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.

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?

Hello World!

Hello everyone!

This story's going to be a bit different from anything else I've written. I'm not sure how it's going to end, but it's going to be an awesome adventure!  I hope you guys enjoy the ride as much as I will!

^_^