The Pact

As transcribed by Bellatrix S. Bracken from an Edison cylinder found among the various effects of Prof. Nareth E. Nishi, presumably recorded during the early morning of 25 August:

Exhaustion. [long pause] Since the affair with the Mayor and his inspector on Monday, all has been turmoil. Indeed, tumult has come to define me. It seems to follow me like a mist I cannot shake off. I will not attempt a summation of all that has transpired since my last recording. I am too tired. I have not even half the energy needed for that. [long pause] There was an affair at the absinthe house this evening, and an accompanying art instillation. And one of the paintings was the work of Jason Moriarty. The image itself is only a grotesque rehash of the graffiti I found more than a month ago inside the old Imperial. But, discovered on the back of the canvas was another letter. Breadcrumbs, that's what these are. Goddamned bread crumbs. Moriarty means to be found, or he only wishes to taunt Babbage, or he has yet some other purpose. Frankly, since I seem to have been cleared of suspicion of murder, I do not care how Babbage deals with Mr. Moriarty. I am sick of playing at detective. I am sick of the suspicion of men and women who cannot consider the fullness of this problem. They think it some macabre tale, something from Mr. Poe, possibly. Did they not listen to the cylinder found on Canning's body? Did they not hear what I have heard?

[static]

I believe I know who entered my lab and discovered Commodore's reproduction of the Eliot device, some woman named Chernov, a photographer who styles herself a sleuth. I confronted her and told her that if, in the future, she should wish a tour of my work place I gladly will indulge her utterly. She has only to ask. I am talking in futile circles. Oh [pause] also, Miss Paine has seen the copy of the Eliot device that has been placed on exhibit at Bow Street and purported to be genuine. It is only the copy which Commodore gave to Sprocket on Monday. Nothing more. But, as I say, this is not my problem. And, too, I should mention that, though still blinded, I accompanied Miss Paine on another search of the theatre. She located in the area where the orphans sleep, inscribed upon a tabletop, what she has described to me as a flaming X. I can say I felt the heat of it myself. We summarily scoured the place, above and below it, and found naught.

Captain Susenko and Miss Maertens have returned, and with their aid and that of Lucuis Sin, Miss Paine, and perhaps Bellatrix Bracken, I shall try to return to the problem of my own condition, to that solution which I have devised. This evening, I outlined my plan to the Captain and Miss Maertens. I showed them the sub-aetheric scanner and some of my computations and diagrams. They have agreed to help me find the others and to do what the laws of this universe will not ever permit me to do. They will [sudden burst of static, indecipherable speech] though I confess am loathe to have anyone else bloody their hands on my account.

[pause]

It is such a comfort to have them back, no matter what black work lies ahead. The dreams are growing stronger again. She is so near. She, the Whole, all that has been reassembled of the Whole. I must work fast, and my hands must be sure in their endeavors.

One last thing. Tomorrow, I meet with Loki Eliot and the orphans. It will be, I think, my last involvement in the affairs of the late Professor Eliot. If these street urchins have any answers, well, we shall see.