«IT SEEMS that I am forever destined to administer to your delirium, Mr. Bantam.»
Bantam’s eyes adjusted to the lovely Rachelle Archenstone, bent over him and checking his pulse. A hint of a smile played across her face
«Where …?»
«We are on board a Mary Blaine,” she explained, eyes twinkling. «Well, an AetherLev, anyway. I am forced to confess that we smuggled you out of the Base. That is, Mr. Cleveland, Doctor Hardin and I.»
With a start, Bantam noticed that they were moving. He and Rachelle were in an ornate wooden compartment — a train compartment, it seemed. The lace-curtained window was curved, like he was on the inside of a cylinder. And indeed, he saw that, whatever he was inside of, was itself inside of a transparent tube. Their conveyance sped along at blinding speeds as the countryside whizzed by outside.
«How …?»
«Simple. I administered a tincture that simulated death when I was asked to examine you,” Rachelle explained. When Bantam looked at her quizzically, she said: «Have you not read Romeo and Juliet? I had thought you an aficionado of literature. Anyway, the tincture stopped your breathing and all but stopped your heart. General Veerspike believed that he had tortured you to death — and I daresay he would have, had we not intervened.»
«But then …?»
«Your ‘corpse’ was removed. Once it was in the morgue, Doctor Hardin was able to ship you onboard, whereupon Mr. Cleveland and I extricated you from your coffin.»
Bantam thought about this for a moment and then said, «Sooner or later, Veerspike will figure out what Hardin did.»
«He already has," Rachelle said, eyes averted. «Hardin had spirit several keys away from General Veerspike, concealing them within his false arm in order to effect your transit from the morgue. But the ruse was doomed to discovery from the very start.»
Bantam tried to sit up. «Why did he do that? I never asked him to --»
«Rest,” Rachelle insisted, and injected him with something that made him …
… WAKE WITH a J!O!L!T! several hours later as the AetherLev turned a sharp corner, rattling everything in the compartment.
By degrees, it came back to him.
… Smuggled you out of the base …
Oh no. Hardin.
The door burst open and a man with a black beard entered, quickly closing the door behind him.
Bantam surged to his feet, adrenaline slamming through his belly. But the sheets were still wound tightly around him and he fell. The man pounced.
«Bantam! It’s me!» he said. The man pulled his beard down — it was Cliff Cleveland in disguise. «I’m famous, remember? I have to wear this when I go out!»
«Frack,” Bantam panted. Then getting to his feet: «You nearly gave me a heart attack.»
«You appear quite satisfactory for one who has accumulated several days in a morgue. It seems death becomes you.»
«Is that how long it’s been? Days? So what’s going on?»
«Well, ever since the explosion, the papers are blaring headlines about how the American Space Program is kaput. President Cobb is despondent. Germany is a shoe-in to win the Great Race now. Chancellor Hitler is ecstatic, of course.»
«Now do you believe me?»
«Of course I believe you,” Cleveland replied. «Why do you think I risked my neck to help Doctor Archenstone get you off the base? Besides. I am currently a man of leisure. I am an astronaut and somebody blew up my starcraft.»
«Okay,” Bantam said, sitting down. «Where are we going?»
«New York. You and Rachelle are meeting up with some friends of Hardin’s. A hacker society called the Cape and Cane. I, however, am due back at MacLaren.»
«You can’t go back there!» Bantam almost shouted. «They’ll — “
«No, they won’t. General Veerspike simply thinks I have been on family leave. The shock of the explosion and all. I’ll be fine.»
Bantam shook his head. «Yeah, about that. I thought Doctor Archenstone was engaged to Veerspike. Why is she helping us?»
The door opened again: this time it was Rachelle. She’d clearly overheard, judging from the glare she gave Cleveland. «I’ll leave you two alone now. I’ve got to get going anyhow.»
When he’d left, Rachelle said, «I confess that I suspect General Veerspike of being the true saboteur,” she said quietly, eyes down.
«You think he’s a Nazi?» Bantam ventured after a long moment. Rachelle only nodded in reply.
WHEN THEY ARRIVED in New York City, the first thing Bantam noticed was that it was very much larger than the New York of his own world. For one, the buildings themselves were much wider, taking up many city blocks at the base. And they stretched for many, many more stories into the sky.
Clearly, the structural advances embodied by the Volzstrang Pin were employed here as well. Bantam estimated that some of the buildings were at least ten times the height of the Empire State Building.
They’d stepped from the train directly into a waiting air taxi. This was an ornate, open-air car-like compartment hanging from a smallish balloon. Rachelle explained that this ballon was filled with a ultra-light gas called Helux. This gas was one of the key advances of the age: it gave thirty times more lift per square inch than hydrogen or helium — and it wasn’t flammable. Thus, very small balloons could be used. The craft itself — called a Growler — was steered using propellers at the back and front, all of which were powered by steam.
As they ascended, Bantam saw that the buildings were tiered: their upper floors curved inward every ten stories or so, such that the structures came to a kind of point near the top. It was a city filled with steel-and-glass pyramids with soft edges, like the Chrysler building. This, in turn, opened vast canyons of air at the upper altitudes, which were subsequently filled with wafting fog banks — as well as criss-crossing pneumatic tubes, Manhattan Air Way cars zipping along on cables, and myriad personal flying machines. Small dirigibles with naphtha gaslights drifted along in a clog of traffic and ahhh-oooo-ga honking at multiple altitudes.
It was New York, to be sure: but a more graceful and elegant New York. There were sounds, but softer sounds, not the shrill insistence of Bantam’s own New York. There was the persistent whir of propellers everywhere that made for an omni-present low-level buzz, almost like this New York were a beehive. There was some sort of gentle ping noise that the Growlers used in the fog to alert each other and thus prevent collisions.
The police — or Blue Bottlers, as Rachelle called them — wore a kind of batwing contraption combined with a back-mounted bubble. This enabled them to zip around much more quickly and nimbly than any other vehicle. In addition they used a higher concentration of the precious gas Helux in their bubbles, which gave them extra lift and speed.
People in parasols and top hats thronged the Air Way platforms that seemed to hang off every floor of every building. New York was alive and pulsing, just as it ever was — even in this world.
Several very large billboards passed by as they flew:
~Dr. Wolcott's Cherry Morphine Drops~
Cures Toothaches, Asthmatics, and all Diseases of the Throat and Lungs!
The ad show two toddlers, glassy-eyed, with spoons near a bottle of red liquid.
What Kind of Man Owns His Own Hydrologics? A Man of Progress, That's Who!
A Man who owns a geniune NEPTUNE!
Beneath this, a proud man sat in front of device very much like Volzstrang's had been, but much smaller. A pretty woman looked on adoringly behind him.
Next came two more:
Galvin's Tape Worms
Fleshy Women! Eat! Eat! Eat!
And never gain weight … ever again!
SANITIZED AND JAR PACKED
Helux Lifting Gas
It'll lift you to the Moon!
Above this last one was a picture of none other than Cliff Cleveland, thumbs up and grinning in a full-color artist's rendition.
After a time, the Air Taxi began to descend through the billowing shoulders of cloud. By degrees, a rickety wooden house appeared through the mist. Bantam's eyes popped open in surprise. «You sure this is the right address?» he yelled through to wind to the growler pilot.