My Clockwork Muse (36 page)

"Shall we put it out of its misery?" Olimpia
asked.

I thought of Dansby's head and glanced over
at Poe's upper body to ensure that it remained at rest. Dead as a
doornail. It was like gazing upon my own corpse. "Leave it. Let the
ghastly thing walk into the walls for eternity."

"We must help Inspector Gessler," Olimpia
said suddenly.

I looked at her with a start. "He's still
alive?"

She nodded.

I grabbed her by the hand. Poe's legs had
toppled over and were now running in sideways circles upon the
floor like a lunatic boat with only one oar. We gave them a wide
berth and dashed up the stairs for the door.

~ * * * ~

The machine sat silent and cold. When I had
last seen it, it had been bucking and spitting electricity. Of
course something had gone wrong. I had no idea what the machine was
intended to do, but I was quite sure it wasn't to incinerate its
operator in a blinding flash. The fact that Olimpia had survived it
told me that its purpose was something else altogether, though,
even after examining the many dials set in its polished wooden
dashboard, what it was I could not begin to fathom. It was true,
however, that the seat upon which Coppelius had been sitting during
the machine's 'malfunction' showed no hint of the man—not a pile of
ash, nor even a shadow. The three, Olimpia included, had simply
vanished without a trace.

Perplexed, I turned to Olimpia. "If the
inspector is still alive, then where is he?"

"He was here," Olimpia replied, looking
puzzled herself.

"Where?" I asked. "In this room?"

"Yes," she said, peering around her at the
four walls. There was no more than five feet of floor space from
the front of the machine to the wall, and no more than ten on
either side.

"Perhaps you'd better explain," I said.

"I awoke to find us encased in electrical
current. There was a crack and a flash. Then we stepped off the
machine into this room as if nothing had happened, except that you
had vanished. My father whisked me away, with the inspector giving
chase. He caught up to us in the laboratory. I thought it was
strange because everything was so different."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"All of Father's machines were gone, for one
thing. And the laboratory itself looked like it had been abandoned.
It was all dusty and draped with cobwebs when just minutes before
it had been blazing with light and full of his equipment and
supplies."

"Strange..."

"Yes. But, after a tussle, the inspector
wrested me from Father. I don't know where Father was meaning to
take me, but Inspector Gessler saved me from him. He put me back on
this machine and pulled the levers as Father had done. Again there
was a flash, and the next thing I knew, the inspector had vanished.
I heard a noise and followed it to where I found you tied to the
table. I fear the inspector may have gone after Father."

"In which case," I said, "he may be in
trouble. But
where
? Where is he?"

I heard the sharp click of the bookcase
latch. I turned. The door opened, but no one was there. Then I
lowered my gaze and saw Tap step inside.

"You mean
when
, Eddy," he said. He
walked into the room and hopped up onto the seat of the machine.
"
'When
is he.'"

"Oh, hello, Tap. I'm glad
you're
still
alive at least."

"Good to hear. But so is Gessler."

"What's that you say?"

"Gessler. He's still alive. And Coppelius,
too, I suppose. Unless the inspector has strangled him by now."

"But where are they?"

"I told you: it's not
where
, it's
when
. And he might be right here in this room with us."

I looked around again and threw up my hands
in frustration.

"Oh, don't bother looking, you can't see
them. Gessler might be standing right next to you and you'd never
know it. He's in the future. Or maybe the past. Here, let me
check." Tap hopped up onto the dash and cocked his head at the many
dials and gauges. "The future," he confirmed after a quick
examination.

"What on earth are you talking about? How can
he be in the future?"

"I don't know how. But that old crocodile
does, and this is his machine. His 'Time Displacement Machine' I
think he calls it. Whatever. Come look." I walked over and looked
where Tap was pointing his beak. "See that? What does it say?"

"'04-14-18-65'," I muttered, reading the
gauge. Gibberish.

"If I'm any judge of what year
this
is, that's the future, Eddy. April 14, 1865."

"You mean to tell me that this machine has
transported them into the future? Olimpia, what do you know of
this?"

Olimpia shrugged her shoulders hopelessly. "I
would believe almost anything," she said. "Father's machines can be
quite astounding." She blushed and looked down at her feet.

"It sure looks like the future to me,
Eddy."

"But how do you know?"

"Because I've been there."

I laughed. Even if I could accept the concept
of a time machine, Tap was, as I well knew, prone to exaggeration.
"You've been to 1865?"

"I've been to 1999."

This I could not believe. "Oh, come now,
Tap!"

"1999!" he repeated crossly. "I was ... You
might say, I was born there."

"You were born 150 years in the future?"

"It was that foul Coppelius who took me
there. It was a mistake—"

"Coppelius took you?"

"Of course, Coppelius! You know anybody else
with a time machine?"

"Don't get angry," I said. I had already
accepted the fact of a talking raven; of clockwork butlers and
murderous zombies. What right had I to demand the restoration of
sanity now? I decided I might as well continue down this path.
Perhaps I would soon wake and find myself safe in my bed. "How was
it a mistake?"

"He wanted to take me into the past, but I
didn't want to go. Not to the past, not to the future. I didn't
want to go anywhere with that old crocodile. Anyway, while we were
fighting, he slipped somehow and pushed the dials all the way up,
as far as they would go."

"And that was 1999?"

Tap laughed. "Coppelius may be a genius, but
he's not perfect. See here? He forgot to put a twenty on his dial."
I looked where he was pointing and cautiously turned the dial that
showed '18' to '19'. I tried to turn it further, but it wouldn't
budge. There was no '20'. "Nineteen's as high as it goes. So when
he pushed it all the way up, we found ourselves on December 31,
1999. Lucky for us, this hole in the ground was still here. We
might have found ourselves buried in concrete. Or in the middle of
the subway with a train barreling down on us."

