Godspeed

Chapter 2

Though I can only vaguely remember the moment that I was torn from my old existence, I will never forget what happened the instant I awoke to the reality of my new one.

The very day I left the Argents’ home, I was swept up into a world so brazen, so ahead of its time in thought and progression, that working class men and women cowered and prayed to their gods for deliverance from its sweeping changes.

Mine was a lonely life lived in a strange time, one in which the Earth itself appeared to be at war with the laws meant to govern it. The world seethed with unnatural energy, determined to rip free its moorings; insistent it must hurry on to the next stage in its inevitable, mechanical evolution.

This struggle between past and future was nowhere more evident than in the architecture of the city I viewed from the window of the train, as it squealed and lurched into the station.

Stonework angels inhabited trim of historic buildings with large metal sculptures in their courtyards — modern renderings of steam locomotives and all manner of clock face and gear work.

These chiseled representations of heavenly bodies seemed so much sadder than I imagined statues could; as though they were weeping bitter, silent tears over the convoluted, unholy mess that mankind had constructed below.

I wished I could cry, too.

#

I trudged onward through the slippery, shining streets of central Fairever with one small, weathered suitcase in my hand. My coat was too thin to adequately protect me from the strength of the chill, or the driving cold of misting rain that began to gather upon my hair and eyelashes as a thick, descending dew.

I shivered. I felt frozen clear through. I was lost, and had no one in the world I could turn to for aid.

I stumbled backwards with fright as Tower Clock struck its first harmonious, resonant chime. I raised my eyes up in an attempt to ascertain just how late in the evening it was, and thereby figure out how long I’d been wandering. Instead, I found the clock face obscured by the hovering shadow of a bright white airship. It was the first time I’d actually seen one, and my lips parted in amazement at the sight. The incessant whirr of propellers drowned out all other sounds around me, and echoed in my ears long after it soared overhead.

It truly looked weightless, an unnatural, overstuffed, wingless bird, and as it disappeared into the next swath of laden clouds in the distance, I marveled at the sort of mind it would take to bring such a peculiar beast into existence.

I didn’t have the chance to wonder for long. I noticed that watchful, lecherous eyes were upon me and I knew that I should hurry — or at least move along as fast as my weak and weary legs could carry me.

It had only been hours since the train had taken me away from the station nearest the only home I’d ever known, a place where I was no longer needed or wanted; still, I longed to return to it.

My mind played again and again over what the Argents had said to me, as they stood at my bedside and looked down upon me, with not only their eyes but their souls as well.

We allowed you to stay this long out of regard for the many years of loyal service rendered to this household by your father.

However it has become apparent that you are neither willing nor able to carry on in a similar tradition and standard of care in your duties.

Out of consideration for the past and concern for your future, we will provide you with two weeks’ severance and a train ticket to the city, where you will hopefully be able to find another place of employment.

Place of employment.

The words stung with the shock of an insect unseen, outraged when disturbed from its comfortable position nestled among the whorls of a flower. I had considered their household, their family, to be something so much closer to a real home, even if I knew deep in my heart that I never truly belonged there.

I wanted so much to belong there, to belong anywhere. Still, when you are the servant’s child, no matter how much anyone tries to pretend, there is no way that you can ever be accepted by those who pay your salary.

I finally rounded a corner and escaped those leering eyes. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, winded now though I had not run.

I leaned my back up against the first streetlamp I found. I was bathed in flickering gold light that offered little comfort and made me long for the heat of the Sun. I closed my eyes and tilted my face up toward the now inescapable, soaking rain.

As it drenched the skin beneath my clothing, I realized there had never really been anywhere in the whole of the world during the nearly eighteen years of my existence that ever felt like a home. The truth was I had always lived one step away from destitution, dependent upon the mercy and benevolence of others; I had just been too certain in my innocence to believe it. I had trusted in error that the tenuous and transient were solid and eternal; that places, and people, could always be counted upon to remain as they were. How wrong I’d been, and how devastated I felt now at the realization that the foundation of my life had cracked and crumbled to dust beneath the weight of my wounded soul.

This new and unwelcome understanding of my place, or rather lack thereof, made my throat ache. I felt the unwelcome but entirely familiar sensation of impending unconsciousness sweeping in, threatening to carry me into darkness I was powerless to escape.

Before I could fade into the black, someone grasped me by the shoulders, and the shock jolted my heart back into temporary submission. It was an officer of the local constabulary, and he made sure that I did not keep my place under that light post for long.

“Young ladies are not to wander the city streets alone,” he said, “least of all at night and in the rain. Go home.”

I nodded and moved away as quickly as I could, terrified to confess that I had no home to return to.

I walked farther than I believed I was capable. I didn’t know where I was going, but understood it was imperative that I keep moving. My faulty, faltering heart warned me with every beat, every step, and every forced inhalation that it was ready to desert its post and leave me utterly abandoned. I wondered that it hadn’t done so yet, and doubted, just for a second, that the physician had been correct. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with me after all.

That wishful hope was soon extinguished, as the searing pain returned to the place where it had taken up residence behind my aching ribs.