Authors: L. Woodswalker
“Those will shoot projectiles or weapons of various sorts,” Niko explained. “The Tele-men are going to be our backup crew when we attack the invaders' main base.”
“Oh, how brave.” Miss Isabelle sighed. “And what does that one do?” She pointed out one of the simplest ones: a narrow stovepipe body, an appendage mounted on a swivel joint, and a head like a glass lantern.
“We built that one to pilot our vehicle,” Clara said, “in case we're trapped and need to be rescued. We call him 'the Conductor'.”
Miss Isabelle stared open-mouthed. “This is just amazing—true sorcery indeed!”
“I'd keep out of his way for now,” Niko said. “He needs a lot more fine-tuning.”
“And this one?” Isabelle squinted up at the largest of the Tele-men. “Why, what a magnificent construction!”
Clara grinned. “That's my personal masterpiece.”
Miss Isabelle gazed up at the metal form, which stood about eight feet high. It possessed jointed appendages of brass and a shining spherical head. Its large barrel-shaped trunk boasted the letters GOLEM inscribed on an ornate front plate.
“What does 'Golem' mean?”
“The initials stand for 'Guardian of Life Electronic Man',” said Clara. “But Golem is also a creature of legend. A sorcerer built a man of clay and brought it to life, by inscribing a magic word across its forehead. That sorcerer was one of my ancestors, Ma'am.”
“Really!” Miss Isabelle stared at Clara with new respect. “I've never heard that legend before. Is it from the Norse or Arthurian cycles?”
Clara smiled. “Oh, it's much more ancient than that. It goes all the way back to the Scrolls of Atlantean Wisdom.”
Isabelle's hand flew to her mouth. “You
are
a sorceress of Atlantis,” she cried. “I knew it all along!”
***
“Come with me, friends,” said Miss Isabelle. “There's going to be a Lodge meeting, and you two will be the star attractions. Come—let me show you the Lodge headquarters.” She linked arms with Niko in an overly familiar way.
The third floor of the mansion had been off limits until today. Now Isabelle brought her guests up a set of narrow stairs to a large room, appointed like a salon, with an assortment of paintings, statuary and plush couches. Heavy brocade curtains hung from the walls. At the front of the room was a raised platform, enclosed by another layer of drapes.
“Many important guests will attend. Bankers, financiers, politicians.”
“What?” Niko held back. “But...Miss Isabelle, I prefer to stay away from the public eye—”
“Nonsense,” she said, getting a tighter hold on his arm. “These are the ones who will help you in your quest!”
“No, Ma'am,” Niko cried, “the important people are the ones most likely under the influence of the enemy!”
“Now, now. Hush, dear man.” Miss Isabelle patted him on the cheek, while Clara glowered in the background. “These are
Lodge people,
my dear...sworn members who are sealed to their Oaths. Now, if you give the right impression, you can attract allies and sponsors to your cause. For starters, you've got to dress up in the proper regalia. Try on these robes in this closet...”
On the day of the Lodge meeting, carriages and automobiles began to arrive at the house. Jack the hired boy attended to the horses, while the guests strolled about and socialized. At about three o'clock in the afternoon, they heard the sound of a motor in the sky. “Look, it's a plane,” said one of the young women.
“It's Lawrence!” cried Ophelia. “Oh, I'm so glad he could make it!”
They ran to watch as the biplane came to a delicate landing in the nearby field. The pilot stepped down and removed his goggles, revealing a handsome grin and a head of curly hair.
“Lawrence!” cried Ophelia, running up as though she were about to throw her arms around him. At the last minute she turned the gesture into a curtsy. “Mr. Telstar, meet my good friend, Lawrence Parker-Jones.”
Niko put his hands behind his back and gave a deep bow. “I'd like to get a look at your machine when there's a chance,” he said.
“Come, I'll show you right now,” said the young pilot, and the two of them strolled off.
