The Constantine Affliction (30 page)

“From anyone else, that would sound like a threat,” Winnie said. “But do you know, I don’t even think he
meant
it that way.”

Oswald waited patiently for Winnie to finish, then went on. “In the past few years my focus has altered, away from changing individuals to addressing problems with the system—with society itself, which is part of why most individuals are so dreadful.
One of the greatest problems with our culture is the fact that men and women are treated so drastically differently, their spheres of life so rigorously separated. The class of ‘humans’ is complex enough without adding further arbitrary divisions—men and women are the same, in the aggregate, apart from certain secondary sexual characteristics that do not interest me overmuch. The apparent differences in their abilities are, it seems to me, largely determined by cultural prejudices, excepting generalizations regarding muscle mass and, of course, reproductive ability.”

“You may be right,” Ellie said. “I have certainly grown weary of men telling me no woman can write as well as a man.”

Oswald positively beamed. “You see? We are in agreement. I knew we would find grounds to make common cause. I decided it might be useful to destroy those notions about the essential fundamental differences between men and women, and so I spent several years studying certain frogs, lizards, and fish, and learning about the transmission of various infectious diseases, and—”

“Yes, I was going to mention,” Pimm said. “Sir Bertram here is responsible for creating and releasing the Constantine Affliction.”

The Burden of Vision

A
fter a long moment of shocked silence, Winnie said, “All this time I’ve been cursing God for giving me the Constantine Affliction, when I should have been cursing you.”

Oswald sighed. “Your inconvenience is irrelevant when compared to the greater good, Winifred. And the Constantine Affliction is a foolish name. I was disappointed to see you perpetuate the term in your articles, Miss Skyler. I call it the Great Transformer, in my journals.”

Journals! Ellie thought. Journals meant
evidence
.

Oswald went on, pacing in front of the cage. “Though it is true that an ambassador from Constantinople was among the first to contract the illness, when I introduced it into a certain brothel. Though he—or she—was not the original carrier.”

“What did you think would happen when you engineered this catastrophe?” Ellie said. “What was your prediction, your
hypothesis
?”

“Chaos, of course. But I expected—I still expect—that eventually having men transform into women, and women into men, while retaining their same essential minds and faculties, would make people realize how ridiculous and arbitrary the division into male and female ‘spheres’ truly is. I would class that experiment as…. ongoing, rather than a failure. One of the advantages of having an extended life is the ability to engage in long-term social experiments like this one. Of course, one must occupy oneself while awaiting the results. Hence my interest in the clockwork courtesans—”

“That plague killed more people than it transformed,” Ellie interrupted. “Were all those deaths a worthwhile price to pay for your experiment?”

Oswald frowned. “What is this obsession with life and death? Life is not precious, Miss Skyler. Leave a filthy puddle of water alone in a beam of sunlight, and it will teem with life in a few days or weeks. Oh, some lives are more worthy than others, certain individuals more valuable than the rest of the milling hordes—I myself, and the three of you perhaps, and even Abel Value, in his grim and simple way. But if some must die in order to further my researches, what of it? Some of my colleagues study fruit flies. Such flies are wonderful subjects, because they breed rapidly, and their lives are very short, so they churn through new generations at a prodigious rate. Introduce a new variable into a colony of fruit flies, and one can watch the consequences propagate swiftly. Humans are, compared to my own likely lifespan, scarcely more than flies themselves. And anyway, killing off a few people is the humane thing to do.”

“Your powers of rationalization are astounding,” Pimm said.

“Oh, don’t be naive, Lord Pembroke. There are too many people alive now. Do you have any idea how many human beings teem on this earth? One and a quarter
billion
.” He shuddered. “Such a number is scarcely comprehensible by the human mind!”

“The fact that you can’t comprehend their number doesn’t mean any of them deserve to die,” Pimm said.

