An e-pal of mine is writing a light novel of sorts, but he's writing it in Russian. Recently, I took to translating it to English. And, not so long ago, I stumbled upon this: http://www.animenewsnetwork.com/news/20 ... into-anime (I do hope that there's no rule against links to other websites that I've missed). After reading this article, I thought that it would be a good idea to find a translator willing to translate the novel into Japanese to submit it to the contest.
The novel is called Demigods. Genres: shounen, alternate past, scientific, with elements of horror. Here's a short description of the story, done along the style of book covers:
Spoiler! :
In this world, the XVII-century Britain is a "democratic" state with a militarist government, aiming to take over the world. Thanks to the genius of an alchemist known as Johann Faust, the British Republic is technologically over 2 centuries ahead of the other countries. However, the state is faced with an inside threat: out of a past filed under the "secret" marker emerges the result of a forgotten alchemical experiment: Demigods. Human beings with the power to negate the basic laws of the universe. These creatures turn Britain into hell, and will stop at nothing to lay their hands on the mysterious Philosopher's Stone.
Join John Harrison, alias Gearwheel, a former soldier and a weapons engineer, on his quest to stop the threat as part of a task force that, besides himself, includes three newly created Demigods and an exorcist. Prepare to discover the universe of the Demigods, its people, superhumans, monsters, mafia, rebels, traders, alchemists, bandits and more!
Join John Harrison, alias Gearwheel, a former soldier and a weapons engineer, on his quest to stop the threat as part of a task force that, besides himself, includes three newly created Demigods and an exorcist. Prepare to discover the universe of the Demigods, its people, superhumans, monsters, mafia, rebels, traders, alchemists, bandits and more!
Spoiler! :
PROLOGUE
Closer… Closer…
Up the stairs… nearly everyone in the inn was sleeping. The boy could sense their thoughts jumbled up, creating random images. He didn’t like watching people’s dreams. They made no sense.
But no one was sleeping in a room on the second floor. There, a mind was at work. A powerful mind. The mind that gave him power greater than one could even dream of. The mind that wanted to use his power for the gain of some people far away.
Master.
Master wanted to use him to win a war. That’s crazy. He didn’t want to fight in a war.
He wanted to become a god.
And to accomplish that, he had to kill Master and take the Philosopher’s Stone. He had already learned enough from Master’s mind, from what Master knew for certain and from what he only guessed, what was it that he needed to do to gain complete control over the laws of the Universe.
But one of the Brethren can’t just go against the orders of Master. Master was powerful. He possessed a power as one of the Brethren, a power that gave him the ability to control any being with his will. He exercised such control over most of the Brothers and Sisters he created, including the boy. Even now, the boy’s entire being would resist if he tried to attack or even just disobey Master.
But the boy had a weapon that he could use against the master. It was something that Master never expected.
The betrayal of a person he didn’t exercise control over. Of a person that Master trusted.
He touched the door that led to Master’s room.
Master was working on some physical equations for an experiment with the Philosopher’s Stone. He wanted to create another Brother or Sister. The Assistant was helping Master, but he wasn’t doing a good job. His mind was wandering. The boy grinned. The Assistant was mulling over the greedy dreams that the boy called into the light from the dirty depths of the Assistant’s soul. This man was so easy to manipulate.
The boy checked again. He, Master and the Assistant were the only people in the inn who weren’t deep in slumber.
Then he knocked on the door.
The signal was understood. A scream pierced the night. The boy felt Master’s pain and horror, his shock at the Assistant’s betrayal. The boy scanned the Master’s mind one last time for useful information. There was nothing that he hadn’t learned already.
Master, with his last strength, pulled open the safe which contained the Philosopher’s Stone and his research documents in a mad urge to destroy them… Then he slid down onto the floor, with a groan. Slowly, his mind faded.
The boy stood outside of the door, his face rigid with rage. The Philosopher’s Stone, along with part of the documents, was stolen by someone else before him.
That was unexpected. He’d have to scrap his entire plan, and figure out a way to find the thieves and take the Stone from them.
The Assistant opened the door. He was shaking; his hands were covered in Master’s blood. The boy looked at the oldest of his Brothers in disgust. The Assistant, though a mere Modified Human, was easily the most powerful member of the Brethren. But his power didn’t suit his pathetic and cowardly character. “I-I can’t find the stone! – The Assistant said in a shaky voice, - He hid it somewhere! Did you-did you find out w-where it is now?”
- No – said the boy. It was taken by a third party. - He sat cross-legged on the floor, feeling the people in the inn waking up because of Master’s scream, and rushing upstairs to find out what happened.
- W-What?
- Apparently, they had good intelligence, including the nature of my powers… Or they were very, very lucky: they did their job when I was sleeping. And considering that Master used the Philosopher’s Stone before the last time I was asleep… Let me see, it doesn’t look like anyone in the inn had seen them… This makes things harder, but still, they couldn’t have gotten far. It’s been an hour, maximum. – The boy stood up. - By the way, could you please take care of the seven, no, eight people who were awakened by the noise you made? All of them are coming here right now.
The Assistant looked frightened.
- I-I have to kill all those people? But…
- Don’t you want the chance to become a god?
The boy felt the Assistant’s mind reaching a conclusion. The one he expected the cowardly but power-hungry man to make.
The old innkeeper, holding a lantern, appeared in the far end of the corridor. He saw the Assistant and shouted: “Hey, Professor Robinson! What happened here? Who scream -”
He was cut short as his head flew off his shoulders…
Closer… Closer…
Up the stairs… nearly everyone in the inn was sleeping. The boy could sense their thoughts jumbled up, creating random images. He didn’t like watching people’s dreams. They made no sense.
But no one was sleeping in a room on the second floor. There, a mind was at work. A powerful mind. The mind that gave him power greater than one could even dream of. The mind that wanted to use his power for the gain of some people far away.
Master.
Master wanted to use him to win a war. That’s crazy. He didn’t want to fight in a war.
He wanted to become a god.
And to accomplish that, he had to kill Master and take the Philosopher’s Stone. He had already learned enough from Master’s mind, from what Master knew for certain and from what he only guessed, what was it that he needed to do to gain complete control over the laws of the Universe.
But one of the Brethren can’t just go against the orders of Master. Master was powerful. He possessed a power as one of the Brethren, a power that gave him the ability to control any being with his will. He exercised such control over most of the Brothers and Sisters he created, including the boy. Even now, the boy’s entire being would resist if he tried to attack or even just disobey Master.
But the boy had a weapon that he could use against the master. It was something that Master never expected.
The betrayal of a person he didn’t exercise control over. Of a person that Master trusted.
He touched the door that led to Master’s room.
Master was working on some physical equations for an experiment with the Philosopher’s Stone. He wanted to create another Brother or Sister. The Assistant was helping Master, but he wasn’t doing a good job. His mind was wandering. The boy grinned. The Assistant was mulling over the greedy dreams that the boy called into the light from the dirty depths of the Assistant’s soul. This man was so easy to manipulate.
The boy checked again. He, Master and the Assistant were the only people in the inn who weren’t deep in slumber.
Then he knocked on the door.
