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Description
“Oh what is it this time?”
“Why Anna! I just happened to be on a stroll towards Tytheshire, round abouts The Heathlanes, and remembered, ‘Why, it’s not far to my dear friend Annabelle’s, perhaps I could scam a cup of tea off of her.’”
“I’ve never known you to walk, Charles. You once called it, ‘A pointless convention of a by-gone era.’”
“Well, you have to understand—”
“It’s another one of those inventions, isn’t it. I’m very busy you know.”
“Why yes, I have been inventing, thank you for asking. You see, I’ve been working on an artificial sense of humor and good cheer, and I’d believe you might be the ideal—”
“Oh, just come inside will you.”

Charles crossed his legs, then, noticing that this drew the silent attention of the other two in the room, uncrossed them and straightened his posture. He sighed without meaning to, then took a very deliberate sip of Miss Annabelle Harnby’s chinese tea, which he despised. He threw her a squinting glance, the kind she always mistook for a cryptic flirtation, though he wasn’t even sure what the look was supposed to signify in the first place. The truth of the matter was he was bored.
“Mister Yaewer,” said the other occupant, Mister Barker, a well-to-do man of forgettable import. “I’m afraid young Anna has not spoke of you before. What is it that you do?” Mister Barker’s mustache twitched while he spoke, as if it caused him great irritation to ask such a question.
“Oh, why, I’m currently working on the electro-mechanization of crypto-occult matters. That’s the short of it, anyhow. I’ve just completed some work on a new device that—”
“You’re one of those inventors,” the man said, with some half-suppressed disdain. He might have been frowning, but his mustache and chubby face made it difficult to tell if that was simply the way he naturally looked.
“Yes, I ‘invent’ as the newspapers like to say.”
“My nephew wants to be an inventor.”
“Oh does he now? What fields of inquiry?
“He’s seven.”
“Ah.” Charles picked up his cup of tea and looked at it suspiciously. He set it on the table and added another cube, stirred and watched the sugar clump undissolved at the bottom of the teacup. He took another sip, a little less terrible than the last. He looked up at Anna who was still eyeing him accusingly, then to the other gentleman, cautiously adding some cream to the dreadful beverage.
“Mister Brewer was just telling me about his work at the bank,” said Miss Harnby, her words clanging emptily against the indifferent silence of the two gentlemen.
“Oh is that right,” said Charles, not even looking towards Mister Barker. For someone who’d spent his life examining the natural and metaphysical properties of the universe, the world of bureaucracy was one he barely understood.
“He was just telling me that they’d extended a new line of credit to the Sultan of Ryiti. I believe you’ve traveled there?”
“Of course I have,” said Charles, sounding more curt than he’d meant to. “A number of years ago, when I was commissioned to investigate the bronze automatons supposedly built in the fourth century.”
“You refer, I believe, to the devilry of those Shining Soldiers,” said Mister Barker, with a certain smugness. “There was a piece about it in the Beckenridge Journal. The Sultan was very proud of it.”
Charles waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, the journal article. Dr. Brommer came to discuss those with me, after I’d returned from my travels. When I told him they were likely replicas built only some fifty years ago, we had a bit of a quarrel, but I see he’s found his audience.”
“Replicas?” asked Miss Harnby.
“Certainly. No less amazing, mind you. Mechanical miracles, really, I should very much like to find out who had made them. Of course, the gears were cut far too precisely to have been hand-made as they would have been, but supposing, even then that the ancient Tikgeli had built those particular mechamen, it’s doubtful they would have spoken Arabic in any form.”
“They spoke?”
“Oh, yes. Dreadfully boring creatures, really. But they did help me with some of the issues of metaphysical transferrence that I was dealing with at the time.”
“I don’t follow you, sir,” said Mister Barker, somewhat less gruffly.
“Oh, it was merely… erm… Well, in layman’s terms, I supposed it would be the transfer of the soul from one vessel to another. Of course, nothing is quite so simple, and there are many different—”
Mister Barker’s face went pale. In one gulp he downed his tea.
“I’ve forgotten, I really should be going. If you’ll excuse me. Miss Anna.” He bowed and left the room, forgetting his gloves and the rest of his biscuit.
Charles sat back in his chair, looking exhausted. Anna wore a wearied look. He forced a smile at her until she returned it.
“Not important business I hope,” he said.
“Just more to do with my father’s estate,” she replied, glumly. “And what is your real purpose today?”
“I need your assistance. It’s a new machine.”
“Untested, of course. Can you at least divulge, say, the intention behind the monstrosity, before I submit myself for experimentation?”
“Well, that would spoil the effect, I would say.”
“Yes, you would say. But please, Charles, at least tell the truth - how long must I postpone my engagements? I can’t be held up in your lab for weeks while you attempt to regrow my legs again.”
“And how are your new legs?”
“Much the same as the old ones, which I’ll remind you are still missing. I assume you’ve given up that project.”
