The Girl with Two Souls: The Factory Girl Trilogy, #1

Some Reviews of Stephen Palmer’s Books

"A gonzo homage to the late Victorian/Edwardian British adventure yarn... imagine Michael Palin and Terry Jones’ Ripping Yarns doing a Steampunk episode with a large helping of early 70s British prog-rock psychedelia, some very peculiar flying machinora, and a chocolate train... Stephen Palmer is a writer you should read. His work is unique, original, sometimes challenging, always fresh and sometimes barking... Hairy London is strange, mad, subversive and possibly just a little bit dangerous. You won’t have encountered a vision of London like it." Amazing Stories

Stephen Palmer is a find. Time Out

Stephen Palmer has concocted a beguiling adventure that draws on some of the best sf of recent years for its basic themes... Starburst

Stephen Palmer’s imagination is fecund... Interzone

This latest novel confirms that in Stephen Palmer, science fiction has gained a distinctive new voice. Ottakar’s

Give him a try; his originality is refreshing. David V Barrett

... (a) supremely odd yet deeply rewarding experience. CCLaP

...a thrilling chase across a ravaged Europe, a burgeoning North Africa and balkanised US, interleaving excellent action set-pieces with fascinating philosophising on the nature of consciousness. A gripping read to the poignant last line. The Guardian, on Beautiful Intelligence

Palmer is a writer of unique and remarkable imagination. Teresa Edgerton, SFF Chronicles

The Girl With Two Souls

Book 1 of the Factory Girl trilogy

Stephen Palmer

Published by

infinity plus

www.infinityplus.co.uk

Follow @ipebooks on Twitter

© Stephen Palmer 2016

2nd edition copyright © 2019 Stephen Palmer

Cover © Tom Brown,

with design © Stephen Palmer

No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means, mechanical, electronic, or otherwise, without first obtaining the permission of the copyright holder.

The moral right of Stephen Palmer to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

Books by Stephen Palmer

Memory Seed

Glass

Flowercrash

Muezzinland

Hallucinating

Urbis Morpheos

The Rat and The Serpent

Hairy London

Beautiful Intelligence

No Grave for a Fox

The Girl With Two Souls (Factory Girl, book one)

The Girl With One Friend (Factory Girl, book two)

The Girl With No Soul (Factory Girl, book three)

Contents

The Girl With Two Souls

Afterword: The N Word

About the author

More from infinity plus

Dedication

To Nicholas Humphrey, whose groundbreaking work I have followed for three decades, and whose books never fail to inspire me.

CHAPTER 1

Scream time was the name Kora gave to the hour after patients were woken up at Bedlam Mental Hospital. It was seven in the morning, and Nurse Carder brought her breakfast tray of milk sops and a banana, which Kora ate with enthusiasm. Nurse Carder was Kora’s special nurse, and she watched as first the banana, then the milk sops disappeared.

May I have a cup of tea please? asked Kora, handing back the tray.

Nurse Carder smiled and said, Of course, dear.

Kora looked out of the window while she waited. The breakfast room had a large sash window that gave a view of the hospital’s kitchen garden.

Nurse Carder returned and said, Are you going outside this morning?

Kora glanced at the daffodils emerging from damp, bare earth. She sighed. Probably, she said. I could read a book, I suppose. From her dress pocket she withdrew a slim volume.

"Not that again," said Nurse Carder.

I like it, Kora said.

Before Nurse Carder could reply, a bell rang. Nurse Carder hurried away, leaving Kora to add an extra spoonful of sugar to her tea. Kora sighed again, for the bell was always ringing and Nurse Carder was always busy.

But a few minutes later Nurse Carder returned to say, You have a visitor, Kora.

At once Kora felt anxious. Not–

No, not him. I don’t know who it is. A doctor – Dr Childe.

Does he really want to see me?

Nurse Carder nodded. Now don’t worry dear, it’s probably nothing to do with your father.

As she spoke a fellow inmate screamed in a nearby room, and Kora shuddered. Please, she said, don’t go too far away.

Nurse Carder patted her on the head. I promise.

Kora waited, twisting her fingers together, flexing her hands, then untwisting her fingers again. Visits were unusual, and most often bad news. She felt nervous. A few minutes later there came noises outside the door – swishing clothes, a man’s voice, and a curious clicking sound. Moments later her visitors arrived.

