Guile

         Garrett turned his head to face the rumbling that grew behind him.  Though he was soaked from the rain and waves that had already crashed over his boat, he was oblivious to the chill as the cold grip of fear seized his mind.  The wave rose like a shadow beast from the ocean - malevolent, terrible, and unstoppable.  The closer it drew to him, the more magnificent he realized it was.  It was even darker than the sky above, broken only by the foaming, churning cap.  The lifeboat began to pitch forward as the stern lifted and began its ascent along the inky face. 
         A flash of lightning let him see with perfect clarity the monster that hoisted his craft so effortlessly:  an onyx wall, a manifestation of Poseidon’s wrath.  Garrett’s scream was drowned by the roar of the water and the clap of thunder that followed the faded lightning, as the ocean dropped back into darkness.  He held tightly to the rudder for while his feet scrambled against the water-slicked bottom of the boat.  Soon the pitch became too steep, the rudder to slippery, and he lost his grip and plummeted into the dark waters below.  Water forced its way into his nose and mouth while he twisted and spun, stripping him of his sense of direction.  He surfaced just long enough to spit the water out before being dragged beneath again.  His lungs burned and he forced himself to keep his mouth shut, trying to keep the water out.  He was whipped about and felt a pain on the crown of his head before everything stopped.
         Garrett awakened to the terrible pounding in his head - even before he had time to open his eyes.  His stomach tightened for a groan but instead he gagged and coughed, spitting up salt water.  The strain made his head throb even more and he finally opened his eyes.  It was still night and raining, the sheets coming down and dousing him like buckets of ice water.  He was lying on a small beach at the base of a slope of jagged rocks.  Though his entire body ached, he forced himself to his hands and knees and crawled up beneath an outcrop of rock, away from the frigid sea.
         He curled himself into the fetal position with his back to the stone, rubbing his arms and chest with numb hands.  It offered little comfort, for the chill had set itself deep into his body.  He shivered violently, unable to stop his teeth from chattering while the wind continued to whip at him.  Garrett knew ff he didn’t get out of the rain and wind, he would be overtaken with sickness, if it wasn’t already too late.  He knew his only option was to climb the water-slicked rocks in hopes that better shelter could be found beyond.
         With his strength failing and the rocks slippery and jagged, the climb proved treacherous. He crested the slope and hopelessness gripped him as he stared into another stretch of sea water.  Then a flash of lightning revealed that it was not water that waved before him, but an expanse of knolls covered in long grass.  Beyond that was a sight which lifted his frozen spirits:  a house.  No, more than a house. A manor.  A mansion.  As darkness closed back in, the only evidence of its existence was a faint golden light.  Summoning up the remainder of his strength, Garrett trudged across the sandy soil of the knolls, hugging himself while his body continued to shake from the cold.  His gait was staggered and clumsy, for he had nearly no feeling in his feet.  Each step felt like he was trying to balance on feetless legs.  His muscles responded sluggishly and though the house could not have been more than a few hundred yards away, it seemed to take an eternity to reach.
         Garrett could not help but feel a sense of awe as he approached the mansion.  With a blend of towers and high dutch gables,  it was almost a small fortress.  The windows were dark, covered by heavy drapes that showed no hint of movement.  The light he had seen came from a brass fixture over a small voice box and screen, just to the right of the door.  There were two buttons beneath speaker, one labeled ’CALL’ and one labeled 'END'.  He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should proceed.  A howl from the wind made up his mind for him, and he pressed the 'CALL' button.
         At first nothing happened.  He rubbed his arms and stomped his feet, trying to encourage the blood to flow.  Finally, the dull gray screen flickered several times and an elderly man’s face appeared.  He was gaunt, his skin pulled tightly over hollowed cheeks and prominent cheekbones.  His hair was fashionable, neatly combed to the side with a wave and the mustache over his lip was trimmed into a fine line.
         “I apologize for troubling you at this hour,” Garrett said, "I was out to sea when this storm came in.  I crashed upon the shore not far from here and as luck would have it, managed to live.  Would you be so kind as to allow me in out of the storm?”
         The man seemed to study him for a moment.  At first Garrett could not see how this could be, then he saw a small lens above the screen.
         “ Crashed on the shore, you say?  It seems you’ve suffered quite the bump on your forehead.”
         Garrett reached up and touched his forehead, wincing as he felt the torn skin.
         “I must have struck my head when I was thrown from my boat.”
         The man studied him a moment more then said, "Very well.  Come inside and get out of this ghastly weather.”
         Before he could speak his thanks, the screen went gray once more and the doors groaned open.  Garrett ducked inside, expecting to be greeted by a butler or the man himself.  Instead, he stood alone in an empty foyer.  Behind him the doors closed and he was enveloped in darkness, though only for a moment, for small flames came to life in sconces on the walls. Garrett stared about in wonder as he took in his surroundings.  The foyer was spacious, with a staircase climbing up to the second floor to his right.  This part of the second floor was open, giving rise to a high ceiling from which hung a chandelier.  Slowly, small lights came to life on the chandelier and it began to turn.  To either side of him were archways leading into darkened rooms, along with another directly ahead.  There were cobwebs in the corners and a layer of dust had collected on the floor.  On the wall to his right, between the staircase and the archway was another screen and voice box, this screen twice the size of the one outside, perhaps twelve inches from corner to corner.  It flickered and once again he saw the face of the elderly man.
