The City in the Sky

Mulligan was still locked inside his thoughts when the ships engine ground to a halt. A loud hiss emanated from behind the ship and steam obscured the view of the windows as the ship’s boiler depressurized. When it cleared he saw a large clipper docked parallel with them and surmised they had reached their destination. He rose from his chair and turned to find Jana Windfury who had just stepped through the door. Her eyes were still veiled and her voice was sterilized of any emotion as she spoke.

“We have arrived.”

“Jana, I’m sorry..“, began Mulligan.

She held up her hand to arrest his apology. “No it is I who should apologize. Ye are my passenger. I was wrong to assume anything more.”

This did nothing to assuage the remorse which sat in Mulligan’s stomach burning like molten lead.

“Then as your passenger, may I book a trip back?“, he asked hopefully.

A look of suspicion narrowed the captain’s eyes. “The shuttles should be up and running again by tomorrow. Why do yeh need us? Do yeh think to hire me out of pity, Sir?”

Fear’s icy caress ran down the back of Mulligan’s neck as he could see his attempt at saving face quickly going to hell. Before he could utter any attempt at an explanation, she had opened the cabin door in a gesture of dismissal.

“Just so yeh know, Mr. Mulligan, it’s nothing personal”, she said as he stepped over the threshold. He turned to make one last attempt to plead his case, but found himself addressing an indifferent door.

“Thanks and Godspeed, Ms. Windfury”, he muttered.

Mulligan decided to visit the witness, Eliza Devonshire, first. However, finding a cab that would take him to the Clockwork quarter of the city proved to be something of a challenge. An undercurrent of anti-Clockwork prejudice ran through East more than anywhere else. Most likely because it had the highest population of mechahumans. It had been a while since Mulligan had been called to the Clockwork quarter of East, but as far as he could recall it was the largest he had ever seen. He finally found an older gentleman with a snuff habit to do it, though for an exorbitant sum. “Don’t know what all the fuss is about”, said the driver as he took a pinch of snuff with his prosthetic Clockwork hand. “Them arties keep to themselves mostly. Don’t cause much trouble.”

“Uh-huh”, mumbled Mulligan mostly to humor the man hoping he would give up attempts at conversation. He didn’t.

“Achooo”, sneezed the fellow. “Course I wouldn’t hire one meself. Not that they could drive a cab seeing as how they ain’t allowed.”

Mulligan was greatly relieved when they finally passed under the archway formed out of the top half of large copper gear which spanned the street, signifying their entry into Clockwork territory. The Clockwork neighborhoods were always a subject of great interest to Mulligan who found the society-within-a-society a curious affair. The sides of the streets were lined with vendor stalls who sold, not fresh meat and produce, but coal. Coal in a myriad of grades and sizes. Smaller non-humanoid automatons skittered here and there on various numbers of legs to complete their respective tasks. Shops specializing in clock making and repair were everywhere. The clicks, hisses, and hums of mechanized industry seemed to seep from every surface and surround Mulligan. He silently wondered if any human could reside for long in such conditions without going insane.

They pulled to a stop in front of a building bearing the title Industrial Arms, one of the many multi-story compartment buildings that hedged the roads of the Clockwork quarters. Clockworks were forbidden from owning property and thus were relegated to renting small apartments from human landlords. Mulligan approached the tarnished copper double doors. A Clockwork doorman in a long brown dress coat with brass buttons gave a brief bow then pulled the door open to grant the detective entrance. He strode across the polished stone floors to the front desk where a polite looking Clockwork with silver eyes inquired how she might help him.

“I’m Detective James Mulligan of MCA”, said James as he flashed his badge. “I’m here to speak with Eliza Devonshire.”

“Oh, splendid”, gushed the receptionist, “She is in number 1070. The lift is to the right.”

Mulligan turned to leave but the receptionist had not finished speaking. “You are aware of her disability, Sir?”

Mulligan gave her a puzzled look. “Disability?”

“Yes, Sir”, she replied earnestly. “She never converted to a boiler system. The poor thing has had to rely on a servant to keep an eye on her ever since...” The receptionist broke off, grief welling up in her voice.

“Since the murder of Edwin Devonshire?“, offered Mulligan.

The receptionist nodded and went on, “I’m afraid communicating with her can be a bit of a challenge at times.”

Mulligan wasn’t exactly sure what the “challenge” would be but he nodded and said, “I will try to keep that in mind.”