There were two of them. Dr Childe was a tall, thin, elderly gentleman with a light beard and a long, dangling moustache. He wore black trousers and a black cape, but beneath his open jacket lay a red velvet waistcoat. He wore a top hat. He smiled and his eyes twinkled. At his side stood a half-size automaton dressed in a heavy coat, a brimmed hat with a veil, and low boots. Kora stared at this machine as it followed the doctor.

This is Dr Childe, said Nurse Carder. He’s come to talk with you. Be polite, dear. I’ll just be away making more porridge.

Kora said nothing. She was trembling.

Dr Childe chuckled as he knelt down before her. Why, er... hello! he said. His voice was light and melodious, and he had a way of smiling that made her smile too, though only for a moment.

Hello, she said. She glanced at the automaton. What is that?

Oh, a machine of my acquaintance. Automata aren’t given names, you know. So... well, you’re Kora, then.

Kora said nothing.

You won’t know me, Dr Childe continued, sitting on the floor beside her. I’ve come to speak with you.

What about?

Why, you. Well... why not? Now, tell me Kora, how do you find it here? Do you like Bedlam?

Yes, I like it very much, replied Kora. Nurse Carder looks after me. I have all my meals here and I can go out into the garden whenever I want to.

That sounds rather nice. Now, Kora, I’ve come here to talk with you about your illness. I’m not one of those doctors who sticks needles in your arm and locks you away in a cell. I’m a special kind of thinking doctor. I’m more... helpful. Do you understand?

Kora did not understand. Yes, she said.

I want you to be honest with me when you reply to my questions. I’m not here to trick you or annoy you, I’m here to, well, help and understand you. He chuckled, twisting the end of his floppy moustache. We thinking doctors do a lot of that.

Kora smiled. Dr Childe had a way of putting her at ease. On a whim she said, Are you rich? You look rich.

Dr Childe laughed, and it was impossible not to join him. Why, he said, I am moderately well off. So, Kora, this is my first question. Are you happy?

Kora stared, saying nothing. Nobody had ever asked her that before. I don’t know what you mean.

Dr Childe looked up at the ceiling and pursed his lips. Tell me something that you enjoy.

Reading.

Dr Childe nodded. Out there in the fresh air?

Sometimes. Or in my room.

Tell me about your room.

I sleep there. Kora paused. I don’t have many things. It is a small room.

And what about the other one inside you?

Kora scowled. "I knew you would ask that. You’re just like all the other doctors."

Dr Childe seemed unperturbed by this declaration. Why, of course! You’re here because there are two of you in the same body, two souls – Kora and... the other one.

Roka.

Yes, Roka. Now Kora, it would be a rather strange state of affairs if I came all this way to talk with you and not mention the reason you’re in Bedlam.

Kora sighed and sat back in her chair. His joints creaking, Dr Childe stood up and fetched a stool, which he sat on in front of her. He smiled. Kora said, Why do you really want to talk with me?

To understand and help you. You’re a special girl. Perhaps... well, perhaps you shouldn’t be here. But that’s for others to decide. Anyway, at least you like it here.

Kora shrugged. Why do they ignore me?

Ignore you?

Only Nurse Carder likes me. She taught me to read and she is my tutor.

Show me the books in your pockets.

Kora pulled them out, handing over a small hardback first. That is my favourite book ever, she said.

Dr Childe nodded. "Amy’s Garden by the Reverend Carolus Dodgson, he said. A good choice, really! But what’s that?"

Kora handed over her notebook. I do not have a good memory, she said. I note things down with this pencil.

Dr Childe nodded. Interesting. Well... you’re quiet and thoughtful, aren’t you? But what’s Roka like?

Kora shrugged, uneasy with the question. I don’t know.

I spoke briefly with Nurse Carder before I saw you. She said Roka also has a bad memory. She said Roka is more outgoing, and very good at mathematics.

I don’t know what mathematics is.

Numbers and the like. Nurse Carder also said that Roka can’t read.

"I wouldn’t know."

Dr Childe laughed. I like your honesty! Now, tell me Kora, how do you find it here? Do you like Bedlam?

I suppose, I suppose...

Yes?

Kora shrugged once more. Why do they keep me here? It is not my fault I have two souls.

A good question. So, are you annoyed that only Nurse Carder helps you?

