The Steampunk Trilogy Read Free Page B

reduction of uranium tetrachloride with potassium.
    Casting about for new uses for this exciting element, Cosmo had hit upon harnessing its heat-generating properties to replace the conventional means of steam-production on one of his father’s engines. Clive Cowperthwait had reluctantly acceded, and today saw the trial run of that modified engine.
    “Come,” said Cosmo, “let me instruct the engineer one last time.”
    The two youths clambered aboard the train. In the cab the crew welcomed them rather coldly. The chief engineer, an old fellow with walrus mustaches, nodded ceaselessly as Cosmo talked, but the young inventor felt he really was not paying attention.
    “Now, remember, there is no stoking of this engine, or addition of fuel. Depressing this lever brings the two portions of uranium closer together, producing more heat, while pulling it out increases the distance and diminishes the heat. You’ll note that this pin and cowling arrangement prevents the depression of the lever beyond the danger zone—”
    Cosmo halted in alarm. “The cowling—it’s split and ready to fall off. It seems a deliberate breach of all my safety precautions. Who’s responsible for this malfeasance?”
    The crew looked idly at the ceiling of the cab. One insolent superfluous stoker whistled an air Cosmo recognized as an indecent folk tune by the title “Champagne Charlie.”
    Cosmo realized it would be futile to attempt to assign guilt now. “Come with me, Ikky. We must fix this before the trial.” The two descended the engine. Some distance away on the grandstand, Clive Cowperthwait had just kissed his wife and moved to the front of the podium to give his speech.
    “I am sorry that my partner could not be here today, but I’m sure I can speak long enough for both of us. . . .” There was mild laughter from the crowd.
    Cosmo was in no mood to join in the gaiety of the spectators. “Where can I find some tools?” he demanded frantically of Ikky.
    “How about the blacksmith’s, back in town?”
    “Good thinking. Let me tell Father to delay the start of the engine.”
    “Oh, let’s just dash. You know how long your father speaks. We’ll have plenty of time.”
    Cosmo and Ikky hurried toward the village.
    While inside the blacksmith’s they faintly heard the resumption of the music, which had ceased for Clive’s speech. Cosmo and Ikky rushed outside in alarm.
    At that instant an enormous explosion knocked them off their feet, shattering every window in the village. A hot wind rolled them along the ground. When they managed to regain their feet, they saw the remnants of a mushroom-shaped cloud towering high up into the sky.
    With immense consternation, mixed with not a little trepidation, the pair of friends hastened back toward the site of the dedication.
    Still many furlongs away, they encountered the rim of an immense smoking crater that sloped away into a glassy plain, the start of an excavation aimed at Asia.
    Cosmo yelled into the desolate smoky waste. “Father! Mother!” Ikky laid a hand on his arm. “It’s plainly no use, Coz. There can’t be anyone left alive there. They’ve all been blown to Jehovah by your invention. I read this as a mark of Providence, which even your father’s usual loquacity could not forestall, signaling that the world is not ready for such knowledge, if it ever will be. . . . You may console yourself with the thought that it must have been a painless death, thank God. In any case, I venture to say we won’t find enough mortal flinders to fill an umbrella-stand.”
    Cosmo was in a state of shock, and could not reply. (Later, his old friendship with Ikky would be forever somewhat strained, as he recalled Ikky’s callousness in the light of such a disaster, for which, by any fair measure, he was partly culpable.)
    Feeling for some reason that it would be unwise to linger at the scene of the disaster, Ikky dragged his friend away.
    Back in London, after a period of a few days’