Justin Stone and the Iris of the Madonna

[joegoda]

The house that Justin shared was across town from the Hallows, and across town from Stone Tower. It sat a bit out from the city proper on the property where their parents' house used to be. After the fire in 1879 that took his boyhood home and killed his father and Jonathan's mother, the two orphans wandered a bit in Europe, trying to rid themselves of the pain and loss. Once they returned, Justin went before the board of his father's company and took control. He created the Stone Foundation and built a modest two story house on the ashes of where he grew up.

"I really think that we could modify those old steam cars to something more modern, Officer Harris." Jonathan was leaning on the drivers' side door, talking to the policeman that drove them home. Justin had already gone inside, leaving Jonathan to wax mechanical. "We're just one step away from creating a much more compact engine, with more power. It'll revolutionize the automotive industry."

Officer Harris looked at Jonathan skeptically. "It doesn't involve gasoline, does it, Mister Ratzenmueller? You know that the private use of gasoline was outlawed after the assassination of President Garfield."

Jonathan looked shocked and raised his hands in defense. "Absolutely not! While gasoline may be, in some ways, more efficient as a fuel, I think we all learned how dangerous it is. Even the distillation of it is hazardous, according to the foundation's research. It's simply not worth the destruction of our landscape with all the drilling and digging and such." He gave the policeman a sly look and a wink. "We've made some strong advances with the Sterling Engine coupled with a new form of electric motor."

Harris, knowing a crazy rich man when he saw one, nodded sagely. "I'll pass your recommendation on, Mister Ratzenmueller." He shifted the gears on the steamer he was driving, and moved the throttle up a notch. The automobile's engine chugged harder and a jet of steam shot out of the pressure valve. "You two take care of yourselves, and try to avoid any more lightning bolts." He released the brake and the automobile chugged back down the graveled driveway.

Jonathan trudged up the short walk to the house. His shoes crunched on the gravel and he kept looking up at the sky. There was no sign of the black dirigible that had attacked them on the monorail. He thumbed the latch on the front door, and giving one last look over his shoulder, entered the house.

The layout of the house was as simple as could be. A wooden staircase to the right of the front door led to a small balcony. There were two bedrooms and a room for bathing on the second floor. Jonathan used the bedroom closest to the staircase. The bedroom next to his, immediately to the left, was used for the occasional guest. When not occupied, that bedroom doubled as storage for many of the half-finished inventions on which Jonathan was working. At the far end of the small balcony, was the bathroom. The walls upstairs were simple white plaster, decorated sparsely, with the occasional picture or portrait. More than one guest had commented that it was obvious that the house was decorated by bachelors.

On the first floor, a short hall way, to the left of the staircase, led to a large living area whose walls were of a light colored wood. A large fireplace welcomed as one entered, and above the mantle were portraits of Justin's father and mother. Next to that portrait was another one of Justin's father and Jonathon's mother.

The two of them had married after the accident that had taken the life of Justin's mother. It created a minor scandal, that marriage, as Maggie had been Heracles' maid and society felt that he had married beneath his station. Heracles' response had to quietly ignore the rumors. He did offer the detractors a finger as consolation, though.

Large picture windows looked out on a large half acre expanse of green bordered by trees. There were French doors that one could open from the living area and step out onto a slate floored patio to relax and share the air, sitting in wrought iron chairs and sipping cool tea or wine while the deer played among the trees.

Off to the right of the living area was the kitchen, paneled in the same wood, and tiled with black marble. A large island with a black marble top sat in the middle of the kitchen, and above island, from a rack, hung all manner of pots and pans. Cooking utensils hung from their own stand, and there was a block for knives of various sizes.

A modern double sink made of polished steel, providing both hot and cold water from a single tap, sat to the left of the island, and just beyond that was the cook stove, designed by Jonathan. It used high resistance coils of metal under a tempered glass top. Electricity ran through the coils and caused them to heat, and so there was no flame and no need for wood or gas. The oven was heated by the same process. There was a patent pending for the cook stove, under the name of the Stone Foundation.

