A Different Kind of Idea
The compressed, powerful fires below the ground burn intensely, illuminating the small engine room in a bright, burning red light. Small optic tubes carry the light into each room in the house, illuminating it with a soft, natural-looking light even in nighttime. The fire crackles powerfully and loud, but in a soothing biological pattern. But the purpose of the fires is upward. A small ladder-climb above lies a gigantic canister surrounding the room filled completely with water. Pipes thread from gigantic water and ballast tanks under the floor being pumped by large turning windmills within each pipe. They thread water to the huge canister, keeping it under control and fairly cool, but the fires below are too fast for it to keep up. Going around the large canister, a monsoon of energy thrusts its way upward ferociously. At the top of the canister, water boils off at incomprehensible speeds constantly, and rises fast and hard enough to lift a horse off its feet easily. The steam thrusts with absolute power and makes an oppressive sound like the rain in a thunderstorm. Above, the steam forces its pockets up and it turns a truly gigantic turbine menacingly slowly in contrast to the hyper-speed workings below it. The strong rotor it turns on groans, not in a dysfunctional way, but in the way that says power, not being lost, but being converted quickly. Four rooms over, the clicking sound of meshing gears fills the room, and no signs of the intense hate in the fire room remains. Just the quiet, repeated ticking. Turning again and again, it clicks, processing the sheer power of the whole building. Like thoughts, simply strands of processes, going onward, processing, quietly.
Many meters away, other thoughts are processing. A plan is forming, sheer power forcing upward through his head, calculating every possible combination faster than the best of his clever machines. Kal sits at his desk, his pencil scrambling around his paper, moving slower than his mind but faster than the paper can stay in place. Eventually his mind stops, having completed his strand of work, and rests. His pencil catches up eventually, and he stands. This invention is different than most of his other computational or energy appliances. This one is less physical. More of an idea. A strange idea he had while building one day. A thought that maybe something wasn't quite what we're all told it is. That maybe things we thought were logical, clever, and beyond us to understand are simply arbitrary but embellished in media and popular belief. It started as just a thought, a little nagging notion. But then it started to form more, as he started to think of evidence and logic. The whole system is broken, it needs to be fixed. But of course, they’ve drilled it in to the people all this time, clearly stating the only way change can happen. He decides he has to do it. He has to kill.
Valerie walks slowly. She steps on, one foot in front of another in a repeated pattern, slowly moving forward. She wouldn’t be sent if it were dangerous, she is just a few years in service. Nothing bad will happen to her, she assures herself. She quickens her pace, becoming more confident, but remaining quiet. She’d like to remain unseen. She’s used to walking quietly, though, and her mind is free to think of other things. Why was she sent to investigate this? What was she looking for? She’d heard of Kal Fosler before, most people have, him being such a brilliant inventor. She’d also heard of his odd personal life, too, living alone, rarely going out. She heard he’s actually quite charming, but thinks himself too inadequate for anyone else. And then there are all those times he’s made crazy useless inventions and insisted they were the future. I mean, even his Logic Paths were initially thought of as ridiculous, but now everybody uses them, for all sorts of things. Markets count money with it, scientists find patterns with it. They’re not perfect, and they’re quite expensive, but they’re faster than anything else, and you don’t have to pay anyone a wage. Other people give up, she’s heard, but Kal didn’t. Babbage never finished his Difference Engine, but Kal Fosler just went ahead and made his. Vallie forces herself to think on the task at hand again, though she knows understanding who you are investigating is an invaluable method. She finds herself on the corner of Dale and Voxel, and looks up. Startled, she steps back for a second, trips, and falls, making a horrible noise. She’s completely shocked, though. She’s never seen anything like it before. How could it even be possible? She stands up, blinks, and looks again. Kal Foslers house has completely vanished.
Kal scrambles towards the starboard side and hauls the second rope off its hinge, using the full force of his body to prevent it from flying out too far. The sail is forced out by the wind full force, and for a few moments the airship tumbles. He’s thrown backwards into a wall and knocked down, but he recovers enough to crawl up the steep slope of the ground and activate a simple mechanism on the ground. The gears turn slowly, but with more power than all the wind and Kal’s arms combined. They trim the sail in, bit by bit, until it catches at the right angle and the ship starts to move at full speed ahead. The air cracks the sail like a whip, and Kal can hear nothing but the relentless wind. He looks out a small window off the side of the room and sees the ground fly by, the fastest he’s moved in his life. He stands up, stabilises himself, and trims the large wheel on the side slightly. The sail moves in, inhales some more air, and quiets to near silence, extended far out to one side of the ship, gigantic and powerful. The ship stops rocking and starts to flatten out again. He admires his handiwork for a moment, but then moves on. He grabs a ladder and steps down to a lower, more decent room. Ornamented with windows almost all the way around, and big enough to fit an entire floor of a more normal house, the bridge is one of the topmost floors of the ship. If this was a more normal arrangement with an actual human crew, to even see the bridge would be a huge honor. Even more so would be to touch the large black metal wheel in the center, and Kal walks briskly towards it and swings it far to the right, checking his compass on the left and a huge map of England just below it. He lives in the north, in a quiet area. Directly below him, as he observed on the sails deck, is a large marsh which he uses to gather his bearings. He now heads south south east directly towards London, where his goal lies. His path set, and airship aloft, he takes a set of polished stairs down to a living room. He sits down, and for the first time in a while, he takes a moment to think.
