No Title, Steampunk Story

Dusk fell on London like a dark cloud. It was the age of steam and in all of London machine and human bustled around the marketplace quite in harmony.  Impenetrable smog chugged out of every pipe, powering the immense furnaces used to create steam automatons.  Dusk was a time of lies and deceit; when the many criminals and orphans crawled from their various nooks and crannies to prowl the streets.  You would swear the alleys themselves were giving birth to ragged, hungry children.

Finn was a child of the alleyways; he a reputation as a formidable thief.  Indeed, he was a criminal like most street children but at least, according to himself, he was rather adept at it. There was no doubt about it, and he didn’t even try to justify what he did.  It was how he survived and the truth is that he enjoyed the danger and adrenalin that came with the job.  He was an expert at pickpocketing, thievery, and picking locks. 

 Finn inherited the nickname Mal de Poche after a particularly daring and successful attempt to rob an unsuspecting Frenchman of his wallet.  Even the local Bobbies adopted this name when dealing with the troublesome orphan, a constant thorn in their side.   

At first glance he looked like most of the children; his dirty, brown hair ruffled and spiked in every direction, an overly large sailor’s jacket, long beige trousers covered in grease, tattered black shoes and a dark red flat cap. The only things that stood out about him were his piercing green eyes and the mechanical Ferrel on his shoulder.

A Ferrel was a mythical creature, a Ferret with the horns of a Gazelle.  This small clockwork Ferrel differed from most as it had an Alchemist brain:  a small chemical compound that granted free will to machines.  They were, in essence, sentient beings capable of rational thought.

Finn inhabited a narrow alley behind the local tavern. Over time some bricks had given way allowing him access inside the building.  This proved particularly fortuitous when the heavens opened, as was often the case in dank, dreary Victorian London. Inside the alley was a small cushion and an eclectic pile of nick-knacks Finn had stolen.  If one dug deep enough into the pile they would find small clockwork animals swiped from members of the higher class usually resulting in particular dangerous adventures.  Finn often retreated there from his daily endeavors when he was feeling thoughtful and felt the need to create.

Today he was feeling just like that so he retreated to his lair where he laid on the large cushion.  This was his dream pillow, for daydreaming and sleeping alike.  He closed his eyes and immerged himself in his memories.  He visualized where he kept his memories as alleyways, and each contained different type of memory.  The brightness of the alleyway determined the type of memory, happy, sad, or melancholy.  

Finn walked down the streets of his mind, pausing at each of the bright alleyways.  He finally stopped at an especially bright one.  Finn turned and confidently strode into the alley, at the end of which there was a bright light.  He walked into the bright light, until it surrounded him completely.

At first he could only smell, the rich scent of freshly cut Oxford pine, the slight odor of steam that had been contained in brass, and the smell of a dirty middle aged man.  Then he could hear, bubbling cauldrons brewing mysterious concoctions, the ticking of clock works, and the patter of tiny metal feet.  Suddenly he could see and the home of an alchemist formed around him.  Clockwork centipedes skittered around the floor, green goop flowing out of the cauldron, specks of gold dust everywhere, and in the center of it all, his old master.  His master created a strange figure, bent over a desk, his tail coat crumpled against the back of his chair, magnification goggles extended toward a minuscule object. 

Suddenly a young child burst into the room, his arms overflowing with items of all sorts.  His old master glanced up quickly, and bent his head down to his work.

“Hello Finnigan.  What do you have there?”  Said his master Marcellus.

“Some stuff, I found.” The younger Finn casualy said while stacking his wares.

“You were out pickpocketing again.  Were you not?” 

“Perhaps.  But what do you care?  Alchemy does not pay the rent.”  Finn said, an annoyed tone in his voice.

“Well, that’s true.”  Marcellus sighed.  “If you must, then I cannot stop you.  But if you are caught it is not my fault.”

“I understand.” Finn said as he finished stacking the items.  “But you have to admit, I got a good haul today.”

“What did you get boy?  Some food perhaps?  I’m famished.”

“Yeah, I got some freshly baked bread, and some cheese.”

“Nice job, lets eat.”

They took the bread and ripped sections off with their hands.  They put the bread and cheese on sticks, and the cheese melted onto them over the fire. It tasted perfect.  After they had finished eating, Finn dug into his pile and pulled out a small golden object. 

“What have you got there boy?”  Marcellus said. 

It glowed in the dimly lit room, red splotches appearing and disappearing on its surface. 

“No…  it can’t be.”  Marcellus the Alchemist muttered, wonder in his voice.  “I thought…  well, I thought.  Is this the last one?”  

“The last alchemist’s brain.  Just think of what we could make with this.” Finn proudly said.

“My boy, you are constantly an amazement.  And with all these parts we could create anything!  A monkey, a human automaton the possibilities are endless!”