At the back of the kitchen, there was a door, slightly hidden, that went off to the left. This door led to the workshop that Jonathan used. It was here that most of the inventions and innovations that the Stone foundation came up with were born. An immense space, accessed by the hidden door and a set of steps leading down, it was carved out of the solid stone, that served as the foundation of the house. The columns that held the ceiling up were made of the same stone as the bedrock and provided ample support. A full wall, twenty five feet of uninterrupted space, was occupied by tools of every description and use, hanging from their hooks or in specially designed holders.

The work bench itself, which also ran the length of the wall. The top was made of various woods and stones. The woods were used because there were things that needed to be cut and the wood provided a soft backing for the blade to slice into, if need be. Items wouldn't slide as well on wood and easier to control. The stone portion of the table were there because stone is resistant to heat, acid and explosions. The far right of the table was occupied by a large steel sink. Around the corner from the sink was a shower, the head of which could be detached from the wall and moved out of the enclosure, to spray water where it was needed. Jonathan had demanded the shower to be built that way, 'Just in case'.

The rest of the room which was not taken up by the workbench was taken up with the bulky shapes of things in progress and the sleek forms of creations nearing completion. Miniature vehicles with wheels and wings that hung from the ceiling. A full size automobile, big enough for two men to sit in, was pushed against the far wall. The front looked like a typical carriage with it's long hood and large round headlamps, but the rear of the vehicle appeared to be made out of boat, with polished mahogany.

The hood was open and the engine compartment of the automobile was empty, and the prior contents; the steam boiler and pipes and governor, were scattered in various piles on the floor nearby. A shiny copper and steel sculpture of pipes, lines and curves sat on the bonnet of the carriage. A golden globe sat amidst pipes and tubes, and there was a hollow spot in the globe, as if it were half completed. A paper note was tacked to it's side and read "Top Sekret!"

Jonathan would never show his workroom to anyone but Justin and Justin rarely wanted to see it. Justin was concerned with the end results or the stage of progress of something his brother was working on, but to actually go into the Mad Scientist's den? He claimed it gave him a headache to have all that thinking going on, and it quite possibly did. When Jonathan felt the inspiration or an idea suddenly would occur to him, he would politely excuse himself and say he had to go to his playroom. Visiting guests would assume he was speaking of the wash room, and sometimes wonder why it took him so long to return.

To the left of the front door, there was a rack of coat hooks, and Jonathan hung his hat next to the empty spot where Justin would have hung his, had it not been lost. He reached above that spot that was marked at Justin's and pushed against the hook slightly. The sound of a door unlatching rewarded him and a portion of the hallway next to the coat rack opened slightly. He put his fingers into the crack the hidden door revealed and gently opened it further, allowing him to enter Justin's study.

The study occupied the entire left half of the first floor of the house, that wasn't taken up by the living room. The walls were not walls at all, but bookshelves. Not a single spot was taken up by a portrait or a piece of art work or uncovered paneling. Even the hidden door that Jonathan was peering around was part of the bookcase.

Justin had been able to recover part of his father's book collection after the fire of 1879, but it was only a very small portion of what his father had worked to gather. Justin had spent quite a bit of money and quite a bit of travel gathering works of science, philosophy, history, medicine... as many of the world's academic disciplines as there were and brought them here to his study.

"You never know, my dear brother," he said when Jonathan made mention of an apparent obsession, "what you may have to research." He would wave his hand, indicating the walls of books and continue, "If you need the wisdom of Plato, it is here. The secret works of Archimedes, thought to be lost in the library at Alexandria, it is here. Preserve papyrus scrolls from Egypt detailing wonders of medicine and science, here. The descriptions of ancient Greek mechanical devices, here. The tales of the Knights Templar, here. From A to Z, if you need to find it, it is here, brother. There is no need to go further."

