Chapter IX: Galvanized

 

Ever since I saw her execute that woman right in front of me without a hint of remorse, I had avoided talking to Lady Halflance as best as I could. As far as I concerned she was effectively my landlord, or maybe a particularly loathsome infection trapped in the body of a Charles Dickens villain. So large was her manor, in fact, that I was able to effectively avoid talking to her for any reason for about a week after that incident. Of course, that streak had to break eventually.

I was laying on a couch in some remote sitting room, a room where pretty much nobody would enter it unless they deliberately wanted to be completely alone. It was early in the afternoon, just after lunch, and I was reading a book. Or rather, I was half-asleep while holding a book that I had been reading before I fell asleep.

“Passionfruit Blossoms? An interesting choice of reading material to say the least,” said the deep and controlled voice of Lady Halflance.

I was startled awake, slamming said book shut. “It’s perfectly normal reading, I don’t know why you care.”

Lady Halflance smirked. “I remember reading that book when I was… nineteen I think. If I recall, it tells the beautiful story of the baronet Sir Passion Greengrass, a sheltered young ingenue who is kidnapped by a vicious pirate queen, with whom she soon begins to develop complicated feelings…” She raised an eyebrow at me, while I proceeded to blush furiously.

“Why are you even here?!” I said, throwing up my arms in defeat. Lady Halflance immediately dropped her smirk and went back to her usual deadpan.

“I was just trying to find you. We are having a guest over for dinner, so I would recommend you put on something presentable,” she said. I looked down, realizing that I hadn’t changed clothes in a day.

“Okay, but maybe knock next time? Also, what kind of guest? I need to know exactly how much ass-kissing to get ready for.”

“She is a scientist, an ‘electro-biologist’ if I remember correctly. She is here to perform a demonstration of her research, in the hope that I might decide to grant her patronage. It should be… entertaining, regardless of success or failure.” With that, Lady Halflance turned around and left. I picked up the book and continued reading. After all, I had to know if Passion would accept the pirate queen’s invitation!

 

…

 

When I showed up at dinner, now wearing a pale blue shirt covered in pockets with a freshly-pressed pair of black pants, there was no visitor yet. I sat down and ate with the rest of the Halflance family, this being the Jaleran meal that Anna had bought the supplies for earlier. As dinner was ending, however, a servant appeared from out of the woodwork and whispered in Lady Halflance’s ear. The Lady promptly stood up and left the room. A minute later, she returned.

“Our guest, the esteemed Doctor Deanna Queensickle, will be making her presentation in the living room. If you would kindly finish your meal and make your way down there, our post-meal… ‘entertainment’ is about ready to begin.”

I got up, already done, and walked to the living room as quickly as I could without actually jogging. What I found there was not what I had expected. The room itself was fairly standard, a scattering of chairs and couches with a large open area in the middle. The whole room had an unusual color scheme, lots of greens and blues that gave the whole place an aura like a forest, except made out of carved wood and stuffing. So not much like a forest at all really.

Conversing with a few of the servants was a woman who I had to assume was Queensickle, a tall and slender woman with pale skin and short blonde hair, wearing a suit that resembled something you’d see on a stage magician. She was leaning against a large machine, about as tall as she was. Sitting on the ground next to it was a set of three large blocks, resembling car batteries. The main body of the thing consisted of a glass box standing up on six brass legs, the insides of which were full of tangled wires, criss-crossing rods, and cylindrical metal cases. Extending from the top of the glass body was a crown of alloy rods and antennae of varying lengths and compositions. I could almost see a pattern in the rods, but my head just couldn’t quite wrap around it.

“Do you want to sit down and watch the presentation, or are you just going to stand there and stare into the distance? What are you staring at? Are you by any chance having some kind of revelatory experience, or perhaps entering a fugue state?” asked Sir Margaret, interposing herself between me and the machine.

“No, I’ll sit down,” I said. I found a spot for myself at one end of one of the longer couches, resting on the arm nearest to me. Over the next couple of minutes, the rest of the Halflance family, as well as those servants who were able to spare the time, filtered into the room and found a seat where they could. Once she was confident that everyone was seated, Queensickle began.

“Thank you, Lady Halflance, and thank all of the rest of my gracious hosts for viewing the products of my research. Without further ado, let us begin. This machine you see before you is known as the Ion Flux Mediator, a device which I have spent the last three years perfecting. It is powered for the moment by these three galvanic cells, though I hope to develop a method of powering it mechanically via a steam engine.” She continued her speech, describing how she was inspired to create the machine, or how it worked, or something. I had another thought. I turned to Sir Margaret who was seated next to me.

“Did she just mention a ‘galvanic cell’?” I whispered.

“Yes, actually. It’s a fascinating little device, using chemical—“

“I know what a battery is,” I said, cutting Margaret off. “But why is it called that? Because that’s the exact same word we used back on Earth.”

“Ahh, yes. It’s named for the inventor, Lucia Galvani. She was a Miranian if I remember correctly, and quite brilliant,” she said. I had to sit back and think about it. If I remembered chemistry class, and I probably didn’t, the term galvanic cell referred to what was usually called a battery, and was named such in reference to the chemist Luigi Galvani. What this meant about the relationship between Earth and Selene, I had no idea. But it was weird.

