Arcadia Snips and the Steamwork Consortium by Robert Rodgers Read Free Book Online Page A

manner of attack," William quickly explained. "There may still remain several possible ways to disable it—"

    "I understand your desires, Mr. Daffodil, but must I remind you once again of the dangers of reckless mathematics?" Mr. Eddington said. He stepped up to the board, glaring at the equations. "This is absolute drivel—pure madness.
    Incomprehensible babble. Are you attempting to follow in the footsteps of your parents, Mr. Daffodil?"
    William nearly became a statue; only his eyebrow moved, twitching in a steady rhythm. "No. Of course not. Not at all," he said, his voice sliced open and drained of its strength.

    "Because I would hope that you, of all people, would know the disastrous consequences inherent in practicing mad mathematics, Mr. Daffodil. After all, it is only a small step from mad maths to mad science ."
    William cleared his throat. "With your indulgence, sir, we must first understand the enemy if we are to defeat him."
    Mr. Eddington sighed. "How does your work on the engine go?"
    "Very well," William said. "We're nearly complete. We just need the data from the banks and we'll be ready to make a test run of it."
    "Mr. Tweedle is seeing to it that it is shipped here tonight across the pipes," Mr. Eddington said. "In the meanwhile, Mr. Daffodil, please return to your work. And see to it that this—" he pointed at the wall of equations. "—is erased immediately."
    William's left eyebrow twitched yet again. Regardless, he obediently nodded. Mr. Eddington turned and headed back to his office.
    Shortly after the administrator had left, William fetched a damp rag with which to obliterate his work. But as he lifted it up to his equations, the mathematician paused—he was struck by the sudden silence. The constant chatter outside was absent; the steady hum of the calculation engine next door had inexplicably stopped.
    William pinched his eyebrows together and sat the rag down, poking his head out of the workshop.
    No one was present. William frowned, walking out.
    "Um. Hullo?"

    His voice echoed through the lobby.
    "That is odd," he said, and then he noticed the clock mounted above the lobby's exit.
    It seemed to be broken. The second hand struggled valiantly to usher in the next moment, but could not get past the three. Instead, it would tremble with effort before snapping back to the point where it had rested an instant prior.
    William watched, perplexed, as the hand fought to move forward. It gave another spasm, and then sprang a second backwards.
    "Mr. Daffodil?"
    William nearly jumped out of his clothes. At once, the world was precisely as it should be; he was swimming in noise, surrounded by researchers going about their daily business. The engine rumbled beneath his feet, and one of his fellow engineers stood beside him. The clock's second hand was ticking merrily along, having long left the three behind.
    "Is something wrong, Mr. Daffodil?"
    Fearing he might be going mad, William shook his head.
    "No. Not at all. Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfectly rational and fine," he said, and then he marched right back into his office and locked the door.
    ~*~
    Mr. Tweedle was waiting for Eddington in the Steamwork administrator's office.
    "This is a disaster," Mr. Tweedle said, pacing back and forth over the expensive rug. "A catastrophe! He'll discover what we're up to. And then we'll go to prison!"
    "We're not going to prison," Mr. Eddington said.
    "I hope that they give me a cell with a nice view," Mr. Tweedle said, worrying away at the corners of his boring hat.
    "Perhaps with a tree. Do you think they have trees in prison? I hope they have trees."
    "Be quiet," Mr. Eddington snapped. "No one is going to prison."

    Mr. Tweedle grew quiet, watching Mr. Eddington with a look of desperation. The administrator sighed and reached into the bottom of his desk for a flask of spirits.
    "Let us assume that, for the sake of argument, that you and I are engaged in some... 'questionable' activity. Merely for the sake