Indeed, there were display cases holding four different views of the earth, from maps containing the viewpoint of the ancient Greek sailors, to the most modern Descartes globe. Another case held, under strict pressure and temperature, the unrolled scrolls found near the Dead Sea. Still another case contained weaponry, from blow dart guns to the most modern of pistols, which shot fletchets out the slim muzzle using compressed air. Other cases held oddities and wonders that Justin had gathered from the four corners of the earth.

Light for the study was supplied by eight electric lamps, suspended high above the floor. Each case was also lit by its own light, supplied by tubes of a special design supplied by Jonathan's friend, Nikola Tesla. The tubes were of a theoretical nature, and Jonathan, after hearing Tesla's description, had built them just to test the theory. He had yet to tell his friend of the theory's success.

Off to one corner, to the far right of the hidden door, a small desk contained a microscope, vials and a rack of chemicals. A number of hypodermic needles sat in their own rack, their points sparking and dangerous. There were a couple of medical journals setting open, leaning against a rack of test tubes. A gas burner sat next to the desk, on its own marble stand. A brass lamp with a green glass shade sat at the back of the desk, waiting to illuminate what ever was brought under it. An armless wooden office chair sat before the desk, waiting for a body to come and sit and investigate.

There was a central focal point of the books and the cases. A long maple table, bearing the scars of fire and abuse, took up ten feet of the center of the room. It was one of the only pieces of furniture that was salvaged from the fire. Justin lovingly worked to restore the table's original shine, but there is just so much that can be done. The dark chars and ragged scars on the surface of the table stayed a constant reminder of what was and what was lost.

On the table were four large lamps, replicas of the original that sat on the reading table, but they no longer contained oil, but were lit with tubes of gas enclosed by glass and powered by the same process imagined by Tesla. The inkwells were there as well and were still kept filled, but no longer by Jonathan. That had become a meditative chore that Justin had taken for his exclusivity. On one end of the table sat a radio, a boxy affair the size of a breadbox, made of dark wood and brass knobs and switches, with a dial that would light when in use. It was also of Jonathan's design, and also made possible by working with Tesla's theories. A slender hand held microphone sat nearby the radio.

If a visitor had stumbled into Justin's study, they would have been amazed and curious, as none of the electrical devices were connected to anything by wires or cables. Such was the genius of Tesla and Jonathan that they had created a way to send electricity over the air to be received by special devices, which appeared to be small black boxes of no use. These devices, when connected to any other device which required electricity to work, would, to the unknowing person, be magically able to operate.

The lesson books that had occupied the table had been replaced by business journals and ledger sheets, scattered in stacks and piles. The quill pens were gone. Waterman and Wirt Fountain pens, spaced equally about the table, next to the inkwells were the rage of the day. Jonathan had modified the pens so that they no longer required an eyedropper to fill their barrels. Instead he had remanufactured them to use a lever action vacuum system, which solved the messy business of fill and the equally messy business of leakage.

Jonathan found his brother slumped backward in the nearest chair. His right arm fell to the side of the chair; his left hand was cradling his brow as if he was in deep concentration. His legs were splayed under the table in a definitely non-Justin like pose. Jonathan approached his brother, took the seat directly across from him and sat there quietly, observing.

Justin's face was very pale and drawn, the normally handsome face drawn with lines of pain and stress across the brow and near the lips. Dark circles under his eyes and the bruise over his right eye contrasted to how pale his skin was and gave him the appearance of having been in a fight he had lost.

Moments passed in silence. Jonathan, though tired and could sleep, was deeply concerned for his brother. Doctor after doctor had examined him and the best they could come up with was that his symptoms were entirely psychosomatic. There was, in their opinion, no physical reason why Justin should suffer moments of complete exhaustion, mental confusion and physical pain.

Eventually, Justin opened his left eye. It was bloodshot and stared across the table at Jonathan. "Yes?" Justin's voice was tired and low.

"I'm just checking on you, brother," Jonathan said quietly. "Been a hell of a day. Just wanted to make sure you were all right."

Pulling himself to a more natural seated posture, Justin tugged the sleeves of his jacket back in place, and ran a shaky hand through his blonde hair. "Of course I'm all right, Jon. Perfectly fine." He looked away briefly, examining nothing at all. "You are correct, however. It has been a very long day, and I am very tired. There have been... events that happened today that will certainly bear examination."

