Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Andrew P. Mayer is the author of The Falling Machine and Hearts of Smoke and Steam, books 1 and 2 of the The Society of Steam trilogy. He is also the author of a short comic story titled "Creepy: Om Nom Nom" published by Dark Horse Comics that was anthologized in Myspace Dark Horse Presents, vol. 3, and in New Creepy Anthology. He is the chief creative officer for Mob Science games, where he creates social games for Facebook. Previously he worked as a game designer and creative director for Sony Psygnosis, the Cartoon Network, and PlayFirst. Visit him online at www.andrewpmayer.com

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THE FALLING MACHINE

Prometheus Books

Chapter One

"Life is short, yet it is the nature of man to make it move faster all the time." Sir Dennis Darby punctuated his pronouncement with a firm smack of the silver tip of his cane against the concrete underneath his feet.

Sarah and Nathaniel stood nearby, looking up at the old man, quietly and respectfully waiting for him to continue, but before he could say another word his intended dramatic pause was broken by a long, throaty groan rising up from behind them.

Just below them, the Automaton had begun to slowly and methodically spin the massive wooden spool with his left hand. The wheel was five feet across, with a thick iron post running up through the center of it. Viscous black grease oozed up from where the pole made contact with a metal collar that held it in place, and the noise vanished.

"Tom," Darby said, addressing the mechanical man, "are you bored?"

The Automaton lowered his arm. "I can stop if you'd like ... Sir Dennis." His sentence sounded like a song, and each word was spoken as a single separate note—high and smooth—with just a hint of a rasp from the metal whistles and reeds that played together to create his voice.

"I just wanted to make sure you were paying attention," Darby continued. "It's far beyond even your impressive abilities to halt the march of progress." The old man smiled and looked down at his creation. It was a rare expression on his usually stern face. "No, my dear Tom, humanity will always strive to learn more, rise higher, and go faster. And one day people will look back to this year of eighteen hundred and eighty and imagine that we were a primitive and ignorant people, just as we do now to those who came before us." The widening grin pushed his sharp features and graying muttonchops out to the sides in a way that was slightly unsettling. "But that is the price of progress, as we forge ahead to make the lives of our descendants better than our own." Darby had been wearing a version of his current look of childlike wonder almost from the first moment the four of them had set foot onto the Brooklyn side of the bridge construction site.

They had all dressed up for the trip, as it was intended to be a formal outing. Both of the men wore full suits, with vests, jackets, and hats, as well as long overcoats to protect them against the winter cold. The Professor's greatcoat was made of sensible black wool, while young Nathaniel's was far fancier. His lapels and cuffs were trimmed with the same rich, black beaver fur that lined the jacket's interior. Ebony silk top hats rested snugly on their heads.

The two gentlemen were also of similar height and build—six feet tall and slim—but Nathaniel had the athletic demeanor of a young man, while Darby's frame was looser and slightly hunched, his age having drained away the vitality of youth.

The Automaton stood at five feet, six inches exactly. He was dressed in a similar fashion to the men, but with only a jacket wrapped around his long cylindrical frame. He had no need of an overcoat, despite a temperature that was only being held a notch above freezing by the light of the morning sun.

The mechanical man's face and neck were completely unbound by leather or cloth, showing a series of tubes and metal shafts that connected his head and body. His delicate features were lovingly painted onto a smooth porcelain mask: the eyes were bright blue, and his lips had the same mysterious hint of a smile as the Mona Lisa. The back of his head was a skull-shaped slab of solid brass, and a delicate ribbon of steam drifted lazily out from a valve at the back of his neck.

The Professor's voice grew louder, as it usually did when he was becoming entranced by his own words, "And you Tom, you are my response to that most human urge—mankind's never-ending desire to bring light to the dark boundary of the unknown.

"And even standing in the shadow of this modern-day marvel," he said, pointing up to the massive tower, "you are still an object of wonder." Darby swept his arm across the vista of stone and wire that stretched out in front of them as if he were unveiling it for the very first time. "Even compared to the Brooklyn Bridge."

Rising up and out from the anchorage where they were standing were two cables of twisted steel, each one as thick as a man, heading from the shore and out over the water. They rose up and over the top of a stone tower standing almost three hundred feet tall and then dropped back down, crossing the East River to another tower of the same height that sat just off the edge of Manhattan Island. The building of the road that would eventually connect the two cities had only just been started, and the cables hung expectantly above the water, ready to bear their load.

"The greatest wonder of the modern world," Darby said, and then winked at the girl, "even if it isn't quite finished yet."

Sarah smiled and clapped, the effect muffled by her gloves. "It's gorgeous, Professor." She moved forward with the layers of her ruffled blue skirt rustling and swaying with every step. "Thank you so much for bringing us out here so we could see it." Her matching fur cape was wrapped around her tightly enough that the rigid feminine curve of her bodice could be seen underneath it. The blonde curls of her hair had been pulled back and piled up into a severe bun. Pinned to the top of it was a navy-blue bonnet, the fashionable veil coming down to just above her eyes. But underneath all the structure that had been built to support and define the modern woman of 1880, a natural aura of relaxed strength and beauty still shone through.

Trying not to stare at Sarah, Nathaniel squinted his eyes even more than usual as he turned his gaze to the bridge, tipping his head so far back that his hat seemed poised to slide off. "Do you think something so big will actually hold up, Professor?"

"Of course it will." Darby nodded firmly, some of his usual intensity returning to his face as he did so. "The principles behind it are quite sound. A large-scale structure such as this simply requires a rigorous application of math, human ingenuity, and hard work. A bridge is the culmination of all those things."

The Professor took a deep breath, filling his lungs completely and then holding it for a moment before speaking. "All right, everyone, are we ready for an adventure?" He lifted up his cane and pointed the metal tip toward the wooden platform that acted as the entrance to the walkway. It seemed far less sound than the concrete and stone edifice underneath their feet.

Sarah looked over at him. "I've already had my fair share, Sir Dennis." Then she gave him a brave wink and a smile. "But I'm always game for more!" She knew that her father would have frowned on her flirtatious attitude, but she and Sir Dennis had often shared such moments over the last few years.

Inclined to tomboyish behavior as a girl, her early teens had been a time of rude awakening, divorcing her from the casual company of boys and men in ways she still found frustrating and unfair. It only took a glance in a mirror to remind her that she had been gifted with a beauty that had forever stolen away an innocent connection with the opposite sex, and she was still struggling to understand the power of it.

From her mother she had inherited all the...