Steampunk Prime_ A Vintage Steampunk Reader - Mike Ashley [7]
It was uncanny in the extreme to hear these words proceed from the great mouth of the Faun. They came glibly enough, but in every sentence there was the little “click” which betokened a fault in the machinery, and the voice itself was hard and metallic. It was no doubt amazingly clever of Baxter to have got so far in his creations, but it was obvious that he would have to go a good deal further before the general public would be disposed to welcome his progeny into their households. I resolved to get rid of my visitor as soon as ever possible.
“What time do you propose to move on?” I asked.
“At dusk. I think I’d better continue to travel by night. If people saw me it might get into the papers, and then Baxter would read it. I’ll go at sunset.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know,” said the Faun. “I want to see the world immensely. I’ve quite taken to it from what I have read in the Encyclopaedia and the newspapers. An awfully active place, I believe — rather different from Baxter’s, although, of course, he’s busy in his way. And so are you, no doubt,” it added politely; “but I want to hear the roar and rumble of the never-ceasing traffic of our great metropolis, as the Daily Tinkler puts it. I want to see a play, I want to see the aristocracy in the Park on Sunday morning, and I should like to go to a boy and girl dance.”
“Yes, that’s all very well,” I said; “but you’ve got to earn your living, you know. How do you propose to do it?”
“Oh, I shan’t require much,” said the Faun. “I judge from what I’ve read that food costs a great deal. I only want a little phosphate now and again. Tuppence a month will feed me. Then I notice from the advertisements that beds cost a great deal. I never go to bed, so that’s another item off.”
“Well, anyway, you’ll want a shakedown,” I remarked — “a bit of straw in a corner somewhere.”
“Please don’t confound me with the lower animals,” said the Faun stiffly. “I do not want either straw or linen. I do not sleep at all.”
“What!” I exclaimed. “You never sleep!”
“None of Baxter’s creations sleep. That’s one of his great points. He’s got ahead of nature in that. No, we just go straight along with a bit of phosphate now and again for a pick-me-up. That’s where we have our pull over regular folk. I can work twenty-four hours a day if you like. Think what a lot I could do in that time. Couldn’t you employ me temporarily — just till things are a bit settled, and I’ve got accustomed to the world?” It pleaded.
“In what capacity could I employ you?” I asked.
“As secretary; if you like. You don’t know how invaluable I should be. I remember everything I see, hear, or read. I’ve gone halfway through the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and I remember every word of it. Shall I recite you the first page? ‘A. The first symbol of every Indo-European alphabet, denotes also the primary vowel sound. This coincidence is probably only accidental. The alphabet …’”
“Thank you, thank you, that will do,” I interrupted. “I will take the rest for granted.”
“Or, if you wanted poetry, I could recite the two Paradises of Mr. Milton,” persisted the Faun. “They are long, but very interesting.
“ ‘Of man’s first disobedience, and the fruit, of that forbidden tree …’ ”
It began. I let it go for ten minutes or so and it never stumbled, or was at a loss for a word.”
“Thank you, that’s enough,” I said at last. “It is highly creditable to your memory; but I don’t see how it would be of any use to me. I am a writer myself, and I prefer my own composition