He turned back to look at his brother. A resigned look was in his eye. "Make a note, please, Jonathan," he said. "As I'm afraid that I may forget the thoughts in my head by morning, I want to be able to recall them."

Without a word but still carefully watching his brother, Jonathan picked up a pen and reached into his pocket for his notepad. It was entirely unlike Justin to admit that he may forget anything. In all the years the two had been together, Justin's memory was razor sharp and able to recall with great detail any event, any spoken word or nuance.

Justin rose from his chair, slowly and painfully. Pacing slowly behind the chair, his left hand raised to his brow. "One," he began, "we must re-visit the location of the pawnshop. I may have misjudged and it may actually be a pawn shop rather than a dupe." He cast and eye at Jonathan. "We both know how I get in the heat of the moment. I occasionally make rash judgments."

Receiving no response from his brother, he continued. "Two, what the deuce is going on? I'm of the mind that there are more things here than we imagine." He snorted, a quick sound, indicating derision rather than humor. "Of course there are more things here than we imagine. At this point, we know nothing. Who sent the letter to Hauptman? Who gave the package to the shopkeeper? Who is behind those men that were following us? Who is behind the attack on us from the dirigible?"

He stopped in front of one of the old illuminated globes of the world. He spun it gently, tapping on it as it spun. "You will be in contact with Nikola tomorrow, yes? I don't see any of his handiwork here, but still... he might provide some interesting insight."

Jonathan nodded, saying, "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Especially since he graduated from Graz and that was on the ring's inscription."

Justin sighed, long and drawn. He shook his head. "I had already forgotten about the ring, Jon." He looked over his shoulder at his brother, and a sad smile appeared on his face. "Where would I be without you?"

Jonathan said nothing in reply, only shrugged his shoulders. "What else," he asked.

"I wanted to speak to Conan about this particular type of tobacco." Justin reached into his pocket and produced the cigarette he had gotten from the pawn shop. "I was thinking I would send him this sample to him through the tubes for his examination. He and I have been corresponding about what he calls 'The science of deduction'. Besides, he has access to some processes I do not in this poor workplace."

Jonathan scritched words on the paper of his notebook. When done, he glanced up at Justin, who was staring into the space somewhere above the globe of the earth he stood next to.

"That dirigible had to be manufactured by someone," he said. "What if I were to contact some of my friends overseas and find out if there had been an order put in for one?"

Justin pulled himself out of his reverie. "Excellent suggestion, Jonathan."

"What do you think about those guys that were following us?" Jonathan made another note. "I mean, they weren't your usual thugs. Those guys...," he searched for the word, "flowed. Shadow to shadow, like a force of nature."

Justin nodded and came back to his seat across from his brother. "Yes, they were rather unusual, weren't they?" He stroked the side of his nose. I seem to remember a mention of a group from the Far East that practiced a martial art called ninjutsu. The actions performed by our three followers do remind me of some of what I heard. They were described as being almost magical in nature, if I recall correctly." His tired eyes scanned the massive bookshelves lining the walls. "I'm sure I have something on them here."

Jonathan made one more note and then lay the pen down. "Not tonight, Justin." He blew on the paper to dry the ink. "Tomorrow. Tonight you sleep." He pulled out his pocket watch. "It's after one in the morning, Justin."

Justin pulled his gaze from the bookshelves and gave his brother a smile. "Look that badly, do I?"

"Hammered crap, Justin."

"Rather descriptive, Jonathan, and most probably very accurate." Justin rose from his seat and Jonathan did the same. "Hammered crap is indeed exactly how I feel."

Both men went to the door and Justin pulled a slim volume from the bookshelf near the door's outline. The title of the book was "Hidden Openings", written by the English philosopher James Marineau. This operated a small pressure sensitive contact plate on the bookshelf which unlatched and opened the hidden door. Replacing the book, Justin stepped through the revealed doorway.

