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Entry tags:
fiction - Fallen London - Correspondence
I wrote this for a contest on the forums for the browser game Fallen London. We were supposed to write about The Correspondence. So...I guess this sort of counts as fan fiction? I thought this was due tomorrow, but it's actually due in about 5 hours, so I had to hastily finish it this morning before I went to sleep...which I'd intended to do a couple of hours ago. So this might be a bit rough around the edges. I can't tell. I'm off to sleep.
Dr. Silver emerged shivering from his tent into the murky gloom that the Forgotten Quarter offered in place of a sunrise and pondered how exactly it had all gone so wrong. As if summoned by this thought, his newest assistant sprang into view and assaulted him with a horrifyingly earnest grin.
"Good morning, Dr. Silver! Can I just say again what an incredible honor it is to be working with you!"
"Yes, thank you very much, Mr. Crisp."
"I'm really excited to start in on today's dig! But what am I saying - you must be even more excited than I am!"
"...yes, Mr. Crisp. I am very excited."
How could he not be? Why, in all likelihood the day would feature all manner of astonishing discoveries. True, many of those discoveries would probably be new varieties of scorpion rather than those of an archaeological nature. And of course discoveries of either kind would almost certainly be accompanied by more screaming than one might normally expect from archaeology. And any discoveries they did make might be stolen by devils. Well, maybe not the newly-discovered scorpions. Probably.
Yes, that was the problem. Mr. Crisp’s overwhelming enthusiasm might make him feel ten years older and inspire in him a desire to swing a pickax at something other than the ground, but the Forgotten Quarter itself was the real cause of his despair.
At the start of Dr. Silver’s career he had been every bit as enthusiastic as Mr. Crisp. Well, perhaps not quite that enthusiastic, but certainly more so that he was now. Back then, nothing had been more important than the acquisition of knowledge. These days, knowledge had migrated down the hierarchy of importance below sturdy boots, sleep undisturbed by screaming, and a steady supply of that mushroom that kept the snakes away.
The Forgotten Quarter had seemed like a dream come true. The last fragments of the Fourth City, London’s immediate predecessor! A city that had spent hundreds of years apart from the surface world! And, most amazing of all, the potential for clues as to the possible eventual fate of London, and perhaps hints of how it could be avoided. The secret language must surely be the key to it all…the Correspondence.
But never had dangerous knowledge ever been so literally dangerous. It felt very wrong that some of the agonized screaming associated with this particular expedition indicated good news. It was also a little disturbing just how well Dr. Silver had learned to tell the screams apart.
“Aaargh!” meant “I have run afoul of poisonous wildlife!,” whereas “Aaargh!!” meant “I have found a piece of rock with a Correspondence Sigil etched inscribed upon it, and now my eyes are bleeding!” Dr. Silver no longer bothered to acknowledge the former of the two anymore, and the latter was depressingly rare.
Silver’s melancholy abated just a little as he remembered that yesterday had actually gone quite well. His team had unearthed a promising new site that might lead to real breakthroughs. Things might actually be looking up as long as the devils didn’t –
“Good day to you, Dr. Silver,” purred a voice just behind him. Dr. Silver let out an undignified cry that he couldn’t help but subconsciously catalog as a third variety of screaming, which indicated “that blasted deviless has snuck up behind me in my own camp.” He attempted to recover his composure, if not his dignity.
“Patience,” he greeted her in return. “I certainly don’t wish to cause offense, but…were there not armed men arrayed around the camp specifically to deter you from entering?”
“Oh, possibly,” Patience said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But you know how unreliable such men can be. The slightest things can distract them from their duty – large amounts of brass, having their kidneys ripped out, or even just a charming smile.” She favored him with one of those charming smiles. It was unsettlingly predatory, and additionally unsettling how that somehow didn’t make it any less charming. Silver hated dealing with devils…that is to say, associating with devils.
