Chapter One

Chapter One


"It doesn't want to work Professor Jedidiah. I don't know what to do about it." The boy said, lying the object from his pocket out on the desk.
Professor Jedidiah walked around the desk, and turned the focus on his glasses stronger as he peered down at the object.
It appeared to be an average brass pocket watch. However, appearances can be deceiving. And such was the case with this particular watch.
He pressed the button at the top and the cover flipped open. To an untrained eye, it would look like a broken clock. But to a few, it would look like a galaxy trapped in a small casing.

"How is it not working lad? It seems to be in prime condition. The cloaking device is as strong as ever." The professor observed.
"Well it's working...in a sense." The boy said slowly.
"What do you mean Nicolas?"
The boy took the watch, and gestured for the professor to grasp his arm.
The galaxy began to swirl around under the boy's touch. A glowing rune flared to life on the boy's right hand. It looked like some kind of ancient writing, but the professor had never been able to read it.
He couldn't see anymore as the galaxy seemed to escape it's cage and spring at them like a cat pouncing at a ball of yarn.

He felt nothing at one moment, then a pulling sensation caught him in the gut dragging him thought the colors and stars.
And then, it was gone.
Just as swift as it had come.
Slightly disoriented, he glanced around and realized he was standing on the side of King's Road in Chelsea.
He was standing in front of a particular house however.
"Why did you bring us here?" Professor Jedidiah asked.
Nicolas' face had dropped in disappointment as he saw the house.
"I didn't." He replied, stuffing his cap on to keep him from the rain a little.
"How do you mean? I thought the Vortex only worked when you told it where to go." Jedidiah said in confusion as he moved out of a man's way. He noticed it was dark now, and the street lamps had been lit.
"And when are we?"
"January, twenty-ninth, eighteen-seventy-six." Nicolas replied instantly.
"Well at least we're in the same year and month." Jedidiah noted.
"But the watch keeps brining me here every time I try to use it." The boy explained. "It's been doing this for the past week."
"Hmm...Who lives in this house?"
Nicolas shrugged.
"I don't know. How should I?"
"Well maybe there is a reason why the Vortex keeps bringing you here."
"And how am I suppose to find that out?"
Jedidiah looked at the boy and gestured to the house.
"Investigate."

~ +++ ~


Nicolas found himself back in front of the same house that was beginning to become a familiar sight.
   He took hesitant steps toward the front door, but then he swiveled back around to the sidewalk.
"What are you doing Nico?" He asked himself. "Just go ringing the door bell and pray they'll answer at such an ungodly hour in the night?"
The boy began pacing back and forth in front of the house, watching as one by one the lamps were blown out in the windows.
"And even if they did answer, what would you do then? Ask who they were? What they did for a living?"
He groaned and ripped his cap off, wringing it in his hands.
Finally, all the lights were blown out and he knew it was now or never.
"I'm going to regret this..." He mumbled as he hopped over the bushes lining the yard and went around to the side of the house. He ducked down into the shadows as a policeman walked down the street.
Waiting a few extra moments to be sure he was gone, Nico tugged at the window. To his surprise, it slid right up with out so much as a squeak.
Taking a quick glance in side, and when he saw nothing, he hoisted himself into the house.

When one has to work in a factory with lots of heavy labor, one tends to become fit. And such was the case for young Nicolas.
He landed lightly on his feet with the ease of an acrobat.
"I am really going to regret this." He whispered as he glanced about wirily.
Moving down the hall way he was in, he saw a set of stairs to his right. He glanced up them and saw a faint light at the top.
"Great! Not everyone's asleep yet. Just my luck, what am I doing??" He hissed, and quickly moved on.
Down at the end of the hall, was the parlor. Gas lamps hung on the walls and there was one on a table near the window. The rest of the room was furnished in pieces that stated their wealth as plain as a sign over their door. It was all more costly than anything he could imagine.
"That's Wasters for you." He muttered. "They waste all their precious money on earthly things."
 Curiously , he walked over to the table, by the window.
"Tennyson....Charles Dickens...Mark Twain? They read American literature? Well I guess I'm not the only one then." He remarked, surprised.
He noticed a piece of paper stuffed in between Oliver Twist and Tom Sawyer.
Pulling the paper free, he took it to the window to get better lighting.
What he saw astounded him. It looked like a detailed sketch of a new kind of airplane. One far beyond the few that existed now.
"Well their son must be extremely gifted." He pondered.
Replacing the drawing between the two books, he jumped when a startling crash echoed through the house.
Nico froze, expecting movement upstairs, the padding of feet rushing to see what was going on, maybe to call the police.
When he heard nothing for several aching long minutes, he finally let himself breathe.
Moving quietly back to the hall, he figured it was time to go. Though he hadn't found anything out, other than they were the average Wasters, he figured he could come back some other night.
On his way to the window, he passed the staircase. Rationally, he knew it was best to get out of the house quickly. But his curiosity got the best of him.
Cautiously he ascended the stairs, pausing every few steps or so to stop and listen if something knew was happening above him.
Soon he found himself on the second landing. He looked around curiously, getting his surroundings. He was in another hall, this one was lined with doors, leading to what he assumed was the bedrooms. Most of them were closed, except one.

This first door on his left was open, just a tad, allowing light to filter through, spilling on the floor. Peering through the slit, he was startled to see a young lady’s room. A wardrobe hung open, dresses and undergarments strewn haphazardly in it. He quickly averted his eyes to the four poster bed and saw it’s curtains looked to have been dragged away from the bed where the lady had stumbled in them as she got out of bed.
But the most shocking thing, was the table in the far corner.
On the table, a strange contraption was under construction.
And leaning over it, with a soldering iron in hand, stood a girl.