‘Rashim, do you think there’s any way we’re going to be able to grow any new support units?’
Absently his fingers traced the felt brim of his top hat held reverently on his lap. Clearly he relished the whole dressing-up thing as much as she did. He’d even bought a fob watch on a chain to tuck into one of his waistcoat pockets.
What a poser.
‘I think we’ll struggle to find the components we need in this time. We could perhaps use a brewer’s cask for a growth tube, but filtration pumps? Protein solution? We would need to take a journey forward to obtain those things.’
‘And that’s a risk, isn’t it?’ said Sal.
Maddy nodded. ‘Yup, we run the risk of turning up on somebody’s radar if we do too much of that. We’ll have to think about this. Meanwhile, the foetuses will stay viable in the freezer unit?’
‘Provided the power supply does not fail us,’ he replied, nodding. ‘Yes.’
‘I wonder if there’s something special on tonight?’ said Liam. ‘A parade or something?’
They sat in silence for a while, all of them contemplating the busy street. The barista, seeing their hushed conversation had hit a pause for the moment, came round the side of his counter and over to their table.
‘Can I offer you ladies or gentlemen anything else? Only I’ll need to be closin’ up and movin’ on soon.’ He glanced at the gathering of men down the other end of Farringdon Street. ‘I’d rather be off before things get a bit frisky. I ’eard a whisper, see.’
Liam nodded at the gathering of men. ‘What is going on down there?’
‘That’ll be another of them gatherings,’ replied the barista. ‘Blasted anarchists and troublemakers. They’re all worked up and makin’ a nuisance of themselves. All because of that gentleman murderer.’
‘Murderer?’
He looked at them with momentary bemusement. ‘You know, the mad-in-the-’ead one? Been killin’ women? In the East End? You ladies an’ gents musta ’eard about that?’
Liam, Maddy and the others shook their heads in unison.
The barista took in the look of confusion on all their faces. ‘You… you do know about that, right? That gentleman… a knight or lord or something. Some say he might even be a friend of the queen!’
Liam shook his head. ‘Can’t say that we do, sir.’
The barista laughed incredulously. ‘Blimey! It’s in all the penny papers. It ’as been for the last fortnight! Been on them telegraph wires all round the world I wouldn’t be surprised. Everyone’s been talkin’ about it! You lot must be the last people in the country to have ’eard about it, then!’
‘We’ve sort of only just arrived in the country, you see,’ said Maddy.
The barista nodded. ‘Ahhh, foreigners! I thought I could ’ear somethin’ funny in the way you’s lot were talkin’. Where you ladies and gents come from?’
Maddy met Liam and Sal’s eyes. They all shared a conspiratorial smile and she shrugged at the barista as if to say, Where do I even begin? ‘Well now, that’s kind of difficult to — ’
‘Canada,’ said Bob. ‘We are from Canada.’
The barista looked suitably impressed. ‘Canadians, eh? I suppose you don’t get newspapers and telegraph wires over there, then. Well — ’ he shook his head — ‘to be honest, the whole thing’s a nasty carry-on. This won’t turn out well for none of us. Best advice I can tell you is — with all due respect — I’d suggest you might want to ’op on a boat ’eading back ’ome to Canada before it all kicks off over ’ere. It ain’t gonna be nice.’
‘Kicks off?’
‘Nasty business. Very nasty.’ His eyes narrowed as he gazed down the street. ‘The way things are goin’… there’ll be soldiers on the streets soon. Maybe even blood on the streets before long.’ He looked back down at them. ‘Best ’ead back to your ’otel or guesthouse and stay indoors this evening, that’s for sure. I ’eard a whisper them riots what we’ve ’ad across Whitechapel and the rest of the East End of London will be spreading to the rest of the city.’ He nodded at the growing crowd of men far off down the street. ‘And them troublemakers down there look like they’re making ready to ’ave a scrap with the police.’
Chapter 60
14 December 1888, Holborn Viaduct, London
‘Jesus, Liam! How did you not notice all this… unrest… was going on?’ A copy of the London Packet rustled in Maddy’s hands. She’d picked up a discarded copy lying on the doorstep of a haberdasher’s on the way back to their cosy little subterranean dungeon.
She unlaced her bonnet and hung it carefully on the arm of a coat stand. ‘There’ve been riots and stuff going off all over the country!’
Liam unbuttoned his waistcoat. ‘I’ve been busy in here in case you hadn’t noticed.’ He slumped down on a creaking, spoon-backed armchair that was spilling stuffing from a popped seam on one arm. ‘Making this place a little more like a home, so I have.’
‘There’s more important things than — ’ she struggled not to curse — ‘making us comfy!’
He looked hurt. ‘I just wanted it to be nice for you two.’
Maddy’s stern gaze turned to Rashim.
‘And, uh… I’ve been making money, and of course wiring this place up.’
Maddy looked down at the paper and picked bits to read out loud. ‘… rioting in the East End: Whitechapel, Spitalfields. Riots also beginning to occur in Liverpool, Manchester.’ She skimmed the columns of small newsprint. ‘ Groups of anarchists, libertarians, troublemakers and ne’er-do-wells gathering in every city, every town, every village to protest about…’ She fell silent, skimming the words ahead, her lips moving.
‘What? Protesting about what?’
She raised a finger. ‘Just a sec… lemme finish.’
‘I have to say, I always thought Victorian Britain was supposed to be an ordered place,’ said Rashim. ‘ Disciplined, you know? The famous British stiff upper lip? That’s the right expression, isn’t it?’ He shook his head. ‘Those men outside? All that anger? That naked aggression? It reminded me very much of my time. Always the riots. Every day news-streams showing a war or a food riot somewhere. Militia with guns stripping possessions from refugees.’ He shook his head. ‘That is what the end days of a failing civilization look like. It’s an ugly, sad thing.’
‘It was beginning to go that way in my time too,’ added Sal. She snorted humourlessly at something that occurred to her. ‘I should say our time.’ She looked at Liam. ‘After all, the three of us come from the same time, right? Same time, same place, same test tube?’
Liam sighed. ‘Best forget about that, Sal.’
She ignored him. ‘When exactly is our time, huh? I mean… when exactly was our particular batch of meatbots cooked up? Hmm? 2030? 2040? 2050? 20-’
‘Just let it go, Sal!’ snapped Liam irritably. ‘Why don’t you just forget about — ’
‘Because I can’t! I’m a product. So’s Maddy. So are you! I can’t forget that!’
‘No!’ He shook his head. ‘Jayzus-n-Holy-Mary, no, I’m not acting the maggot! No! I’m still who I thought I was. I’m still Liam and I’m still from Cork, Sal! And I’ll tell you something else for nothing; I’m bleedin’ well remaining that same person! Do you understand? And so you should!’ He looked self-consciously back at the others. They were staring at him, taken aback by his angry outburst.
‘Well…’ he huffed dismissively. ‘That’s all I’ve got to say about this foolish nonsense!’ He slapped the arm of the chair. ‘There! Look, I’m all angry now!’
They sat in a long and awkward silence, an old clock ticking far too noisily in the corner of the dungeon; the deep rumble of Holborn Viaduct’s generator could be heard through several brick walls, doing its clanking, rumbling best to keep the immediate surrounding street lights glowing.
‘You think what you want, Liam,’ Sal sighed. ‘It’s all lies in the end. It’s all — ’
‘Will the pair of you knock it off?’ snapped Maddy. ‘This is far more important!’ She shook the paper in her hand for emphasis. ‘This is a contamination. Right here! In this paper — a contamination!’
Sal shrugged. ‘So? It’s not like we have to fix them any more.’