The signal was understood. A scream pierced the night. The boy felt Master’s pain and horror, his shock at the Assistant’s betrayal. The boy scanned the Master’s mind one last time for useful information. There was nothing that he hadn’t learned already.
Master, with his last strength, pulled open the safe which contained the Philosopher’s Stone and his research documents in a mad urge to destroy them… Then he slid down onto the floor, with a groan. Slowly, his mind faded.
The boy stood outside of the door, his face rigid with rage. The Philosopher’s Stone, along with part of the documents, was stolen by someone else before him.
That was unexpected. He’d have to scrap his entire plan, and figure out a way to find the thieves and take the Stone from them.
The Assistant opened the door. He was shaking; his hands were covered in Master’s blood. The boy looked at the oldest of his Brothers in disgust. The Assistant, though a mere Modified Human, was easily the most powerful member of the Brethren. But his power didn’t suit his pathetic and cowardly character. “I-I can’t find the stone! – The Assistant said in a shaky voice, - He hid it somewhere! Did you-did you find out w-where it is now?”
- No – said the boy. It was taken by a third party. - He sat cross-legged on the floor, feeling the people in the inn waking up because of Master’s scream, and rushing upstairs to find out what happened.
- W-What?
- Apparently, they had good intelligence, including the nature of my powers… Or they were very, very lucky: they did their job when I was sleeping. And considering that Master used the Philosopher’s Stone before the last time I was asleep… Let me see, it doesn’t look like anyone in the inn had seen them… This makes things harder, but still, they couldn’t have gotten far. It’s been an hour, maximum. – The boy stood up. - By the way, could you please take care of the seven, no, eight people who were awakened by the noise you made? All of them are coming here right now.
The Assistant looked frightened.
- I-I have to kill all those people? But…
- Don’t you want the chance to become a god?
The boy felt the Assistant’s mind reaching a conclusion. The one he expected the cowardly but power-hungry man to make.
The old innkeeper, holding a lantern, appeared in the far end of the corridor. He saw the Assistant and shouted: “Hey, Professor Robinson! What happened here? Who scream -”
He was cut short as his head flew off his shoulders…
Spoiler! :
CHAPTER ONE - DEMIGODS
When they asked me to write a recollection of the events now known as “the Demigod Incident”, I felt quite reluctant about it. I told them that I didn’t like the “secret” marker being taken off this case. But the real reason was different: I am a damn engineer, not a writer. But then, after speaking with some witnesses of the catastrophes that occurred, and listening to some really weird rumors, I decided that the people of Britain deserve a good, orderly and truthful explanation of what the heck had actually happened. So, after some consultation with a writer friend of mine, I got to work.
Just like in any book that describes stuff that really happened (I think such books are called non-fiction or something), I’m not going to describe everything exactly the way it happened. You see, I don’t really remember most of the details. I never had a good memory. But I’m going to do my best to describe everything as close to the truth as possible.
Well, here goes. The story began on an ordinary summer day of the year 1669, 20 years after the Great Revolution.
The day started as ordinarily as possible. The neighbors’ old cockerel was, as usual, screaming his lungs out at 7 am sharp. And, as usual, I stretched so that nearly every joint in my body gave out a loud crack. Then I rolled off my bed onto the floor and started doing pushups. When I did forty, my younger brother, Mike, walked into my room, fully dressed according to the latest fashion.
- Morning, bro. What’s up? – I asked between pushups.
- Nothing much. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be gone for the whole day. Or longer.
- Drinking with your buddies again, huh? This isn’t going to do you any good.
- Well, now that I’ve told you – said Mike, completely ignoring my words, - I’m off. See you!
- Whatever. Just don’t bring any of your friends along when you get home.
I don’t think he actually heard what I said. Ah, well. This was definitely not what our parents back in the village expected of him. The buster was living off my hard-earned money, and living well, drinking and hitting on girls. Well, whatever. Somehow, I can’t make myself really angry with him. And it doesn’t look like anyone can. Mike is that kind of person.
Having finished my morning exercise, I had a quick breakfast and went out from the small house my brother and me were renting, and dived into the busy streets of London, heading for work. Life was going on as it always did, and I didn’t have any idea that really soon, I would learn something extremely crazy and find myself in a titanic load of crap. Of crap that I didn’t even know existed till that day.
Quite the boring beginning for a story, huh? Well, what did you expect; this is the first time I’m actually writing one of those. Oh yes, I nearly forgot. I’d better introduce myself.
My name is John Harrison, but people usually call me by my nickname Gearwheel. Thirty-five years old. I am an engineer for the Weaponsmiths guild (you know, the big government organization that provides weapons for them boys on the front lines), specializing in rapid-fire arms. I’ve taken a six-class school education and a course in physics at the infamous London’s University of Alchemy. Participated in the Great Revolution as a kid (as an assistant for one of the N regiment’s blacksmiths). Served in the Army for a couple of years, then I started working for the Guild. My work is usually lots of fun: looking through the designs of different weapons from different eras (believe it or not, but the infamous flame-launcher was created using the technology of an ancient Greek weapon), trying to build something of my own, experimenting… and diving to the floor when everything explodes. I really love my work. But at the time when all the weird events took place, the guild put me in charge of a big and boring project. Equipping the great and horrible war machine PAF with artillery.
PAF, short for Portable Amphibian Fortress, was a project suggested by a provincial engineer by the name of Jason Wilson. A giant steam-powered armored battleship that would be able to move on land and sea, carrying a great number of tanks, a small army, and enough weapons to annihilate a city. Personally, I didn’t believe it would move an inch from the construction site. But the bigshots at the guild headquarters thought the project brilliant, and so I, as one of the Guild’s most prominent senior members, ended up working on it. It was interesting in the start, but quickly turned into a big load of paperwork. It was the most boring experience of my whole life.
As I was approaching the construction site, a message boy came running from behind me. Panting, he tugged at my sleeve and said: “E-Excuse me, sir, but are you mister John Harrison of the w-weaponsmiths guild?”
- Yeah, that just happens to be me.
- Got a letter for you, mister Harrison.
The kid handed me a small letter. It was sent from Guild HQ.
I opened the letter and read it quickly. Here’s what it said:
“Dear Mr. Harrison,
Please report to the Guild headquarters at 9 am this morning for an urgent meeting.
Yours,
Guild Leader
J. Hammers.”
Well, what do you know. It looked like another big guild meeting concerning the PAF. Geez. If I had a choice, I’d much rather do the paperwork. Those meetings are generally nothing more than a big pain in the ass. But attending the meetings was obligatory to all senior guild members. So I dragged my feet along to HQ, which was quite far from the construction site.
When I finally got there, it was already 9:15. Well, they would forgive me for showing up late. Probably.
Showing my guild pass to the doorman, I entered the headquarters and headed for the meeting room. I opened the doors, expecting to see the old bigshots at the large meeting room table buzzing about how good PAF is, but how expensive it is, and “would it be possible to stuff in more weapons without taking more space, Mr. Harrison”, etcetera.