One of the other doctors laughs at me, and all they do is keep me in my room. It’s not fair.

Dr Childe nodded. But you do like it here?

"I think so. Nurse Carder tells me what is going on in the world. There is going to be a comet soon."

Why, yes! Halley’s comet. Are you interested in that?

"I think so. I read about comets in a book. Amy sees a comet."

Dr Childe chuckled. She does indeed. I love that book too, you know, I read it when I was younger. You’ll go outside to see the comet, then?

Kora glanced through the window at the kitchen garden. The walls are so high, she said.

Let’s go out there now. Dr Childe stood up and turned to the open door. Nurse Carder! We’re just visiting the kitchen garden. Do join us if you wish to!

Kora stood up and followed Dr Childe into the kitchen garden, intrigued to discover what he would do next. He was by far the nicest visitor she had ever had. They sat on a damp bench and she said, Are you really a doctor? You don’t look like one.

Well, what would you expect a doctor to look like? Dr Childe returned, with a grin.

I don’t know.

Dr Childe’s expression became sad. You’ve been here rather a long time, haven’t you?

Three years.

Three years, eleven months and five days.

Kora gasped. You know?

I know a few facts about you. You’re a remarkable girl, did you know that? Admittedly, not everybody thinks so.

Nurse Carder helps me all the time.

Dr Childe glanced at the door through which they had walked. Yes... Nurse Carder. Hmmm. She’s your rock here, isn’t she?

I don’t know what you mean.

Dr Childe stood up. It’s still rather cold, Kora. D’you know what I’m partial to? A nice cup of tea. I gather there’s a refectory here.

Yes! Will you buy me one too?

Of course. It would be most awful bad manners not to!

Kora led the way, first telling Nurse Carder where they were going. The refectory was a large room with a high roof, and the sound of metal spoons clanking against crockery echoed around the chamber; voices reverberating, plates thudding, an occasional cry or whimper repeating, as if in a church.

What a miserable place, said Dr Childe.

But I have my main meals here.

Do you like it, then?

Kora hesitated. Not really.

"But do you like cake, Kora?"

Kora nodded.

Dr Childe stroked his moustache and said, I’m in the mood for... mmm... Dundee cake.

Me too.

Kora watched, hardly believing her luck, as Dr Childe purchased two cups of tea and two slices of cake. They walked to a free table and sat down. Bedlam Mental Hospital has a long history, Kora, said Dr Childe. Why d’you think you were brought here?

My father.

But didn’t he ever tell you why?

Kora took a bite of cake. No, she said.

Now do tell me Kora, how do you find it here? Do you like this place?

Sometimes I quite like it. I get terribly bored though. Nurse Carder brings me pencils and notebooks, and books to read. But everything is so dull and ordinary.

Well, would you mind showing me your notebook again?

Kora handed it over.

Dr Childe read through it for a few minutes while Kora watched the hospital doctors removing a patient who had begun to weep and slam the tables. Dr Childe glanced up, shook his head, then returned his attention to the notebook.

That happens all the time, Kora remarked.

Dr Childe glanced up. He did not smile. It’s not right, he replied.

"But that man collapses all the time. He attacks people. They have to tie him up with white bonds – I’ve seen them, they are made of canvas and then he cannot use his arms to hurt himself, or anyone else."

Dr Childe tapped the notebook and said, You’ve written here, well... something about Roka and her clothes.

Kora took the notebook and read the section Dr Childe indicated. Oh, that, she replied. That was when Roka had a big argument with Nurse Carder about dresses.

Do you remember that argument?

I told you, I don’t remember anything Roka does. Roka is not me, but she is in my body. I only found out about the argument because Nurse Carder was angry at me. The doctors want to get Roka out, but they cannot, or, anyway, they haven’t while I have been here. I wish they would hurry up.

Dr Childe finished his tea and stood up. I’ve really enjoyed talking with you, Kora.

Kora also stood, suddenly apprehensive. Are you going already?

He smiled. Well, shall I buy you lunch here?

Oh, yes please.

They returned to the breakfast room. Dr Childe said, I’ll leave the automaton here. Neither you nor Nurse Carder are to touch it, is that clear?

Yes, Dr Childe.

So then, expect me at noon. Good morning, Kora.

Good morning.

He departed. Moments later Nurse Carder entered the room. What did he want? she asked, glancing at the automaton. And what’s that?

