The others were listening intently. "So why risk that now? Why divert the resources of your successful company into something untested, unproven on the open market?"
Chapman shrugged. "Because I grew bored, and because Villiers kept pushing forward, irrespective of finances, time or effort. You'll understand that when you meet him. The man is fuelled by a passion for his work. He was like an unstoppable force, and it was only then, after watching him work himself into the ground, night after night, for months on end, that I finally realised how the automaton project could help us to fulfill our original ambition. I started to consider the almost limitless applications of these mechanical men. If they could learn to write, they could be employed as clerks. If they could learn to cook they could replace servants. If we taught them the art of war, they could even march into battle against the Empire's foes. Think how many needless deaths could be averted? Surely these remarkable devices could aid in the technological revolution of the Empire? Surely that could only be of benefit to the wider populace, freeing them from the tedium of household chores, leaving more time for education and other, more profitable enterprises? I think you'll see, when we have Villiers give us a demonstration of the units, what a spectacular revolution awaits us, just around the corner, when the world becomes truly aware of what we're doing here in our little factory in Battersea."
Veronica met Newbury's eyes. "But Mr. Chapman, what of the people pushed out by these automatons, and what of their families? If their jobs are taken away from them, to be replaced by these artificial men, many of them will be left destitute with no hope of finding other work. Surely that's not in the best interests of the Empire?"
Chapman nodded. "Yes. I too have concerned myself with that, Miss Hobbes. Yet…we can't allow it to halt progress. Society will redress the balance, given time. Communities will change, and people will find worthwhile employ in any number of different industries. The automaton revolution will provide them with even more opportunities, and I'm convinced it will raise the standard of living across all classes throughout the entirety of the Empire."
Newbury looked uncomfortable. "Grand claims indeed, Mr. Chapman."
"Time will tell, Sir Maurice, time will tell. But it is clear to me that you need to see one of these marvellous machines in action!" He was animated now, fired up on his own rhetoric. "Allow me to walk you through the automaton production site on our way to see Villiers. It's just this way."
Newbury arched an eyebrow at Veronica and the two of them fell in behind Chapman as he continued his tour of the facility, picking a route through the array of spluttering machines that continued to swing iron girders into place high above their heads.
Chapter Nine
They passed along a corridor that stemmed off from the main airships works and eventually led them to a small warehouse space that appeared to have been hastily converted into a production line. Two large, steam-powered presses thumped with reassuring regularity, pushing out components in a variety of shapes and sizes, from brass arm braces and finger joints, to shiny torso plates and elaborate cogs. Men stood alongside the rolling conveyor belts that fed out from the machines, each one picking up components and checking them for flaws before sending them on to the assembly teams on the other side of the warehouse. There, small groups of men were busy welding the components together, testing the articulation of the joints and assembling the frames of the automatons. The room was hot; bustling with people and filled with the smell of oil and steam.
Chapman paused in the doorway. "As you can see, the automaton production facility is still a relatively minor concern when considered alongside the main airship works, but in time, I have hopes that it will grow."
Newbury paced alongside one of the presses, watching as the machine-head spun on its axis, pressing a new component from the mould on its fascia. He spoke to Chapman as they walked. "How many automatons does the facility produce in any given day?"
"Fully functioning units?"
Newbury nodded.
"One or two. They can actually make upwards of ten frames on a good day, but Villiers himself installs the internal control systems, and it's delicate work. Any faster and we'd jeopardise the integrity of the machines or risk damaging the complex mechanisms that make them run."
"I'm looking forward to meeting him. Villiers, that is."
"Let's see if he's here now. That's the door to his workshop." He waved to indicate the glass-panelled door up ahead. They approached, and Chapman rapped quickly on the glass before pushing the door open to reveal the workshop within.
The room was fairly small, after the grandeur of the airship hangers, and was cluttered with components and other mechanical ephemera: cogs, tools, automaton torsos, pages covered in elaborately scrawled designs, a model airship hanging from the roof. In truth, the room had as much of the feel of a laboratory as a workshop, the sort of place where scientific breakthroughs were commonplace and genius was taken for granted.
Villiers himself stood at his workbench, fiddling with a brass skull. He was wearing a brown leather smock, not unlike a butcher's apron, and had a magnifier flipped over his right eye on a wire frame, the base of which wrapped around his head like the crude frame of a hat. His hair was coarse and black and he was unshaven, with a vaguely disheveled appearance.
He was fairly short, although taller than Veronica, and his only acknowledgement upon hearing them enter the room was to grunt at the automaton head he was holding and choose not to look up from his work.
Chapman waited for a moment to see if his business partner would remember his manners. When it was clear the other man intended to carry on working on the brass head regardless of their presence, he stepped forward, attempting to get Villiers's attention. He cleared his throat. "Villiers. I'd like to introduce you to Sir Maurice Newbury and his assistant, Miss Veronica Hobbes. They're here on the business of the Crown, investigating the airship crash I mentioned to you yesterday."
Villiers offered a half-shrug, before continuing to dig around inside the brain cavity of the brass skull. There was an awkward silence. Then, a moment later, something popped free from inside the device and flew into the air, before falling to the floor by Veronica's feet. Newbury noted that it was a tiny gold lever of some sort. Villiers looked up, satisfied. "I'm sorry, what were you saying my friend? Hmmm?"
He seemed to notice Newbury and Veronica for the first time. "Oh, please excuse me. I was lost in the middle of a delicate operation…" His accent was thick, with a Parisian lilt. He placed the automaton head on his workbench, along with the tool he had been using.
Newbury stepped forward, his hand extended. "No need for apologies, Monsieur Villiers. I am Sir Maurice Newbury, and this is my assistant, Miss Veronica Hobbes." Veronica inched forward and Villiers took her hand, gently. "As your associate here intimated, we're working on behalf of the Crown. We'd like to talk to you about your automaton devices and the airship crash that occurred yesterday in Finsbury Park." He stopped for a moment, glancing around. "I must say, though, Monsieur Villiers. This truly is a remarkable workshop. A credit to you, I'm sure."
Villiers smiled. "Thank you, Sir Maurice. I can spare a little while to talk, although I am sure my associate has already told you much the same as what you will hear from me."
Newbury nodded. "Nevertheless, I do feel your opinions on the matter will be of use. Are you aware of the circumstances surrounding the crash?"
The Frenchman shrugged. "In as much as Monsieur Chapman told me yesterday."
"So you're aware that the automaton that was piloting the vessel appears to have gone missing from the wreckage?"