         “Welcome to my home.  I apologize for not being able to greet you in person, but I am occupied at this time.”
         Garrett stepped closer, still shivering and holding his arms, “I didn’t get a chance outside to thank you before you let me in.”
         “Your thanks is accepted.  You must be chilled though!  We must see you out of those wet clothes and into something dry before you catch cold.” the man said, a  note of sincere concern in his voice, “Climb the stairs and walk down the hallway to the right.  The door at the end will bring you into one of my guest rooms. You should be able to find yourself a change of clothes.”
         “Excuse me, but may ask your name?” Garrett said.
         “Of course! Ach, at times I am so forgetful,” the man said with a smile, "Richter Hauss, at your service."
         “Garrett O’Conner.  It’s a pleasure.”
         “The pleasure is mine, Mister O’Conner.  But really, you must get out of those clothes.  As I said, up the stairs and down the hall.”
         The screen flickered out and  Garrett climbed the steps, fighting for his muscles to respond.  When he reached the top, he turned right and began to walk down the hall as he had been directed.  The right wall faced the outdoors and he now could see up close the heavy, red drapes that covered the window.  The left wall had three doors and several sconces which ignited as he advanced down the hallway.  The walls were a dark mahogany with copper pipes and secured cabling running along the top, which occasionally branched off across the ceiling to the opposing wall, or down and disappeared into the floor.  The mixing of hardwood with the industrial was an interesting style, one Garrett had not seen before.
         The door at the end of the hallway was equally as interesting.  Garrett could only liken it to the hatches of a ship.  It was arched, with a heavy metal frame and four wooden quarters like panes of a window.  There was no door handle, but instead a wheel in the cente..  He took hold of the wheel and turned it counter-clockwise until the door seemed to disconnect from the frame with a chunk! then swung inward.  The room inside was dark as he entered, until from somewhere behind him came a gray, ghostly light.
         “There are some clothes in the closet by the window.”
         Garrett looked over his shoulder and saw Richter’s face on a screen next to the door.  He could not read the older gentleman’s face; he was so passive, though perhaps there was a mild curiosity mixed with amusement. 
         “Do you live here alone?” Garrett asked as he crossed to the closet.
         “I have several servants, though they must attend to me.  I’m afraid in my twilight years I have come to rely on the assistance of others for nearly all that I do.” Richter said.
         Like the foyer, there were cobwebs in the corners of the room and along the ceiling.  As he opened the closet door, could see the nearby webs ripple like gentle, ghostly waves.  A mirror hung on the inside of the door, framed by a dozen bulbs.  They glowed orange for several moments - except for three which were evidently burnt out - then brightened to a soft yellow.  He could follow a series of wires that ran from the mirrors frame, into the closet, and disappeared into the wall.
         “I’m not sure I can hide my wonderment of your house much longer.” Garrett called over his shoulder as he began to strip off his wet clothes.
         “I take this as a great compliment,” Richter said with a smile, “ I have worked hard over the years to build this house to suit me.  I fancy myself a bit of an inventor and engineer.  The lights are triggered by proximity, relying on an extensive but not so elaborate system of shutters, similar to those used in cameras.  As your body passes the small lenses installed in the walls, the eclipse triggers a switch which is then set to a timer, so that the light does not shut off immediately once you have passed the lens.”
         Garrett paid no heed to his nakedness despite Richter’s presence, “ and the speak boxes? How is it we are able to see each other?”
         “  A higher end intercom.  I have always liked being able to see who it is I am speaking to. It gives an enhanced experience when communicating.  This way, my cook was able to show me what he was making and receive my approval!” Richter said with a short laugh.
         The pants and shirt were a bit long, but the dry clothes felt nice.  Garrett glanced at himself in the mirror for a moment, then turned and scooped up his wet clothes.  He walked to the intercom and held them up, “ and what shall I do with these, sir?”
         “  There is a laundry chute outside of the room, just to the right. Drop them in and the servants will handle them.”
         As told, there was a chute in the wall just outside the door. He opened it and dumped the clothes inside.  Walking back into the room, he turned back to the screen where Richter waited.
         “  You’ve been so generous, Mister Haus. I am a bit ashamed to ask, but would it be much trouble to ask if I could rest for a spell?  I feel utterly drained from my experience at sea.”
         “  By all means, Mister O’Conner, by all means.  Treat this room as though it were your own. If you desire it, call me on the intercom and I will have some food prepared for you.” Richter said.
         “  You are too kind, sir.” Garrett said.
