Excerpt

Gillian stepped into a vast space, two storeys high, luxuriously panelled in dark wood. Excitement made her heart race. The place was like something from a dream.

Overhead, a dome of leaded glass bathed the room in daylight. At the second storey level, a semi-circular gallery followed the curving walls, reachable from a stair to her left. Arrayed on the wall to her right was a dazzling collection of pliers, metal snips, tweezers, wrenches, hammers, drills, clamps, vices, springs, glass tubes, rubber piping, brass flanges, hydraulic cylinders, coils of wire, switches and dials, gauges and meters—every sort of tool and part she’d ever encountered as well as many that were unfamiliar.

On the far wall hung parts of another sort: hands, fingers, feet, splayed thighs, open mouths, as well as phalluses of varied proportions. She could not determine the materials from across the room, though some of the models looked startlingly life-like. Her diligent studies of the catalogue suggested some might be fashioned of leather, others from India rubber.

Several large workbenches filled the centre of the room, each cabled with its own electric lighting fixture dangling from a rack above. Ian and Archie huddled together at the closest table, peering through a magnifier at a mess of wiring.

“Mr. Burns! Mr. Fawcett! Let me officially introduce our new apprentice. This is Gillian Smith.”

Archie looked up, startled. “What? You accepted a girl?”

“Provisionally.” Amelia frowned at the florid young man. “Subject to the Master’s final approval. Meanwhile, I expect you to welcome her, introduce her to our procedures and processes, and put her to work.”

“I’ll put her to work, for sure,” Ian muttered.

“What did you say, Mr. Burns?”

“Um, nothing, ma’am.”

The director stepped closer to the contraption on the bench. “Is this the circuitry for the Marlborough device?”

Ian swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And do you have it functioning yet?”

“Almost,” Archie volunteered. “Just one more small problem to fix, and we’ll be ready to test.”

“Indeed.” She scrutinised the web of copper strands for several minutes, then turned to Gillian. “Perhaps you can assist them, Miss Smith. They appear to be somewhat out of their depth.”

Apparently feeling that this was sufficient instruction, Mrs. Featherstone headed for the door, but she paused exiting. “I shall see you all at dinner. And I shall expect a full report on your progress. Do you understand?”

“Of course, Mrs. Featherstone,” the young men chimed in unison.

Gillian just grinned.

Ian and Archie wore glum expressions in the wake of Amelia’s departure.

“So what’s the problem?” Gillian asked.

“You know about electrical stuff?” Archie asked.

“To some extent. My father taught me the basics.”

“Main motor’s not getting power,” said Ian.

“Or else the motor itself is defective,” countered Archie.

“Impossible. I’ve built a dozen motors with this design.”

“Well, I’ve successfully wired at least two dozen dildos.” Archie grimaced in Gillian’s direction. “He does mechanical, mostly. I do electrical. How about you?”

“I have some experience with both types of work, though my speciality is mathematics and logic.” She stepped closer to the circular magnifier. “Might I take a look?”

“Be our guest,” said Ian. “We are well and truly stuck.”

Under the lens, every detail of the circuitry became clear. In fact, the design was quite elegant, the layout logical and precise. She scanned the interwoven wires, focusing on their connections. In thirty seconds, she had located the fault.

“There,” she said. “Between pins fourteen and fifteen. The solder is not adhering.” Backing away, she let Archie look.

“By Jove, you’re right.” A smile lit his boyish face. “Thank you!”

“May I try fixing it? Just for practice?” She added a bit of softness to her voice, a tentative quality that did not reflect her true nature. The last thing she wanted was to intimidate the other apprentices.

“Why not?” said Archie gallantly. “If you have trouble, I can take over.”

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