With a hiss, the lift jolted to a stop on the 10th floor. The lift operator opened the gate and bowed Mulligan through. Mulligan had to admire how all of the Clockworks had been so gracious and respectful. “And they all look so content”, thought Mulligan. This thought, as thoughts sometimes will, recalled a previous conversation he had had with Lucy.

“So you are saying that without a job a, Clockwork would not be happy?“, he had asked her.

“Basically, but it goes deeper than that. All Clockworks need a purpose to fulfill. Without a purpose, a Clockwork could not be happy. We are creatures of industry, after all.” She laughed her tinkling little laugh. Then she looked at Mulligan, earnestly and admiration shining in her copper eyes, and said, “That’s why it means so much to me that you have given me this job, Sir.”

Mulligan chuckled. “Truthfully, Lucy, it is I who should be thanking you. You have been so helpful to me ever since....” He cut himself short to avoid discussing the painful events of the “accident”. Instead he said, “I wish I could do more for you.”

It had sounded lame when he said it, but he knew he meant every word. Even though it had only been a little over two months since he had hired her, he had already felt something of a bond between them.

From somewhere unseen Mulligan heard what sounded like a orchestral score played through a phonograph. The light, occasional crackle and warm hiss of the device that accompanied the music it broadcasted accentuated the pleasure of his recollections. He opened his eyes and found himself looking down the hallway of the 10th floor. The intermittent sconces that lined the walls offered brief pools of light in the bleak-looking corridor. As he walked its length he thought of how it had been before Lucy. After the accident. How each day he came home to a dark and empty home. How he had felt much the same inside: Dark and empty. Lifeless and cluttered. He had been a broken man in every sense, but something inside him clung to hope. He knew he couldn’t go on like this. He had put an advertisement in the paper. He interviewed many prospects, but none quite like Lucy. A certain warmth seemed to follow her and filled the house and his soul when she entered. Mulligan knew it was frowned upon to keep the company of any Clockwork, but he had pushed such notions aside and gladly welcomed her. He never regretted it once.

Mulligan found himself staring at a sturdy oak door with a brass 1070 nailed to it. The music was louder now. He gave a firm knock. Noises came from the other side of the door and the music fell silent. After a few seconds the door opened. A man just slightly shorter than Mulligan looked inquisitively at the detective with his golden eyes. He was dressed in a sharp chocolate brown suit and white cravat. Around his neck on a chain hung a large brass key.

“I’m Detective Mulligan of MCA”, offered James.

With a courteous, yet sterile, smile, the servant replied, “Of course. Right this way, please. Ms. Devonshire has been most anxious to speak with you.”

Mulligan followed the man down a nicely papered hallway peppered with paintings in gilded frames. The sitting room into which he was shown featured some of the most exquisite wood paneling James had ever seen. Since wood for construction had become extremely scarce, Mulligan was certain the value of the it would be greater than 10 years of his salary. His eyes continued to take in the beauty and opulence of the room before coming to rest on the small woman seated in a position of perfect posture in a large armchair by the fireplace. Though Clockworks did not age as humans, this one seemed to exude an aura of maturity.

“Detective James Mulligan to see you, Ma’am”, announced the servant.

“Thank you, Grimes. You may standby for the moment.”

In a gesture of understanding, Grimes nodded and stiffly stood behind his mistress’ chair.

“Thank you for seeing me Ms. Devonshire”, began Mulligan. He could not help but stare at the petite mechanoid desperately trying to ascertain his previous acquaintance with her before he finally he asked, “The name Devonshire sounds familiar. Have we met before?”

She retained the politeness that all Clockworks possessed, but unlike Lucy, Eliza’s tone had a palpable coolness to it. It was a voice which welcomed and dismissed you at the same time.

“I should say not, Detective Mulligan. I have been nothing less than a law abiding individual. As for ‘Devonshire’, it is my family’s surname.”

Though he had suspected as much he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had heard her name before. “Of course, you seemed familiar somehow, that’s all”, he attempted to explain.

She curtly brushed his justification aside and said, “I would do anything within my power to help catch the one who did this, Detective.” Mulligan perceived the coldness rising in her voice.

“Very good, madam. Why don’t you start by telling me exactly what you saw on the night of the attack.”

“Of course. Edwin and I had proceeded to make our regular morning journey to the watch shop we ran...”