“Now then, to activate the machine,” said Queensickle. She pivoted from her position in front of the IFM and began fiddling with dials and switches mounted on the back.

I began to feel off. At first I thought it was just the weight of the meal, but that was soon proven wrong. A sense of nausea filled my stomach, filled my mouth with salt, wrapped itself around my head. I stood up to head somewhere else, but it was too late. My jaw was forced open and I collapsed to my knees, vomiting onto the wood floor. I wiped the residue off of my mouth, making sure that I wasn’t about to start up again, before saying anything.

“I think I need a doctor.” 

Two servants quickly came by to clean up the mess, with one giving me directions to the workshop of Dr. Charcharias. Apparently, she was on Lady Halflance’s payroll, and worked from the manor itself. It certainly explained how she had arrived so quickly after the Mechanodrone incident.

 

…

 

Dr. Charcharias’s workshop was a small, dumpy little building on the far side of the lawn from the main manor. I didn’t feel the need to throw up at all on the walk over, though the nausea persisted. I found myself standing in front of the unelaborated wooden door to the workshop, feeling awkward. I knocked twice. No response. I tested the doorknob. Unlocked. I slowly opened the door, and lay witness to the dictionary definition of “clutter”.

The walls of the workshop were covered in shelves full of pills and liquids in jars, cabinets full of weirdly shaped metal tools, and a bookshelf or two. As far as I could gather, the only place for a patient to sit was on a clean metal table, or else a couple of squat stools. It was recognizably a doctor’s office, albeit an old-fashioned one from my perspective. Where that image broke down was in the far corner of the room. Another table occupied most of that section of the room, this one covered in what looked like electronics equipment; wires, cables, capacitor plates and resistor blocks. The centerpiece of all of this was a microwave-sized gadget in a cylindrical metal casing which Dr. Charcharias was standing over.

She was also completely topless, proving that yes, all of her was that same shade of grey-blue. Before I could do much to think about that, however, the instrument she was working on suddenly shorted out, sending a blast of sparks and thin white smoke into her face.

She jumped back, quickly glancing down to check for any burns. She pulled up her goggles and tossed them onto a countertop. “Fucking bastard machine—“ she stopped, halfway turned around, having seen me.

Given that she was just as topless as she had been five seconds ago, I got a good look at her chest. It was absolutely covered in scars. Not ragged battle-scars, but thin sutured surgical scars from dozens of operations, including two prominent ones, a pair of horizontal lines that probably had something to do with the reason why she had no breasts. I also noticed a series of deep grooves, five of them in parallel on each side of her chest, starting at the lower ribs and going down to her stomach.

“So kid, are you here to get a good view or do you have something medically wrong?” she said.

“Uhh, yeah. I kinda threw up for no reason in the middle of a presentation. Also, what’s that thing you were working on?” I said, crossing my arms.

“Oh, that?” she said, gesturing behind herself. “It’s a vitometer, a device to detect the élan vital. Do you know what the élan vital is?”

“No, not really. Sounds French?” I said. I walked backwards onto a steel countertop that looked like I was supposed to be sitting on.

“I believe it was named by a Miranian. Either way, it’s really fascinating stuff. Élan vital is a form of electromagnetic energy found within living beings, the fields of which direct and coordinate the processes of life. It’s why a human baby grows up into a human adult, and why wounded limbs heal into something that resembles their original forms,” said Dr. Charcharias. She had wandered into another part of the workshop, and crouched down to ruffle through a low-mounted cabinet.

“Well, good luck finding that. You’re going to need it.”

Dr. Charcharias stood up, a crumpled-up lab coat in her hand. “Well I was doing just fine for the most part. I think the tolerances weren’t high enough. I’m going to have to check all of the wiring and it’s going to be a real hassle… I hope you don’t mind the shirtlessness, my gills needed some time to air out,” she said. 

“No, I don’t mind at all,” I replied.

“Of course you don’t,” said Dr. Charcharias, smirking.

“Not like that! I mean I’m comfortable with whatever you want, free the nipple and all.” I made my angriest face at her. I had not yet learned that my angriest face isn’t effective at all due to my being tiny and cute. The good doctor, for her part, slipped on the coat, still unbuttoned, and walked up to me, grabbing a clipboard sitting on a nearby table.

“Now then, you said your issue was vomiting. Have you been feeling sick all day or was this sudden?”

“No, this was sudden,” I said.

“Hmmm… are you on your period?” Dr. Charcharias continued. That question disturbed me. 

The answer was no, of course. But it could have been yes. I mean, I had a nothing and all of the associated plumbing, so I was probably going to get a period eventually. It wasn’t the end of the world, of course, I knew what to expect. But the prospect of me of all people going through it sent odd feelings through my spine.

Dr. Charcharias turned her nose up and sniffed a couple of times. “So that’s going to be a no on that. Now then, have you consumed any poison recently?"

