The Adventures of Phineas Frakture (11 page)

Episode
9

After sending a message to Inspector Manifold with the location of his killer, Phineas, William, and Ishaq checked the area for any signs of their wayward mummy.

“If you were a three-thousand-year-old mummy wandering around the streets of nineteenth-century New York, where would you go?” asked Phineas.

“The museum?” answered William questioningly.

“He wouldn’t know what a museum was. Ishaq? Any ideas from you?”

“Nothing. I am still shaking in fear that he is alive.”

“Well, you two are of no use. We must think logically. Obviously, he did not go the way that we came, or we would have heard screams of panic…well, more than we heard, anyway.” Phineas began pacing behind the remains of the Brownstone. “A man out of time,” he muttered. “He comes up these stairs…he is faced with a new environment…he’s an architect. If he wants to find out where he is, he goes…”

A clock chimed in the not too far distance.

Phineas smiled and whirled around, pointing to a tower rising above the rooftops. “There! How long have we been here?”

William checked his watch, which seemed redundant to Phineas since the tower was within plain sight. “About twenty minutes, I would guess.”

“And he would have been coming out of the cellar at approximately four o’clock. If you were an ancient mummy engineer, wouldn’t you be interested in something that goes ‘bong’?”

“I know that you would,” replied William.

“Precisely! And that is where we will find him. Come along, you two. It seems that time is on our side after all.”

The thrum of the airship’s engines made its presence known. Three sets of eyes looked up, trying to see how far away it was.

“It looks to me as if time has run out,” mentioned William as the nose of the airship appeared over the building.

“We need to run. Keep under as much cover as you can and don’t make a sound,” said Phineas.

Above, several lines dropped from the deck of the airship, and helmeted figures clad in black uniforms began sliding down the ropes towards the gutted Brownstone. Meanwhile, the trio made their way towards the clock tower, keeping quiet and frequently checking over their shoulders for any sign of pursuit.

“Do you think they saw us?” asked William once they were at the door of what turned out to be a huge clockworks factory.

“It doesn’t seem so,” said Phineas. “However, keep your guard up.”

“Could he really be here?” asked Ishaq nervously.

Phineas’ eyes were drawn to the door’s handle where a scrap of resin-coated cloth hung from it. “I would say that I was right…as usual. We must be careful not to scare him.” Phineas opened the door and went inside.

“Scare him? What about scaring us?” asked William.

“I am not liking this,” stated the Egyptian as he followed them in. It was becoming so customary for the automaton around Ishaq’s neck to translate for him, that it was almost easy to forget they weren’t always a package deal. “We will surely find despair inside.”

“Will you
please
stop with the despair, already?” hissed William. “You’re making me…despair.”

“See,” replied Ishaq, “it is starting already.”

“We are all doomed!” Sweepio’s head added in a haunting tone, mocking both men. There was a muffled ‘clunk’ as William smacked the interpreter, sending it swinging into the doorframe.

The interior was deserted since it was the weekend. The large room that served as the entrance was also the base of the tower. It was littered with gears and shelving that housed crates filled with all manner of parts used in the construction of clocks.

Phineas was in a state of elation being in such proximity to the trade of his father. He could name every piece he saw, and explain what each was used for and what the exact placement of every part should be.

“Do you see him?” asked William.

“No,” Phineas answered as he was shaken from his past. “He wouldn’t be down here.” He looked upwards, through the stairwell, straining his eyes to see the top of the tower. “Up there…that’s where I would go to get a better look at the mechanism and the city.” He led the way up the stairwell, trying to be quiet; however, the dry timbers creaked and groaned with each step they took.

William was panting by the time they reached the top. “That’s it. No more pastries for me,” he said to himself.

The room was filled with the noise of the clockwork’s gears while the setting sun’s light streamed through the stained glass of the clock-face, illuminating the dust that was stirred up from the breeze flowing through the tower. A shadow darted across one of the beams of light, stopping the trio in their tracks.

“Hello?” called out Phineas.

“What are you doing?” whispered William.

Phineas waved him off. “Hello?” he called again.

There was a shuffling in the corner and a clang as something was knocked over. Then, a clicking sound came from behind them, and Phineas realized that it was the sound of Ishaq’s teeth chattering. Phineas turned his attention back to the corner. Slowly, from behind some crates, a figure emerged. Strips of cloth hung from its arms as they stretched out towards the men. A raspy voice, like dry pieces of paper being rubbed together, said something incomprehensible, and an ancient wrench came up, pointing at Phineas.