“Yes, completely gone, there were no signs. Just as if it were never there. I’m sorry, but he left no leads to follow. All of the evidence that I’m used to finding is simply gone.”
“And there were no witnesses I assume?” said the higher detective, somewhat rhetorically.
“He’s the only one in a five kilometer radius, I doubt anyone could have seen him.”
“Ah. You see, there is your flaw. If there once was a house, and now there is not, what must have happened?” Now the detective is fully sure of the answers to his questions, and Vallie is quite confident he’s walking her through something he’s already figured out.
“Well I suppose it must have moved. But houses don’t move, Charles.”
“And Fosler is known for his inventing, is he not? Especially in the category of flight? Then how, do you suppose, has his house disappeared?” pushes Charles.
“Well, that’s absolutely crazy! Are you actually implying that Kal Fosler has built a flying house and flown it away? A flying house! When did the future arrive?” Vallie looks down in surprise and dismay, although the idea is entrancingly attractive.
“Yes, indeed. In fact, we’ve checked it with some of his closest neighbors and one contends that he saw a gigantic airship, the size of a house, flying faster than he’s seen anything move before above his head on his morning walk on the marshes. He’s one of the darwinian fellows, and he claims it must be aliens from away from the earth invading. Sounds like we have our proof. I’m sure Her Majesty will be pleased,” says the detective, sounding excited.
Vallie is disappointed. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Flying houses, that’s new. But Her Majesty had bestowed the case on her, saying she was worthy, and now Charles has taken it from her hands. She begins to get angry, but then realises Charles will undoubtedly understand. “But… Charles?”
“Yes? I was just about to meet with Her Majesty.”
“Yes, I was… wondering if maybe you might put things a little differently. You see… she did give the case to me.”
“But Her Majesty will… Yes, I see.”
“Can you just say that we have some leads, and promise her that we’ll have more palpable information later? 5be something I can gather?”
“Yes. My apologies to you, Valerie. I had no idea this was your case.”
“No problem. I couldn’t have done it without you anyway. I’m off to see if I can find out what he’s up to. Unless… I’m quite useless without a second eye. Do you think you could accompany me?"
“Me and another brilliant detective on a case with a mysterious man with a flying house? How could I reject something as perfect as that?”
Kal is ready to start a revolution. To create equality and logic for everyone. No one is better than anyone else, and government should reflect that. Everyone should have equal right to power, and passing down power by family is outdated and ridiculous. Something needs to change. And change only starts with one devoted citizen. And change does not wait. It starts now. He stands up and walks over to the huge map on the wall of the bridge, looking at London: his destination. He’s never lifted off with his house before, though he knew it would work; he’d tested each part individually. He feels a soft rumble underneath his feet where the engines power the entire airship. He walks over to the window and looks down on the ground below him, at the prosperous land that is Victorian England. He thinks of the enormous amount of history behind the country. Outdated history, he reminds himself. Illogical history from a time where people were dramatically unequal. When a person could own another human. When you could declare yourself king because you own land or have a strong military. Outdated is always worse, he knew from his technology. Everything must be constantly on a move forward. The Industrial Revolution, the invention of non-human work, is just one step. All outdated things must pass on, no matter how peaceful they may seem now. He steps away from the window and looks down on his desk. The sudden rush from the change of view makes him lurch backwards for a moment as he sees the relatively still room. He sits down and begins to write with a fountain pen in blue ink. Signing it with his name in strong print, he places it in a small envelope. He picks up the envelope and another device and returns to the window. He places the envelope in the device which looks like an enormously small airship without a small horizontal sail. He opens the window and throws it with force directly downward. It quickly changes direction and flies far faster than his airship at an angle in the direction of London. He closes the window and confirms his decision. If one king is corrupt in the monarchy system, everything could be brought down. The Americans knew that. They wouldn’t stand for it. It’s time it changes for everyone in England, too. He walks over to the wheel and fine-tunes his course. He has to do it. For the good of the people.
Vallie steps up to the small airship, thanking the pilot as she retreats to the back and sits on the small couch. Charles follows her. She sits silent for a while, thinking. Something was troubling her deeply about the case. Finally she feels the need to ask. “Charles?”
Charles was startled out of a small nap. “Yes?”
“Something’s been troubling me. Her Majesty told me to visit that address because thought there would be a case there. How could she have known anything?”