Eventually a cook and butler ushered the Lodge members indoors and served drinks and dinner. Afterward, the crowd made their way to the Lodge meeting room. Niko and Clara stood off in one corner, watching the guests. “It's too bad I didn't set up my Theremin,” Clara remarked.
“They would love it,” Niko replied, “as long as you told them it was played in Atlantis.”
An elderly Lodge official in a fez hat led them in prayer, and Miss Isabelle lit a large number of candles, and everyone sang a song about the Light of the Soul. Then, after the routine business was done, Miss Isabelle made an announcement. “Dear Lodge brethren, tonight we have two very special visitors who have braved perils to come and bring us teachings.”
Niko entered the front of the room from a side door. A bright array of spotlights, in blue and purple and gold, illuminated his entrance. He had set them up today.
The people gasped and applauded at his splendid appearance. He wore a robe of silver embroidery and jewels, which sparkled brilliantly in the lights. On his head, he sported a tall headdress of golden sun-rays.
“Brothers and sisters,” said Miss Isabelle, “may I introduce the Light-Bearer, Lord Telstar of the Venusian Pyramid Council.”
Some of the people actually bowed their heads. Niko did likewise, feeling very silly indeed.
“And this is the great Master's celestial companion, Miss Clearlight of the Guild of Atlantean Mages.”
Clara entered from the other side, wearing a similar headdress that sparkled with some of her portable light-flowers and electric stars. A most splendid and dazzling performance, Niko thought...a bit vulgar and flashy, but perfect for tonight's doings!
“Greetings, brothers and sisters.” He began to smile. He hadn't done an electrical show in years. It was time to amaze the masses again.
He held up a staff topped by one of his induction coils, while Clara raised a similar device “Greetings, good health and good emanations to you all.” He pressed a contact, and dazzling lightning climbed up the twin coils and sparked across to join with each other. This produced the expected gasps of rapture from the Lodge members.
“We are overjoyed to greet you from the Light Bearers' Guild of the Galactic Council.”
Whatever that is.
Niko then caught the lightning and molded it into a ball and held it up between his hands. The sparks ran down his sleeves, and illuminated his face. The people loved it now, just as they had many years ago when he had been
The Master of Lightning.
With a flick of his wrist the ball of lightning was extinguished. Now he went to Clara and they touched the two coils together. A corona of purple light enveloped them both. The people applauded wildly. Niko knew he had them in the palm of his hand.
Ah yes
. He had to admit he enjoyed being a showman.
But he hadn't come here to have fun. After showing off some of his electrical tricks, he got down to business. “Friends, thank you for your kind attention. But our purpose is more than mere amusement. We have come to speak of the Dark Forces that are gathering, and how we can overcome them.”
The audience sat on the edge of their seats, waiting for his words of wisdom. The only problem now was how to present the news. These people were receptive in a way that the scientists had not been...but only if he used mystical-sounding phrases. As if they couldn't face an unpleasant truth unless it was hidden behind colorful symbolism.
But Niko had no more time to sugar-coat the truth. “My friends, Earth has been invaded by beings from outer space.” Gone was his grand showman's patter; he just faced the people directly. “These creatures have been passing themselves off as Angels, but their true name is the
U'jaan Sky Voyagers,
” he said, pronouncing the name in an ominous tone. “They have taken orbit around Mars, and they have come to conquer Earth.”
The people stirred as though rudely awakened from a dream. Nothing here about celestial lights or Venusian Pyramids.
“They have been stealing human souls by hypnosis, and now they have installed a mind-control Orb in New York City and enslaved most of the population.” Niko went on to recount all that had happened to him, and all that he knew about the Silver Chamber and the Angels.
“It's true,” a woman said. “Those Angel cultists are becoming more brazen every day. I'm afraid for my life!”
Everyone began talking at once.
“It's anarchy out there. People are turning in their neighbors.”
“They're targeting foreigners—Italians, Greeks—anyone who looks dark and European.”