A scream of terror went up from the stairwell, followed by a thud and the sound of footsteps charging down the stairs. Ishaq had thrown down his translator and fled in terror.

“Poor boy has lost his head,” said Phineas. “Retrieve that for me, will you, William?” he asked, indicating Sweepio. He kept his eye on their dehydrated disciple of Ra while William cautiously retrieved the head.

The mummy again said something, but made no attempt to throttle either of them.

“What’s he saying?” asked William as he returned to Phineas’ side.

“
Again
? Have I learned Egyptian in the last few hours? I think not,” Phineas scolded. “Besides, our friend has fled. No chance of knowing now.”

“Excuse me, sir,” interjected Sweepio’s head, “but I may be able to translate. It is, after all, a dialect that can be extrapolated from combining several currently used languages native to that region—”

“All right, just shut up and tell me what he’s saying,” snapped Phineas.

“He is saying: ‘Help me. Please, end my curse’.”

Episode
10

Steamhotep, a man from the past, in defiance of all that was logical, scientific, and of common sense, was standing before Phineas Frakture asking for help. Phineas, though dumbfounded as to why this was the case, refused to submit to doubt, denial, or fear as so many would do if they were in the same position.

“He wishes your help, sir,” repeated Sweepio’s head.

“I heard you the first time.” Phineas took the head from William and held it out to Steamhotep. “Translate. Do you understand me?”

After a few misinterpretations on Sweepio’s part and discovering that the cattle will be ferried down the Nile in the springtime, communication was finally established.

Steamhotep took the head and turned it over in his hand. Deftly, he opened the back panel and inserted his fingers.

“Oh, my,” was the only thing Sweepio said before his voice became chillingly unfamiliar.

Steamhotep manipulated the keys inside the head, making Sweepio an extension of himself. Phineas was amazed at how quickly and how easily the mummy adapted to the technology. The voice from the head, speaking with a thick accent, began its tale.

“My name is Steamhotep…”

The bright morning sun’s rays streamed through the open window, bathing a scale model of what would become the grand city of Thebes. Steamhotep, architect to the Pharaoh and Gods, strolled around the model, admiring his vision. This city would be the greatest in all the land. It would also be his final project. After this, he would retire from Pharaoh’s service, and he would take his beloved Amisi and live a life of luxury, looking out upon the jewel he had created. Nothing could be more perfect.

A commotion outside broke through his thoughts and, before he could see what the cause was, the doors flew open, admitting Khabekhnet, a fellow architect and rival. He was talented, but not a genius as Steamhotep was. The Pharaoh favored Steamhotep’s designs and quick building methods over Khabekhnet’s traditional use of slaves.

“What are you doing?” Khabekhnet yelled, his voice booming through the chamber. “Do you not have enough to do without taking
all
the projects away from the architects in the city? Is the price of your glory the starvation of the rest? Is this not enough for the ‘Great Steamhotep’?” Khabekhnet swept his arms over the model dramatically.

“Khabekhnet, you are too slow. It is not my fault that people come to me for my ideas. If you cannot compete then go to another city where they wish to be dead before they see their buildings complete.”

Khabekhnet flinched at the barb and raised his finger. “Mark my words…abomination…you will push too far and you will regret what you have done.” Having said his piece and having enough of Steamhotep’s smugness, Khabeknet turned and noisily stormed out as he had entered.

Steamhotep unconsciously rubbed the prosthetic left hand that was the butt of Khabekhnet’s insult. The man knew how to ruin a perfectly good day, and Steamhotep gloomily flicked over one of the tiny buildings with his good index finger.

It was true. Steamhotep was on the obsessive side when it came to projects, and he probably took on more than he could handle. However, he needed to see this through to fruition, and the smaller projects were just distractions for the downtime that he suffered when his main projects were in transitional phases. He needed the work…needed the occupation.

Steamhotep crossed the room and lifted the lid from an ornate ivory box. Inside, sitting on a cushion of silk, was his greatest invention: The Heart of Ra. With it, several systems within the kingdom could be controlled through a central point. Instead of having to wind mechanisms all over the city, this central control would regulate gear systems throughout the area, each branching off to different sections of the city…and it would run indefinitely. The size and placement of gears would create power for water flow, and provide power for mills and machines of all types, making the city autonomous.