We are not to touch the automaton, Kora replied at once. He said to leave it alone. He is going to buy me lunch.

Nurse Carder raised her gaze to the ceiling. That will save a penny or two, I suppose, she muttered. Clear all these breakfast things away and sit quietly, I’ve got a thousand and one things to do. I should think you’ll want to write about your visitor in your notebook.

Kora agreed, spending a pleasant few hours writing about her morning, then drawing a picture of Dr Childe, which spread over a whole page. Every now and again she looked at the automaton, but the machine did not move.

As noon approached she knelt beside the automaton and tried to see its face through the veil, but all she could see were dark holes for eyes and a steel nose. It seemed to be a child automaton, its skin pink – unlike her own. Kora had on occasion been out into the wide world, mostly when she was eight and with Nurse Law in Sheffield, but she could not recall ever seeing an automaton as small as this one. She stood up, not daring to touch it.

As the grandfather clock struck twelve Dr Childe appeared, and Kora ran up to greet him. Look, she said, I have drawn a picture of you. She handed over the notebook.

Dr Childe knelt down, smiled at her, then studied the drawing. That’s remarkable, he said, it actually looks like me. You have a talent.

Do you think so? Shall we have lunch now?

Dr Childe groaned as he stood up, his knees clacking with the effort. A nice piece of beef for me, he said. What would you like?

Sausages!

Nurse Carder, watching them go, said, Sausages are her favourite.

Then sausages it shall be... and maybe I will try one also.

In the refectory they queued, collecting plates and a tray each, then telling the dinner lady what they wanted. Dr Childe paid, then led them to the same table as before.

Tuck in, he said. They ate in silence for a while, before he asked, Do tell me Kora, how do you find it here? Do you like Bedlam?

I suppose... Nurse Carder is nice. But she is always busy.

Too busy for you?

Often, Kora agreed. I am always on my own, and the doctors never tell me when they are going to let me out.

They would never do that, Dr Childe said, because that would give you... false hopes. I’m afraid there’s not much hope for you here, Kora.

Why are there not more thinking doctors like you?

Well, it’s still rather a new art, Dr Childe replied.

Does it pay well?

Dr Childe laughed. Now, you simply must explain to me why you asked that.

You look rich. I like your waistcoat. And you have got a pocket watch, and a special automaton. And you don’t smell like workmen.

Special automaton?

Is it yours? Does it do things?

They had finished their lunch. Dr Childe stood up and said, Let’s go and have a look, shall we?

Excited that at last she was going to find out about the automaton, Kora stood up, knocking her plate to the floor in her haste. Dr Childe bent down, retrieved it, then grinned as though nothing had happened.

Nurse Carder watched them return, an expression of surprise on her face. You took your time, she said.

Now Nurse Carder, Dr Childe replied, it’s a matter of scientific fact that eating your lunch too fast is bad for the digestion... and, at our age, well...

"Hmph! Our age?"

Kora chortled. Nurse Carder looked younger than Dr Childe.

A bell rang, and Nurse Carder muttered to herself before departing; but Kora did not catch what she said. She turned to Dr Childe and said, Show me the automaton.

Dr Childe found himself a stool, then sat on it. Perhaps not, he said.

"But you said."

I know. But it contains... secrets. They’re probably not for you.

Kora took a step back. She felt something welling up inside her, that she had not felt for a while. She felt cheated by Dr Childe, who had been so pleasant to her; and as she raised her gaze to look at him she could not stop the emotion from pouring out of her. "But you said, and I wanted to look at it. Why have you changed your mind?"

I’m a doctor. I’m perfectly entitled to.

But that is not fair,

Life is not fair – you are here. Tell me Kora... how do you find it here? Do you like Bedlam?

"No, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Tears ran down Kora’s cheeks. What a silly question! I can’t do anything here, and I hate it!"

Dr Childe nodded, then leaned forward. But when I first asked you, you said you liked it here.

"I don’t really. I just said that because you asked."

I also requested that you be honest with me, Kora. You haven’t been.

I am now, Kora replied. "Of course I don’t like it here. I am imprisoned."

Dr Childe nodded. I know, child. So... how would you like it if I rescued you?

Kora stared. She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. Rescue me?

Why, yes. Secretly. That’s why the automaton’s here. Haven’t you noticed that it’s your size and shape?

