The Curious Case Of The Clockwork Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

with expletives not put there by the sender. Nevertheless, the system proved popular, especially as some of the birds displayed a rather amusing talent for creating totally meaningless words that, nevertheless, sounded insulting. These “new insults” were all the rage at Society events. Swinburne himself had recently been called a “blibbering chub-fluffer” by a parakeet delivering an invitation to a poetry reading at Lord Haverleigh’s. He’d laughed about it for days.
You are cordially invited—you blibbering chub-fluffer—to an evening of stinking poetry and abysmal piss wine
—
    The foul-mouthed birds demonstrated an issue that had troubled eugenics from the very start. Whatever modification the scientists bred into a species, it always brought with it an unexpected side effect. The giant dray horses, for example, had no control over their bladders or bowels and were overproductive in both departments. This had proven a serious problem in London’s already filthy streets until the Engineering branch of the Technologists invented the automated mechanical cleaners, popularly known as “litter-crabs,” to tackle the issue.
    “Hag-kissers! Slack-jaws! Dirt-gobblers! Mumblebums! Dolts! Filthy blackguards! Bulging scumbags! Gusset-sniffers! Gibbering loonies! Puppy-munchers!”
    Trailing behind Miss Mayson, the men reached the other side of the room. The young woman unlocked a door, threw it open, and ushered them through. The portal slammed shut behind them and she leaned against it, opening the umbrella. “That’s quite enough of that, I think! My apologies, gentlemen.”
    They stood in a very spacious rain-swept yard beside a row of cages, each containing an upright wheel. In each wheel there was a dog—all greyhounds—sprinting at top speed. There must have been at least twenty of them, and the rumble of the spinning wheels drowned out even the noise of the rain.
    The greyhounds were known as runners, and they formed the other half of the British Postal Service. Where the parakeets communicated spoken messages, the dogs delivered letters, racing from door to door with the missives held gently between their teeth. In fact, they were unable to
stop
running, and even when they arrived at a delivery destination they jogged on the spot until the letter they carried was taken. They were also voracious eaters, and any person using the service was obliged to feed them.
    “They’ve just gone to sleep,” Miss Mayson said, gesturing toward the animals.
    “They run in their sleep?” Swinburne asked wonderingly.
    “Yes, which is why I had the wheels put inside their cages. It’s better than having them racing around the yard. The swans are over there.”
    She indicated the far end of the enclosure, where nine breathtakingly huge birds stood in high-roofed pens. Their heads were poised, about fifteen feet up, at the top of elegantly curved necks. Their beady eyes watched the group as it approached them.
    “Don’t worry. They’re almost tame.”
    “Almost?” Trounce asked, doubtfully. “Somehow, I don’t find that very comforting.”
    “If they were any wilder, they’d bite your head off before you could blink. They’re aggressive by nature.”
    Trounce smoothed his mustache with his fingers.
    “But four are tame enough to fly, yes?” Burton asked.
    “Five,” Spencer added.
    “Yes, sir, though you might struggle a bit. They’re a touch headstrong.”
    “Let’s get them buckled up. We have to work fast.”
    Miss Mayson crossed to a shed from which she produced harnesses and big folded box kites. Then she picked up a long, thin wooden cane, returned to the pens, and used it to drive out five of the enormous white birds.
    “Down!” she commanded, while slapping one of the swans on its side with the rod. It obligingly squatted, and, while Spencer held the umbrella over her, she showed the men how to attach the long reins to the base of the bird’s neck, passing them over its back. Swinburne,