Clara held up one of her devices. “Listen, friends: we developed these Protection Amulets which will protect you from the false Angels. They work by...well, by mirror phasing. Wear one, put one on your front door, give them to all your neighbors. If any of you have engineering or electrical knowledge, come to us and we'll give you more details.”
And Clara picked up a big crate of the Amulets and began giving them out. The order of the meeting had been completely forgotten. Nobody was chanting about the Light of the Soul or anything spiritual. It was all down to the purely practical.
“Miss Clearlight, I'd like to purchase a whole box of those,” said a portly gentleman with a diamond stickpin. “My employees all went over and joined with those deceivers.”
“I need some for the parishioners,” said a man in a clerical collar.
Niko spoke up. “Friends! If anyone has connections in Washington...
we'd like to distribute Amulets big enough to protect a whole city.”
“Washington's off-limits,” a gentleman with bushy sideburns said. “No one can go in or out.”
“New York City too,” said a tall fellow with top hat. “All the bridges are monitored. You try to go in, they'll probably want your soul as payment.”
“Business is at a standstill. Ships are turned away from the harbors. America will fall into the Dark Ages.”
It was as if the floodgates were opened.
“What about the rest of the world?” Clara said. “Does anyone know the situation in other countries?”
“Oh yes. The Angel cult is infiltrating Germany, France and England.”
“Japan and Russia have seen the flying ships too,” said Lawrence the pilot. “Nobody can bring them down with howitzers or cannon.”
Clara wrung her hands. “Who do they think is responsible? Is it... Nikola Tesla?”
“Germany blames France, and France blames Germany. Or they just blame anyone they don't like: Freemasons, Zionists, Bolsheviks.”
“They'll control the whole world! It's just a matter of time!”
Niko felt a cold chill. “Then there's not a moment to lose.”
“Brothers and sisters, if you please,” Isabelle called out, trying to reestablish her control.
Some of the Lodge members crowded in, still wanting mystical advice. “Are you the true Light-Bearer?” a woman wearing a lace shawl approached Niko as if he were some sort of saint. “How can I find enlightenment?”
He was besieged with questions. “Can you give me healing energy?”
“What guidance can you give about the Dawn of the New Age?”
“Could you speak with my departed father?”
“I suggest you wear the Protection Amulet at all times,” Niko told everyone who came to him, “it will answer all your questions.”
A man pulled on his elbow. “Sir? A word with you.”
Niko turned, and found himself face to face with George Westinghouse, the industrialist who had purchased his alternating current patents and electrified Niagara, over 10 years ago.
“George!” Niko almost jumped out of his skin. He tensed for a quick escape.
“Take it easy.” Westinghouse moved up close, smiling gently. “I know who you are, of course—oh, don't worry. I won't betray your secret. Say, I've been hearing some pretty fantastic stories about you. Very nice costume, I might add.”
“Oh, yes.” Embarrassed, Niko moved to take off the headdress. “It wasn't my idea.”
“Oh no, leave it on. It conceals your face. There are still a few people who might want to turn you in. The reward increases every day. I swear they'll soon bankrupt the National Treasury.” His grin widened. “I have to hand it to you. This disguise is ingenious. Nobody would ever think of looking for a scientific man among...people like these.” He touched his temple, showing his opinion of the Lodge members. “Personally I don't go for this mumbo-jumbo—I just belong to the Phoenix Lodge because it's a family tradition. Wife's grandfather, and all that.”
“Then...you don't believe the filthy lies they've spread about me?”
“Of course not, son.” George patted him on the shoulder.
Niko felt a flood of gratitude. The fatherly Mr. Westinghouse had been the first man to believe in him and his invention, when he had been a naïve youth.
“Anyone who knows you personally wouldn't believe that horseshit for a minute,” said Westinghouse. “Oh, sure, you can be a bit grandiose...but you'd never harm a fly.”