Kora checked this statement, then asked, What do you mean?

He smiled. You’ve been wrongly kept here by your father. I’ve been searching for you for quite some time, Kora, and now here we are. It would be so easy for you to wear the automaton’s clothes and hat, its boots too, and escape... now. This very minute.

But where to? Who are you?

Dr Childe. And I live in Sheffield, which of course you know.

Sheffield? No! That is where my father is. That is where the Factory is.

Dr Childe shook his head and took her hands in his. Everything is arranged, Kora, he said. I live hidden away in Sheffield with my wife and daughter. You are important. You know, we’ve much to do before you’re cured.

You are going to cure me?

Dr Childe shook his head once again. "I’m going to try. But not here. You need to be free, Kora, and here you’re in chains."

But... but... Nurse Carder.

Dr Childe sighed. Alas, I didn’t know about her. You’ll have to sacrifice her for your freedom. But that freedom is vital to your health and happiness, Kora... I’m sorry. Well, here’s my offer then. A hansom cab awaits. Nurse Carder is off ministering to a screaming patient. Shall we leave now?

But, my things.

What things? You told me you had none.

Kora began to fret. That was no lie. But...

You’re afraid?

Kora considered this question. No, she replied. I am just surprised. Also, Sheffield...

I know. It means danger to you. Now, Kora, please have no fears. I’ve worked for many years to keep my presence in Sheffield secret. Why, we’ll be perfectly safe!

"But... now?"

Dr Childe indicated the pockets of her dress. You have the Reverend Dodgson’s book, and your notebook and pencil. What more is there to take?

But...

Let’s go!

A brief image appeared before Kora’s mind’s eye: dark streets, people in rough clothes; and then she recalled the stink of coal smoke, the rattle of carts and the clip-clop of hooves. Even that was preferable to the tedium of Bedlam.

Dr Childe seemed to have read her mind. I’ll look away while you change into the automaton’s clothes. Hurry, now! We’ll only have one chance to do this.

Kora’s heart beat fast as she realised the implications of what Dr Childe said. As fast as possible she took off her dress and put on the thin cotton shift worn by the automaton; then she pulled on the coat, the boots, and placed the hat upon her head. Dr Childe pulled down the veil, then hid the automaton behind a cupboard.

He knelt before her. Walk mechanically, as best you can, he said. Remember, automata can’t hear or speak. Pay no attention to anything except me. Always walk at my side. Stop when I stop and start when I start. And say nothing!

I will, Dr Childe. Oh, please hurry! We shall be caught.

Dr Childe stood up and walked to the breakfast room door, Kora following. Keep your legs straight, he said. Automatons aren’t as flexible as we humans... that’s better! Now then, don’t over-do it. That’s right, roll at the hips!

He led the way down a polished corridor. Desks stood beside every door, upon each one a vase of fresh flowers. Kora, who knew Bedlam almost in its entirety, grasped that already they were less than a minute from the front entrance. She felt her heart pounding, and her breath came short and fast.

Dr Childe let them through the security door with the pass key that Kora knew would have been given to him by Mr Cheeseman at the front entrance. She felt sick now. She tried to calm herself and concentrate on walking like an automaton, but her fear was beginning to rise, affecting her movements.

Moments later they turned a corner and she saw the front hall of the hospital. A white-coated woman on her hands and knees polished the tiles, while at a desk sat Mr Cheeseman. Through the veil Kora saw him peer at her, then look up at Dr Childe.

You orf, now? he asked.

Yes, Dr Childe replied. Thanks so much for welcoming me here. Good day to you.

G’day to you, sir.

Kora followed Dr Childe out of the hall, hardly able to believe it had been so easy to escape. This really was happening!

Then all the sounds and smells of London assailed her: the clatter of carts, the neighing of horses, the coughing of self-powered omnibuses. She smelled smoke and oil and horse manure. Men cried out, boys shrieked as they ran, and everywhere was in constant motion.

Up we go! said Dr Childe, pointing to the hansom cab that stood beside the pavement.

Really? Kora asked. Really, now?

He grinned. Yes! Kora clambered into the hansom cab as Dr Childe shouted to the man atop the cab, Kings Cross railway station!

The driver shook the reins and they were away, merging with the great mass of carts, cabs and carriages that thronged the street.

Now Kora, said Dr Childe, I’ve told you the plain honest truth... with one exception.