“Well, what brings you here? And so openly! I believe you may have visited us before more…covertly, after all.” Silver referred of course to the various thefts and acts of sabotage that had plagued him almost since he had arrived in the Forgotten Quarter, nearly all of which could be attributed to Patience and her minions.
“Oh, Dr. Silver, I don’t know what you could mean! What reason could you have to suspect that I have ever been in your adorable little camp before? But come now, let’s not conduct our business out here among the dust. Why don’t we retire to the comfort of your ‘office’ as I believe you call it, and we can share some of that bottle of wine you keep locked in the trunk decorated with carvings of oak leaves? It’s quite a good year, I believe.”
Dr. Silver had never before even considered strangling a person.
“Of course,” he said instead, though it was through gritted teeth. The sad fact was that if his thugs were for one reason or another out of the equation that Patience could do whatever she wanted and there was really nothing he could do to stop her. It was probably best to maintain at least the veneer of civility. He led the way to the camp’s largest tent – really more of a small pavilion - which served as their base of operations. He did, in fact, call it his “office.”
Furniture within was sparse, but he offered her one of the two actual chairs and sat in the other. It was only after he was seated that he noticed that the previously-mentioned bottle of wine was already sitting on the table between them. Dr. Silver spared a quick glance towards the chest that was meant to be holding it and saw that the lock had been torn to pieces.
“Did you find anything else of interest?” Silver asked, that veneer of civility he had planned to maintain slipping a bit.
“Oh yes!” she said, pouring some of the wine into two glasses. “I think you’ve stumbled onto something really quite special. In fact, something too important to risk with this silly little rivalry.”
“Oh really?” Silver asked, though he was actually more than a little intrigued. He’d thought it was a significant find, but if it was prompting this sort of behavior from Patience then it might be more important than he’d realized.
“Absolutely. In fact, to show you how serious I am I have brought you a little peace offering.” She placed a satchel on the table in front of him, the contents clunking metallically. Silver raised an eyebrow and opened the bag, expecting a bribe of brass, and was astonished to see thick plates of lead. He caught a glimpse of some of the symbols incised onto the lead and flinched. He hastily closed the bag again as a single tear of blood slid down his cheek. Silver blinked to clear his eyes and then turned to stare at Patience in amazement. He could see her eyes following the tear of blood as it made its way to his chin. Her expression seemed almost wistful.
“They are yours, provided you share your findings from the newest dig.”
Dr. Silver vaguely remembered nodding. There was probably some more conversation after that – verbal sparring, agreements, or both, but he remembered none of it. He assumed that he had waited until Patience had departed before starting in on the lead plaques. As important as the new dig might be, he had forgotten about it completely when faced with such a treasure.
Burns covered his uncontrollably shaking hands. The tent reeked of burning hair and scorched flesh. He had scrawled apparent gibberish across countless pieces of paper – many of which had already been filled with notes. He had even written over several maps. Mr. Crisp was wearing a look of deep concern instead of his usual mask of overeager cheer.
“Uncertain regret for a missed opportunity of dubious value,” Silver said, touching a partially melted lump of lead as he did so. “The distance one walks when retracing steps to jog one’s memory. The volume of an overheard voice barely too quiet to be understood. I…think I need to lie down for a bit. What…what…”
“Day is it?” Mr. Crisp asked, trying to anticipate his question. Silver froze. He had been going to ask after the time of day, but he was clearly trying to measure his lost time on the wrong scale. “Let’s not worry about that just now. You’re right, you need some rest. Everything is just fine. There will be plenty of time to look at the new…” Crisp trailed off as he saw the mad gleam return to Silver’s bloodshot eyes. Inwardly he cursed himself for even hinting that there might be new findings to study. “You need some rest,” he reaffirmed. Dr. Silver tried to stand, failed, and the mad gleam faded a little.
“Yes…yes I suppose you’re right.”