“You’re not suggesting that she intentionally withheld information?” He replied, somewhat angry at the proposition.
“No, it’s just… Don’t you think it’s a little odd? I mean, think about it. People don’t just decide to check on someone who’s house just disappeared. And there’s another thing, too. Do you honestly think what we’re doing right now is a case? I mean, there’s nothing wrong with having a flying house, right?”
“Perhaps she was told about it, and she was simply curious. All I know is she wishes us to continue on a search to find him, deliver this letter,” he motions to the mysterious letter which they were handed on their way out, “and report back to her immediately. Clearly we should just follow her instructions, use our skills to try to figure out where he is, and carry out our instructions. It’s not our job to try to figure out what she’s up to, remember? What matters is the other people. Rest at ease. We’ll be at the expected position of his airship in no time.”
Vallie isn’t very reassured. Charles has always been that kind of person, one that follows instructions with no question. She is always curious, and couldn’t deal with not knowing why or what someone was doing. She realizes that wondering about the dealings of Her Majesty was too far, though, and she tries her best to quell her feelings.
After a while of waiting quietly, Charles gets excited and points to the window. “There! That’s him, isn’t it?” He calls for the pilot to pull up alongside the airship. The smaller airship pulls up along the gigantic one, the latter’s size becoming apparent as the first approaches. Kal Fosler stands upon a balcony half the size of the smaller airship. Valerie’s initial reaction is shock at the contrast in Kal. In the same moment he is wearing a perfectly tailored suit of the darkest blue with the whitest stripes, as he is wearing a large pilots cap which covers his entire face and his ears to prevent the wind from tearing him apart. In his hands he holds the most odd mechanism Vallie has ever seen. Without having any power applied to it, it is continuously rotating at a constant slow speed, around and around. He has long black hair and looks stronger than an engine. Even more surprising is his voice when he speaks over the wind to them. His voice is a plush animal, soft and pleasant, and never tiring or accusing. “Good afternoon my friends. How are you doing? Lovely weather, is it not? Please do excuse the mess; I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
Vallie takes a second to recover and then recovered. “I’m meant to deliver this letter to you and then leave. I mean you no harm.” She reaches out over the gap between the two zeppelins and attempts to hand him the letter. The gap begins to get farther apart and she shouts at the pilot in surprise. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. I’ll try to approach closer,” the pilot responds apologetically. Kal reaches across the gap with his hand open, accepting the letter. As Vallie hands him the letter, he withdraws gently and winks at her. “It really was wonderful meeting you. I hope we shall meet again.” He walks off the balcony, and suddenly the ship vears downward dramatically, passing out of sight quickly.
Kal prepares, not nervous, but excited. He’s received his reply, and he’s in range to act. He pulls out of the envelope his original letter and another. He reads the reply, shakes his head sadly, and goes to the front window one deck below, opening it solemnly. He looks out and sees the very building where it must be done. He never imagined it happening this way. He reaches to the side of the window and pulls out the gun, resting it on the windowsill. He takes careful aim, and thinks for a moment. Closing his eyes, he pulls the trigger.
The ship descends on the landing field, and Vallie hurries off. Charles had offered that perhaps she meet the Queen herself for this case. Excited, and wishing to get there quickly, she hurries through the long hallways. She knocks on the huge doors that mark the Queen’s chamber. The doors open and she sees the most tragic thing she has seen in her life. She takes one look at the body with blood seeping out of it and falls to the ground with a cry. Queen Victoria is dead.
After a long time, Vallie recovers and walks up to Her Majesty’s desk. On it lies copies of two letters. The first is signed Kal Fosler.
“Your Majesty, I understand that you are loved by your people, and that you serve your country well. I also understand, unfortunately, that a system in which people have rule based on family is completely illogical. Therefore I set out to change these ways. I regretfully give you two options: you must resign or be killed. Kal Fosler.”
The second is signed by Queen Victoria, and simply states, “I will not have my power or my person challenged.”
Around England, India, and the world newspapers are read and people cry. People who knew Queen Victoria are hit with the news. People who are ruled by Queen Victoria are shocked and confused. Valerie looks at the newspaper, her head throbbing. She shouldn’t have been charmed by his presence, or excited by the case. It was completely her fault that the Queen was dead. She should have killed that man. Or returned faster. She is the woman who could have saved the Queen. But didn’t.
Kal Fosler sits in his living room in the air, screwing in a disk to a small machine. An idea floats into his head that what he did wasn’t revolution. That things are set in place for a reason, that thousands of years of repetition doesn’t suggest that a system is outdated, but that it is perfect. But more simply, that no matter what, it’s not okay to kill someone respected, trusted, and loved by millions of people. That maybe this wasn’t revolution. 5be it was murder. These thoughts pass through his head like any other thought: Processed, and then filtered out. He quickly decides them of no significance and forgets.
He continues to screw on the disk, thinking about his machine.