“What does deserving have to do with it? They never earned the right to live, so I do not require them to earn the right to die. Have you read the writings of the Reverend Malthus? He pointed out decades ago that population growth is exponential, while the growth of the world’s food supply is merely arithmetical.” He sighed. “I can see by your expressions that you are all functionally innumerate. What I mean is, population grows by leaps and bounds, while our ability to produce food plods along at a rather more modest pace. Malthus predicted that, sooner rather than later, the population will far outstrip our capacity to
feed
that population. Thinning out the horde is actually merciful, like hunting deer to keep their numbers in check—otherwise, they will overpopulate and starve to death.”

“But we shall not starve today,” Carrington said, returning with a tray of tea. “I found some frosted biscuits, they’re marvelous.”

Oswald seemed peeved at the interruption. He took his own tea cup and told Carrington to put the tray where “our guests” could reach it. With exaggerated care, the secretary placed the tray on the ground and then used Pimm’s walking stick to push it slowly closer to the bars.

“Whatever are you doing?” Oswald demanded.

“I wouldn’t put it past Freddy to hurl hot tea into my face in an attempt to escape,” Carrington said.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Winnie admitted. “Not to help us escape, of course, that’s obviously ridiculous, but just for my own amusement.” She reached through the bars and poured tea for herself, Ellie, and Pimm, while Oswald tapped his walking stick impatiently—some property of its odd metallic composition made it ring unpleasantly against the floor.

“Carrington,” the eminent scientist snapped. “Take tea to our other prisoner, and stay with him. He’s a bit overwrought. You should calm him down.”

“Of course, master.” Carrington bowed so obsequiously it seemed an obvious mockery, then disappeared into the shadows again.

“I suppose it never occurred to you,” Pimm said, after taking a sip of his tea, “to use your intellect to find new ways to
feed
the starving?”

“What do you mean?
Farming
? That is hardly one of my interests, Lord Pembroke. Moreover, a smaller population makes it easier to track variables in my experiments. I am disappointed in this reaction, I must say. Mr. Value comprehended the obvious wisdom of my arguments immediately, and Mr. Adams shared my interest in exploring the full range of human potential. You are a journalist, Miss Skyler—surely you value truth above all else? Let us tear away the shroud of nature’s mysteries, then. Let us lay the truths of the world bare.”

“If you advocate truth in all things, then you won’t mind me quoting you in my paper?” she said.

Oswald chuckled. “Newspapers. Yes. You are an insightful writer, Miss Skyler, and that insight is wasted on your readers. I could stand in a field and expound on the principles of pneumatic chemistry to a herd of bleating sheep, but that act would neither aid me, nor enrich the sheep. The same must be said for telling the truth to the inhabitants of this city. They would not understand. They would try to stop me. But, certainly, print what you like… when you have your freedom. Which, of course, is entirely at my discretion. Even if you succeeded in smearing my good name, I would likely weather the storm. I have influential friends.”

“Ah, yes,” Pimm said. “You sit at the right hand of the Queen.”

“Rather closer than that, old boy.” Oswald winked, and Ellie shuddered. “My experiments—the ones people actually appreciate, the development of the alchemical lamps and magnetic field manipulators to improve health, and so on—were enough to bring me to Her Majesty’s attention, so that my name was not entirely unknown to her. She was still quite fond of her husband Prince Albert in those days, and when he miraculously survived his fever—thanks to some of my own advances in germ theory, though I let Pasteur take all the credit, as the original insight was his own—her interest in me grew into friendship and affection. Unfortunately, in the wake of his illness, the Queen’s devotion to Prince Albert only grew. I understand that almost losing someone you love makes you appreciate them more.”

Ellie thought of Pimm being carried into the warehouse unconscious, how she’d assumed he was dead, and how her heart had transformed into shards of glass in her chest at that moment. Oswald was mad, but he was not always wrong.

“He poisoned the prince, incidentally,” Pimm said. “I gather he’s building up to that revelation, but really, this lecture could go on all night. It’s not always true that criminals secretly long to confess, but the criminals that consider themselves clever
do
like to hold forth.”