More days passed before Dr. Silver was well enough to learn exactly what had happened. It seemed that Patience had decided to cease her campaign of petty theft and sabotage and instead chosen to steal the entire expedition. She had essentially taken over while Dr. Silver had been incapacitated, and everyone obeyed her orders as if she were the one in charge. Which, at this point, she was.
It was hard to tell how poor a bargain he had struck, though. He had certainly learned the most amazing things from the lead tablets she had furnished, and in theory all of the new findings unearthed while he was incapacitated were to be shared. But it had nevertheless been a deal with a devil…something he had promised himself never to make, and which were famously never wise.
Finally, Silver felt he was well enough to rejoin the expedition in earnest. Or at least his desire to do so had finally overpowered his mind and body’s infirmities enough to make him try. He stumbled out of his cot and tried to figure out what was the matter. Something was clearly off…wait. Silence. Unless he’d badly misjudged the hour, there should be the sounds of an active dig. He fumbled his way towards the opening of the tent and then recoiled in alarm when someone noiselessly slipped inside before he could reach it. It was Patience.
“Good day to you Dr. Silver. I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I’m afraid we don’t have much time to talk.” She sat down on the edge of his cot, an action so scandalous that Silver couldn’t find his voice to object. He sat back down heavily at the other end, his vision swimming a bit.
“You still look a bit worse the wear for your ordeal,” Patience said, eyeing him critically. “Perhaps I overdid it a little.” Then she laughed a little, entirely without actual mirth. “It would be in keeping with the rest of this debacle. Harold,” she said, and Dr. Silver blinked in surprise at her use of his first name, “I’m afraid I’ve overreached a bit. Our little enterprise…well, it didn’t exactly have the Embassy’s blessing.” In spite of her serious tone, her lips quirked into a little smile when she said the word “blessing.”
“What?” Dr. Silver said, feeling he should contribute to the conversation in some way.
“The plaques, our arrangement…the fact that I had no intention of sharing our findings with my superiors. It’s all come undone on me, I’m embarrassed to admit,” she said.
Dr. Silver was understandably skeptical, and she could see it on his face. She sighed.
“Oh, I know. You’re assuming this is some grand scheme, and perhaps it will be impossible to convince you otherwise. But I assure you, I am in real trouble here, and I thought…well, I thought you deserved to hear it from me. I’ve always liked you, Harold. You have that real passion for your work tempered with just the right amount of despair that you won’t quite surrender. It’s quite lovely. I’m sure that eventually some devil will try to buy that brilliant soul of yours, and I want you to know that you should hold out for a really good price. You’ve really got something there.”
She reached out and traced a single finger down his cheek. Her touch was almost painfully hot.
“So beautiful,” she said, and he knew she wasn’t talking about his face. She dropped her hands back to her sides. “Now, there are already some devils on their way here to…take me into custody. They’re going to want to confiscate a lot of your findings, but they’re also going to want to put this whole incident behind them without further embarrassment, so you can stand up to them a little. I put the things you’ll most want to retain in our special trunk.” Patience stood as much as the low roof of the tent would allow and moved towards the opening. She paused. “It was fun, Harold. When they send in someone to replace me, double the guard, and try to find some quality men this time. Good luck.” And then she left.
Harold never saw her again.
He often regretted that he didn’t have more to say during their last meeting, but it had all been a bit much to take in. The aftermath of her departure was equally confounding. Mr. Crisp had disappeared, as indeed had every other member of his expedition. Devils did indeed come and very politely apologize for Patience’s actions and very politely try to lay claim to just about every relic, artifact, notebook, map, or sketch he owned. He did the best he could to hold on to as much as possible, and they seemed to go away satisfied.
In the months to come, when the perils and frustrations of the Forgotten Quarter threatened to break his spirit, Harold would think of Patience. What she had said to him about his soul. The feeling of her hand on his face. Most of all, though, he would think of one of the fragments of stone he’d found in his trunk, and the Correspondence sigil etched into one of them hundreds of years ago.
“Grief felt over the defeat of a worthy adversary.”