         “  Think nothing of it,” Richter said with a wave of his hand, “ rest. “
         The screen went gray and Garrett stood alone in the room for a moment.  The exhaustion was rapidly setting in, the thrashing he had received at the hands of the violent sea was taking its toll.  He crossed to the bed and threw back the covers, partially climbing in and partially collapsing.  In his given state, the bed felt better than any he had ever laid in and though there was an anxiousness to sleeping in a place he was completely unfamiliar with, he could not have staved off the welcoming arms of sleep, even if he had wanted to.  The light from the closet soon extinguished and left only darkness.  Outside, the rain came down in torrents and on occasion lighting split the sky, always followed by the roar of thunder.  The sea waters threw themselves relentlessly against the rocks, foaming like the mouth of an animal taken with madness. 
         Amongst the rage of nature, Garrett slept.
         
         He was disoriented when he awoke.  Though his eyes had adjusted to the lacking light, his mind struggled to give familiarity to the room he was in.  He sat up and looked about and felt a rush of vertigo before everything finally snapped into place.  He saw the closet on the opposite side of the room and the pale orbs that were the bulbs around the mirror.  His body ached as he climbed out of the bed, but at least he had rested, though he was not sure for how long.  He could hear that it was still raining outside, though no longer did the wind howl around the house and the lightning was absent.
         He slowly moved across the wooden floor, feeling his way in the darkness until he was at the mirror once more. As before, a dull glow began in the heart of each bulb, then slowly swelled with golden luminance.  He squinted and turned his head away, waiting for his pupils to accustom themselves to the light, before finally leaving the room and stepping back into the long hallway. 
         Though the lights still came to life around him as he walked, there was the sense that he was alone.  Before he had been instructed to his destination by Richter, where now he simply wandered.  It was similar to how he had felt as a child, running with his playmates through the abandoned apartment buildings on his city block.  Occasionally they would stumble upon a squatter and flee in terror, assuming they wanted to commit all kinds of horrors upon the intruders.
         Passing the stairs that had brought him from the foyer to the second floor, the hallway turned and he found several doors, each different in its own design, but kin to the hatch-like door he had encountered in the room he had rested in.  The first was some kind of gathering room with rows of books on the walls to the right and left, and heavily curtained windows directly across from him.  Two low tables had been set to either side of the room, with three padded chairs situated around each.  A curved brass tube extended from the top right of each chair and ended with a small, shaded lamp.  As he entered, sconces on the hallway-side wall lit, giving a dim glow to the room.  He stepped up to the shelves to his right and frowned a bit, for the low light was not enough to read the book titles.  He looked about for a light source and saw a tack and rail system built at the top of the bookshelf.  On what appeared to be a jumble of steel plates, pipes, wires and cables, was a brass-shrouded lamp.  Garrett looked about and found a lever to the right of the case.  He pulled it downward and glanced about, waiting for the outcome of his action. Overhead the lamp began to glow.  With creaks and groans, the seemingly chaotic bundle of plates, pipes, and wires began to stretch out and unfold, revealing itself to be an extendable, flexible arm for the lamp.  It swung down and came to a stop next to Garrett, directing its light to the books before him. A smile crept over Garrett’s lips and as he walked along the bookshelf, the lamp followed, the base of the arm above sliding along the steel track it was fixed to.
         What a brilliant mind at work here, Garrett thought as he looked over the various books on the shelf before him, glancing at the following lamp.  Pushing the lever back up, Garrett watched the lamp retract and reset itself to the far right of the track.
         He left the gathering room and initially went to the door at the end of the hallway.  Testing the handle several times, he found it was locked so resigned himself to the other door.  Inside he found the room to be similar to the guest room he had rested in, though a bit more decorated.  Paintings of many kinds adorned the walls, while a nice collection of vases and framed photographs sat upon the mantle over a fireplace.  It felt somewhat less abandoned than the other rooms. The dust did not seem as settled and the cobwebs were fewer.  Still, the potted plants by the windows had been reduced to withered, brown tendrils hanging down towards a fallen halo of dried leaves on the floor.
         Against the wall, between the two windows on the opposite wall, sat a roll top desk.  He looked it over as he approached, intrigued by the design.  The tambour was  made of finely polished wood with brass plates riveted to the ends.  The drawers to either side on the lower section had no handles on them, with the edges flush to the frame so as to discourage any attempt to pry them open.  There were a series of copper pipes extending from the sides and running back into the wall, something he had never seen before in a desk, certainly.  A quick inspection revealed no conventional way to push back the tambour, leaving only a lever on the left side.  He flipped the lever downward and heard a faint humming seconds before the tambour began to retract, rattling upon a metal track of gears.  Inside were a half dozen cubbies and small drawers, the latter of which had no handles or knobs with which to open either.  A small lantern was attached to a collapsible steel arm, folded to the side of the desk.  As he slowly pulled it out, the bulb inside came to life and cast a warm light over the desktop.
