Prolouge

Prologue 

He poked his head around the corner of one of the towers that stood as the gateway to Upper Station. Just Upper Station. Truth be told, it went both ways to Upper and Lower Station, but to the Wasters, there was no such thing as Lower Station.
No, they were as content as could be thinking all the products they loved in their favorite stores just appeared by magic. They refused to think of the small, broken, bent bodies of children who worked in the factories of Lower Station right below their feet.

The boy cleared his throat of nervous jitters and stepped out from behind the pillar.
A piece of advice his best mate gave him, came to mind.
"If you act like you belong there, no one will take a second glance of you."  He sent up a prayer of thanks for the sense his best mate had.
So, he straightened his cap and goggles, then dared to walk among the Wasters as if he was one of them.

Axel had warned him not to go. He said it wasn't worth it. But the fact of the matter was, even though Axel was his best mate, he didn't know a thing about why he had to go. And he didn't care.

It was hard not to be tempted to run through the London streets, it was like forcing one's self to eat something you know you dislike, but do it anyways.
He forced his legs to go slow enough to appear to all the people that he was on his way to school.

He avoided stepping on women's trains of lace and silk that trailed behind them as they laughed at their escort's attempt to flatter them. Their parasols of lace didn't look like they did much, and he still couldn't figure out why they carried them around. It's not like they'd keep them dry from the rain that was beginning to fall.
That was the thing about London most people didn't realize when they imagined it in their mind's eye.
London was grey half the time, and always raining. That wasn't to say it wasn't beautiful, he thought. Not that he'd seen much of it.

Axel had been right, no one glanced at him as he walked with the throng of children his age that were on their way to school. He had picked this day in particular because it was the end of summer break. All of the children were on their way back to their boarding schools. The particular crowd he was walking with, had on the familiar grey and navy blue uniforms, with a crest on the left breast pocket. They were from Strowler's boarding school
He, of course, stuck out like a sore thumb, with his dirty clothes, and cap that didn't go with the other boy's top hats. So he hastily removed it and stuffed the goggles and cap into his coat pocket. He knew he couldn't stay too long with the crowd or he would be bound to get noticed. So as they drew closer to the school, he silently broke away and walked down an alley way between two large houses.

It had taken him several years to memorize the map of London, all the back allies, all the main streets, the sewage tunnels. And since he didn't travel them on a regular bases it was harder for him to know where he was going.
But his best mate had drilled him for years as they worked in the factories on how he would get to a designated place under different circumstances.
But he always thought it had been easier to memorize the maze of tunnels and factories down below then it was to memorize London.

He came out of the alley and stopped as he gazed up at the majestic building that looked what he imagined a castle to look like.
Spires rose from each corner of the building, cutting through the grey sky like a dagger. Flags bearing the school's crest, flapped harshly as the wind picked up.
Large glass stained windows were all over the building, but the two magnificent ones were just above the large oak doors. It would have looked wonderful if it had been a sunny day. On a grey day like it was, it looked more like a monster barring it's teeth.

He watched the mob of children walk through the iron gates, that surrounded the school. Patiently waiting for the end of the group, he subconsciously brushed his hand against his vest pocket, feeling the small circular object in it. Instantly his nerves were calmed, but the urgency of his visit heightened.
The end of the crowd came, and he quickly dashed across the cobblestone street, and joined the back of the crowd unseen.

~ +++ ~

"Miss Smith, please focus."
She sighed and returned her gaze to her governess who was reading what must have been the driest book she could find her parent's library. It was poetry.
Georgiana Smith hated poetry.
Her mind wondered as her gaze slipped back from the tall lady with erect posture, grey hair done up in a simple fashion, and black clothes, to the window on the other side of the parlor they used as her study room.
Spring was coming, and could be seen in the budding flowers in the window beds that would become jasmines. One of the most sweet smelling flowers she had ever smelt.
But even the green buds, or the anticipation of them blooming, couldn't brighten up her mood when she saw the grey backdrop.
Oh how she longed to get outside. She wanted to visit the only shop she knew would sell her the parts to the 'un-lady-like contraption' she was building in her room. Her mother, of course, did not approve. She insisted on the governesses, and the tea parties, and balls. The balls, Georgiana actually found she enjoyed attending. But if her mother sent her to one more tea party it would be the death of her.
Her father, on the other hand, supported her inner inventor whole heartedly. In fact he encouraged her to spend all the time she could inventing things.
He said inventions held the future.

"...Miss Smith...Miss Smith!"
Georgiana jumped and turned back to her governess.
"Yes Miss Alboin?" She asked in the innocent voice that had always been hers, no matter the situation.
"Would you please explain what Tennyson meant in that last verse?"
"Uh..." She quickly glanced down at the book propped up in front of her and scanned the last few verses.
"Well obviously, it means everything must die." She stated.
Miss Alboin sighed and set the book down.
"Read it aloud Miss Smith."
Georgiana tried her best to keep her annoyance hidden as she read the last few verses.
"And The old earth must die.
So let the warm winds rage,
And blue wave beat the shore.
For even and morn
Ye will never see
Thro' eternity.
All things were born.
Ye will come never more,
For all things must die."
Miss Alboin nodded.
"Yes, that's what he wrote, now tell me what important lesson can be learned from this?"
Georgiana struggled to find some deep thought out of all of the jumble of rhyming words and Old English.
"I still fail to see what you mean." She said. "He is simply stating that everything has a beginning and an end. What more does one see in this?" She asked.
Miss Alboin sighed and gave her pupil a sad look.
"Yes. All things have a beginning and an end. But think upon that. What would you do if you knew you would die tomorrow? How would you live differently?"
Leaving that to linger in the young girl's head, the governess declared studies over for the day.
And as Georgiana picked up the skirts of her dress to walk up the steps of the staircase to her room, her governess' words kept running through her head.
If she were to die tomorrow, how would she live differently? How would she change?