What I did see were five people, seated at the meetings table. Well, that was surprising. One of them was definitely a priest, which you could tell by his robes. He was heatedly arguing with… none other than good old professor Joseph Rabinovich (known to his numerous friends, which included me, as Jossi), the one who taught me and many other students at the University of Alchemy the fundamental principles of physics. Rabinovich was one of the first Jews that returned to Britain from Poland thanks to President Cromwell. He didn’t change a bit since the last time I’ve seen him. He was his same old cheerful and potbellied self, fingering his ugly goatee beard just like he used to when reading lectures. He waved at me, smiling. I waved back, wondering what the heck he was doing there. Seated next to him were a young boy and girl, both clad in military uniform. And, seated at the far end of the table, was another familiar face, one that I least expected to see…
- Professor – no, Minister Harper! What –
- Drop the formalities, Gearwheel. I’m the same old Alex Harper. I’ve just moved up several ranks, that’s all.
Professor Alexander Harper, the Minister of Science, head of London’s University of Alchemy, my friend, comrade and very first teacher, Stainless Steel Nightmare Alex grinned with his strange-looking grin, which only altered the left side of his face. The right side of his face was, as always, immobile, forever disfigured by a horrible scar, one of the reminders of a terrible accident involving some highly explosive materials that took away half of his face, his right arm and leg. Those were replaced by stainless steel mechanical prosthetics. However, few knew that Harper’s prosthetics housed some of mankind’s most destructive weapons that were the main reason behind his nickname, Stainless Steel Nightmare.
- Well, now that we are all assembled… By the way, you used to be more punctual, Gearwheel, I really didn’t like waiting here for fifteen whole minutes and listening to these two arguing about religion; - he motioned towards Jossi and the priest, who seemed to have ceased their argument.
- Well, I thought this was going to be another PAF meeting. Those bore the hell out of me.
- Ah, the Moving Castle… - Alex smiled dreamily. He loved everything that was powered by steam.
I flinched. I really didn’t like the name that was given to the PAF by the people who didn’t like abbreviations.
- Please, don’t call it that. I just can’t picture this giant hunk of metal moving, no matter how hard I try.
Alex laughed. Then, addressing the priest, the professor and the two youngsters, he said:
- Anyway, lady and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Jonathan Harrison, alias Gearwheel. Don’t judge him by his, uhm, bulky appearance, he’s got both brain and muscle –
- Objection! I’ve never taught such an utter idiot as him! – Rabinovich shouted out, grinning and fingering his goatee. This guy always loved irony.
- Please shut up, Jossi… As I was saying, Gearwheel is a genius engineer and a highly capable soldier. I’ve known him since the Revolution.
That was a bit weird, and I didn’t see where this was coming from.
- Geez, Alex! What’s this about? Are you going to send us on some secret mission or something?
Alex turned to face me. He had a determined look on his face.
- Actually, I am. And it’s going to be a dangerous one.
- More dangerous that the negotiations with France, when I came along as Mills’s bodyguard?
- Yes, much more dangerous.
- Then count me in!
- As expected from you. – Alex smiled. He knew how I loved danger better than anyone. – Let me introduce you to your partners in this mission. You already know Jossi... This man is father Arthur Singer, a renowned exorcist, - Alex motioned towards the priest. Exorcist? One of these guys who supposedly chase after demons and vampires? What the –
- And these two are Jessica and Thomas Stones; - Alex gestured towards the military kids.
Now then, Gearwheel, father Singer, I’d better start briefing you about our mission.
Alex paused; he was obviously thinking how to begin. Then he sighed and said:
- All right. I guess I’ll have to start from afar. What do you know about an alchemist called Doctor Faust?
- Geez, what do I know about Faust? He was an alchemist from Austria- no, Prussia… Ah, well, he was from someplace in Germany. But he moved to Britain at some point. He was, like, the greatest genius in the history of mankind. The number of things he invented and discovered is simply amazing. Rapid-fire arms, photography, the atomic structure of matter, a periodic table for the chemical elements, the steam engine, electricity, the genetic code… Scores of chemical, physical and biological laws… I still remember some of them from the university exams…
- And have you heard of the so-called “Devil’s Gifts”?
- Well, I heard something, but I kinda forgot… Could you please refresh my memory?
- The “Devil’s gifts” is a name for several items found among Faust’s possession after his death that weren’t described in any of his papers. Those items… Well, modern science still can’t fully comprehend them. And I don’t believe it will be able to for at least the next hundred years.
- It shall NEVER be able to comprehend them! – The exorcist put in. He was looking at Alex angrily. – You said it yourself! These objects were created by Satan, the enemy of mankind! You shouldn’t even try to understand the Devil’s gifts, for this is a path to destruction! I now understand the reason that made you call upon me: the foolish alchemists used one of the Devil’s Gifts to create something hellish that needs to be destroyed! These dreadful objects should have been destroyed as soon as they were found!
This guy was obviously a fanatic. But, everything slowly started to make sense…
- Many in the Ministry of Science also think that these objects should have been destroyed, father Singer. But, I am afraid, it is too late now. And you’re completely right about alchemists creating something dreadful. – Alex sighed. – You see, my late father, Professor George Harper, around 30 years ago, started a project, the objective of which was to study one of the “Devil’s Gifts”, the so-called “Philosopher’s Stone”. Faust’s Philosopher’s Stone is different from the one described in the legends of old. It doesn’t turn lead into gold, and it doesn’t grant you eternal life. It’s… - Alex drummed his fingers on the table; - Faust’s Stone is a… structure that possesses powers that involve the alteration of the basic laws of the universe.
- What?!
- What I said. It can alter the basic laws of the universe for a certain section of matter… For a certain object. It can make this object generate energy out of nothing, create matter out of nothing, consume matter and energy so that they disappear into nothing, it can make time run slower, faster of even backwards for this object… My late father managed to exercise control over those powers of the Philosopher’s Stone, though he didn’t come close to the mechanisms that “make the stone tick”. He wanted to use the Stone to create creatures superior to humans, creatures that had powers to break the laws of this universe, swapping them for their own. Demigods. Human beings with god-like power. He dreamed of using them as living weapons to destroy monarchy in Britain, and then conquer the whole world.
This sounded so very crazy. If it wasn’t Alex telling me this, I’d think of it as of a really stupid joke. But Alex never had much of a sense of humor. Demigods… People that can break the laws of the universe… make matter out of nothing; make energy out of nothing… This sounded so… bizarre.
- And… did he succeed in creating these… Demigods?
- He did. He created two types of Demigods.
The first is called Mutants, or M-type Demigods, people whose DNA was modified before birth to give them superhuman powers involving the Philosopher’s Stone, amazing regeneration abilities involving the generation of matter, and, theoretically, the ability to have Demigod children. They can be usually recognized by physical atrocities that most of them possess as the result of having their DNA tampered with. They are also known to stop aging at a certain age.
The other type is called Modified Humans, of MH-type Demigods, humans who were given a superhuman ability with the Philosopher’s stone. – Alex cracked his only knuckle. - Father… Professor Harper became a MH-type Demigod himself. His ability involved hypnosis, telepathic control that he exercised over most of the Demigods he created.