         The desk was clear except for a carved, wooden box to the back.  He pulled it closer and saw a set of wires running out of the back of it, disappearing into the desk.  There were brass fittings on it, including a small clawed foot on each corner for the box to rest upon.  A lock was fastened to the front with a small steel key still inside.  He turned the key and heard a high yet quiet whirring noise, as the lid of the box flipped backwards slowly.  Inside were eight brass keys, like those of a typewriter.  Each was engraved with a different set of letters and initially the ‘UR’, ‘UC’, ‘LL’ and others made little sense to him.  The revelation came quickly, however, as he pressed the key labeled ‘UR’ and the small, handle less drawer in the upper, right hand corner slid open. 
         “ Clever.” Garrett said with a smile, then pushed the key labeled, ‘LR’.
         The drawer to the right of his legs pushed open, riding a steel rail with gears propelling it from the inside.  Garrett reached inside and pulled out a leather bound book, wiping the dust from the cover and the webs from the sides of the pages as he set it on the desk.  He drew the light a big closer and turned the cover over.  Outside, the rain pounded on the panes of the window and occasionally the drapes were lit up as lightning flashed.
         It was the journal of Brahm Reigler, the manservant to Richter Haus.  As Garrett flipped through the pages, reading a passage here and there, he learned of Brahm’s arrival to The States with Richter from Germany almost thirty years ago.  Having been the scientist’s servant since Brahm was a teenager, he had come to look upon the man, who was only ten years his senior, as a father figure.  Brahm’s praise and admiration for his master grew and grew as time passed, to the point that it became clear he would lay down his life for Richter if needs be.
         The entries of the past few months held a very different tone, however.  During an ambitious experiment in which Richter attempted to transfer his mind from his own body into a machine and back again, a miscalculation on his part resulted in the brilliant scientist being trapped in the machine.  The man’s body became a vegetable and before he was able to come up with a solution, the body died.  As a result, the mind of one of Germany’s most brilliant scientists was trapped.  Brahm explained how Richter guided him through the process of connecting the machine to the electric lines of the house.  In essence, the house had become Richter’s body.
         Garrett stopped at the entry dated two weeks ago, adjusting the lamp as he read.  It spoke of how Brahm had brought each servant down, one at a time, to use as test subjects and one by one they became mindless drones, the scientist unable to enter their bodies.  To help in maintaining the laboratory, Richter once more guided Brahm through the design and creation of small devices worn on the ears which would allow him to give commands to the animated bodies.  Even disembodied, Richter had found ways to make his influence physical.  There was no doubt in Garrett’s mind that this man was pure genius, even in his given state. 
         Turning the page, he found no more entries, but rather a page that had been torn out then folded and tucked inside.  He unfolded it and found notes scribbled upon it.  It was addressed to the government man with whom Brahm had spoken with shortly after his last entry.  The notes addressed Brahm’s belief that Richter must be stopped, for he feared madness had taken hold of his master’s once brilliant mind.  The benevolent scientist had become distant, cold, and even harsh in his words.  He no longer regarded Brahm as a friend, but a tool.  Nevertheless, Brahm would submit himself to Richter’s final request and offer up his own body in a final attempt to give the mad genius a mortal form. 
         The door behind him slowly creaked open and Garrett stood and turned, pushing the book to the back of the desk.  Light spilled into the room from the hallway and a shadow stretched across the floor.  With lifeless animation, a slender woman in a white blouse and black skirt walked into the room.  Her movements seemed strained, like a machine in need of oiling.  Her face may have been considered beautiful once, but now it had grown gaunt and withered looking.  Her flesh was pale with a hint of gray to it and her eyes were sunken and dark with an absence of awareness.  Her hair was kept up in a tight bun and showed off the device over her ears, confirming Brahm’s journal entry.  It looked like a hybrid of a set of earphones and some archaic headgear.  The brass modules over the ears were fastened into place with leather straps which ran under the jaw, over the forehead and across the base of the skull.  Small tubes, like those found within a radio, glowed on either side with a faint, yellow light.  Garrett felt his skin turning to gooseflesh at the very sight of her. There was no feeling of sentience from this woman, no more than he would have felt if a porcelain doll had walked in. 
         For a moment her eyes were cast to the floor, head tilted slightly as though listening.  Her hands and arms remained frozen, slightly ahead of her as though she were in mid-stride and forced to stop.  Several seconds passed with agonizing slowness before she finally tilted her head towards him, before dragging her sight across the floor and up to meet his gaze.
         “  Do you…re…quire anything?” she asked, laboring over the words as though she had not spoken for years and atrophy had set in to her mouth and tongue.
         Garrett swallowed and his jaw clenched for a moment as he stifled the uneasiness this woman instilled in him, “ no. No, thank you.  I…” though she seemed to labor to say her words, Garrett simply could not find his. 
         “  We are at…your…service, Mis…ter O’C…Conner,” she said then turned to leave.  She stopped  just outside the door and with effort, turned to face him once more,  “ Would you care to see Master Haus’s…laboratory? He so de…lights in visitors.”
         Garrett crumpled Brahm’s note and slid it into the pocket of his pants as he nodded, “ yes, yes I would enjoy that very much.”