“Until I can secure further funding, yes they will remain in a half-dimensional space. But I assure you, once I have the economic means, for which I do have a plan, let me assure you, I can return to that and many of the other discoveries that require only further experimentation.”
“And whatever happened to that benefactor, the Mister Barnaby?”
“Well, the last I had heard, his zeppelin had burst into flames over the arctic. I sent an invitation that he could come by and recount the tragedy, so that perhaps I could improve the design for the next model, but he has not returned the inquiry.”
“How thoughtless of him.”
“I do hear he is very busy.”
“And when did you send the invitation?”
“Last year.”
“Ah.”
“Oh,” he said, a grin working its way across his narrow cheeks, “I must have forgotten to tell you.” He reached into his pocket and produced a small gold circlet with an inset green gem. He set it down on the table. “I’ve finished the piece you asked for.”
“I don’t remember … what did I ask you?”
“Oh, some months ago we were at one of those awful parties that your uncle throws, and I was mentioning that I’ve found a way to localize the Hobson field, creating ‘pockets’ within real space. You, graciously, were willing to oblige.”
“Did I now,” said Anna bemusedly, picking up the circlet. “I don’t suppose you’ll explain much more than that, will you?”
“It is designed to fit on the forearm — perfect,” said Charles as she slid it to where it fit, just a couple inches below her left elbow. “The gem, an imitation emerald, should rotate.”
She twisted the gem. The circlet began to glow, yellow to orange, as if heating up. The glow slowly spread down her forearm. Her glance went from her own hand to meet her companion’s eyes. He smiled as if to suggest this effect was intended.
The light continued its way down her arm, until it reached her fingers. For a moment, nothing else happened. Then it started to fade - not merely the glow, but her hand wrist, and arm up to the circlet. About two seconds passed before Anna lifted up the stump of her arm and looked at it angrily.
“I should’ve guessed it was something like this.”
“It’s been thoroughly tested by my assistant.”
“Has it now. I’m surprised poor Eliza has anything left of her really.”
“Oh, she’s quite enthusiastic about this.”
“And, forgive me for worrying about this Charles, but where do the disappeared articles go?”
“The other end of the Hobson field. You see, the circlet is merely linked through what I’ve been calling ‘between space’ or perhaps ‘innerspace.’ So, that is to say, your arm and hand should be safe back in the laboratory.”
“You know, sometimes I really can’t believe you.”
“I do know. But, to appease for the inconvenience, perhaps I can offer you transportation. My carriage awaits.”

Description
“Oh what is it this time?”
“Why Anna! I just happened to be on a stroll towards Tytheshire, round abouts The Heathlanes, and remembered, ‘Why, it’s not far to my dear friend Annabelle’s, perhaps I could scam a cup of tea off of her.’”
“I’ve never known you to walk, Charles. You once called it, ‘A pointless convention of a by-gone era.’”
“Well, you have to understand—”
“It’s another one of those inventions, isn’t it. I’m very busy you know.”
“Why yes, I have been inventing, thank you for asking. You see, I’ve been working on an artificial sense of humor and good cheer, and I’d believe you might be the ideal—”
“Oh, just come inside will you.”

Charles crossed his legs, then, noticing that this drew the silent attention of the other two in the room, uncrossed them and straightened his posture. He sighed without meaning to, then took a very deliberate sip of Miss Annabelle Harnby’s chinese tea, which he despised. He threw her a squinting glance, the kind she always mistook for a cryptic flirtation, though he wasn’t even sure what the look was supposed to signify in the first place. The truth of the matter was he was bored.
“Mister Yaewer,” said the other occupant, Mister Barker, a well-to-do man of forgettable import. “I’m afraid young Anna has not spoke of you before. What is it that you do?” Mister Barker’s mustache twitched while he spoke, as if it caused him great irritation to ask such a question.
“Oh, why, I’m currently working on the electro-mechanization of crypto-occult matters. That’s the short of it, anyhow. I’ve just completed some work on a new device that—”
“You’re one of those inventors,” the man said, with some half-suppressed disdain. He might have been frowning, but his mustache and chubby face made it difficult to tell if that was simply the way he naturally looked.
“Yes, I ‘invent’ as the newspapers like to say.”
“My nephew wants to be an inventor.”
“Oh does he now? What fields of inquiry?
“He’s seven.”
“Ah.” Charles picked up his cup of tea and looked at it suspiciously. He set it on the table and added another cube, stirred and watched the sugar clump undissolved at the bottom of the teacup. He took another sip, a little less terrible than the last. He looked up at Anna who was still eyeing him accusingly, then to the other gentleman, cautiously adding some cream to the dreadful beverage.
“Mister Brewer was just telling me about his work at the bank,” said Miss Harnby, her words clanging emptily against the indifferent silence of the two gentlemen.
“Oh is that right,” said Charles, not even looking towards Mister Barker. For someone who’d spent his life examining the natural and metaphysical properties of the universe, the world of bureaucracy was one he barely understood.