“I’m sorry. Let me interrupt for a moment. The report said the incident took place sometime between 4:30 and 5:00 in the morning. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And, as I understand it, regular business hours for shops in this district begin at 7:00 a.m. Is that also correct?”

“Yes”, said Ms. Devonshire with a hint of impatience.

“Then, may I ask, why would you be heading to the shop at such an early hour?”

Ms. Devonshire cleared her throat and said in a terse voice, “That shop was our life, Sir. Yes, we may have found our financial security in coal, but it did not satisfy our need of purpose in this world. We loved that shop and made it a point to be there a few hours early every morning to prepare for the business day.”

“I apologize, Madam. I didn’t mean to infer anything. Please tell me, did you always take the same route?”

“Yes”, said Eliza as her indignation succumbed to her sorrow. “I never did like that alley. So dark and foreboding. Edwin...Edwin always said I was just being silly..” She trailed off, her silver eyes closed.

Mulligan waited a moment for her to collect herself before pressing on. “If you traveled together, how was it that you were able to avoid being attacked?”

“That day was different. I had realized shortly after our departure that we had not informed Grimes we would be home late. Edwin told me he would take care of it and catch up with me. I should have never left him”, Eliza whispered bitterly.

“So if you were ahead of him, how was it that you were able to see the suspect?”

“I had made it to the shop. I waited for about 15 minutes, but Edwin never came. I became concerned, so I retraced the route hoping to find him.” Eliza’s voice became quavery. “I turned the corner to enter the alley. I...I saw.. a man. He was crouched down over something. At first I couldn’t tell it was Edwin...until I saw his face..hanging from...from a..” At this point a tightness grasped the throat of Eliza Devonshire and she was unable to continue for several minutes. Mulligan could only pity the poor creature as she wrestled with the pain of loss.

“No need to go on Ms. Devonshire”, said Mulligan. He’d already read the crime scene report and had a pretty good idea what she had found Edwin Devonshire’s face hanging from.

“Could you describe what the man who did this looked like?”

Eliza choked back a sob and began in a despondent voice, “I couldn’t get a good look at his face. It was dark and he wore a red scarf that covered most of it. His eyes were hidden behind a very dark pair of goggles. He had very messy hair which looked black and wore a dark colored long coat. He wasn’t much shorter than yourself. When he walked he seemed to limp. I’m sorry. It was dark and I was so afraid...”

Mulligan gave a sympathetic nod as he finished recording her account in his personal notebook.

“Ms. Devonshire? I’m sorry but I must ask, did you have any involvement it the destruction of Edwin?”

Eliza was taken aback. She dropped all pretense of politeness as she replied, “How dare you.”

Her voice came in a whisper saturated with indignation.

“I’m afraid I had to ask Ms. Devonshire. From our perspective, you would have the most to gain from his removal. As you said, you both had a share in this ‘financial security’ obtained from coal production.”

She spoke much louder now, but with no less ire, ’Not that I’d expect you to understand, but Edwin was so much more than just a business partner. He was my partner in all things. And now, if you don’t mind, I would like you to please...juusss...” Her voice dropped several octaves and then slurred to a stop before she finally slumped forward into her chair.

“Ms. Devonshire!“, Mulligan yelled as he leapt to his feet, but Grimes was already there pulling the large key from around his neck. He inserted it into a hole in the back of the incapacitated Clockwork’s neck and cranked it several times to the right. No sooner had he removed the key, than she sprung upright into her original position. “..leave”, she finished her sentence as if nothing had happened. Detective Mulligan, still in dismay over what had just transpired, could only nod his acknowledgement to her request. He turned towards the hallway, but after a moment’s hesitation, faced her once more holding her gaze in his own.

“Just one more question. Please.”

She did not avert her eyes, but said nothing.

“Why haven’t you converted yet?”

To Mulligan’s suprise, Devonshire’s demeanor softened a little. She gave him a sad little smile and said, “Edwin used to ask me the same question. It may be difficult for you to understand, Detective, but there was a time when we Clockworks had to rely on each other. Our springs might wind down, but there was always someone close at hand willing to help, knowing the favor would be returned in kind. We were united as a race and found strength in our unity. Though we have no family in the human sense of the word, it was as if we were one giant family. Sure the conversion to boilers has made us more independent, but it has also made us more distant. I simply long for those better times. Now, if you will please...”