         He followed the woman out into the hallway and down the stairs into the foyer. She lead him through the hallway directly across from the front door and stopped at the end in front of a handless door.  She pressed the brass button next to it and then waited, eyes once more cast towards the floor with her head cocked slightly to one side.  Garrett could hear a humming beyond the door and the creak and groan of cables.  There was a chime and the wooden door slid open to reveal an elevator.  Wood paneling met a red carpet with a brass railing on three of the sides.  The woman entered and turned, waiting with her hand on the polished wooden lever to the side.  Garrett entered, standing on the opposite side.  The door slid closed and the woman pushed the lever downward.  The elevator shuddered for a moment, then Garrett felt the unmistakable sensation in his stomach of it lowering.  The sound of the rain had been muted so that all to be heard was the groan of the cables which lowered the elevator deeper into the belly of the mansion.
         The woman pulled up abruptly on the lever and the elevator came to a jerking stop, forcing Garrett to grab the railing to steady himself.  She then pushed a tarnished brass button next to the door and it slid open once more.  A surprisingly warm breeze filled the elevator, a pleasant contrast to the chill that seemed to inhabit the rest of the house.  As Garrett stepped out of the elevator and onto an iron grate catwalk, he also felt the humidity of the subterranean location.  He could make no estimation of how far below ground the elevator had taken him, though he surmised that it must have been twenty feet at most. The catwalk followed a long, narrow tunnel, with the supports disappearing into dark water below.  The humidity, he assumed, was due to the pipes running the length of the stone corridor.  They dripped with condensation, he assumed a result of hot water flowing through them.  Lights hung from the ceiling, powered by wiring that ran along the peak of the tunnel, and offered illumination.  The woman lead Garrett to the far end of the catwalk which ended with a steel door built into the rock.  Unlike the doors of the mansion, this one looked more like the entrance to a bunker or some military installation.  There was no handle and as he pressed his hand against it, he realized it would take an explosion of great magnitude to breach it.  There was another intercom and screen and as they approached, the screen flickered to life with Richter’s face.
         “  I trust you were able to get some rest?” Richter said with a smile.
         “ Yes, thank you, Richter.  This place is…I’m at a loss for words.  But…” he looked over his shoulder to the slowly approaching woman.
         “  Come inside my laboratory and I will make everything clear.  It’s quite a fascinating story, I assure you.  Unlike anything you have heard before.”
         A deep rumble along with the sound of metal scraping against metal could be heard, as unseen bolts within the stone surrounding the door retracted.  Then, with a loud groan, the door swung inward.  Of all that Garrett had seen up to this point, nothing could have prepared him for the sight given to him as he stepped through the portal.
         It was a massive cavern, which brushed aside his previous notions as to how far down the elevator had brought him.  The catwalk climbed a set of stairs and opened onto a massive platform, edged with more devices than Garrett could have counted.  He stared in amazement as he ascended the stairs and stepped onto the platform.  Hundreds of tiny lights flickered upon a variety of machines, while gauges and meters of all kinds gave readings that he could make no sense of.  Tubes of various sizes lit and dimmed as flywheels spun and tiny valves released bursts of steam.
         Workbenches were positioned along the platform, covered in hundreds of tools, from wrenches to grinders to instruments Garrett had never seen before.  One had a half dozen microscopes hooked up to screens similar to the ones used in the intercom system.  Another had several of the servants headsets in various stages of completion. 
         There were two other sets of stairs, running up to similar platforms with similar machinery and devices on them.  Garrett felt a renewed sense of discomfort as he saw four other ‘drones’, to use Brahm’s own words, moving about and tending to the machinery, each fitted with their own set of headgear.  Like the woman who had fetched Garrett, they looked withered and sickly, their clothes hanging a bit too loose from the deteriorating bodies.  They paid Garrett no heed, completely focused on whatever tasks it was that Richter had given to them.
         In the center was a hexagonal column of riveted steel places with wires and cables extending and running down between the slats of the grated floor and connecting to the machines.  Lengths of cable and wiring, held together with steel bands and as big around as Garrett‘s thigh, ran beneath the stairs to each of the additional platforms before webbing out.  The column was approximately twelve feet tall, with several large screens angled downward slightly.  On each of these screens was Richter’s face.
         “ This is my laboratory, Mister O’Conner.” he said with a smile.
         “ I..I can scarcely believe it.” Garrett stammered, looking around in awe.
         “  Indeed, Mister O’Conner, there are very few places like it on earth.  With my given solitude, I am able to study freely, unhindered by intrusion from the outside world.  While some get caught up in governmental disputes for their work while seeking world-wide recognition - I speak of men such as Tesla and Bell - I go unchecked.  Here I am able to explore realms of science that others dream of.”
         Garrett wandered about slowly, carefully looking over the tools that covered the workbenches.
         “  How do you fund it all? Your research, that is.” Garrett asked.
         “  In my youth I was fortunate in my investments.  I backed important people doing important things and as such, was able to amass the money and resources needed to make myself independent.  Every few months I receive checks from these sources and on it goes.  They do not ask what I do with the money and I do not ask them to explain their practices.  It is all ‘off the books’, as the saying goes.”
