he wanted me to see them. He held his shoulders and rack erect, and walked from the room without looking back, turning left toward the Day Room. It was time for me to go. *****
The trouble was, while I had some idea of how the grounds were laid out, I had omitted to ask Langford precisely the route to use. And his warning regarding the flora…or perhaps fauna… seemed particularly ominous. Though not as ominous as the increasingly louder pounding that I was hearing. The terrace, as I recalled from yesterday morning, was through the dining room. Which seemed fairly convenient, as it was straight ahead. The shortest distance between two points… I had almost left the dining room, when I realized that I was overlooking something potentially important. The sideboard was there. While it was bare on top, the inside had possibilities. Which came to fruition, as the cutlery drawer was there. One steak knife for the paw, two others for the bag, as well as a fork and a spoon. The cabinet beneath held an unopened jar of Buckhorn’s Original Dill Pickles, and some bars of Swiss chocolate. I am sure Langford would not mind. On a small stand near the door to the terrace lay a light-sphere. This required some juggling to keep knife and bag in one paw, and sphere in the other, but it was soon accomplished. Perhaps just in time. At that moment, the lights in the mansion failed. Some faint lights came up where the walls met the floor, but the lights in the garden were now dark. While leaving the mansion by the terrace door was a good first step, it was the only step that was clearly indicated. Wouldn’t it be a better idea if you let me take over, now? Oh. Oh, it’s you. Yeah. Nice con job you pulled on me back there, sport. I’m…I’m sorry. Infirm of purpose, give me the god-damned wheel. Yes, yes of course. Please. Take charge. Okeh. There was the sound of the ocean off to my left, and off to my right, I could see the gate, which was still glowing, but flickering in a way that I didn’t particularly like, and was not about to find out particulars regarding, thank you. I saw the area where I had eaten breakfast, and knew that one way was the garden path. So the other was probably the ocean path. The stairs were broad, though that was perhaps how they started. Dunno how they were going to end. Keep moving, keep moving. That’s what Mr. Forrester said, and I was pretty convinced that was a damn good idea. It would have been better had I taken the time to change into khakis, instead of running around in a black velvet dress, but maybe it would help hide me in the dark. And whistling past graveyards works too, I hear. The steps slowly curved around the side of the mansion, and now, I was guessing, I was pretty much under the library windows. Not much time to get bearings, but keeping moving and shifting my head helped. I heard a loud splintering, followed by hissing, that came around from the front of the house, which I hoped to hell meant that it was just a gas leak somewhere. Keep moving, Allie, keep moving. I was down a little further, when I could see it. The windows on the main level were beginning to shake, and when a few of the panels busted, you could hear it loud and clear. A good, hard, thumping, like a big heavy weight against another big heavy weight. Keep moving, for God’s sake… Just my luck, the path branched off in two directions, and I really would like to have killed the guy who planned this. I did stutter steps in both directions, and kept my ears twitching. Hissing and booming, neither of which helped. I ran like hell down one path, making a guess, which turned out to be the wrong one. It ended about twenty yards down, with a little bench. Rest? No way, not now. I was losing time, and I knew it. Back to the crossroads, but at least I knew where I was going. I had just gotten there when there was a huge crash, and a pane of glass came flying through the air and landed somewhere in the bushes. I looked up, in spite of myself. Most of what I could see was the library, and there were furs running around through it. With torches in their paws, setting fire to everything. And that library had a lot of nice fuel in it. It didn’t take long before there was smoke curling out the shattered panes, whose numbers were growing as furniture was defenestrated. I had just turned down what I hoped was the right path when I felt it. A little tickle around my ankle. I thought it was my hem, and if it had been, I would have been a lot better off. It was when something reached for the light-sphere in my paw, that I realized I was in trouble. It had found me. It got a hold of the light sphere, and yanked hard, grabbing it away. Just before it vanished, I could see that it was being swallowed by something that looked a lot like a bush. A few seconds later, I could feel more of it, sliding over my legs. I could still move, but it kept tripping me, and making a grab for me. It finally got me a few steps later, by the tip of my tail and my right ankle, and lifted me up in the air like I weighed nothing, holding me dangling. More tendrils began to snake over me, and I soon realized they were searching for a way to get in. Frustrated by the dress, they decided there was only one thing to do. Get rid of it. The thing made one mistake…two, actually. One was that it was hell-bent on stripping me naked to get at what, I really didn’t want to know. The other was that it didn’t go for my wrists and paws. I was interested to know that steak knives work quite well on motorized