“Wait, how did you know that I’m not having my period?” I said. Upon thinking for a few more seconds, I added, “Also, why would ‘I drank some poison’ not be the first thing I said?”

“I’m part shark, kid. I can sense blood at 200 yards away. There isn’t a drop on you. And as for the other thing… well I have to cover all my bases, it’s good practice,” she said, shrugging.

“No, I haven’t drank any poison recently, as far as I know.” I paused, unsure if I should ask the question on my mind. “Dr. Charcharias, you never had a chance to explain this, but why are you a shark?”

“Please, call me Amina. And the answer to that is something of a long story. Maybe I could tell it after you’ve been examined?” said Amina. I nodded, and the examination began. It wasn’t anything to write home about, being basically the same deal as a standard doctor’s appointment. She poked me in the stomach a few times, got out some weird-looking metal instruments, and so on. Then she sat across from me and began.

“What do you know about the Cassandran Empire?”

“I keep hearing the name, but nobody’s bothered to tell me what it is since I got here,” I said.

“It’s the major power on this part of Selene, a big country to the west of Bluerose with a surplus of heavy artillery and a shortage of basic human decency. I was born there, in the Svenhal labs. It was a government-sponsored project to create human babies with the traits of animals for use as slaves.” Amina’s gaze didn’t leave the floor for the entire monologue.

“That is some Shou Tucker bullshit right there,” I said. I had not yet learned to not make pop culture references while stuck in another dimension. I still haven’t.

“A what?” Amina raised an eyebrow at me.

“It’s a reference. From a…book.” I was relieved to realize that I would never have to explain the concept of anime.

“I’m going to take your word on that one. Either way, my mother managed to escape from the lab when I was a baby, though she never told me how. From there, she went to Bluerose, where people generally don’t inject liquefied shark tissue into the bellies of pregnant women,” Amina continued.

“I would have to say that’s a good choice.”

“Of course it was!” said Amina, throwing up her hands. “It was the best decision she ever made.”

I got the feeling that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. But there was something I wanted to know about, something that had been bugging me for a while at that point. “Changing the subject, what do you think about this whole brain fever thing? Do you think that’s what’s going on?”

“With your amnesia?” said Amina, quirking her head to the side. “A disease which supposedly causes total retrograde amnesia while simultaneously constructing an entire hallucinatory life story for you on a completely imagined world called ‘Earth’, all without having any lasting impact on your mind or ability to function. If it is a disease of the mind, it matches nothing I’ve ever heard of.”

“So you think I’m telling the truth?” I said, jumping off of the counter.

“I don’t know,” said Dr. Charcharias. “If you’re telling the truth, that would mean you were somehow transported from another planet, and transformed at the same time. It’s even more impossible than the alternative.”

“So you think I’m crazy?” I started heading towards the exit.

“I don’t know what to think, kid. You’re one hell of an enigma, that’s for sure. Speaking of enigmas, you’re completely fine as far as I can tell. If you start throwing up again, come back. Until then, there’s not much I can do.”

“Thanks for the checkup, Amina,” I said. I waved goodbye. For her part, Amina nodded and went back to work on her vitometer as I left the workshop.

 

…

 

It was another long walk before I made it back to the living room where the presentation had been going on. I was surprised to find the place mostly empty, with a good chunk of one side of it badly charred. Lady Halflance was there, along with about a dozen servants who were slowly getting rid of the blackened and burnt bits of floors and walls. Lady Halflance noticed that I was there, turned to look at me, and smiled ruefully.

“I can say with some certainty that Doctor Queensickle will not be receiving any patronage of mine.”

I took a deep breath. The whole room smelled deeply of soot and dust. “Yeah I can see that. I’ll leave you to the cleanup then.” I was about to turn around and head off to the library when Lady Halflance extended her hand.

“Actually, Emma, a bit of mail arrived while you were gone. It’s addressed to one ‘Emma Halflance’. Wrong name of course, but the spirit’s there.” She was holding a small envelope in her hands. I took it and carefully undid the adhesive before reading it.

Dear Emma Halflance,

We met a little over a week and a half ago, at that ill-fated wedding anniversary party. I don’t know if I was able to make much of an impression on you, though you certainly did on me. 

A few days ago I came into the possession of an invitation to another social event, this one an exhibition of the latest analytical engine by the esteemed Lady Lorraine Leyrender. On this invitation was the permission for that strange little custom of courtesy known as the ‘plus one’. I have many friends, acquaintances, paramours, and yet no fixed companion, and so the question of who to bring with me has taken quite a long while to decide. Wether the fact that I have chosen you to associate myself makes you feel honored or utterly offended is entirely up to you.

In briefer language, I would very much enjoy for you, Emma Halflance, to be my guest to this exhibition, to arrive at my home at 8645 Roujen Lane at 5:00 this Pentaday, and to accompany me for the evening as friend. 

Signed, 

Lady Joyce Alonhall

I read the letter over twice, making sure that I had read it correctly. Then I handed it back to Lady Halflance, who read it herself. Once she was done, she folded it up and shoved it into her coat pocket. She looked at me inquisitively.

“Well then. I guess I have a party to go to.”