         Garrett looked once more to the woman, who had now climbed the steps and stood at attention, though her expression remained vacant.
         “  Ah yes,” Richter said, “ the dolls.  I suppose it is an ill gesture to call them such, but you must understand that they are no longer people like you.  Their minds are gone, any trace of personality is as lost as a ring thrown into a raging ocean, never to be seen again.”
         Richter told of the things that Brahm had written about regarding the creation of the dolls, though Garrett hid that he had any previous notion concerning their origins.  As the old scientist spoke, Garrett continued to explore the platform and looked about the cavern, occasionally nodding and voicing acknowledgement to his host.  Off from one of the platforms was a short length of walkway leading to another door.  He watched as one of the dolls, the one Richter had pointed out as previously being the cook, passed through the door and for a moment the general hum of machinery and hissing of valves was overshadowed by the rumble of something far larger.  Whatever it was, it was behind that door.
         “  You take these revelations with remarkable ease, Mister O’Conner.  Not even my manservant, Brahm, was so collected when I confessed my transgressions to him.”
         “  I suppose you could say that I find it enthralling, Richter.  I have read a bit concerning the work of scholars and other scientists but it all pales in comparison.  Perhaps the severity of the situation has not sunk in,” Garrett said, eyes wide with wonderment, “ How do you power such a place? I confess I was not overly observant when I arrived, given the conditions at the time, but I do not recall seeing any power lines running to this house. Nor a windmill or any other such source for electricity.”
         “  Behold the power of steam, Mister O’Conner.” Richter said, “ I maintain several hot water boilers which give me all the electricity I need.  Truth be told, they provide me with far more than I require, but I prefer to have too much power rather than too little.”
         The woman, who Garrett had learned was once named Elizabeth Grey, had begun to move, following him with her awkward and inhuman gait.  Garrett glanced at her as he traces his fingers along the rough handle of a large pipe wrench.  A brief glance over his shoulder made the hair on the back of his neck creep up, as the man who hand once been Brahm, was descending the steps from one of the secondary platforms, his eyes locked upon Garrett.
         “  How able are you to continue your research while you reside in the machinery, Richter?”
         “  My mind is as sharp as before,” Richter said, his voice becoming a bit distanced, as though focused on something Garrett could not see, “ though I confess the dolls motor skills have waned in the deterioration of their bodies. Giving them commands becomes increasingly difficult, for the synapses in their brains fire more slowly and they are incapable of the more dexterous work required for advanced research.  Soon they will not even be able to maintain the machines and the boilers.  I am not sure how much longer I can sustain their animation.”
         “  And you have not completed the puzzle that holds you in your mechanical prison?” Garrett asked.
         “  As with all of my research, it is trial and error.  I believe I have worked out the kinks and problems that plagued my previous attempts.  All that remains is another trial.”
         Garrett had failed to keep his attention on both Miss Grey and Brahm equally and had misjudged Brahm’s movement and cursed himself for being so stupid.  Of course Brahm would have retained more of his dexterity, for he was the last one to be subjected to the test.  His body had not deteriorated to the point that the others had.
         “  I generally am not a man who believes in destiny or the divine, Mister O’Conner, but if such exists I would assume your arrival here is a gift.  Another chance to correct a mistake and in doing so, progress my research once again.” Richter said.
         Garrett’s free hand closed around the handle of the wrench and with all his might he swung, connecting with the side of Brahm’s head.  Brahm made no sound as he stumbled, blood gushing from the massive gash that stretched from his cheekbone to his now broken nose.  Nonetheless, the manservant held tightly to Garrett’s arm, unshaken in the task his master had issued.
         The other dolls were beginning to descend to the main platform, lifeless eyes staring blankly at Garrett.  Garrett screamed out as he swung once more but found his arm halted as Miss Grey’s clamy, cool hands grabbed onto his forearm.  He was surprised at her strength, at the way she held his arm so tightly.  He tried to jerk his arm away, screaming and cursing.
         “  Uninhibited by any mental blockers, it is amazing how strong a human body can become.” Richter said with a note of smugness.
         Garrett’s mind raced as he pulled wildly, trying to free himself.  Watching the other dolls draw closer, he finally lashed out, drawing his foot back and bringing his instep into Brahm’s knee as hard as he could.  A sickening crack told him he had succeeded as Brahm toppled over, his knee bent back into an unnatural angle.  Twisting his arm with all his strength, he managed to wrench Brahm’s hands from his arm.  He reached across and took the wrench from his other hand and with a cry, brought it down upon Miss Grey’s head.  He didn’t stop, swinging over and over again as blood erupted the blows.  As she toppled to the floor, her hands slowly sliding down his forearm, he could see the exposed skull beneath her blood soaked hair.
         “  I need your body, Mister O’Conner!” Richter shouted, his voice trembling, “ I cannot continue like this!  I need your body!”
         Garrett looked down quickly at Brahm, who was still trying to climb up on his broken leg but clearly could not calculate how to do so.  With Richter’s mind divided between the other dolls, he was unable to give Brahm the focus required to make him compensate for the unusable leg.  There were two more that had made it onto the platform, John Richmond and Raphael Giletti, the grounds keepers, while the cook had emerged from the boiler room, holding a massive wrench of his own.