But… Something unexpected happened. The only Demigod he really trusted… killed him, intending to steal the Philosopher’s Stone. – Alex fumbled in his pockets and took out an old photograph. It showed a bespectacled dark-haired man in a white lab coat. – This is Doctor Gregory Robinson. An MH-type Demigod. His ability is speculated to involve generation of matter. – Alex placed the photo onto the table. Father Singer moved to get a closer look. - We still aren’t sure of the reasons behind his actions, as he took all the documents of professor Harper’s research. But we’re sure of one thing: he didn’t get the Philosopher’s Stone. As luck would have it, the Stone was stolen, along with some of the research’s documents, by the king’s agents on the night before father was murdered. The old government gave the Stone and the documents to the University of Alchemy to study, and so, eventually, when I took the University’s steering wheel, the Stone ended up in my hands.
And, 20 years ago, our research, with the help of father’s papers, which the idiotic agents chose rather randomly, has reached partial success. We have created three demigods, with abilities involving the generation of infinite energy, two of them M-type, and one MH-type.
Now this was unexpected.
- Allow me to introduce you once again… Jossi here is the MH-type demigod, his powers involve active telepathy.
The priest moved his chair away from Jossi. I was dumbfounded to say the least.
- Wait, so you could read my mind all the time? What the –
- No, no, active telepathy means that I can do something with your mind, without actually knowing what’s there. Like now, for instance, I’m talking to you telepathically.
I was astounded. Saying this, Jossi never opened his mouth. He smiled at my astonishment:
- This ability can prove really handy at times. Like when you don’t want anyone to hear a secret conversation. Or if you want to play a good practical joke on someone, to make them believe that God is talking to them…
Alex cleared his throat;
- Thomas here was our very first try at creating an M-type Demigod. He possesses telekinetic powers. But he ended up having a physical atrocity: he… er… doesn’t have vocal cords. His real age is 20, his biological age is around 18. And Jessica was our second M-type. She possesses pyrokinetic powers, and she has no physical atrocities. Real age: 19, biological age: around 16.
I took a better look at the military kids. The boy, Tom, was thin and haughty, with a stooped back. He had messy brown hair and a damn-it-all sort of look on his face. The girl, Jessica, looked surprisingly cute for both her real and biological age. She had long black hair and a smart face. She looked really amused by the whole affair. Having been introduced, they both stood up. Tom let out an audible grunt, raised his hand, and I felt myself… hovering a whole foot above the stool I was seated at. It was as if an invisible force was holding me up by the armpits. This, apparently, was pretty much the case. Jossi and Jessica were bent double with laughter, but I didn’t find it funny.
- Put me down, you idiot! I got it, I got it, you’ve got telekinetic powers, now put me down!
The telekinetic ceased his hold of me, and I fell down, breaking the stool to splinters. I sat on the floor, dazed. I tried to get to grips with what just happened: I’ve just been raised into the air by goddamn telekinetic powers. Holy crap. This was much weirder than Jossi’s telepathy.
- My turn now! – said Jessica.
She flicked her fingers, and a bright flame sprang out of them. That sure looked cool. Then she flicked her fingers again. Apparently, nothing happened.
Then I sensed a strong smell of burning cloth.
Father Arthur Singer was dancing on the spot, trying to put out the fire that appeared on the hem of his robes. Jossi was hysteric with laughter.
Alex, laughing, banged his fist on the table. The exorcist put out the flame on his robes and, looking warily at Jossi, Tom and Jessica, moved to far end of the room. Jossi calmed down, but continued to hiccup hysterically.
- All right, Alex – I said, - I get it. You got us all together to put an end to this Robinson guy. But why now? Why not 20 years ago?
- You see, 20 years ago, it was… er… possible to ignore his existence…
- I see. But now he’s done something serious and you finally decided to take the buster down?
- Yes. After the Stone was stolen, Robinson pretty much had no idea who stole it, and, therefore, where should he look for it. So he took to lying low, without causing anyone much problem. However, lately, there were numerous reports of strange occurrences… involving deaths and disappearances of people… occurrences that can be explained only by the actions of Demigods. You see – Alex sighed; - We believe that Robinson has gathered all the other Demigods that father created… And they are all out looking for the Philosopher’s Stone. And, seeing how these occurrences center around London, we believe that they also know that we have it. We don’t know what is it that they want with the Stone. It’s possible that they want to turn all of mankind into Demigods. Or take over the world. I don’t know. But they’re definitely up to no good, if they’re killing people along the way. We’ve relocated the Stone and put it under maximum security, but this won’t change much. Now that they’re on the warpath, these guys are dangerous to the populace. So, we must see Robinson and all his Demigod allies eliminated.
It has been decided by the government that a small task force shall be formed that will destroy the terrorist Demigods. Of course, we could use the army, but we don’t want information about all this leaking out to the public.
- That’s right, - said Jossi; - It could cause a panic.
- Exactly. Now, the three most powerful fractions in the country, that is, the Ministry of Science, the Ministry of External Politics and the Holy Church of Britain have all submitted their best fighters for the task force. That means you five. You shall go and destroy these Demigods, and secure the future of our country, etcetera. Now, any questions?
- I’ve got a question, - said Jossi; - just theoretically, if one were to chicken out after learning all this, what would happen to him?
- Obviously, he’d be court-martialed.
Father Singer shuddered.
- Yeah, as expected from our government, - said Jossi.
- Now, no anti-government propaganda here!
- I’ve got a question, too, - I put in; - and it’s a short one: Alex, are you coming with us?
- Sorry, Gearwheel, you know I’d love to come along and lead the task force, but I just can’t. The goddamn Minister of Science can’t just go and abandon his post.
- All right, then who will lead the task force?
- Jossi will.
- Me?!
- That’s right.
Jossi gave an ironical bow.
- I am so very glad to accept this great honor bestowed unto me…
- Now, that’s enough. Any more questions?
This was met with silence.
- All right, you lot are moving out first thing tomorrow morning. You’ll receive the funds assigned to the task force before you move out. Your first destination shall be Yorktown, a small, recently-founded town west of London. There’s some strange stuff going on: no one ever comes back from there. Literally. The town is like a black hole: people enter it and do not come back.
- How is this possible?
- Obviously, there’s a Demigod involved. Go there, capture the Demigod and extract as much information from him as you can. Understood?
- Yeah…
- All right, you have this day to prepare. Gearwheel, I’ll have the Guild take you off the PAF project for now. Who do you want to leave in charge of your part of the project?
- That guy… What’s his name… he’s got this halo of bright-red hair… We call him Flames… Oh, yes. Charlie Copper. Yeah, he’ll do the job all right.
- That’s settled, then. I’ll see you lot tomorrow, same time, same place. And don’t be late!
We, that is, the newly formed task force, walked out of the Guild headquarters. Jossi rubbed his hands together and said:
- Well, why don’t we have a drink to celebrate the creation of the great and powerful anti-Demigod task force?
- I’m in! – I said.
- Me too! – said Jessica.
Tom simply nodded.
- I refrain from drinking alcohol. – said father Singer glumly.
When I got back home, it was 10 PM, but I didn’t go to sleep. I opened the door to my workshop and there, out of a dark corner, I took the most powerful weapon I had in my possession, the one that gave me my nickname. The Gearwheel.
