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THE ELECTRIC LASH

 

 

 

BEING AN ALTERNATE
ACCOUNT

OF THE MOST TERRIBLE EVENTS

OCCURRING IN THE

FORMER

PACIFIC NORTHWEST TERRITORIES

DURING THE YEAR OF OUR LORD

1897

 


taken from
original documents

smuggled from beyond the

Great Northwestern Aetheric Barrier

and transcribed

by

MISS LIVIA LLEWELLYN

 


 

AETHERIC WHITEFIRE

 

            March ___, 1897

            This account starts as all accounts do, with fire and blood and the electric thrum of the universe, barreling down through the darkened glitter of the skies onto the shark-toothed yaw of world. That is, to say, it started during an electric storm of most wondrous and large proportions, with my mistress, Lady Yysabelle Llanaghen naked on the rooftop of the Xerseis Club, holding great thick rods of copper, married via wires and cables to dark and complex machines, in her hands as she screamed to the crashing storm above, imploring it to strike its secret energies through the rods into her flesh, imparting and imprinting upon her all the great mysteries of the unfathomable universe. Below her waist, the base of a thick copper member, attached to yet more coils and wires, protruded from her black-haired Mount of Venus. All about us, the shabby tenements of the Lower East Side quaked and shivered, melted in the dagger-cold downpour of rain. Other female members of the club danced and shouted, also naked and outfitted with various accoutrements of metal and wire--more metal and wire, it seemed, than made up my own automaton body. I sighed and struggled with the seal-skin umbrella, then finally gave it up to the stubborn wind. It saild up, higher and higher, veins of lightning plummetting into its slender skeleton again and again, imparting the wisdom of the universe into the poor unsentient object even as it rose beyond the rooftops of the city, beyond the East River, and out of sight altogether. I smiled--rather, I bared my teeth in the semblance of a human emotion. Fly, little umbrella, I whispered, as my mistress howled like an animal, as the women gathered together in a seething mass and rubbed themselves against various vibrating implements until they wilted like late spring flowers before the summer sun. Go up, give in, and be free. Give in. That is how you discover the light behind the dark. You stop fighting. You let go, and you give in.

            But I am slightly ahead of myself, like a selfish lover performing for naught but themselves. You do not know who I am, or who my mistress is, or why she does what she does: which all leads to why she did what she did. Let me explain.

            In the year 1879, I was brought to life in one of the great secret factories of the Midwestern lands of America, an automatom with human features and limbs, but neither male nor female in aspect. Born of both man's clever hand and the howling contractions of a two-headed, six-legged cow in the vast stockyards encircling the great city of Chicago like a filthy bridal veil, my wet and dry aspects were married in arcane alchemical ceremonies until I sprung to sentient life. My carapace was buffed and polished, each aspect and surface of gleaming metal brought to a brilliant sheen, then I was dressed and transported via private steam train to the great and sprawling metropolis of Mannahatta--which you, Fierce and Bold reader, know as New York City--as part of a private Scientific Exhibition for men and women of both Vision and Means. It was there, in a vast underground hall, under glass mosaics of dead gods and goddesses, that Lady Llanaghen cast her eye upon me, and bid her husband, a secret titan of industry and transportation, to purchase me for their sprawling mansion, as a plaything for my mistress during her long, childless days and nights.

            And plaything, O Fierce and Bold reader, I most certainly was.  

 

##

additional chapters

POLYPHASE POWER SYSTEM
MAGNETIC ARCS
HELICAL COIL RESONANT TRANSFORMER
PLASMA BREACH REACTOR
SPARK-GAP OSSILATOR
PSYCHOTRONIC MAGNIFYING TRANSMITTER
WIRELESS TELAUTOMATON
JOVIAN PLASMA TORUS SIGNALS
DIRECTED ENERGY WEAPON
THE ELECTRIC LASH
EPILOGUE

Marine Autumn

I owe you marine autumn
With dankness at its roots
and fog like a grape
and the graceful sun of the country;
and the silent space
in which sorrows lose themselves
and only the bright crown
of joy comes to the surface.

--Pablo Neruda.


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