Read Online The Falling Machine by Andrew P. Mayer - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew P. Mayer
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pressing it and banishing the darkness. It was a comforting thought—she had no idea what hidden dangers lurked in the darkness, real or imagined. But it had been ages since she had been down here alone, and Sarah couldn't remember which lamps were controlled by what switch. While she was sure it would light up the hallway ahead of her, it was equally likely it might illuminate the stairwell behind her as well. She didn't need a curious staff member investigating the lower levels—especially now, when she was so close.
Groping through the blackness, she reached the end of the hall and turned to the right. Sarah gasped as her left foot found empty air, then landed heavily on a step. She had forgotten about this second descent, and her slipper lived up to its name as it shot out from underneath her, sending her pitching backward.
Her left hand found the railing by instinct, painfully yanking on her shoulder as she simultaneously fell and tried to pull herself up. Meanwhile her right foot had managed to find some purchase on the next step, saving her from a fall. She felt a sharp heat rise up from the bones of her ankle as it smacked into the stone.
Managing to regain her balance, Sarah whispered a prayer to herself as she stood upright. Lifting up her right foot she swiveled it around. The pain quickly subsided, and it seemed as if none of the damage was permanent.
Ten feet beyond the bottom of the steps her hand found the cold, flat iron of what she knew was the door she had been looking for.
She reached into her bag and pulled out another key. This one was much smaller than the one that she had used to unlock the entrance, but no less mysterious and ornate. Although she couldn't see them, her fingers felt the ridges of strange metals that had been inlaid into the teeth at one end, and the wire that had been tightly wrapped around the flat head of the key at the other.
Starting near the top, Sarah slowly swiped her hand back and forth across the door's smooth surface until she found the keyhole. She slipped the key into place, and the door began to vibrate with an audible hum, the metal in her hand becoming instantly warmer.
She twisted the key around in a full circle, and from somewhere inside the frame a mechanism shifted, letting out a heavy clunk. There was a slow scraping sound from inside as bolts released themselves from the frame.
When the process was complete, the door swung open in an easy arc. It wasn't until she exhaled loudly into the darkness that Sarah realized she had been holding her breath the entire time.
Putting the key back into her bag, she stepped through and groped along the wall with her hand until she found the familiar round shape of one of Darby's gas igniter switches.
When she twisted it, what came to life was not the flickering yellow light she expected, but a white, almost glaring illumination. Unlike the gas lamps, which mostly spread their light upward, the incandescent globes illuminated cleanly in all directions, revealing a low-ceilinged chamber carved into granite rock, over a room filled with a series of small worktables.
She let out a small laugh as her eyes adjusted. The glowing spheres were cut into the walls, with a filament glowing so brightly inside of each one that they left marks in her vision when she looked away.
While Thomas Edison, over in Princeton, had been loudly proclaiming for years that he was on the verge of discovering a practical electric bulb, Sir Dennis had completed the same invention under the streets of Manhattan, and bothered to tell no one.
The laboratory was thirty feet wide, and stretched out in front of her for twice that distance until it reached a massive door at the far end. It looked like something out of medieval history—a gateway fit for a fortress.
It was made from massive wooden planks strapped together with bands of iron, and in front of it a series of thick brass bars rose up from the floor and disappeared into the ceiling. There
Groping through the blackness, she reached the end of the hall and turned to the right. Sarah gasped as her left foot found empty air, then landed heavily on a step. She had forgotten about this second descent, and her slipper lived up to its name as it shot out from underneath her, sending her pitching backward.
Her left hand found the railing by instinct, painfully yanking on her shoulder as she simultaneously fell and tried to pull herself up. Meanwhile her right foot had managed to find some purchase on the next step, saving her from a fall. She felt a sharp heat rise up from the bones of her ankle as it smacked into the stone.
Managing to regain her balance, Sarah whispered a prayer to herself as she stood upright. Lifting up her right foot she swiveled it around. The pain quickly subsided, and it seemed as if none of the damage was permanent.
Ten feet beyond the bottom of the steps her hand found the cold, flat iron of what she knew was the door she had been looking for.
She reached into her bag and pulled out another key. This one was much smaller than the one that she had used to unlock the entrance, but no less mysterious and ornate. Although she couldn't see them, her fingers felt the ridges of strange metals that had been inlaid into the teeth at one end, and the wire that had been tightly wrapped around the flat head of the key at the other.
Starting near the top, Sarah slowly swiped her hand back and forth across the door's smooth surface until she found the keyhole. She slipped the key into place, and the door began to vibrate with an audible hum, the metal in her hand becoming instantly warmer.
She twisted the key around in a full circle, and from somewhere inside the frame a mechanism shifted, letting out a heavy clunk. There was a slow scraping sound from inside as bolts released themselves from the frame.
When the process was complete, the door swung open in an easy arc. It wasn't until she exhaled loudly into the darkness that Sarah realized she had been holding her breath the entire time.
Putting the key back into her bag, she stepped through and groped along the wall with her hand until she found the familiar round shape of one of Darby's gas igniter switches.
When she twisted it, what came to life was not the flickering yellow light she expected, but a white, almost glaring illumination. Unlike the gas lamps, which mostly spread their light upward, the incandescent globes illuminated cleanly in all directions, revealing a low-ceilinged chamber carved into granite rock, over a room filled with a series of small worktables.
She let out a small laugh as her eyes adjusted. The glowing spheres were cut into the walls, with a filament glowing so brightly inside of each one that they left marks in her vision when she looked away.
While Thomas Edison, over in Princeton, had been loudly proclaiming for years that he was on the verge of discovering a practical electric bulb, Sir Dennis had completed the same invention under the streets of Manhattan, and bothered to tell no one.
The laboratory was thirty feet wide, and stretched out in front of her for twice that distance until it reached a massive door at the far end. It looked like something out of medieval history—a gateway fit for a fortress.
It was made from massive wooden planks strapped together with bands of iron, and in front of it a series of thick brass bars rose up from the floor and disappeared into the ceiling. There
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