         Sprinting and ducking, Garrett managed to get past the grounds keepers and headed up the steps with the cook directly ahead of him.  He was a heavyset man, jowls hanging from a sallow face and a blubberous stomach hanging over his belt.  Sweat ran from his face and darkened the front of his shirt and under his arms.  With a grunt, the cook swung the three foot long wrench overhead.  Garrett threw up his wrench and cried out as the vibrations from the meeting of the metals sent shocks through his arms.  The cook swung again and this time, though Garrett managed to deflect the blow, he dropped  his wrench as numbness spread through his arms.  He stumbled back on the steps, his arms pressed into his body as the pins and needles stabbed at his flesh.  The cook ceased his assault, simply stepping down and shoving Garrett back down the steps towards the grounds keepers who waited at the bottom.
         “  I cannot have you damaged,” Richter said, “ not if I’m to use you.”
         As John and Raphael reached for him, Garrett rolled off the side of the steps and with another cry, forced his arms to reach out and grab ahold of the bundled wires and cables that ran beneath.  He swung under and hung for a moment, screaming through clenched teeth as the tried to keep his grip.  The metal hangers upon which the steel bands were welded creaked and trembled under the added weight, having not been designed for it. He began climbing, hand over hand, until he reached the top of the steps.  He grabbed the edge of the steps and released the wire and cable rope, using what strength he could muster to climb up.  The cook had ascended as well and Garrett scrambled away, clamoring to his feet and sprinting towards the boiler room door.
         “  NO!” Richter screamed hysterically, “ I NEED YOU!”
         Once inside the boiler room, Garrett spun and slammed the door shut, spinning the wheel in the center until it could turn no more.  He quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled it free, tying the wheel in place by way of the rod that ran vertically to slide the locking mechanism. He looped it several times before knotting the belt and then stepped back to survey his surroundings.
         The heat of the room was intense, the result of the three massive boilers that ran next to one another.  It was uncomfortably hot, despite the large vent tunnels overhead, and incredibly humid. Already perspiration was beginning to trickle down his back and his hair began to lay down close to his head.  The boilers powered a massive generator which took up almost as much room as the boilers themselves.  The roar of its engine was nearly deafening and Garrett found it hard to think.  He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the note he had taken from Brahm’s journal and unfolded it, stepping near one of the red lights on the wall that cast the room in a rust colored glow.
         I hope whoever finds this is able to carry out my final instructions. If you are reading this, than Richter has not succeeded in obtaining a body and therefore has grown far more dangerous.  He is mad and I fear what he will attempt in his conquest for a body.
         Richter has integrated himself into the entire house and therefore, the only way to be sure he is stopped is to destroy it all.  Every electronic device in the house must be destroyed.  The quickest way to accomplish this is through detonation of the boilers.  By their nature, fire tube boilers are volatile and the slightest breach can create a massive explosion.  Under Richter’s instruction, the mansion was fitted with three to insure he had enough power for all his experiments.
         It is no simple task.  Once the boilers are pushed past a safe pressure, there will be little time to get away.  To be honest, I am not sure you will survive this process.  However, it must be done. 
         Slight movement out of the corner of his eye made Garrett glance over where he saw the wheel of the door shaking.  The dolls were trying to open it, but the belt held and would buy Garrett the time he needed.
         The operation of a boiler is simple.  The more heat it generates, the higher the pressure becomes.  If the fires are stoked enough, the pressure will build to levels the hulls cannot withstand.  There are gauges along the right side of each boiler to monitor the pressure. Simply get the needle into the red then flee with all your might.
         Garrett looked about the room once again.  The far wall, opposite the generator, was a coal shaft.  A hand cart sat in front of it with a shovel resting inside.  He shoved the note back in his pocket and crossed over, grabbing the shovel and filling the cart as fast as he could with the coal.  As he wheeled it over, he noticed the belt stretching and were it not for the roar of the machines, he would have heard the leather creaking with strain.  He stopped the cart in front of one of the boilers and jerked open the door. A fire blazed inside, one that had been carefully monitored up to this point.  He looked to the dial on the right side of the machine and saw the needle towards the lower end of the yellow.  A lot of coal would be needed.
         He shoveled and shoveled, throwing more and more coal into the mouth of the boiler.  The flames began to climb, consuming the fuel and belching out more and more heat.  Garrett panted as sweat poured from his body and finally he pulled off his shirt, throwing it inside as well. 
