The Furnace of Los
I hoped Mercury had hidden himself in the shadows of the workshop. If we were discovered the consequences would be dire. The Phlogiston do not tolerate interference in their activities and they have their own ‘justice’ for those offenders who come to their attention; we would almost certainly suffer the highest penalty.
‘Brother, we are doing the right thing, aren’t we?’
‘My dear Asquinol, do not worry yourself. Once Brother Merimee understands the power of what we have to show him, he will come round to our way of thinking.’
‘Yes, but we could be expelled. I would hate to leave the workshop.’
‘So would I, my brother, so would I. Have faith.’
‘I do, but it says in the manual of apocrypha that clockwork is one of Father Newton’s errors, coming as it does between the blasphemy of the diffracting prism and the untruths of calculus. It is heresy.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘They call it science.’
‘Calm yourself. We have taken back this much-neglected field from the realm of the scientists. With our alloy we help our brothers in their interpretation of the great mystery. We will lead them boldly into the darkness. Remember we are giving him an alloy. That is what we have produced, as instructed. The property that we shall show him was discovered quite by accident.’
‘What if he objects to your suggestion?’
’ "Our" suggestion, brother. If he objects, we shall throw ourselves on his mercy and beg forgiveness for our error. But do not think of that, for I know Brother Merimee. He will understand our proposal. He will see its true worth. Our names will become legend, Asquinol, mark my words.’
There was a rapping on the door downstairs.
‘Stay here,’ said Ruberic. ‘And don’t worry.’ He trotted down the stairs, leaving fat Brother Asquinol pacing back and forth like a condemned man awaiting sentence.
In public the brotherhood disdain to speak, but in private - when their suspicions are quietened - they talk to one another like born orators; preachers converting the faithful. And they talk long and they talk hard. I realised - too late - that I had gone into shock; everything seemed distant and unimportant, like it was happening to someone else. The voices, the pain in my arms and chest, all belonged to a place I didn’t inhabit. I had retreated into my own internal world and what was outside of this space was nothing to do with me. Periodically a wave of nausea would wash over me and reality would come crashing back, and with a shiver I was reminded of who and where I was, and the trouble I was in.
Merimee had brought three brothers along with him, acolytes who said nothing and stood near their leader’s side. But they were not there to protect him. Merimee used them to intimidate Asquinol and Ruberic. Fear is what motivates the Phlogiston—fear of rivals, failure, each other—it explains the total control they have over their members and their rise to power in Chemytown.
Merimee was leaning over a workbench, his hood thrown back, revealing the long, snaky curls of his brown hair. Despite the gloom in the workshop he wore black-lensed round glasses—I’d heard it said that he had never been seen without them. I’d also heard that beneath them his eyes were blinded by white cataracts, or, alternatively, that they were inky black like those of a seal—which goes to show that rumour gives not a fig for consistency.
‘Copper, aluminium and platinum,’ he said without interest.
‘With a layer of steel added in the fourth folding,’ added Asquinol quickly.
‘A composite and an alloy. It gives it the strength required, otherwise the metal ruptures when stressed,’ said Ruberic.
