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Burton gulped at his brandy. The edge of the glass rattledagainst his teeth. He pulled the stained handkerchief from hispocket and used it to wipe the blood from his face, dabbing at thecut on his nose.
He sighed, threw the reddened square of cotton into the fire,and muttered: “Malaria.”
“My dear fellow, I'm so sorry! Is there anything I can do?”Babbage asked.
“You could explain, sir.”
“I can explain, Sir Richard, and when I do, I'm afraid you'llfind that your pursuit of Brunel and your wanton destruction ofthree of my probability calculators was a grave misjudgement.”
“My actions were prompted by the fact that Brunel, the greatengineer, seems to have stooped to common burglary.”
“I can assure you there was nothing common about it; that I waswilling to sacrifice one of my calculators as a decoy is indicationenough of that, don't you think? Let me ask you a question: doesthe theft of diamonds qualify as a crime when millions of people-infact, the entire Empire-will benefit from it? Before you answer,may I remind you that a similar question is frequently employed bythe British government to justify the pillaging of entirecountries?”
Burton held up a hand. “Stop. I myself have argued that thespread of so-called civilisation is little more than invasion andsuppression, looting and enslavement, but for the life of me Ican't see how it relates to the squalid burglarising of a diamonddealer's shop!”
Babbage chuckled. “There you go again. Two men crowbarring adoor and coshing a policeman, that I will accept as squalid, but amechanised genius leading three clockwork probability instruments?Tut-tut, Sir Richard! Tut-tut!”
“Answer the-” Burton stopped and groaned as a tremor overwhelmedhim. The glass dropped from his hand and shattered on the edge ofthe hearth. Babbage flinched at the noise, then recovered himselfand made to get up. Burton stopped him with a wave of a hand.
“Don't! I'm all right! So tell me, how does the good of theEmpire relate to tonight's burglary?”
The Steam Man clanked into action, moving back to the drinkscabinet.
“I must share with you a vision of the future,” Babbage said. “Iwant to tell you what is possible-the kind of world we can startbuilding immediately, providing I survive.”
“The diamonds have something to do with your survival? I don'tunderstand.”
“You will.”
Burton took the replacement drink offered by Brunel.
The Steam Man resumed his former position. A small hatch flippedopen in the front of his body and a pliers-like appendage reachedin and pulled out a long, thick cigar. The hatch closed and theroll of tobacco was fitted into a small hole located a few inchesbeneath the bellows. Another arm rose and the blowtorch at its endignited and lit the cigar. The bellows rose and fell. The cigarpumped blue smoke into the air.
Old habits die hard.
Burton sipped at his drink. It was gin. Good choice.
Babbage leaned forward. “Burton, what if there was no longer arequirement for the working classes?”
The king's agent looked down at his shoes, which were steamingbefore the fire.
“Keep talking,” he said. He felt weirdly disjointed, as if theworld he inhabited were something he might awaken from.
“Imagine this: from one end of the Empire to the other,mechanical brains control the day-to-day necessities of human life.They cook our food. They clean our homes. They sweep our chimneys.They work in our factories. They deliver our goods. They monitorand maintain our infrastructure. They serve us absolutely,unquestioningly, uncomplainingly-and require absolutely nothing inreturn!”
“You mean the babbage devices?” Burton queried, his voice thickand slurring.
“Pah! The probability devices are mere prototypes. They arenothing compared to what I can achieve-if I live!”
“If you live,” Burton echoed. “And how do you propose to dothat, old man?”
“Come with me.”
Babbage pushed himself out of the chair, took a walking stickfrom beside it, and shuffled out beyond the screens.
Weakly, Burton retrieved his cane and followed.
With a whir, a clank, and a plume of steam, Brunel fell intopace behind them.
They crossed to the centre of the workshop, where a plinthstood, draped with a thin cloth.
“Please,” Babbage said to Brunel.
The Steam Man extended an arm and pulled the material away.
Burton looked bemusedly at an intricate contraption of brass; afantastic array of cogwheels, springs, and lenses, all containedwithin a brain-shaped case. It was delicate, confusing, andstrangely beautiful.
“A babbage?” he asked.
“Much more than that. It is my future,” the scientist responded.“And thus, also the future of the British Empire.”
Burton leaned on his cane and wished Detective Inspector Trounceand his men would hurry up.
“How so?”
The elderly scientist gently brushed his hand over thedevice.
“This is my latest creation,” he said. “A probability calculatordesigned to employ information held in an electrical field.”
“What information?”
“Everything in here,” Babbage replied, tapping the side of hiscranium with a bony forefinger.
The king's agent shook his head. “No. The brain's electricalactivity is so subtle as to be immeasurable,” he said.“Furthermore, the brain is mortal, not mechanical-when it dies, sodoes the field.”
“As far as measurement goes, you are wrong. With regard todeath, you are right. However, there's something you haven't takeninto consideration. Would you show us, please, Brunel?”
Isambard Kingdom Brunel lowered himself and placed the jewelcases on the floor. There were six of them, all removed fromBrundleweed's safe. The Steam Man's arms flexed. Clamps held thecases steady while fine saw blades slid through their locks.Gripping devices took hold and pulled the containers open. Five ofthem were pushed aside. Pincers moved forward into the sixth. Oneby one, five large black stones were separated from the rest.
“The Cambodian Choir Stones!” Babbage a
“What about them?” asked Burton, impatiently. His eyelids feltheavy and his legs weak.
“My greatest technical challenge, Sir Richard, has not been thegathering, processing, and dissemination of information, but thestorage of it. It is relatively easy to make a machine that thinks,but to make a machine that remembers -that is quite another thing.Pass the gemstones to our guest, Brunel.”
The famous engineer obeyed, dropping the black diamonds one byone into Burton's extended palm. The king's agent looked at themclosely, struggling to keep his eyes focused.
“You are holding in your hand the solution to the problem,”Babbage said. “These diamonds were retrieved from a temple inCambodia by a Frenchman, Lieutenant Marie Joseph Francois Garnier.There were seven in total. They've been known in that country asthe Choir Stones since their discovery in 1837 on account of thefact that they occasionally emit a faint musical hum.
“Francois Garnier gave two of the diamonds to his colleague,Jean Pelletier, and kept the remaining five for himself. Pelletierhappened to be a committed Technologist. He knew we were on thelookout for such stones. We'd heard that something of the sortexisted and suspected they might possess unique qualities. When hebrought his two to my attention, I experimented with them and wasintrigued by the possibilities offered by their rather unusualcrystalline structure. I made a prototype device into which to fitthem. Unfortunately, before I finished my work, Pelletier suffereda heart attack, and when his body was found there was no sign ofthe stones. No doubt a member of his household staff made off withthem. You can't trust these lowly types. My prototype was uselessto me without them, so I gave it to Darwin, who had it fitted to aman I believe you are acquainted with-John Speke.”
Burton gave a gasp of surprise.