Oh! You have kidnapped–

"No! No, of course not. Me, kidnap you? No, it’s the matter of my name. Naturally, I couldn’t give our friendly door warden my real name, not to mention Nurse Carder and the doctor who looks after you. My real name is Dr Spellman."

Oh. Dr Spellman. But I suppose I shall get used to it.

Dr Spellman laughed out loud. Indeed you shall! My, my... well done, Kora. That was a brave thing to do. It was brave of me also, for if we’d been caught...

Kora shook her head. We weren’t caught.

Dr Spellman laughed again, and Kora heard the relief in his voice.

For a while Kora watched as Lambeth Road passed by, before they crossed Lambeth Bridge and turned into a wide street. An enormous building appeared to their right.

That’s the Houses of Parliament, said Dr Spellman, where they make laws and such.

Does the King live there?

Not at all – he lives in palaces. The talk is, Kora, that he’s rather unwell, and I fear that we’ll all have bad news in due course.

That is a shame.

The hansom cab rolled along at a great pace, and soon they began travelling up Whitehall. The pavements were filled with people and automata, the people in their outdoor finest (unless they were beggar lads or street hawkers), the automata with shining steel faces and rough, hard-wearing clothes. Through Charing Cross the cab sped, along the Strand, up Aldwych to Holborn, then past Russell Square, where Kora saw ladies taking walks – umbrellas unfurled against a rain shower. Then they passed along Euston Road, until the cab stopped outside the railway station.

Once more Kora felt afraid. The railway station was enormous; she had never been to one before. Hundreds of people milled about, confusing her.

Dr Spellman leaned over her. Are you quite well, Kora?

She gasped. Just a little taken aback by how busy it is.

Ah, yes... you know so little of city life. But I’ll be here to protect you.

What do we do now?

Watch!

Dr Spellman jumped off the cab and threw a coin to the driver. Kora followed him across the pavement, dodging men and women, keeping as close to him as possible. At the main entrance she saw a number of idle automata, which they approached. From his pocket Dr Spellman withdrew a device the size of his hand, which he knelt down to show her.

I left some luggage here, he explained. We’ll ask one of those automata to help us carry it. I find myself quite tired from the excitements of the day.

Ask? How?

Dr Spellman pressed some of the keys on the device, then in a rush pressed some more. This is a stenotype, he said. From the end of the device a strip of punched paper emerged, which he pulled, then ripped off. Approaching one of the automata, he fed the punched paper into its mouth, whereupon it turned and walked into the station.

Is that like language? asked Kora.

Indeed it is – the universal tongue known to all automata built in the Factory, called lingua, translated into a pattern of holes in paper. Follow the automaton to my locker, Kora. We’ll be quite safe.

So automata do all the hard work. The dull work.

Yes! The wonder of our age. The British Empire would be nothing without them... and, of course...

Kora frowned. I know what you are going to say. My father.

Yes. I’ll speak more of him when we’re on the train.

If you must.

With the automaton pulling Dr Spellman’s luggage on a wheeled cart, they showed their tickets at the gate then walked to the platform. Nobody had so much as looked at Kora, let alone spoken to her or stopped her, so she felt more confident of her safety; and there was a certain security within the great press of humanity, an anonymity, which she recognised and enjoyed.

The steam locomotive was extraordinary. At the head of fifteen carriages it gleamed and vented steam, an eight-legged horse, its front legs raised into the air like a show horse, its wheels part-concealed by its rear legs. Its eyes were made of lapis lazuli, its teeth of zircons, its mane of corded steel lashes. The engine that powered it lay within its immense barrel body, and from it jets of steam emerged, to rise up to the thousand-paned glass ceiling, then fall again. Oil-smeared men wearing overalls ran everywhere, while behind them came dozens of passengers. It was time to embark.

Naturally, I obtained first class tickets for us, said Dr Spellman. This is a famous locomotive, the Sleipnir, and, well, it would not do to travel upon it except in style.

Not knowing what this meant, Kora said nothing. The automaton took them to the front carriage, then released its load. Using his stenotype Dr Spellman punched out more instructions – a matter of a few seconds – whereupon another automaton lifted the luggage and took it to an empty berth.

Just two seats, Dr Spellman observed, because the corridor bends here. We’ll not be disturbed, you see.

Kora sat down opposite