“Uh, could we make a Ferrel?  I’ve already created the schematics.”  Finn said meekly.

“Why of course!  Anything is possible! Lets get started.”

He and his master sat on the floor, and putting the small bits and pieces together.  Slowly the surroundings faded, signifying the end of that memory.  Finn walked out of the alleyway, and sighed dreamily.  Two days after finishing the Ferrel, his master had sent him to London on an errand, but he had been killed while he was gone.

After Marcellus’s death, he had decided to stay in London, where he continued to steal to get by.  He had become accustomed to jail cells and Bobbies, and had a secret backdoor to almost every cell.  His Ferrel had become adept at using his small fingers as a lock pick.

Finn opened his eyes to the real world.  It was almost night time, and time for him to make a living.  He dusted himself off, and walked out of his hideout. 

Rich people were bustling around the marketplace, running every which way eager to get back to their safe homes.  Finn dashed into the fray pickpocketing any pocket close enough to his small grasp.  Finn had small hands that helped him while pickpocketing, as a small hand was less likely to be felt. 

After gathering a few shillings, Finn decided it was time to aim higher.  He chose a rich man, his Steampack and Automaton displaying his class like a beacon.  Finn followed him through the crowd, careful to avoid the prying eyes of the Automaton.  They soon arrived at a large building at the edge of a corner.  The whole upper half was encased in gold plating, and large pipes were chugging steam from the top.  There was one small window, and a steampowered owl protected it from prying eyes.  The lower part of the building was made of brick, large glass windows displaying fat books while small clockworks danced around them. 

The man walked into the building and a few seconds later Finn saw a light go on in the window guarded by the owl and swore. 

“Bloody... how the dickens are we supposed to get up there?”  Finn said to his Ferrel.

The Ferrel took off, and ran up the side of the building, just out of the owl’s line of sight.  The Ferrel sprang at the owl, and removed its steam battery.  The owl fell to the ground where Finn caught it. 

“This ones quite a beaut.  Perhaps I could reprogram it.”  Finn whispered to himself.

Finn’s Ferrel jumped off the building and onto Finn’s shoulder.

“That hurt a bit more than it should.  Nice leap, but next time you could just run down the building.”  Finn said, a small crooked smile on his face.  

They walked over to the doorway, where Finn set down the Owl.

“Once you get open the door, wait for ten minutes.  If I’m not back by then meet me at the rendezvous.” 

The Ferrel got right to work, and the lock soon clicked as the door opened.  Finn ran into the house, carefully placing each step.  Most of the higher class Londoners were paranoid, and had laid traps around their houses.  These were usually easy to spot and get around, but every once in a while something special had been used.

This particular house’s special trap was a large sensor, something unheard of by the middle and lower class.  Finn walked right into the sensor, which started to beep loudly.  Finn crushed it and looked around.  All the small clockworks that had been advertising book sin the windows were now faced toward him.  As if one of them shouted an inaudible “CHARGE!”  They all rushed towards him.  Finn ran up the stairs on the far side of the room, and right into the man.

“The Chav are at it again I see.  Clear off filthy scum!”  The man said, one of his eyes twitching.

“If you say so.” Finn said ducking under his legs into the bedroom.  He glanced around for about half a second, and then dashed towards a small AHHHEEEM underneath the window.  He threw it open, grabbed the shiniest object, and opened the window.  He jumped out, and fell down next to the wall.  His Ferrel was right underneath him, which slowed his fall.  Eventually the Ferrel jumped away, and Finn landed to his feet.  The man yelled out the window to his owl.

“Get him birdbrain!  I need what he stole!”

Finn smiled up at the man and yelled.  “I think your owl is out of commission!”  And ran away loot and owl in tow. 

Finn ran back to his hideout, where he dumped the owl into one of the many piles.  His Ferrel slowing and mechanically started to move towards him but stopped short before he could reach Finn. 

“You need a steam battery, don’cha boy?”  Finn said, replacing his Ferrel’s steam battery with the owls.  “Luckily for us, the owl’s was almost full.”

Finn counted out his earnings.  He had 5 shillings, not enough for a steampack he wanted.  He added that to his small collection.  Eleven shillings.  Minus three for food and he only had eight.  Finn sighed. 

“We might need to go on another adventure if I’m every going to get the steampack.”  He said to his Ferrel.

The Ferrel hopped on his should and they went back into the streets.

Fewer people were outside, as it had grown bedtime for most inhabitants.  Only a few of the high class were still out and about, and more and more of the lower class were wandering in search of food. 

Finn walked around the streets, searching for someone rich enough to steal from.  After wandering for about an hour, he found a tall woman with a first edition steampack, and golden goggles.  He followed her until they came to a crossroad.  Finn backed up right into a young orphan boy with a greedy look in his eyes.