         With the heat churned out by the boilers and the rumble and roar of the flames and the generator, Garrett had not noticed that the belt had finally snapped until he turned to refill his cart.  The massive, sweaty hand of the cook seized him by the throat and pulled him away from the boiler.  Garrett gasped and clawed at the fattened forearm but the hand held tightly, squeezing his windpipe shut as the cook tried to keep his grip on Garrett‘s sweat slicked neck.  Garrett lashed out with a fist, only to have it caught and with labored movement, the cook began to push him towards the door.  Stars began to form in Garrett’s vision and his head began to ache from the lack of oxygen.  As they neared the door, he threw his weight into the cook and reached back with a foot.  He felt it press to the wall and in one quick motion, he brought the other up as well and kicked off, throwing all his weight forward.  The cook stumbled back and slammed into the hull of the boiler.  Though Garrett could not hear the sizzling, the sickly sweet smell of cooking flesh filled his nostrils.  He lashed out with his free hand, striking the cook repeatedly in the side of the face.  His limbs were growing heavy as the oxygen he had left in him began to be used up.  With his last ounce of strength, Garrett dug his fingers into the sweaty skin around cook’s headset until he managed to slide the earpiece away from the cook’s ear.  The grip lessened on his throat and as air filled his lungs, Garrett pulled himself free with revived strength.  He gulped down the hot, humid air and then, with a bellow of rage, grabbed a hold of the leather straps and swung the cook around.  Wrenching down on the man’s head as he did so, inertia did the rest and the cook stumbled head-first into the opened hatch of the boiler.  Smoke rose from the charred back and Garrett gagged as the flames began to consume the upper half of the cook that now lay on the bed of coals. 
         The fat of the cook’s body burned even faster than the coal and soon all the relief valves began to blast off steam as the fire raged inside and the pressure grew.  The generator roared even louder and the red bulbs flared until they began to pop, sending shards of glass in all directions.  Garrett threw his arms over his head and bolted from the room.
         “ What have you done?!” Richter shrieked as Garrett half ran, half fell down the steps towards the main platform.  John and Rafael stood dumbly staring at the floor, Richter’s mind too hysterical to issue them commands.
         Garrett could hear gunshot like sounds coming from the boiler room as the gauges fired off and ricocheted off the walls.  There was a rumble growing in the cavern now and Garrett could feel tremors in the steel of the platform.  He frantically searched the workbenches and found a partially completed intercom.  He grabbed it and crossed to the pillar in the center of the platform, wrenching out a set of wires and then securing the frayed ones of the intercom in their place.
         “  You’ve only one way out of this, Richter!” Garrett shouted over the growing noise.
         Richter’s face was still on the monitor, his eyes conveying all of his terror.
         “  I’ll save you, but only if you come with me now!  I’m not dying for you!”
         The hesitation was only a second more.  The eyes lifted and swept across the laboratory and then the screens went blank.  Garrett jerked the wires free from the pillar and sprinted towards the elevator.  As he pushed through steel door, he heard a loud bang as flames erupted from the doorway into the boiler room.  He looked over his shoulder and the last he saw of the laboratory were John and Rafael, standing dumbly at the bottom of the stairs on the upper platform, unresponsive to the explosion.
         Throwing the handle upward, Garrett felt the elevator lurch and begin to climb, faster and faster.  The rumbling had grown and now he felt it even in the elevator.  With teeth clenched tight, he prayed silently that the elevator would make it.
         The doors parted and he rushed out, only stopping in his sprint to pull open the main doors. He ran out into the night, once again bombarded by the downpour.  His head whipped around and he nearly dropped the intercom system as flames burst from the vents of the boiler room below, some twenty yards off.  In the illumination of the flames, Garrett saw a small building set back from the house, but situated near a dirt road that ran back towards the forest beyond the open fields around the house.  The doors to the small building were thrown open and inside he could see the glint of a car’s bumper.
         As the black Chandler sped down the dirt road, the first real explosion lit up in the rearview mirror.  Garrett saw first another burst of flame from the vents, then another from several windows on the first floor.  The night air was filled with deafening booms that grew quieter as the trees surrounded the road and all that remained of the mansion was a glow in the darkness.

         The two men stood in a darkened room, looking through a massive window into one that was well lit.  It was clean, immaculately so, and painted completely white.  A few machines hummed in a cluster to one side, small lights flicking on and off. In the center was a long table upon which sat a radio-like device with a monitor attached to it.  Several men in white, long coats sat at the table before the device, laying out note pads and poising pens to the paper.  One of them reached forward and flicked a switch on the side of the device. 
         “  Well done.” the older of the two men said to the other.  The younger stood in silence, only reaching into the inside pocket of his suit coat and withdrawing a cigarette case. He opened it and placed a cigarette between his lips, then replaced the case with a lighter. As he drew the smoke into his lungs, the end of the cigarette flared, the only thing visible in the darkroom.
         The monitor slowly illuminated and seconds later, the face of an elderly man appeared.  His expression was one of confusion as his eyes darted between the white-coated men.  The three of them glanced back and forth at one another before the one in the center turned back to the monitor and spoke.
         “  Doctor Richter Haus?”
         Richter’s confusion did not pass and it carried in his voice which came across the speaker, “ y-yes?”
         “  We are with the United States government.  There is so much we want to ask you.”
         The younger man in the dark room turned and walked off, the wails of Richter Haus fading as he stepped out of the dark room and closed the door, walking down the long, nondescript hallway.