Jonathan followed and ran immediately into Justin's back. "What the..." Justin was standing still, and Jonathan could not budge him. "Justin, what's going on?" He looked over Justin's shoulder.

He saw, in the small entryway outside the study, a man with close cropped curly hair and a full beard and mustache. The man was wearing a simple black suit with a string tie. His face was squarish and had eyes that reflected both a deep sadness and a kindness. His nose was straight and flared gently above the mustache. His mouth was small and delicate. He held a black felt derby in his hands.

"Monsieur Stone?" The man spoke with a soft French accent.

Jonathan gently moved Justin out of the way and stepped to the front. "One of us is, anyway. I'm Jonathan Ratzenmueller." He tensed his shoulders and gave the man standing before him a harsh glare. "And who would you be?"

The man in the entry way relaxed smiled and raised his hands, defensively. "Ah!" The man's sad eyes twinkled. "I am so pleased," he said. "Please accept my apologies, I did not mean to disturb you." He fell silent, thought a moment, and then said, "Non, non. That is not true. I do mean to disturb you, although I had hoped I might not. Monsieur Stone, monsieur Ratzenmueller, I have need to..., I have come to speak with you about a most unusual..."

"Whoa there, chief!" Jonathan held up a hand, putting a stop to the man's babbling. "It is very late and my brother and I need our rest. Can you come back tomorrow? We're closed for the night." Jonathan looked at the door. "Didn't I lock that thing?"

The man's eyes took on their sad look again. "Oui... yes. Again, I apologize. I was hoping that I would not disturb you."

"How did you break in?" Jonathan demanded. "That lock is one of my own design."

"Yes," said the man, "and it is a rather ingenious lock at that."

Justin placed a hand on Jonathan's shoulder, interrupting Jonathan's questions. "Please, Jon. Let me take over." Jonathan turned to look up at him. "I'm too worn out for this... exchange."

He stepped forward, past Jonathan and faced the man, who was just a few inches shorter than. "I am Justin Stone, sir. I can only assume that you broke into our house to steal something, hoping that the two of us would be asleep. Is that a safe thing to assume?"

The man bobbed his head up and down. "Oui! Yes! That is correct. I had hoped that you would be asleep and I could come and go with no detection. It was not my intention to disturb you, but now that I see you are awake," the man smiled broadly, his eyes twinkling, "it is, hopefully, a happy happenstance."

Justin held his hand up, demanding the man stop. "Please, sir, gently. As my brother said, we are, indeed, very tired. We have had a trying day. Get to your point, sir. Who are you, and what do you want? What did you come here to steal?"

"My apologies, Messieurs. Sometimes forget myself." He smiled gently, apologetically, still holding his derby in front of him. "I have come to retrieve an item of extreme importance. Perhaps you received it today? From a man named Hauptman?"

Justin looked at Jonathan, with a knowing eye. "Notepad, Jonathan." He reached into his pocket, pulled out an ink pen and handed it to his brother.

Jonathan got the notepad he had been using in the study from his own pocket. He noted that some of the color had returned to Justin's face, and he was appearing more energetic.

"I think, Jonathan," Justin said with a small grin, "that part of the mystery is about to resolve itself."

"That would fall into the category of 'holy crap, I certainly hope so', Justin." Jonathan opened the notebook and made some brief notes. When he was ready, he nodded at Justin.

"We know of Hauptman, but he never delivered any object to us. What is your connection to it?"

The man in the entryway looked shocked and surprised. "He never..?" He looked down at the floor. "Merde. That is not so good," he said quietly. He looked back up to look at Justin's eyes. His own eyes were sad, bordering on the side of pitiful. "Monsieur Stone, do you know if Monsieur Hauptman is... all right?"

"I suppose one might call him all right," Justin said. "He's certainly in no pain."

"Justin, quit cat and mousing the guy." Jonathan grumbled. "Hauptman's dead, buddy. What's he to you?"