“Oi!  Watch it!”  Finn exclaimed at the boy.

“Leave me alone dirt-rag, I’m after the posh woman.”

“Your in my territory.  No begging here blucklo.”  Finn said with a glare.  “Now you scurry off to your side of London.  Naff off!”

The orphan promptly pushed Finn into a market stand. 

“Oops!”  He said sarcastically “Didn’t see you there.”

“Why you little!”  Finn yelled as he ran toward the cocky boy.

The boy immediately backed up and pulled a knife out of his sleeve. 

“Whoa, calm down.  Calm down.”  Finn said, arms outstretched backing up.  “We can sort this out.”

The boy grinned crookedly, and started to slowly advance.

“Well, it seems Cornelius has the upper hand over the infamous Mal de Poche.  You don’t belong here.”  He ran straight at Finn, knife raised.

Cornelius smiled and stabbed forward.

His blade hit metal, and a loud screeching noise occurred.  The whole marketplace came to a stand still, everyone staring where Finn and the boy stood.  In between Finn and his would be murderer was a iron automaton, a large blue hat signifying a class as a policeman. 

“Bloody… they make those now?”  The boy said, his knife dropping to the floor. 

“Stop, Halt, do not proceed, I will now take you in, arrest you, apprehend you.”

“Well you’re a blooming beut for a hunk of metal.”  Cornelius stared, his mouth gaping and the monstrous automaton, steam chugging out of almost every side. 

It slowly handcuffed the boy, while he stared on.  Shortly after, an out of breath policeman ran up the automaton. 

“Boy, you can run fast.  Perhaps we should program you to be slower.”  The officer said.  He looked around and noticed Cornelius, who was whimpering in the Automaton’s iron grip.  “My, and you’ve already caught a criminal.  What should I charge this one for?”

“Attempted murder, maiming, annihilation, of another orphan boy.”  The automaton said in his grinding mechanical voice.

“Where’s the other kid?  If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume there was some sort of territorial war going on here.”

“He just left.”  Cornelius whimpered.  “Gone.”

“Well, at least I’ve got you then.”  The policeman said, and walked away automaton and orphan in tow.

Finn smiled from his hideout behind a broken steam motor, and carefully crept from his hiding place.  He confidently walked toward the gasping high-class woman, and promptly stole her wallet.  He then ran into the alleys, back towards his hideout.

On the way, Finn saw more and more people returning to their homes.  If he went to his hideout and came back, no one would be wandering the streets apart from Bobbies.  Therefore, he reasoned, to get anything done he would need to do something quickly.

He returned to the market place, where scarcely anyone walked by.  Finn stood in the middle of market place, carefully examining each passerby.  A tall man, obviously of the upper class with his large golden cane and monocle, walked right in front of him.  Finn waited for him to walk a fair distance away and immediately pivoted toward the man.  He walked with a certain amount of swagger and purpose, calculating how to steal whatever was in the man’s house. 

The man suddenly stopped, and turned to face Finn.  Finn awkwardly dipped to one side and continued past him.

“I know who you are.” Said the deep voiced man.  “Finn, one of London’s best lockpicks.  I hear you have a knack for breaking-and-entering.”

“Perhaps, but why would you care?”  Finn replied, the picture of nonchalance. 

“I have a job offer for you.  A group of high class Boffins will be meeting at Oxford University in a couple days, and there is something I need you to steal.  I can offer over a hundred shillings.”

“I won’t work for other people.  Besides, the stakes are too high.”  Finn said with a sigh.  “I’ll be off now.  Toodaloo.”

“Officer!”   The man called in a shrill voice.

Footsteps began to echo down the cobblestone streets, and the shouts of policemen.

       “You’ve set the blasted bobbies on me!”  Finn cried, and dashed into the dark alleyways.  He pushed children and men out of his way, twisting and turning into the heart of the city.  Suddenly he turned right into the tall man.

“Would you like to reconsider my offer?”  He said.

“Do I have a choice?”  Sighed Finn.

“Probably not.”

The man darted out with his hand and grabbed Finn’s.  He pulled Finn’s hand behind his back, and proceeded to push Finn towards the crowded streets. 

Finn’s brow dripped with sweat as he tried to figure a way out of the man’s grasp, preferably permanently.   Nothing sprang to mind so he decided to go along with the man and find out what was going on.

The man twisted his hand and Finn let out a sharp cry of pain.

“Look, Finn, if you don’t want to get hurt I suggest you follow me and pay attention.”  The man snarled.

Finn paused and stared back at the man.

“If you weren’t behind me it would be a bit easier. Perhaps I could follow you?”  Finn asked, a slight quiver in his voice.

“You think I’m a dullard?  Keep moving.” The man said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. 

“Okay, okay.”  Finn sighed as he rolled his eyes and resigned himself to whatever fate had in store.