The Gearwheel is my own invention. It started out about ten years ago, as one of the few close-combat weapons I created: a giant steam-powered rotating shield shaped like a gearwheel, with blades springing out from the “cogs” at the press of a lever. Later, I equipped it with a four-shot grenade launcher, which turned it into a close-and-long-range weapon. And, finally, several years ago, I combined it with my greatest invention: the column gun, the fastest rapid-fire weapon to date. The column gun is basically a rapid-fire gun with several barrels in what looks like a long revolver drum, shaped a bit like an Ancient Greek column, hence the name. While the barrels of the usual rapid-fire guns melt if the fire rate gets too fast, the column guns keep swapping barrels at a high speed, with the “drum” (I call it “the column”) being rotated by a steam engine, so that each barrel can cool down a bit before it gets used again. In all other aspects, it’s the same rapid-fire gun that Faust invented, with the cartridge belt and everything else. I connected one of those to the Gearwheel, so that its steam engine powered the column gun, too. The whole thing weighted about 50 kg. I slung it onto my back and walked around the room. Then took it by the handle fastened between the long-range weapons, and swung it in a wide arc. Then I pressed a lever, and the Gearwheel slid forward on two rails set over the grenade launcher and the column gun. I took another wide swing with it. Still good. I could still handle it well. Then I put the Gearwheel onto my work bench and began to take it apart, oiling the parts, to put it together again. I love doing that. It gives me a better, how to put it, sense of the weapon I’m using.
Then I remembered something. Mike was probably not coming back by morning. I had to leave him a note.
After some thought, this is what I wrote:
“Hey, bro,
I’m leaving on a dangerous mission. I may not be coming back. And if I will come back, it may not happen soon, and I might not come back in one piece.
So, in order to survive, you’ll have to find yourself a job.
When, and if I come back, I expect to see you with a good job, earning good money.
Cheers,
John.”
I smiled cruelly. This was going to startle Mike. He’d probably be terrified… And then he’d go and find himself a good job. Mike is extremely lazy, but also extremely talented.
On the next morning, our small task force was seated in an open government steam car, heading full throttle for Yorktown. Everyone, even Jossi, was quiet. I guess I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get enough sleep that night.
Father Singer looked, if possible, even gloomier than yesterday. He had something big and cross-shaped slung behind his back, covered with white cloth, and two small-sized rapid-fire guns on his belt. I guessed that his robes must have been hiding some good muscles. Him with his cross and me with the Gearwheel, we sure would look much less normal in a crowd than our Demigod partners.
After a long, bumpy ride, we reached our destination. Yorktown looked a completely normal town. Smoke was rising up from the chimneys; people were busy on the streets. Now that was strange. I was expecting to see an empty, ghost town. This one sure didn’t look like a “black hole” to me. I could see that my companions were also puzzled. Jossi looked outside the car to the streets, fingering his goatee, his face puzzled. And then something strange happened.
The town stopped looking normal at once. As if having heard a command, all the townsfolk, their eyes fixed on us, started surrounding the car. More people started coming from side streets, and, pretty soon, we were in the middle of a large crowd that started pushing the car in the direction of…
- The church! Why are you taking us to the church? – Jossi asked one of the people in the crowd. The man gave him a blank stare.
- The sermon! You must hear the sermon, newcomers!
- You must hear father Johnson’s sermon!
- All right, guys, this is where the whole affair starts to look fishy, - said Jossi, addressing me, Singer, Tom, Jessica and the startled driver; - Tom, take me and fly up. You four go to the church and take a sneak peek at this Johnson guy. Jess, if anything extraordinary happens, send a signal into the air. Blast the church’s ceiling if it will be necessary. We’ll come to the rescue pronto.
- “Blast the church’s ceiling”? Are you suggesting that she should destroy the house of God…
- Singer, just shut up and do what I told you.
With these words, Jossi was lifted into the air. Tom followed suit. Some of the townsfolk looked at them in wonder, but didn’t seem to give the matter much attention. Yeah, there was clearly something freaky at work here.
We climbed out of the car. Slowly but relentlessly, the crowd pushed us towards the church’s entrance and into the church. The doors closed shut behind the last people of the crowd. The driver, a young, newly recruited soldier, was clearly shuddering.
Inside the church, the people stood still. I looked around. It’s been a long time since I’d last been to a church. I’m not a very good Christian.
Suddenly, all the heads in the crowd turned towards the altar. I looked there, too. The priest entered the hall and approached the altar. He looked upon the people gathered in the church from behind nearly-closed eyelids. He was rather young, with a thin face. His head turned towards us, and his lips parted in a smile. Then he opened his eyes. I let out an audible gasp.
His eyes didn’t have pupils and irises. They were blank. But that wasn’t what was freaky about them.
They were colored bright red.
When they asked me to write a recollection of the events now known as “the Demigod Incident”, I felt quite reluctant about it. I told them that I didn’t like the “secret” marker being taken off this case. But the real reason was different: I am a damn engineer, not a writer. But then, after speaking with some witnesses of the catastrophes that occurred, and listening to some really weird rumors, I decided that the people of Britain deserve a good, orderly and truthful explanation of what the heck had actually happened. So, after some consultation with a writer friend of mine, I got to work.
Just like in any book that describes stuff that really happened (I think such books are called non-fiction or something), I’m not going to describe everything exactly the way it happened. You see, I don’t really remember most of the details. I never had a good memory. But I’m going to do my best to describe everything as close to the truth as possible.
Well, here goes. The story began on an ordinary summer day of the year 1669, 20 years after the Great Revolution.
The day started as ordinarily as possible. The neighbors’ old cockerel was, as usual, screaming his lungs out at 7 am sharp. And, as usual, I stretched so that nearly every joint in my body gave out a loud crack. Then I rolled off my bed onto the floor and started doing pushups. When I did forty, my younger brother, Mike, walked into my room, fully dressed according to the latest fashion.
- Morning, bro. What’s up? – I asked between pushups.
- Nothing much. I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be gone for the whole day. Or longer.
- Drinking with your buddies again, huh? This isn’t going to do you any good.
- Well, now that I’ve told you – said Mike, completely ignoring my words, - I’m off. See you!
- Whatever. Just don’t bring any of your friends along when you get home.
I don’t think he actually heard what I said. Ah, well. This was definitely not what our parents back in the village expected of him. The buster was living off my hard-earned money, and living well, drinking and hitting on girls. Well, whatever. Somehow, I can’t make myself really angry with him. And it doesn’t look like anyone can. Mike is that kind of person.
Having finished my morning exercise, I had a quick breakfast and went out from the small house my brother and me were renting, and dived into the busy streets of London, heading for work. Life was going on as it always did, and I didn’t have any idea that really soon, I would learn something extremely crazy and find myself in a titanic load of crap. Of crap that I didn’t even know existed till that day.
Quite the boring beginning for a story, huh? Well, what did you expect; this is the first time I’m actually writing one of those. Oh yes, I nearly forgot. I’d better introduce myself.