"Dead?" The man collapsed against the back wall of the hallway. "Dead," he repeated. "Zut alors!" He raised his eyes, no longer smiling but rather terribly sad. "The man was an innocent, Monsieur Stone. It was not my intention to bring him to harm." He looked back down at his hands, and shook his head sadly. "It was not to be this way."

"Regardless, sir," Justin said, stepping forward and placing his hand on the man's shoulder. "It is as it is. The man, innocent or not, is dead and is beyond any need for aid. Murdered today in front of a pawnshop. What can you tell us about the... package he was carrying?"

"Messieurs," the man said, looking from Justin's fact to Jonathan, "I did not intend for that poor man to..." He shook his head again. "Regardless," he said finally, looking into Justin's eyes, "that is to be handled at another time. Monsieur Stone, have you ever heard of an artifact called the Iris of the Madonna?"

"The Iris of the Madonna?" Justin reached back into memory. "No, I can't say that I have. What is it?"

"Oh my," said the man. "Is there a place to sit down? This will be a very long story."

Jonathan spoke up. "Long or not, it's very late, buddy. It is something that can wait until tomorrow." He could see past Justin's apparently renewed energy and see the cost that this brief burst of life would cost his brother in the morning. "It's almost two in the morning, and we are going to bed." He stepped forward to usher the man out. "So, if you don't mind."

"Jonathan, please," Justin stopped his brother. "Our guest must be as tired as we are. Where he is from, it is barely past nine in the morning, and I would be willing to wager he has not slept all night." He addressed the man in the hall. "What part of France are you from monsieur?"

The man gave Justin a look of gratitude. "Oui, I am very tired as well. I was born in Nantes, but now I reside in Paris."

"Ah." Justin rubbed the side of his nose. "I'm curious, monsieur. Would you be an author, perhaps? The calluses on your index finger would indicate you are, and rather prolific."

"Oui, monsieur Stone." The man nodded, his smile growing back. "I do write some small tales."

"Then, in that case," Justin said, holding out his hand to grasp the others. "Would you be our guest and take the spare room for the night?"

Jonathan's eyes grew wide. "Justin, I know you're tired and all, but would you clue me into why you're offering this..." he indicated the man standing in the hallway, "stranger a room? We don't know who he is and what he wants? He may have been the man who killed Hauptman, for all we know!"

The stranger raised his hands and started to protest, but Justin cut him off. "Jonathan, this man was not responsible for Hauptman's death. He may have, inadvertently caused the situation to occur, but he is in no way responsible. As to what he wants, I would say that he wants, more than me, your great brain to help him with something of scientific importance." He looked back to the man in the hallway. "Am I correct so far?"

The man nodded, saying, "Oui, oui! Yes! I am pleased to find you monsieur Stone, but to find monsieur Ratzenmueller... it is he who I most need to address." He waved his hat at Jonathan. "We are of a kind, you and I, monsieur."

"Oh yeah?" Jonathan's eyebrows curled together. "And why would that be?"

"So," Justin asked the man, ignoring his brother, "you'll be spending the night with us, then?"

"I would suppose," said the man, "that would be for the best, monsieur Stone. There is nothing to be done tonight, regardless." He shook his head sadly. "Poor, poor monsieur Hauptman."

"Okay," Jonathan was beginning to get a bit red in his face, which considering his normally ruddy complexion, didn't take much. "I'm starting to get just a bit angry."

Justin gently took the man's arm and pulled him forward. "Jonathan, put your anger to the side, please. As our guest has said, whatever he has to say will wait until tomorrow, and that should make you happy. I know how you need your beauty rest." He winked at Jonathan, who was still two shades of redder than normal. "Besides, I'm sure you have a thousand of your toys you are going to want to show to this man."

With his free hand, Justin did a small flourish. "Jonathan, I present to you the writer, the scientist, the futurist... Jules Verne."

"Jules..." Jonathan's voice broke as his jaw hit the floor. "...Verne?"

Justin looked over at the man in the hallway and gave him a sly wink. "Sometimes I like him better speechless."