Replacing the lid, Steamhotep left the room and hurried to one of the worksites. He received friendly greetings from his workers, something Khabekhnet would never get from his mistreated slaves. He looked up at one of the monuments flanking the entrance to the counting house. Pharaoh would be pleased with the likeness. As he studied the base for any flaws, some dust landed on his shoulder. Thinking that it came from a worker above, he paid it no mind. By the time he realized that there were no workers up on the scaffolding, it was too late.

A large section of the statue had broken off and was falling as Steamhotep looked up. Warnings were shouted too late as the massive stone fell on top of the architect and rolled off. His workers quickly tended to him, carrying him back to his office and bringing in a physician.

Steamhotep was conscious when given the bad news—half of his torso was crushed, and it was only a matter of time before his body failed him. The left side of his skull was also damaged by the stone, and he had lost his left eye. However, Steamhotep was not one to surrender so easily. He called in his greatest apprentices and instructed them on what to do.

“Everything you need is here,” he told them. “I have been perfecting artificial bones and limbs. You will assist the doctor in replacing what is destroyed.”

“But what about controlling multiple functions?” they asked. “An arm, yes; but legs as well?”

Steamhotep pointed towards the ivory box. “That will serve everything. The Heart of Ra will control it all.”

Surgery was performed, but the prognosis was dire. As was tradition, a high priest was called in to tend to his spirit. Rites were performed. However, as passages from the Coffin Texts were read and Anubis was called upon to guide their friend to the afterlife, one of Steamhotep’s assistants realized that they had not wound the Heart of Ra. He quickly grabbed the key from the box and inserted it into the heart. What happened next could only be described as a miracle…or curse.

The sky darkened and mystic forces took hold of the rebuilt body of Steamhotep. It is said that Anubis himself breathed life back into the architect, rejecting the hybrid entry into the beyond, and made him immortal instead. From the Heart of Ra, new gears began to spring forth, mending and fortifying the body. A new mechanical eye emerged from his skull. As the priest, doctor, and assistants watched, a new man emerged from the old.

When it was over, Steamhotep held his audience in awe as he stood up from his bed—a blend of machine and man.

“After my transformation, things began to change for me,” said Steamhotep.

“Such as?” asked Phineas as he sat down on a crate.

“My beloved Amisi shunned me as a monster. She turned to another man for comfort and I could only see her from a distance. No one wanted to do business with me, mainly due to Khabekhnet’s campaign to destroy my name, claiming that I was a demon from the underworld. My vision of Thebes was no longer realized, and its construction progressed slowly, though I saw it all. From isolation, I watched everyone I knew grow old. I saw Amisi have children that should have been mine and their children having children. Generations went by, and I slowly decayed as the glory of the kingdom decayed. I tried to stop the heart, but it would not be removed or smashed by conventional means. After a while, I accepted my fate and began teaching my trade. I took pupils who were willing to learn from an outcast. They did not, however, appreciate the knowledge that I imparted upon them, thinking that I was a charlatan and that my engineering was dark magic.

“Finally, the Heart of Ra began to wind down. Centuries had passed. My tomb, which I had built earlier in life, was barren—the engravings having been worn off through inclement weather and vandalism. When it came time and the heart stopped, I was mummified and was laid to rest in my sarcophagus with instructions for my assistants to seal the tomb. I had had enough of life and the pain that it caused. I was ready for eternal slumber.”

“If that were the case, why did you have the key to the heart placed in the tomb?” asked William.

“It was a mistake made by my assistant,” answered Steamhotep. “He thought it was valuable to me since I had kept it close all my years. I saw him place it in the tomb, but could do nothing. The heart had stopped.”

“But you could still see him? And you were mummified…alive?” Phineas was astounded.

“I often wonder if I am alive...or dead…or caught between worlds. I am forever conscious, though. The Heart of Ra contains my spirit. I was aware of everything for two thousand years. I soon went mad, then found contentment, then madness again…a never ending cycle.

“When the man you call Cavanaugh unearthed my tomb, I was angry for being disturbed. Then, after you began examining the Heart, I knew that you were a kindred spirit and that you could be the one who could end my curse.”

Phineas looked at the ancient builder and rubbed his chin. “The Heart is nothing that can’t be dismantled.”

“I have tried. The magic of Anubis is too powerful. It regenerates before I can remove it.”

“Then we have to remove it in a way that will be faster than magic.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” asked William.

Phineas arched his right eyebrow. “Come now, old friend, who can destroy anything better than I can?”