My name is John Harrison, but people usually call me by my nickname Gearwheel. Thirty-five years old. I am an engineer for the Weaponsmiths guild (you know, the big government organization that provides weapons for them boys on the front lines), specializing in rapid-fire arms. I’ve taken a six-class school education and a course in physics at the infamous London’s University of Alchemy. Participated in the Great Revolution as a kid (as an assistant for one of the N regiment’s blacksmiths). Served in the Army for a couple of years, then I started working for the Guild. My work is usually lots of fun: looking through the designs of different weapons from different eras (believe it or not, but the infamous flame-launcher was created using the technology of an ancient Greek weapon), trying to build something of my own, experimenting… and diving to the floor when everything explodes. I really love my work. But at the time when all the weird events took place, the guild put me in charge of a big and boring project. Equipping the great and horrible war machine PAF with artillery.
PAF, short for Portable Amphibian Fortress, was a project suggested by a provincial engineer by the name of Jason Wilson. A giant steam-powered armored battleship that would be able to move on land and sea, carrying a great number of tanks, a small army, and enough weapons to annihilate a city. Personally, I didn’t believe it would move an inch from the construction site. But the bigshots at the guild headquarters thought the project brilliant, and so I, as one of the Guild’s most prominent senior members, ended up working on it. It was interesting in the start, but quickly turned into a big load of paperwork. It was the most boring experience of my whole life.
As I was approaching the construction site, a message boy came running from behind me. Panting, he tugged at my sleeve and said: “E-Excuse me, sir, but are you mister John Harrison of the w-weaponsmiths guild?”
- Yeah, that just happens to be me.
- Got a letter for you, mister Harrison.
The kid handed me a small letter. It was sent from Guild HQ.
I opened the letter and read it quickly. Here’s what it said:
“Dear Mr. Harrison,
Please report to the Guild headquarters at 9 am this morning for an urgent meeting.
Yours,
Guild Leader
J. Hammers.”
Well, what do you know. It looked like another big guild meeting concerning the PAF. Geez. If I had a choice, I’d much rather do the paperwork. Those meetings are generally nothing more than a big pain in the ass. But attending the meetings was obligatory to all senior guild members. So I dragged my feet along to HQ, which was quite far from the construction site.
When I finally got there, it was already 9:15. Well, they would forgive me for showing up late. Probably.
Showing my guild pass to the doorman, I entered the headquarters and headed for the meeting room. I opened the doors, expecting to see the old bigshots at the large meeting room table buzzing about how good PAF is, but how expensive it is, and “would it be possible to stuff in more weapons without taking more space, Mr. Harrison”, etcetera.
What I did see were five people, seated at the meetings table. Well, that was surprising. One of them was definitely a priest, which you could tell by his robes. He was heatedly arguing with… none other than good old professor Joseph Rabinovich (known to his numerous friends, which included me, as Jossi), the one who taught me and many other students at the University of Alchemy the fundamental principles of physics. Rabinovich was one of the first Jews that returned to Britain from Poland thanks to President Cromwell. He didn’t change a bit since the last time I’ve seen him. He was his same old cheerful and potbellied self, fingering his ugly goatee beard just like he used to when reading lectures. He waved at me, smiling. I waved back, wondering what the heck he was doing there. Seated next to him were a young boy and girl, both clad in military uniform. And, seated at the far end of the table, was another familiar face, one that I least expected to see…
- Professor – no, Minister Harper! What –
- Drop the formalities, Gearwheel. I’m the same old Alex Harper. I’ve just moved up several ranks, that’s all.
Professor Alexander Harper, the Minister of Science, head of London’s University of Alchemy, my friend, comrade and very first teacher, Stainless Steel Nightmare Alex grinned with his strange-looking grin, which only altered the left side of his face. The right side of his face was, as always, immobile, forever disfigured by a horrible scar, one of the reminders of a terrible accident involving some highly explosive materials that took away half of his face, his right arm and leg. Those were replaced by stainless steel mechanical prosthetics. However, few knew that Harper’s prosthetics housed some of mankind’s most destructive weapons that were the main reason behind his nickname, Stainless Steel Nightmare.
- Well, now that we are all assembled… By the way, you used to be more punctual, Gearwheel, I really didn’t like waiting here for fifteen whole minutes and listening to these two arguing about religion; - he motioned towards Jossi and the priest, who seemed to have ceased their argument.
- Well, I thought this was going to be another PAF meeting. Those bore the hell out of me.
- Ah, the Moving Castle… - Alex smiled dreamily. He loved everything that was powered by steam.
I flinched. I really didn’t like the name that was given to the PAF by the people who didn’t like abbreviations.
- Please, don’t call it that. I just can’t picture this giant hunk of metal moving, no matter how hard I try.
Alex laughed. Then, addressing the priest, the professor and the two youngsters, he said:
- Anyway, lady and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to Jonathan Harrison, alias Gearwheel. Don’t judge him by his, uhm, bulky appearance, he’s got both brain and muscle –
- Objection! I’ve never taught such an utter idiot as him! – Rabinovich shouted out, grinning and fingering his goatee. This guy always loved irony.
- Please shut up, Jossi… As I was saying, Gearwheel is a genius engineer and a highly capable soldier. I’ve known him since the Revolution.
That was a bit weird, and I didn’t see where this was coming from.
- Geez, Alex! What’s this about? Are you going to send us on some secret mission or something?
Alex turned to face me. He had a determined look on his face.
- Actually, I am. And it’s going to be a dangerous one.
- More dangerous that the negotiations with France, when I came along as Mills’s bodyguard?
- Yes, much more dangerous.
- Then count me in!
- As expected from you. – Alex smiled. He knew how I loved danger better than anyone. – Let me introduce you to your partners in this mission. You already know Jossi... This man is father Arthur Singer, a renowned exorcist, - Alex motioned towards the priest. Exorcist? One of these guys who supposedly chase after demons and vampires? What the –
- And these two are Jessica and Thomas Stones; - Alex gestured towards the military kids.
Now then, Gearwheel, father Singer, I’d better start briefing you about our mission.
Alex paused; he was obviously thinking how to begin. Then he sighed and said:
- All right. I guess I’ll have to start from afar. What do you know about an alchemist called Doctor Faust?
- Geez, what do I know about Faust? He was an alchemist from Austria- no, Prussia… Ah, well, he was from someplace in Germany. But he moved to Britain at some point. He was, like, the greatest genius in the history of mankind. The number of things he invented and discovered is simply amazing. Rapid-fire arms, photography, the atomic structure of matter, a periodic table for the chemical elements, the steam engine, electricity, the genetic code… Scores of chemical, physical and biological laws… I still remember some of them from the university exams…
- And have you heard of the so-called “Devil’s Gifts”?
- Well, I heard something, but I kinda forgot… Could you please refresh my memory?
- The “Devil’s gifts” is a name for several items found among Faust’s possession after his death that weren’t described in any of his papers. Those items… Well, modern science still can’t fully comprehend them. And I don’t believe it will be able to for at least the next hundred years.
- It shall NEVER be able to comprehend them! – The exorcist put in. He was looking at Alex angrily. – You said it yourself! These objects were created by Satan, the enemy of mankind! You shouldn’t even try to understand the Devil’s gifts, for this is a path to destruction! I now understand the reason that made you call upon me: the foolish alchemists used one of the Devil’s Gifts to create something hellish that needs to be destroyed! These dreadful objects should have been destroyed as soon as they were found!
