The Doomsday Vault

“What?”

“I’ve heard about automatons that serve a certain purpose. You know the one I mean.”

“Oh, Louisa.” But the protest was halfhearted. “Such. . congress between men and machines is strictly illegal. Besides, Norbert wouldn’t.”

“Really? I know this is a little harsh, but how well do you know him? Until you came along, he lived alone in this huge house. He had no social life to speak of. What do you think he was doing in here?”

Alice was going to protest again, then decided against it. What was the point when she was thinking the same thing? A sick feeling roiled in her stomach, and she wanted to flee the room. But no-she had asked for answers, and she was going to have them. “Let’s get this over with. Help me get her-its-dress off, Louisa.”

They did. The automaton stood for it without protesting, and Click batted at one of the sleeves. The last layer of undergarments was shed, revealing brass skin broken only by regular patterns of rivets. It looked less human this way, like a mannequin or dressmaker’s dummy. Alice quickly examined it and found only unsuspicious, smooth metal.

“Well,” she said, straightening. “This is a bit embarrassing.”

Louisa was holding Click. “Perhaps other methods were employed?”

“Hm. Just how suspicious am I allowed to be?”

The spider, which was the size of a hatbox, finished removing the scuff mark and was turning to scuttle away when Click abruptly leapt from Louisa’s arms and pounced on it. The spider squeaked, and its scrub brush skittered across the floor. The two of them rolled about, Click’s eyes reflecting phosphorescent glee.

“Click!” Alice scolded. “Stop it! Leave it alone!”

Click abruptly snapped free and strolled away, tail in the air. The discombobulated spider lay on its nose, its backside in the air.

“That cat,” Alice said, leaning down to right the spider. “I don’t know what I’ll-”

She halted and stared.

“You’ll what?” Louisa said.

Alice didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted the hatbox spider onto the table, spun it around, and used a screwdriver to lever open a small door mounted on the rear.

“What are you doing?” Louisa asked.

“This spider has two panels to access the inside instead of one,” Alice said. “Unusual. Hold still, you.”

The door popped open. Alice and Louisa both leaned forward to look inside. There was a moment of silence. Then Alice reached inside and pulled out a device, the shape of which made its function quite clear.

“I don’t suppose,” Louisa said, “that this object has some machine-related function not so obvious to a layman.”

“I’m afraid not.” Alice shut the spider down. Her hands were shaking, and she felt about to throw up. She remembered Mr. Caraway and the other man she had seen leaving the house during business hours, and she remembered that Norbert had been home. “Kemp, please bring every inhuman automaton in the house to the formal dining room. And don’t let Father know.”

“Yes, Madam.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Louisa.

“I’m going to see how many of these things are equipped like this one. Then I’m going to talk to my fiance.”

“You look upset.”

“I am.”

Kemp hastily threw a drop cloth over the dining room table, allowing Alice to make a lineup of automatons on it. It turned out most of the spiders and walkboxes were equipped the same as the first.

“Do you drink?” Louisa asked from one of the high-backed chairs. “If you don’t, now might be a good time to start.”

“Hm,” Alice said again.

“You could install some spikes. As a little surprise.”

Alice had to laugh at that. “Thank you for that thought. But I think talking to Norbert will do.” She glanced at the grandfather clock ticking in the corner. “And he’ll be home in an hour.”

“Then I’d better scamper away.” She rose and kissed Alice on the cheek. “Whatever you decide to do, darling, remember I’m on your side. Though I have to say that your Gavin is sounding more attractive by the moment.”

When Norbert arrived home an hour later with a bouquet of roses, he found on the table, instead of dinner, a number of spidery automatons with their covers off. Tools and parts lay scattered up and down the drop cloth. Alice stood among them, feeling like a black widow in a wiry web.

“Really, Norbert,” Alice said icily. “How long did you think it would take me to find out?”

Norbert looked at her for a moment, then set the roses down and pulled off his gloves. “I did say at breakfast that there was another task I needed you to take on.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I received a telegram from Fred Caraway at my office today. It said he’d stopped by on the wrong day for his appointment. He always was a little scatterbrained.”

“What does that have to do with these … things?” Alice tried to keep her voice neutral, but anger and humiliation burned two red spots into her cheeks.

“A remarkably imprecise description coming from someone of your caliber.” He yanked the corner bellpull, and Kemp immediately stepped into the room. “Gin and tonic. And where’s supper?”

“On a cart in the kitchen,” Alice said. “I’m tired of waiting for explanations, Norbert, though I’ve already figured out quite a bit.”

“What have you figured out, then?” Norbert seemed perfectly at ease, which served only to infuriate Alice.

She took a deep breath to get herself under control. “These machines … entertain your friends, or business contacts, or whatever they are. In return, your contacts provide you good business deals. Mr. Caraway, for example, ensures low tin prices. You don’t keep human servants because human servants talk, and word would eventually reach the authorities. The only part I don’t understand is why none of them are interested in the more human- seeming automatons.”

Kemp held out a glass of gin and tonic on a tray, and Norbert accepted it. “You’d be surprised at how many men are too shy even to pay for female companionship, and how many others are put off by human-shaped automatons.” He gulped from his drink. “There are men who find the idea of a small machine that doesn’t talk or even appear human quite appealing. And the man who owns the machines becomes popular.”

“What has this to do with me?” Alice demanded.

“I didn’t build these automatons. My uncle did. He died before I met you, leaving me with no way to repair them.”

“And that’s where I come in? A female?”

“Why not? The sex of the mechanic is unimportant. I had small-business dealings with your father, and through him I learned about you and your talent with automatons. I helped wrangle you an invitation to the Greenfellow ball so I could look you over. The fact that you repaired Lady Greenfellow’s cellist on the spot sealed it, as far as I was concerned.”

“In other words, you only proposed to me so I could keep your … toys in good working order?” Fury overwrote every word.

“Good Lord, no!” Norbert came over and took her hand. “Alice, you’re also heir to a title. Over time we may grow to love each other, or we may not. But this”-he swept a gesture over the motionless automatons-“this is business.”

The question popped out before she could stop it. “Have you used them?”

“No,” he said simply, and sat back down. “At any rate, you’ve already discovered that several of them are broken. I want them repaired. We’ll set up a workroom so you needn’t clutter up the dining room, and I’ll give you the name of a shop that can be trusted if you need parts.”