vegetables, too. Something that my little friend found out as well. It had too many tendrils tangled up in velvet material (or what was left of it), and not enough tendrils on offence. It was touch and go for about a minute, but then I was saved, of all things, by the rebellion above me. The dining room, which jutted out toward the sea, was in a mass of flames, bright orange flames that were curling through the glass, and sending up dark smoke into the sky. The thing must have weighed the relative merits of my warmth versus this warmth, and broke off the attack. I was minus a light-sphere, one high-heel, and my dress. But I still had my bag, my knife, and my dignity, not necessarily in that order. I kicked the other high-heel away (no Parthian shots at the thing), and took off down the path. Thankfully, Capability Brown or whoever didn’t leave any more tricks for me. A nice path, only a few curves, and there was the dock in front of me. Sixty was a trusting soul. The boat was tied up, but the key was in the ignition. Well, I have enough trouble finding my keys, and half my brain hasn’t been erased, least not as far as I can tell. Running like hell back and forth on the dock allowed me to collar a ten-gallon can of what I hoped was gas, and some coiled rope. And a towel. You should never be without a towel. I considered the justice of this when I looked down and found myself dressed in just a bra, panties, garter belt and stockings, which seemed like a pretty stupid outfit for sailing. I threw on the khaki shorts and the khaki shirt, slapped my footpads into boots, and prayed that I wouldn’t run into anyfur from Women’s Wear Daily on the trip out. Which I wanted to start, fast. “Come on…come on…come on…” The engine didn’t want to turn over, and I was keeping one eye on the dock, in case my friend decided to get thirsty or bored with the riot above, which seemed to be in full swing. I did chance a look up. I could see the Day Room at the end, and there was just one point of light in there. It was standing still, and it was near the window, on a glass wall side facing the dock area. That put a lump in my throat, and made me pray all the harder. “Come on…for God’s sake…” KAROOOOOOOOOOOM! THUD-FUD-FUD-THUD-FUD-FUD-THUD-FUD-FUD Sixty, luckily, was not only trusting, he believed in simple knots, and I cast off. Without any charts handy, it was going to be by guess and by God as to how I was going to get away. I wasn’t even sure what side of Cranium Island I was on. But “away” sounded like a good direction. I figured a run of about five minutes would get me a mile or so away. As it turned out, I couldn’t bring myself to run that far. I put the wheel around, and slowed to a stop at a point where I could still make out the features of the mansion pretty clearly. The fire was pretty well advanced by now. The dome that formed the ceiling of the Music Room was still pretty much intact, but there was a reddish glow inside it, and I could see the roof was sagging in parts. The dining room, on what was the far left from my point of view, had already collapsed. The Day Room, on the far right, was hanging in there, though I bet it was taking a hell of a beating. I could see chunks of glass glinting as they dropped off it, and it was shaking. The slaves weren’t waiting to hear the door-click. There was still the one point of light that I could barely make out. It was now in the back of the Day Room, against the far wall. There was one last shudder, and then I could see the Day Room flooded with light from dozens of torches. I could see Forrester standing there, his rack clearly picked out by the light, and he was standing there, arms folded across his chest, glaring at the slaves. The roar carried across the water, and I could see the sea of flame lunge toward him. It was soon drowned out by a loud shrieking noise. No, not like Beta’s. It’s a sound no pilot likes to hear. The sound of metal, failing. The Day Room jerked downward, violently, and as the contents of the Day Room fell forward, it jerked downward again. It bounced once off the cliff face, about a third of the way up, and then again about half-way down, sending bits of flame and material everywhere. With one, final, resounding crash, it plunged to the rocks below. I didn’t feel any heat on my face, not at that distance, but I did feel a peculiar sensation of air being sucked in, and the fishing boat slew a few yards toward the shore. It felt like a good moment to duck, and I dropped to the deck and kept my head down. There was a brilliant flash, and I could see the inside of my eyelids, even as they were covered by my paws. The weird thing was that there was no noise. And I hadn’t lost my hearing, because I could hear the water slapping against the side of the boat, and my own breathing. I counted Five Mississippi, and when the light had grown less intense, I looked over the side. The part of the mansion that had been above-ground, wasn’t. All there was, was a bright electric ring of fire that was shooting toward the sky, faster than the pillar of brilliant blue fire that stabbed up into the night sky. I watched, and after about a minute, the ring faded into the night, and the pillar of light collapsed like the water in a fountain. Soon, there was nothing to see, but the occasional flicker of orange fire from the rocks, and nothing to hear but the occasional fall of metal or glass into the sea. Not counting, of course, the sound of one cat crying. *****
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