Comments

[capi.livejournal.com]

The work bench itself, which also ran the length of the wall. The top was made of various woods and stones. The woods were used because there were things that needed to be cut and the wood provided a soft backing for the blade to slice into, if need be. Items wouldn't slide as well on wood and easier to control. The stone portion of the table were there because stone is resistant to heat, acid and explosions. The far right of the table was occupied by a large steel sink. Around the corner from the sink was a shower, the head of which could be detached from the wall and moved out of the enclosure, to spray water where it was needed. Jonathan had demanded the shower to be built that way, 'Just in case'. (( My brain looked for a sentence here about "he had never used it" or "He had only used it twice in so and so many years since the house had been build" or something like that.... just for fun and fleshing things out. Of course, it's up to you, but that's where my brain went. *grin*))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The rest of the room which was not taken up by the workbench was taken up with the bulky shapes of things in progress and the sleek forms of creations nearing completion. Miniature vehicles with wheels and wings that hung from the ceiling. A full size automobile, big enough for two men to sit in, was pushed against the far wall. The front looked like a typical carriage with it's long hood and large round headlamps, but the rear of the vehicle appeared to be made out of boat, with polished mahogany.
(( DOOD! I sure hope there's a secret barn-door exit somewhere !! *L*))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To the left of the front door, there was a rack of coat hooks, and Jonathan hung his hat next to the empty spot where Justin would have hung his, had it not been lost. He reached above that spot that was marked at... (( at? as??))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The study occupied the entire left half of the first floor of the house, that wasn't taken up by the living room.
Huh. The trouble with that, of course, is that with so much of it "hidden", it would be obvious to the most obtuse observer that half the house was missing....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You never know, my dear brother," he said when Jonathan made mention of an apparent obsession, "what you may have to research." He would wave his hand, indicating the walls of books and continue, "If you need the wisdom of Plato, it is here. The secret works of Archimedes, thought to be lost in the library at Alexandria, it is here. Preserve papyrus scrolls from Egypt... ((preserved?))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Light for the study was supplied by eight electric lamps, suspended high above the floor. Each case was also lit by its own light, supplied by tubes of a special design supplied by Jonathan's friend, Nikola Tesla. The tubes were of a theoretical nature, and Jonathan, after hearing Tesla's description, had built them just to test the theory. He had yet to tell his friend of the theory's success. (( *LOL*!!! ))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[capi.livejournal.com]

There was a central focal point of the books and the cases. A long maple table, bearing the scars of fire and abuse, took up ten feet of the center of the room. It was one of the only pieces of furniture that was salvaged from the fire. Justin lovingly worked to restore the table's original shine, but there is (( was would be more appropriate here, luv )) just so much that can (( and could be done, not can, same thing )) be done. (( As i've read your description of this room up to this point, up to and including this ten foot table... i'm thinking all along... didn't he say this was a MODEST two story house, and this room takes up 1/2 of the downstairs area? Each passing paragraph is forcing me to expand the size of the house, and it's not so modest any more.... and the lights, you say, are "high above the floor" so i'm thinking high ceilings? Huh... Less and less modest, if you see what i mean.))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the table were four large lamps, replicas of the original that... (( originals or original lamps? ))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the table were four large lamps, replicas of the original that sat on the reading table, but they no longer contained oil, but were lit with tubes of gas enclosed by glass and powered by the same process imagined by Tesla. The inkwells were there as well and were still kept filled, but no longer by Jonathan. That had become a meditative chore that Justin had taken for his exclusivity. (( exclusivity?? ))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Rather descriptive, Jonathan, and most probably very accurate." Justin rose from his seat and Jonathan did the same. "Hammered crap is indeed exactly how I feel." (( word suggestion: perhaps instead of Exactly, try Precisely? ))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Then, in that case," Justin said, holding out his hand to grasp the others.