I didn't ask.

Neither had I ever asked where Tap had come
from. He showed up one day during Virginia's illness—Times New
Roman" \s 12while she was under the care of Dr. Coppelius. I
doubted my senses when he had first spoken to me. But I realized
now that I should have been able to put his appearance together
with the mad doctor. In fact, I would now associate Coppelius with
any strange thing that had ever happened to me.

"But why?" I asked.

"Why what?"

"Why go at all?"

"Coppelius does most of his work elsewhere. I
mean, else
when
. So as not to attract attention to himself
here. Plus he can work at his leisure. He can be gone for weeks at
a stretch, and no time would have passed here at all. It's a jungle
out there. Where Coppelius has been, you'll find some strange shit,
Eddy. Strange shit, indeed."

"I have no doubt of that," I said. "But why
you?"

"Because I'm like her," Tap said. "Coppelius
made me. He perfected his serum on me. In 1999."

I was silent for a moment. Then I started to
laugh.

"What's so funny?" Tap asked.

"I'm not surprised," I said, my laughter
growing. "For the first time since this whole affair began, by God,
I'm not surprised!
"

~ * * * ~

The time machine began shaking. I grabbed Tap
off the seat and we stood back. A few seconds later, Gessler
appeared at the controls.

"Ah, there you are!" he said, clambering off
the machine. He turned to Olimpia, bowing slightly. "Miss
Coppelius, I'm glad to see you have arrived safely."

"And you, Inspector!" I exclaimed happily. "I
was afraid we had lost you forever." I clapped his shoulders and
made to embrace him, but felt suddenly awkward by the depth of my
feeling for the man. Instead, I merely held him at arm's length and
gave him a couple of pats.

"You'll not be rid of me so easily, I'm
afraid, Mr. Poe. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for Coppelius.
The devil has eluded me."

"Coppelius has escaped?"

"A wild carriage ride it was, too. I tell
you, the man is mad. Completely mad."

"That has, in recent days, become obvious to
all of us."

"I chased him as far as the train station,"
Gessler went on. "An odd thing, though."

"What is that?"

"I have lived in New York for most of my
adult life, and I never even knew there was a train station
there."

"It's probably new since the last time you
were in the city," Tap said.

"The last time? The last time I was in the
city was just yesterday ... Mr. Tap." He still didn't seem
completely comfortable talking to the raven. I didn't have the
heart to tell him who—what—Tap really was. Even less Olimpia.

"The last time you were there was 1847,
Inspector," Tap said. "Today was 1865."

"Was it now?" Gessler asked, and Tap
nodded.

I thought I better explain. "This machine," I
said, gesturing towards it, "is a time displacement device, of
Coppelian design. It transports its passengers through time. You
chased Coppelius into the future, Inspector."

"Of course I did!" Gessler exclaimed. "I
would not have expected anything so mundane as a simple pursuit
through three-dimensional space. Who would?"

I sat down on the machine. "I'm going after
him."

"What?" Gessler asked in astonishment.

"Eddy, you can't," Olimpia said.

I turned the dial from '19' back to '18'. I
checked the remainder of the setting. April 14, 1865. Just as
Coppelius had left it. "But I am. I cannot let him get away. You
say you chased him to the train station, Inspector. For where was
the train bound?"

Gessler knit his brow. "Washington. I'm a New
York City detective, Mr. Poe. I'm perfectly happy to let Washington
have the devil. I think you're making a mistake going after
him."

Olimpia plopped down beside me. "Then I will
make the same mistake. You'll not go without me, Edgar Allan
Poe."

I threw my arm around her shoulders. "I will
have it no other way."

"What about me?" Tap asked.

I looked down at him and mused how strange it
was that I could always read his expressions in his unchanging beak
and eyes. He cocked his head at me hopefully.

"What would I do without you, Tap?"

He immediately leapt onto my shoulder.
"That's exactly what I was thinking," he said excitedly. I started
rummaging through the pocket of my frock coat, searching for
something. Tap began chattering the way he always did when he was
excited and happy. Of course, I was only half-listening. "You
should hear what people say about you in 1999. You're famous, Eddy.
They make school kids read your poems and such. Everybody loves
'The Raven', of course, but, I gotta level with you, 'To
Blank-Underline' never amounted to squat. You wasted your time
writing that one. You probably remember me trying to warn
you..."

I found what I was looking for: my smoked
lenses. I was afraid I had lost them. I pinched them to my nose and
then drew my pepperbox revolver. Where we were bound, I had a
feeling I was going to need it.

"Now, Inspector, if you would show me how to
use this infernal machine..."

Be sure to join Edgar Allan Poe, Olimpia
and Tap on their next exciting adventure,
A
Midnight Dreary
. Coming in 2012.

The preceding is intended to be a work of
speculative fiction and not biography. The author has not hesitated
to rearrange the circumstances and chronology of Poe's life to meet
the demands of his story. While it may be obvious to some that Poe
did not battle zombies and automatons during his lifetime, it is
less well-known that among other things he did not write his famous
story 'Berenice' in 1847. Many fine biographies of Edgar Allan Poe
have been written and the reader is urged to consult one of them
for an accurate portrayal of Poe's life.

Charles Frederick Briggs and William Evans
Burton were indeed Poe's associates and while much of their
dialogue at least as it pertains to their opinions of the famous
author is taken from their letters, nothing about their
characterizations in this novel is intended to portray their actual
personalities. The author apologizes to any of their descendents
who might be offended.

D. R. Erickson lives in the American Midwest
and is at work on the next Poe Files mystery.