“He was just telling me that they’d extended a new line of credit to the Sultan of Ryiti. I believe you’ve traveled there?”
“Of course I have,” said Charles, sounding more curt than he’d meant to. “A number of years ago, when I was commissioned to investigate the bronze automatons supposedly built in the fourth century.”
“You refer, I believe, to the devilry of those Shining Soldiers,” said Mister Barker, with a certain smugness. “There was a piece about it in the Beckenridge Journal. The Sultan was very proud of it.”
Charles waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, the journal article. Dr. Brommer came to discuss those with me, after I’d returned from my travels. When I told him they were likely replicas built only some fifty years ago, we had a bit of a quarrel, but I see he’s found his audience.”
“Replicas?” asked Miss Harnby.
“Certainly. No less amazing, mind you. Mechanical miracles, really, I should very much like to find out who had made them. Of course, the gears were cut far too precisely to have been hand-made as they would have been, but supposing, even then that the ancient Tikgeli had built those particular mechamen, it’s doubtful they would have spoken Arabic in any form.”
“They spoke?”
“Oh, yes. Dreadfully boring creatures, really. But they did help me with some of the issues of metaphysical transferrence that I was dealing with at the time.”
“I don’t follow you, sir,” said Mister Barker, somewhat less gruffly.
“Oh, it was merely… erm… Well, in layman’s terms, I supposed it would be the transfer of the soul from one vessel to another. Of course, nothing is quite so simple, and there are many different—”
Mister Barker’s face went pale. In one gulp he downed his tea.
“I’ve forgotten, I really should be going. If you’ll excuse me. Miss Anna.” He bowed and left the room, forgetting his gloves and the rest of his biscuit.
Charles sat back in his chair, looking exhausted. Anna wore a wearied look. He forced a smile at her until she returned it.
“Not important business I hope,” he said.
“Just more to do with my father’s estate,” she replied, glumly. “And what is your real purpose today?”
“I need your assistance. It’s a new machine.”
“Untested, of course. Can you at least divulge, say, the intention behind the monstrosity, before I submit myself for experimentation?”
“Well, that would spoil the effect, I would say.”
“Yes, you would say. But please, Charles, at least tell the truth - how long must I postpone my engagements? I can’t be held up in your lab for weeks while you attempt to regrow my legs again.”
“And how are your new legs?”
“Much the same as the old ones, which I’ll remind you are still missing. I assume you’ve given up that project.”
“Until I can secure further funding, yes they will remain in a half-dimensional space. But I assure you, once I have the economic means, for which I do have a plan, let me assure you, I can return to that and many of the other discoveries that require only further experimentation.”
“And whatever happened to that benefactor, the Mister Barnaby?”
“Well, the last I had heard, his zeppelin had burst into flames over the arctic. I sent an invitation that he could come by and recount the tragedy, so that perhaps I could improve the design for the next model, but he has not returned the inquiry.”
“How thoughtless of him.”
“I do hear he is very busy.”
“And when did you send the invitation?”
“Last year.”
“Ah.”
“Oh,” he said, a grin working its way across his narrow cheeks, “I must have forgotten to tell you.” He reached into his pocket and produced a small gold circlet with an inset green gem. He set it down on the table. “I’ve finished the piece you asked for.”
“I don’t remember … what did I ask you?”
“Oh, some months ago we were at one of those awful parties that your uncle throws, and I was mentioning that I’ve found a way to localize the Hobson field, creating ‘pockets’ within real space. You, graciously, were willing to oblige.”
“Did I now,” said Anna bemusedly, picking up the circlet. “I don’t suppose you’ll explain much more than that, will you?”
“It is designed to fit on the forearm — perfect,” said Charles as she slid it to where it fit, just a couple inches below her left elbow. “The gem, an imitation emerald, should rotate.”
She twisted the gem. The circlet began to glow, yellow to orange, as if heating up. The glow slowly spread down her forearm. Her glance went from her own hand to meet her companion’s eyes. He smiled as if to suggest this effect was intended.
The light continued its way down her arm, until it reached her fingers. For a moment, nothing else happened. Then it started to fade - not merely the glow, but her hand wrist, and arm up to the circlet. About two seconds passed before Anna lifted up the stump of her arm and looked at it angrily.
“I should’ve guessed it was something like this.”
“It’s been thoroughly tested by my assistant.”
“Has it now. I’m surprised poor Eliza has anything left of her really.”
“Oh, she’s quite enthusiastic about this.”
“And, forgive me for worrying about this Charles, but where do the disappeared articles go?”
“The other end of the Hobson field. You see, the circlet is merely linked through what I’ve been calling ‘between space’ or perhaps ‘innerspace.’ So, that is to say, your arm and hand should be safe back in the laboratory.”
“You know, sometimes I really can’t believe you.”
“I do know. But, to appease for the inconvenience, perhaps I can offer you transportation. My carriage awaits.”