Oswald smiled thinly. “You are an industrious detective, Lord Pembroke. I would worry about your allegations, if I believed I had left any evidence of wrongdoing behind. Yes, I infected the prince with my Great Transformer. Initially I hoped he would die in the change, but in retrospect, it is better that he simply transformed. Even given evidence of his adultery, his death might have brought on too much emotion in the Queen—at the very least, she would have been compelled to go into mourning, which is quite a tedious affair all around. Fortunately, the prince lived, and became a woman, ugly and horse-faced. The Queen will not let his name be mentioned in her presence. His declarations of innocence, though true, were of course disbelieved. The whole endeavor was quite neatly arranged, and I was there to comfort Her Majesty in her time of trouble. We have been incredibly close ever since.”

“Oh?” Pimm said. “Is that why you poisoned
her
with the Affliction and locked her in a cage?”

Oswald scowled as Winnie and Ellie gasped. “I’d wondered whether or not you had ascertained the identity of my other guest. I thought it wise to gas you unconscious as soon as I discovered your presence. Perhaps I should have asked.”

“You have the
Queen
imprisoned here?” Winnie said.

“He’d be the king, now, I suppose,” Oswald said. “Or does he remain the queen regardless? I’m sure there’s an answer in some book of courtly protocol somewhere, but I don’t care—he still calls himself my ‘Queen,’ for whatever his opinion is worth. The transformation was regrettable but necessary. I’m afraid that even when I exercised my full influence, marshaled my best arguments, and entreated the Queen as a friend, she proved… intractable… when it came to assisting me in my latest grand design. I’d had hopes for controlling her mind, but when that line of inquiry proved fruitless, I turned to another approach.”

“How does turning her into a
man
help you?” Ellie demanded.

“The clockwork courtesans,” Pimm said. “He made a mechanical double for the Queen. An imitation.”

Oswald bared his teeth. “You know more than I expected, Lord Pembroke. Wherever do you get your information?”

“Like Miss Skye, I am not at liberty to divulge my sources,” Pimm said.

“But she could use
you
as a source, I suppose,” Oswald said. “And print all this in her newspaper, intended as a slanderous character assassination—”

“You mean libelous.” Ellie could not resist the chance to puncture this pompous ass’s self-congratulatory tone. “False charges in writing are libel—false charges when spoken are slander.” She gave him a gentle smile. “It is a common mistake. And, of course, none of these charges are
false
.”

“I bow to your superior knowledge on the subject of libel,” Oswald said, and he
did
bow, in a very courtly way. If Ellie had annoyed him, he didn’t show it. “I admire your precision when it comes to language, Miss Skyler, and apologize for my own shortcomings. So, yes—you could print libelous nonsense. But why take that course? Why try to destroy me, when you could aid me in my great work instead? Everything I have prepared for is in readiness, now. This country is on the cusp of greatness.”

Oswald stepped closer to the cage. “We have come now to the point of decision. I am a reasonable man. I will offer you two paths of action: you may remain imprisoned for the next few days or weeks, or you may join me in my great work.”

“What great work is that, again?” Pimm said. “I’m afraid you’ve been rather vague on that point.”

“Ah, but you find my lecture interminable enough as it is. Wouldn’t you agree that I’ve rattled on enough already? Suffice to say my new project makes my past experiments seem pedestrian and unambitious. My great work will help me bring the population of this planet down to a manageable level, and furnish me with a perfect experimental chamber to create an ideal society. Agree to join me, and, after certain tests of loyalty have been passed, I will happily share all my plans with you.”

“What would our compensation be?” Ellie said.

Pimm started to say something—or to swear, possibly—but went silent when Oswald chuckled. “I will give you whatever you want, Miss Skye. And, yes, once my experiment is concluded, such an outrageous promise
will
be in my power to fulfill—I could give you your own
country
to rule, if you wished it. So tell me. What do you desire?”

“I… Only to pursue the truth, and to write, and to have a happy life.”

“Hmm. That is simple enough, though a bit vague. We’ll have to nail down the particulars later. Winifred?”

“Give me back my life,” Winnie said. “Make it so you never inflicted this disease upon me.”

“A difficult problem, but not impossible,” Oswald said. “I could perhaps reverse your condition, at least. After surviving the Great Transformer, one develops an immunity to the disease, but I could create a new strain, I suppose…”