Certainly she had been more worthy than the devil the Embassy had sent to replace her. Harold smiled. The new guy was a pushover.
Harold straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, casually crushed an approaching scorpion, and got back to work. There was so much left to learn.
Dr. Silver emerged shivering from his tent into the murky gloom that the Forgotten Quarter offered in place of a sunrise and pondered how exactly it had all gone so wrong. As if summoned by this thought, his newest assistant sprang into view and assaulted him with a horrifyingly earnest grin.
"Good morning, Dr. Silver! Can I just say again what an incredible honor it is to be working with you!"
"Yes, thank you very much, Mr. Crisp."
"I'm really excited to start in on today's dig! But what am I saying - you must be even more excited than I am!"
"...yes, Mr. Crisp. I am very excited."
How could he not be? Why, in all likelihood the day would feature all manner of astonishing discoveries. True, many of those discoveries would probably be new varieties of scorpion rather than those of an archaeological nature. And of course discoveries of either kind would almost certainly be accompanied by more screaming than one might normally expect from archaeology. And any discoveries they did make might be stolen by devils. Well, maybe not the newly-discovered scorpions. Probably.
Yes, that was the problem. Mr. Crisp’s overwhelming enthusiasm might make him feel ten years older and inspire in him a desire to swing a pickax at something other than the ground, but the Forgotten Quarter itself was the real cause of his despair.
At the start of Dr. Silver’s career he had been every bit as enthusiastic as Mr. Crisp. Well, perhaps not quite that enthusiastic, but certainly more so that he was now. Back then, nothing had been more important than the acquisition of knowledge. These days, knowledge had migrated down the hierarchy of importance below sturdy boots, sleep undisturbed by screaming, and a steady supply of that mushroom that kept the snakes away.
The Forgotten Quarter had seemed like a dream come true. The last fragments of the Fourth City, London’s immediate predecessor! A city that had spent hundreds of years apart from the surface world! And, most amazing of all, the potential for clues as to the possible eventual fate of London, and perhaps hints of how it could be avoided. The secret language must surely be the key to it all…the Correspondence.
But never had dangerous knowledge ever been so literally dangerous. It felt very wrong that some of the agonized screaming associated with this particular expedition indicated good news. It was also a little disturbing just how well Dr. Silver had learned to tell the screams apart.
“Aaargh!” meant “I have run afoul of poisonous wildlife!,” whereas “Aaargh!!” meant “I have found a piece of rock with a Correspondence Sigil etched inscribed upon it, and now my eyes are bleeding!” Dr. Silver no longer bothered to acknowledge the former of the two anymore, and the latter was depressingly rare.
Silver’s melancholy abated just a little as he remembered that yesterday had actually gone quite well. His team had unearthed a promising new site that might lead to real breakthroughs. Things might actually be looking up as long as the devils didn’t –
“Good day to you, Dr. Silver,” purred a voice just behind him. Dr. Silver let out an undignified cry that he couldn’t help but subconsciously catalog as a third variety of screaming, which indicated “that blasted deviless has snuck up behind me in my own camp.” He attempted to recover his composure, if not his dignity.
“Patience,” he greeted her in return. “I certainly don’t wish to cause offense, but…were there not armed men arrayed around the camp specifically to deter you from entering?”
“Oh, possibly,” Patience said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But you know how unreliable such men can be. The slightest things can distract them from their duty – large amounts of brass, having their kidneys ripped out, or even just a charming smile.” She favored him with one of those charming smiles. It was unsettlingly predatory, and additionally unsettling how that somehow didn’t make it any less charming. Silver hated dealing with devils…that is to say, associating with devils.
“Well, what brings you here? And so openly! I believe you may have visited us before more…covertly, after all.” Silver referred of course to the various thefts and acts of sabotage that had plagued him almost since he had arrived in the Forgotten Quarter, nearly all of which could be attributed to Patience and her minions.