This guy was obviously a fanatic. But, everything slowly started to make sense…
- Many in the Ministry of Science also think that these objects should have been destroyed, father Singer. But, I am afraid, it is too late now. And you’re completely right about alchemists creating something dreadful. – Alex sighed. – You see, my late father, Professor George Harper, around 30 years ago, started a project, the objective of which was to study one of the “Devil’s Gifts”, the so-called “Philosopher’s Stone”. Faust’s Philosopher’s Stone is different from the one described in the legends of old. It doesn’t turn lead into gold, and it doesn’t grant you eternal life. It’s… - Alex drummed his fingers on the table; - Faust’s Stone is a… structure that possesses powers that involve the alteration of the basic laws of the universe.
- What?!
- What I said. It can alter the basic laws of the universe for a certain section of matter… For a certain object. It can make this object generate energy out of nothing, create matter out of nothing, consume matter and energy so that they disappear into nothing, it can make time run slower, faster of even backwards for this object… My late father managed to exercise control over those powers of the Philosopher’s Stone, though he didn’t come close to the mechanisms that “make the stone tick”. He wanted to use the Stone to create creatures superior to humans, creatures that had powers to break the laws of this universe, swapping them for their own. Demigods. Human beings with god-like power. He dreamed of using them as living weapons to destroy monarchy in Britain, and then conquer the whole world.
This sounded so very crazy. If it wasn’t Alex telling me this, I’d think of it as of a really stupid joke. But Alex never had much of a sense of humor. Demigods… People that can break the laws of the universe… make matter out of nothing; make energy out of nothing… This sounded so… bizarre.
- And… did he succeed in creating these… Demigods?
- He did. He created two types of Demigods.
The first is called Mutants, or M-type Demigods, people whose DNA was modified before birth to give them superhuman powers involving the Philosopher’s Stone, amazing regeneration abilities involving the generation of matter, and, theoretically, the ability to have Demigod children. They can be usually recognized by physical atrocities that most of them possess as the result of having their DNA tampered with. They are also known to stop aging at a certain age.
The other type is called Modified Humans, of MH-type Demigods, humans who were given a superhuman ability with the Philosopher’s stone. – Alex cracked his only knuckle. - Father… Professor Harper became a MH-type Demigod himself. His ability involved hypnosis, telepathic control that he exercised over most of the Demigods he created.
But… Something unexpected happened. The only Demigod he really trusted… killed him, intending to steal the Philosopher’s Stone. – Alex fumbled in his pockets and took out an old photograph. It showed a bespectacled dark-haired man in a white lab coat. – This is Doctor Gregory Robinson. An MH-type Demigod. His ability is speculated to involve generation of matter. – Alex placed the photo onto the table. Father Singer moved to get a closer look. - We still aren’t sure of the reasons behind his actions, as he took all the documents of professor Harper’s research. But we’re sure of one thing: he didn’t get the Philosopher’s Stone. As luck would have it, the Stone was stolen, along with some of the research’s documents, by the king’s agents on the night before father was murdered. The old government gave the Stone and the documents to the University of Alchemy to study, and so, eventually, when I took the University’s steering wheel, the Stone ended up in my hands.
And, 20 years ago, our research, with the help of father’s papers, which the idiotic agents chose rather randomly, has reached partial success. We have created three demigods, with abilities involving the generation of infinite energy, two of them M-type, and one MH-type.
Now this was unexpected.
- Allow me to introduce you once again… Jossi here is the MH-type demigod, his powers involve active telepathy.
The priest moved his chair away from Jossi. I was dumbfounded to say the least.
- Wait, so you could read my mind all the time? What the –
- No, no, active telepathy means that I can do something with your mind, without actually knowing what’s there. Like now, for instance, I’m talking to you telepathically.
I was astounded. Saying this, Jossi never opened his mouth. He smiled at my astonishment:
- This ability can prove really handy at times. Like when you don’t want anyone to hear a secret conversation. Or if you want to play a good practical joke on someone, to make them believe that God is talking to them…
Alex cleared his throat;
- Thomas here was our very first try at creating an M-type Demigod. He possesses telekinetic powers. But he ended up having a physical atrocity: he… er… doesn’t have vocal cords. His real age is 20, his biological age is around 18. And Jessica was our second M-type. She possesses pyrokinetic powers, and she has no physical atrocities. Real age: 19, biological age: around 16.
I took a better look at the military kids. The boy, Tom, was thin and haughty, with a stooped back. He had messy brown hair and a damn-it-all sort of look on his face. The girl, Jessica, looked surprisingly cute for both her real and biological age. She had long black hair and a smart face. She looked really amused by the whole affair. Having been introduced, they both stood up. Tom let out an audible grunt, raised his hand, and I felt myself… hovering a whole foot above the stool I was seated at. It was as if an invisible force was holding me up by the armpits. This, apparently, was pretty much the case. Jossi and Jessica were bent double with laughter, but I didn’t find it funny.
- Put me down, you idiot! I got it, I got it, you’ve got telekinetic powers, now put me down!
The telekinetic ceased his hold of me, and I fell down, breaking the stool to splinters. I sat on the floor, dazed. I tried to get to grips with what just happened: I’ve just been raised into the air by goddamn telekinetic powers. Holy crap. This was much weirder than Jossi’s telepathy.
- My turn now! – said Jessica.
She flicked her fingers, and a bright flame sprang out of them. That sure looked cool. Then she flicked her fingers again. Apparently, nothing happened.
Then I sensed a strong smell of burning cloth.
Father Arthur Singer was dancing on the spot, trying to put out the fire that appeared on the hem of his robes. Jossi was hysteric with laughter.
Alex, laughing, banged his fist on the table. The exorcist put out the flame on his robes and, looking warily at Jossi, Tom and Jessica, moved to far end of the room. Jossi calmed down, but continued to hiccup hysterically.
- All right, Alex – I said, - I get it. You got us all together to put an end to this Robinson guy. But why now? Why not 20 years ago?
- You see, 20 years ago, it was… er… possible to ignore his existence…
- I see. But now he’s done something serious and you finally decided to take the buster down?
- Yes. After the Stone was stolen, Robinson pretty much had no idea who stole it, and, therefore, where should he look for it. So he took to lying low, without causing anyone much problem. However, lately, there were numerous reports of strange occurrences… involving deaths and disappearances of people… occurrences that can be explained only by the actions of Demigods. You see – Alex sighed; - We believe that Robinson has gathered all the other Demigods that father created… And they are all out looking for the Philosopher’s Stone. And, seeing how these occurrences center around London, we believe that they also know that we have it. We don’t know what is it that they want with the Stone. It’s possible that they want to turn all of mankind into Demigods. Or take over the world. I don’t know. But they’re definitely up to no good, if they’re killing people along the way. We’ve relocated the Stone and put it under maximum security, but this won’t change much. Now that they’re on the warpath, these guys are dangerous to the populace. So, we must see Robinson and all his Demigod allies eliminated.
It has been decided by the government that a small task force shall be formed that will destroy the terrorist Demigods. Of course, we could use the army, but we don’t want information about all this leaking out to the public.
- That’s right, - said Jossi; - It could cause a panic.
