Because Lady Dorothea Langley, the only daughter of the Duke of Renslow, and a young woman who had had enough up to her eyeballs, was bloody well going to disappear.
*~~*~~*
Given the lateness of the afternoon, Dorothea soon realised she’d unwittingly picked the perfect time to vanish. Hardly any of the seats were occupied, and the few passengers she saw were nestled comfortably together in the elegantly decorated front of the cabin that served first-class passengers only.
Later, the rest of the aethercoaches would be overflowing with people returning to their homes after a day’s work, although at this level even those might have thinned enough toleave spaces. She relaxed, settling more comfortably and tucking her bag beneath her skirts.
It would not be a long trip, no more than half an hour, she knew. And it was a familiar route, since she and various members of the family had often ridden down to the third level markets, not to mention the second level emporiums.
She’d always preferred this method of transportation over the impressive Renslow steamsled. It might have delivered her family promptly to the door of their destination, but it never gave her the chance to people-watch, something she very much enjoyed. Back then, as now, Dorothea spun tales around her fellow passengers, and the time passed quickly as the vehicle’s tracks began to tilt downward. When her station arrived, she slipped quietly onto the platform, hooked her bag over her shoulder, and pulled up the collar of her coat. It was colder here, and would be colder still as she continued her downward journey.
This was now the time for her to follow the route she had mapped out in her mind. Take the second tunnel from this platform, turn right, and then follow the signs to the Trammelbuggy Depot. There, she should find several stops, one of which would take her even nearer to her goal, and further away from a life she knew was not for her.
A few people nodded as they passed, but the temperature of the air precluded any lengthy conversation. The distinct odour of the Trammelbuggy told her that she had arrived at the right spot. Alone now, she moved to a bench to await the next one, shrugging her collar even higher around her neck. The ventilation shafts were nice in the summer, but of little use against the ice-cold air sinking down through them to the tracks below.
Dorothea heard the rumble of other vehicles, and one or two people drifted onto the platform, but far enough away that she could not hear their conversation. If indeed they were having one.
A married couple, she imagined, who worked near each other and regularly rode home together. He might have been an office worker, his clothing neat, his shirt collar a white flash over his coat. His wife? Well, perhaps she was a nanny. Or maybe a teacher. Her clothes were also well cared-for, but in a very practical shade of brown with a lighter flowered print on them. Just the thing to avoid marks from sticky little fingers. Plus, she was also carrying a very pretty little mechanical toy. A gift from her employers, or the school where she worked.
Grinning at herself, Dorothea turned away from the couple...and then stilled.
She could hear something. A faint sound...
Turning her head this way and that, she noticed a large container tucked into a recessed hollow toward the end of the platform.
And that was where the noise was coming from.
It took her all of three seconds to make the decision to investigate, and she was making her way toward the container the very next moment.
Sure enough, that was where a little squeaking sound seemed to be originating. Putting down her bag, Dorothea carefully approached the open door on the side of the big metal bin. There would be various kinds of refuse in there, she knew, waiting for the next cleaning crew.
Cautiously, she peered inside. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
A click and a squawk, then a little rumble, answered her question. There was definitely someone or something there.
“I’m here. At the door. Can you move?”
In the scant amount of light that penetrated the iron cavern, all rust and rivets, Dorothea caught a glimpse of some of the contents moving, nearer and nearer...
“Oh,” she breathed, “oh, you poor thing...” Barely humming, the little tickerkin almost collapsed as it tumbled from the container at Dorothea’s feet. Its head turned, and it blinked, then made a wheezing sound so sad that it caught at her heart.
“Come on. Let’s have a look at you.”
Squeek.
“I know. But if I’m going to help you, I need to know where you’re damaged. Come on...don’t be afraid...” It took some urging, but finally the tickerkin stood in front of her, and did its best to keep its balance.
Squeeeek,it whimpered.
“All right, you’re safe. I don’t know why someone would throw you away like that, but I can only see a few damaged places. And I’m sure I can repair most of them.” She rose, collected her bag, and then bent down to pick up the tickerkin. “I think I know your model,” she said, as she walked back to her original bench. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re a Model A-12, aren’t you? A mechanised assistant, from quite an early line, too. Probably a domestic utility variant, from what I can see.”
Squeek, it sighed.
“Right then.” Dorothea dug into her bag for her small tool case. She’d learned never to leave the house without it, since it was inevitable that something somewhere would go wrong. Living in an age where machines were as important as food and water, it was accepted that tools should be as much a part of ordinary people’s daily lives as a handkerchief or a sound pair of boots.
The little unit seemed content to be put on the bench beside her, and its one working eye followed her hands as she gentlyunbent some of the metallic panels, extracted a piece of errant wiring from one of the motor gears, and carefully re-coiled the wires behind the eye that had sprung out of its housing and bounced uselessly around.
“There.” Dorothea nodded. “That’s better.” She stared at the other eye. “Come on now. The connections are still sound, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to use both eyes?” As she spoke, the repaired fixture came back to life, and for a split second, she could have sworn she heard a sigh of relief.