“Oh, Dr. Silver, I don’t know what you could mean! What reason could you have to suspect that I have ever been in your adorable little camp before? But come now, let’s not conduct our business out here among the dust. Why don’t we retire to the comfort of your ‘office’ as I believe you call it, and we can share some of that bottle of wine you keep locked in the trunk decorated with carvings of oak leaves? It’s quite a good year, I believe.”
Dr. Silver had never before even considered strangling a person.
“Of course,” he said instead, though it was through gritted teeth. The sad fact was that if his thugs were for one reason or another out of the equation that Patience could do whatever she wanted and there was really nothing he could do to stop her. It was probably best to maintain at least the veneer of civility. He led the way to the camp’s largest tent – really more of a small pavilion - which served as their base of operations. He did, in fact, call it his “office.”
Furniture within was sparse, but he offered her one of the two actual chairs and sat in the other. It was only after he was seated that he noticed that the previously-mentioned bottle of wine was already sitting on the table between them. Dr. Silver spared a quick glance towards the chest that was meant to be holding it and saw that the lock had been torn to pieces.
“Did you find anything else of interest?” Silver asked, that veneer of civility he had planned to maintain slipping a bit.
“Oh yes!” she said, pouring some of the wine into two glasses. “I think you’ve stumbled onto something really quite special. In fact, something too important to risk with this silly little rivalry.”
“Oh really?” Silver asked, though he was actually more than a little intrigued. He’d thought it was a significant find, but if it was prompting this sort of behavior from Patience then it might be more important than he’d realized.
“Absolutely. In fact, to show you how serious I am I have brought you a little peace offering.” She placed a satchel on the table in front of him, the contents clunking metallically. Silver raised an eyebrow and opened the bag, expecting a bribe of brass, and was astonished to see thick plates of lead. He caught a glimpse of some of the symbols incised onto the lead and flinched. He hastily closed the bag again as a single tear of blood slid down his cheek. Silver blinked to clear his eyes and then turned to stare at Patience in amazement. He could see her eyes following the tear of blood as it made its way to his chin. Her expression seemed almost wistful.
“They are yours, provided you share your findings from the newest dig.”
Dr. Silver vaguely remembered nodding. There was probably some more conversation after that – verbal sparring, agreements, or both, but he remembered none of it. He assumed that he had waited until Patience had departed before starting in on the lead plaques. As important as the new dig might be, he had forgotten about it completely when faced with such a treasure.
Burns covered his uncontrollably shaking hands. The tent reeked of burning hair and scorched flesh. He had scrawled apparent gibberish across countless pieces of paper – many of which had already been filled with notes. He had even written over several maps. Mr. Crisp was wearing a look of deep concern instead of his usual mask of overeager cheer.
“Uncertain regret for a missed opportunity of dubious value,” Silver said, touching a partially melted lump of lead as he did so. “The distance one walks when retracing steps to jog one’s memory. The volume of an overheard voice barely too quiet to be understood. I…think I need to lie down for a bit. What…what…”
“Day is it?” Mr. Crisp asked, trying to anticipate his question. Silver froze. He had been going to ask after the time of day, but he was clearly trying to measure his lost time on the wrong scale. “Let’s not worry about that just now. You’re right, you need some rest. Everything is just fine. There will be plenty of time to look at the new…” Crisp trailed off as he saw the mad gleam return to Silver’s bloodshot eyes. Inwardly he cursed himself for even hinting that there might be new findings to study. “You need some rest,” he reaffirmed. Dr. Silver tried to stand, failed, and the mad gleam faded a little.
“Yes…yes I suppose you’re right.”
More days passed before Dr. Silver was well enough to learn exactly what had happened. It seemed that Patience had decided to cease her campaign of petty theft and sabotage and instead chosen to steal the entire expedition. She had essentially taken over while Dr. Silver had been incapacitated, and everyone obeyed her orders as if she were the one in charge. Which, at this point, she was.