- Exactly. Now, the three most powerful fractions in the country, that is, the Ministry of Science, the Ministry of External Politics and the Holy Church of Britain have all submitted their best fighters for the task force. That means you five. You shall go and destroy these Demigods, and secure the future of our country, etcetera. Now, any questions?
- I’ve got a question, - said Jossi; - just theoretically, if one were to chicken out after learning all this, what would happen to him?
- Obviously, he’d be court-martialed.
Father Singer shuddered.
- Yeah, as expected from our government, - said Jossi.
- Now, no anti-government propaganda here!
- I’ve got a question, too, - I put in; - and it’s a short one: Alex, are you coming with us?
- Sorry, Gearwheel, you know I’d love to come along and lead the task force, but I just can’t. The goddamn Minister of Science can’t just go and abandon his post.
- All right, then who will lead the task force?
- Jossi will.
- Me?!
- That’s right.
Jossi gave an ironical bow.
- I am so very glad to accept this great honor bestowed unto me…
- Now, that’s enough. Any more questions?
This was met with silence.
- All right, you lot are moving out first thing tomorrow morning. You’ll receive the funds assigned to the task force before you move out. Your first destination shall be Yorktown, a small, recently-founded town west of London. There’s some strange stuff going on: no one ever comes back from there. Literally. The town is like a black hole: people enter it and do not come back.
- How is this possible?
- Obviously, there’s a Demigod involved. Go there, capture the Demigod and extract as much information from him as you can. Understood?
- Yeah…
- All right, you have this day to prepare. Gearwheel, I’ll have the Guild take you off the PAF project for now. Who do you want to leave in charge of your part of the project?
- That guy… What’s his name… he’s got this halo of bright-red hair… We call him Flames… Oh, yes. Charlie Copper. Yeah, he’ll do the job all right.
- That’s settled, then. I’ll see you lot tomorrow, same time, same place. And don’t be late!
We, that is, the newly formed task force, walked out of the Guild headquarters. Jossi rubbed his hands together and said:
- Well, why don’t we have a drink to celebrate the creation of the great and powerful anti-Demigod task force?
- I’m in! – I said.
- Me too! – said Jessica.
Tom simply nodded.
- I refrain from drinking alcohol. – said father Singer glumly.
When I got back home, it was 10 PM, but I didn’t go to sleep. I opened the door to my workshop and there, out of a dark corner, I took the most powerful weapon I had in my possession, the one that gave me my nickname. The Gearwheel.
The Gearwheel is my own invention. It started out about ten years ago, as one of the few close-combat weapons I created: a giant steam-powered rotating shield shaped like a gearwheel, with blades springing out from the “cogs” at the press of a lever. Later, I equipped it with a four-shot grenade launcher, which turned it into a close-and-long-range weapon. And, finally, several years ago, I combined it with my greatest invention: the column gun, the fastest rapid-fire weapon to date. The column gun is basically a rapid-fire gun with several barrels in what looks like a long revolver drum, shaped a bit like an Ancient Greek column, hence the name. While the barrels of the usual rapid-fire guns melt if the fire rate gets too fast, the column guns keep swapping barrels at a high speed, with the “drum” (I call it “the column”) being rotated by a steam engine, so that each barrel can cool down a bit before it gets used again. In all other aspects, it’s the same rapid-fire gun that Faust invented, with the cartridge belt and everything else. I connected one of those to the Gearwheel, so that its steam engine powered the column gun, too. The whole thing weighted about 50 kg. I slung it onto my back and walked around the room. Then took it by the handle fastened between the long-range weapons, and swung it in a wide arc. Then I pressed a lever, and the Gearwheel slid forward on two rails set over the grenade launcher and the column gun. I took another wide swing with it. Still good. I could still handle it well. Then I put the Gearwheel onto my work bench and began to take it apart, oiling the parts, to put it together again. I love doing that. It gives me a better, how to put it, sense of the weapon I’m using.
Then I remembered something. Mike was probably not coming back by morning. I had to leave him a note.
After some thought, this is what I wrote:
“Hey, bro,
I’m leaving on a dangerous mission. I may not be coming back. And if I will come back, it may not happen soon, and I might not come back in one piece.
So, in order to survive, you’ll have to find yourself a job.
When, and if I come back, I expect to see you with a good job, earning good money.
Cheers,
John.”
I smiled cruelly. This was going to startle Mike. He’d probably be terrified… And then he’d go and find himself a good job. Mike is extremely lazy, but also extremely talented.
On the next morning, our small task force was seated in an open government steam car, heading full throttle for Yorktown. Everyone, even Jossi, was quiet. I guess I wasn’t the only one who didn’t get enough sleep that night.
Father Singer looked, if possible, even gloomier than yesterday. He had something big and cross-shaped slung behind his back, covered with white cloth, and two small-sized rapid-fire guns on his belt. I guessed that his robes must have been hiding some good muscles. Him with his cross and me with the Gearwheel, we sure would look much less normal in a crowd than our Demigod partners.
After a long, bumpy ride, we reached our destination. Yorktown looked a completely normal town. Smoke was rising up from the chimneys; people were busy on the streets. Now that was strange. I was expecting to see an empty, ghost town. This one sure didn’t look like a “black hole” to me. I could see that my companions were also puzzled. Jossi looked outside the car to the streets, fingering his goatee, his face puzzled. And then something strange happened.
The town stopped looking normal at once. As if having heard a command, all the townsfolk, their eyes fixed on us, started surrounding the car. More people started coming from side streets, and, pretty soon, we were in the middle of a large crowd that started pushing the car in the direction of…
- The church! Why are you taking us to the church? – Jossi asked one of the people in the crowd. The man gave him a blank stare.
- The sermon! You must hear the sermon, newcomers!
- You must hear father Johnson’s sermon!
- All right, guys, this is where the whole affair starts to look fishy, - said Jossi, addressing me, Singer, Tom, Jessica and the startled driver; - Tom, take me and fly up. You four go to the church and take a sneak peek at this Johnson guy. Jess, if anything extraordinary happens, send a signal into the air. Blast the church’s ceiling if it will be necessary. We’ll come to the rescue pronto.
- “Blast the church’s ceiling”? Are you suggesting that she should destroy the house of God…
- Singer, just shut up and do what I told you.
With these words, Jossi was lifted into the air. Tom followed suit. Some of the townsfolk looked at them in wonder, but didn’t seem to give the matter much attention. Yeah, there was clearly something freaky at work here.
We climbed out of the car. Slowly but relentlessly, the crowd pushed us towards the church’s entrance and into the church. The doors closed shut behind the last people of the crowd. The driver, a young, newly recruited soldier, was clearly shuddering.
Inside the church, the people stood still. I looked around. It’s been a long time since I’d last been to a church. I’m not a very good Christian.
Suddenly, all the heads in the crowd turned towards the altar. I looked there, too. The priest entered the hall and approached the altar. He looked upon the people gathered in the church from behind nearly-closed eyelids. He was rather young, with a thin face. His head turned towards us, and his lips parted in a smile. Then he opened his eyes. I let out an audible gasp.
His eyes didn’t have pupils and irises. They were blank. But that wasn’t what was freaky about them.
They were colored bright red.
