From: Mysoreans Abroad — News from the Benighted West.
26: Sri Nripendra Rao: The Folly of Youth
Beloved Bapu-ji,
England is a little country and young, for all its weight in the world, and yet I have seen of it littler still, for our business has kept us mostly around London: which you will know, is the capital city. However, recently I have travelled to other cities, Birmingham and Derby by name, and there is much to tell you of them.
Birmingham is in what they call their Midlands, though it if that is so then six Kathi make half a Pand, for it can be no more than a third of the way from utmost South to North.
We travelled there by way of new Canals that the English rely on greatly for the transport of heavy materials. I am somewhat of the opinion that they would never have conceived them without the inspiration of our more ancient waterways. Novel canals do not deter the ancient profession of dacoits though, and so we were set upon by a band of such as we emerged from a subterranean stretch of the canal. Fortunately, we were able to dispatch them in short order, either into the canal or fleeing over the hill.
Our goal in travelling to Birmingham was to visit the offices of Whithurst and Boulton, a company whose mechanisms we have encountered frequently in the course of our investigations. Although the city was not the least white, but red and black of bricks and soot, yet it brought to mind the White City of Akkad, of which I have apprised you before. The air felt like oils against the skin, yet lacking rich perfumes its touch was disturbing. It is a frontier, with other Lokas no more than a bent cog away, and we were glad to quit it.
Before we did, we essayed the aforesaid offices and made the acquaintance of Mr Boulton, a practical man as it turned out, concerned merely with the running of the business. For enquiries of our nature, it appeared it was Mr Whithurst we would wish to speak to, and he might be found at his manufactury, further North in Derby.
Taking ourselves thence, we left Birmingham, the Sambar of Phlogiston, to travel once more through the countryside, though with foresight we might aptly have retained our unease.
At Derby, on presenting our letter of introduction from Mr Boulton, we found that “young” John Whithurst’s secretary was none other than Daniel Whithurst — the presumptuous gāmpa who took it upon himself to meddle with the customs of the English in order to arrange a marriage to the beloved of Colonel Mustard. I know you would look ill upon so transgressing a custom, be the custom itself strange to you.
I say “young”, for John Whithurst, though now an elderly man, is the descendant — I think most likely the grandson — of Mr Andrew Whithurst, whom we met recently under the strange circumstances you will recall.
In discussion with this John Whithurst we discovered him to be an avid researcher in the matter of Gates and the consequent Engines for travel between Lokas — most particularly to the one which I have written of and believe to be the domain of the Pretas. It was he — so he claimed — that set the serpent slithering on such travel, with careless speech to William Ashton, the zealot who opened the first gate in Khadesh. I suspect him of more guile than he admitted, for he also supplied the necessary equipment, and more was to emerge as you shall see if you read on.
Whithurst was dismissive of the prospect of the Turks using gates to invade England — our major concern — but in this I also suspect he dissembles to diminish his own responsibility. Or he is more of a fool than he appears, but in that he would not be the first.
He also washed his hands — an Abrahamist allusion to denied responsibility — of the actions of the East India Company, with whom he panders the prerequisites of their follies. As the conversation turned this way, it emerged that the hand on much of the paperwork was of Daniel Whithurst, the nephew-secretary, whom Mr. Whithurst seemed eager to absolve of blame.
Seeking to interview this Daniel, we discovered that upon delivering us to his elder relative’s office, he had immediately fled! The Colonel’s sahayak, Tallow, went in search of him while we continued to speak with Mr John. Before long, however, alarums were raised and an expeditious flight of manufactury workers from the building could be observed.
Apprehensive of countering the flow, but knowing alarums unlike to be coincidence, both we and Mr Whithurst arose and made haste for their source. At first Mr Whithurst appeared to have a different priority and took a different route (followed by Mr Elmhall for security) but we arrived at the same place.
In a great hall of machinery, Daniel Whithurst and Sidney Tallow lay upon the floor, Tallow motionless. It seemed they had been cast low by a clockwork marionette advancing towards them. However, it soon became clear that the marionette’s behaviour was atypical — indicating to me by its gestures that we should enter the room it had come from.
Before more could eventuate however, Mr. Whithurst arrived and threw a large lever, by means of which all philosopickal devices instantly stopped, including the marionette. And with that, Sydney Tallow returned to consciousness; or, more accurately, consciousness returned to Sydney Tallow — for his Ātman, by mystickal means, had been transferred to the marionette.
Questioning of the Whithursts revealed what had occurred. Daniel, in fear of “Murderous Mustard” and perceiving himself threatened by Tallow, had intended to “ride” the marionette to frighten Tallow in turn. Tallow entered the room before the transfer of Daniel’s Ātman was complete, and by so doing his Ātman was transferred unintentionally to the marionette, while Daniel Whithurst’s was thrust violently back into its accustomed abode.
Mr John Whithurst explained that the marionette was The Explorer, a device of his own design intended to allow the Ātman to explore the Loka of the Pretas without risk to the physical person which might remain on Bhuloka. To the Whithursts, this was a work of genius which would greatly improve the safety of such exploring. To us, it betrayed that they knew not what was actually at risk — the Ātman itself. They remained dismissive of our warnings, despite our knowledge that such devices as the marionette infested Akkad’s London of the future, and Tallow’s observation that The Explorer had been in motion before either Ātman was transferred to “ride” it. Daniel assured us that was because his transfer had begun but was incomplete when Tallow arrived. We shall reserve our judgment on their lunatick endeavours.
The most useful information extracted from these wise fools was the knowledge of their sponsor — Mr. Appleton Finch of Albury House, a troublesome man self-confessed to be of “prodigious intellect”, and a cousin of the 3rd Earl of Aylesford. Also, a name-dropper of Royalty, professing friendship with His Majesty. We suspect him to be more of an acquaintance, and somewhat regret having previously delivered him from kidnap by the Asuras in the guise of Blackerby Canton and Frodsham Coward who first served, then slew, the hapless Belwether, and also from the critical malfunction of his own Stoßenknopf-engined panther.
Namaste,
Your dutiful Nripendra