It was hard to tell how poor a bargain he had struck, though. He had certainly learned the most amazing things from the lead tablets she had furnished, and in theory all of the new findings unearthed while he was incapacitated were to be shared. But it had nevertheless been a deal with a devil…something he had promised himself never to make, and which were famously never wise.
Finally, Silver felt he was well enough to rejoin the expedition in earnest. Or at least his desire to do so had finally overpowered his mind and body’s infirmities enough to make him try. He stumbled out of his cot and tried to figure out what was the matter. Something was clearly off…wait. Silence. Unless he’d badly misjudged the hour, there should be the sounds of an active dig. He fumbled his way towards the opening of the tent and then recoiled in alarm when someone noiselessly slipped inside before he could reach it. It was Patience.
“Good day to you Dr. Silver. I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I’m afraid we don’t have much time to talk.” She sat down on the edge of his cot, an action so scandalous that Silver couldn’t find his voice to object. He sat back down heavily at the other end, his vision swimming a bit.
“You still look a bit worse the wear for your ordeal,” Patience said, eyeing him critically. “Perhaps I overdid it a little.” Then she laughed a little, entirely without actual mirth. “It would be in keeping with the rest of this debacle. Harold,” she said, and Dr. Silver blinked in surprise at her use of his first name, “I’m afraid I’ve overreached a bit. Our little enterprise…well, it didn’t exactly have the Embassy’s blessing.” In spite of her serious tone, her lips quirked into a little smile when she said the word “blessing.”
“What?” Dr. Silver said, feeling he should contribute to the conversation in some way.
“The plaques, our arrangement…the fact that I had no intention of sharing our findings with my superiors. It’s all come undone on me, I’m embarrassed to admit,” she said.
Dr. Silver was understandably skeptical, and she could see it on his face. She sighed.
“Oh, I know. You’re assuming this is some grand scheme, and perhaps it will be impossible to convince you otherwise. But I assure you, I am in real trouble here, and I thought…well, I thought you deserved to hear it from me. I’ve always liked you, Harold. You have that real passion for your work tempered with just the right amount of despair that you won’t quite surrender. It’s quite lovely. I’m sure that eventually some devil will try to buy that brilliant soul of yours, and I want you to know that you should hold out for a really good price. You’ve really got something there.”
She reached out and traced a single finger down his cheek. Her touch was almost painfully hot.
“So beautiful,” she said, and he knew she wasn’t talking about his face. She dropped her hands back to her sides. “Now, there are already some devils on their way here to…take me into custody. They’re going to want to confiscate a lot of your findings, but they’re also going to want to put this whole incident behind them without further embarrassment, so you can stand up to them a little. I put the things you’ll most want to retain in our special trunk.” Patience stood as much as the low roof of the tent would allow and moved towards the opening. She paused. “It was fun, Harold. When they send in someone to replace me, double the guard, and try to find some quality men this time. Good luck.” And then she left.
Harold never saw her again.
He often regretted that he didn’t have more to say during their last meeting, but it had all been a bit much to take in. The aftermath of her departure was equally confounding. Mr. Crisp had disappeared, as indeed had every other member of his expedition. Devils did indeed come and very politely apologize for Patience’s actions and very politely try to lay claim to just about every relic, artifact, notebook, map, or sketch he owned. He did the best he could to hold on to as much as possible, and they seemed to go away satisfied.
In the months to come, when the perils and frustrations of the Forgotten Quarter threatened to break his spirit, Harold would think of Patience. What she had said to him about his soul. The feeling of her hand on his face. Most of all, though, he would think of one of the fragments of stone he’d found in his trunk, and the Correspondence sigil etched into one of them hundreds of years ago.
“Grief felt over the defeat of a worthy adversary.”
Certainly she had been more worthy than the devil the Embassy had sent to replace her. Harold smiled. The new guy was a pushover.
Harold straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, casually crushed an approaching scorpion, and got back to work. There was so much left to learn.
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I like Patience's methods of disposing of guards!! ..teehee.
Now you've got me interested in Digs again....
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