(( Interesting phraseology. Took me a bit to figure out what "the others" referred to. I think it's a bit too obscure, tho, luv....))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Justin gently took the man's arm and pulled him forward. "Jonathan, put your anger to the side, please. As our guest has said, whatever he has to say will wait until tomorrow, and that should make you happy. (( I was thinking that Jon himself had suggested that "whatever he has to say will wait until tomorrow..."))
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With his free hand, Justin did (( made? Gave? Produced?)) a small flourish. "Jonathan, I present to you the writer, the scientist, the futurist... Jules Verne."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh COOL! Jules Verne! In the FLESH! How cool is THAT???!!!!!!

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

You know what I love about you reading my stuff? That you make me think, look back over my work and go... hmm... yes, that may very well be a much better way to say it.

The thing about this story is that I don't want to tell it. Yes, I know that sounds a bit odd, but it's a derivative of a story that takes place at a much later time... about the 1980's or so. I really didn't have a story for Nano, so I resurrected this one. It's not a bad story, I just don't like it much.

[capi.livejournal.com]

Huh.

I have heard of artists who *hated* the stuff they painted.... but they did it anyway, so they could earn the money that would permit them the freedom to paint the stuff they really WANTED to paint.

I'm sorry you don't like this story. I sure like it! If this is what you do when you don't even like it, imagine what you do with one you LOVE!! *the mind reels*

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

The reason I don't like it actually has nothing to do with the story, love. The story, for all that it is, is coming along fine, and I like the characters. Even policeman Harris, who is come and gone, is a fine gent with a loving family, and someone that I can admire.

One of the reasons, and perhaps the main reason, is that this will be the last fully created story I do for a while. For whatever reason, writing is becoming *hard* for me to do. It's not the finger... physically, I'm okdoke. It's the creation. The words don't flow like they did. I have to work harder at getting a flavor in the sauce, so to speak.

The last few things I've written seemed to be... dry to me. Lacking some spice that came easier on the previous works. BP&G are a lot of fun, but I ran into the same thing with them, and so, they're stuck in two places at once.

It makes sense, actually. I've been writing, fairly consistently for the past three or four years. I've lost track of how many completed (minus the re-writes) stories I've done, and I have no less than six partially completed novels as well as half a dozen or more concepts waiting for me. Each of them is sitting in my work in progress folder for me to come back and do something with them.

And I will. Eventually.

I'm sure that I'll get to the point where the words fall trippingly from my fingers once again. It's part of my nature as a StoryTeller. Right now, though, I feel a creative tug in a different direction. Something more physical, something I can old in my hands. I'm sure I'll be posting more about that as I attempt and fail and attempt and succeed.

I'm going to try to work with leather and brass and copper and steel. See if my hands can do more than pull pictures out of my head and put words on a screen page.

[capi.livejournal.com]

Well heck yeah! There are so many options available when you wanna be creative! An intelligent person can even create new ways to be creative, so it's even MORE fun! *LOL*

Me, i wish i had the stamina for clay. I really wanna get my hands into the clay... *sigh* Oh well. There's always the knitting and the sewing for when i need quieter pursuits, eh?

We gotta DO STUFF! We just GOTTA! Knitting is not all that creative, not the way i do it, but it helps keep that creative need at bay til i'm better.

You? You go for it, my dear! And.... TAKE PICTURES! *grin* We will wait for you and so will your stories. We love whatever you are creating. We love YOU, first and foremost. ((( hug )))

Oops - time to run lil' Rexie to the vet. BBS!

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Clay would be fun, fun, fun! I don't have the kinetic skill to translate from my tiny brain to something malleable like clay. But building stuff? Yeah... that'll be fun for me!

Before all this writing, I make miniature aircraft. Not to fly, but just to build. I think that's where I need to go now... something different for a while, to let the stories come to me, rather than trying to force them out prematurely.

Have a wonderful day, sis! Love you bunches! We'll talk later, I'm sure.

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

Thanks darlin! I will be making these changes AFTER November. All excellent points, and yes, while Justin's study is very large, and does take up a goodly portion of the first floor and the second floor... you'd be surprised at what people DON'T notice. Granted, your points are valid... I'll have to think on this for a bit.
(By the way, the automobile in Jonathan's workroom bears remarkable resemblance to Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. At least in my head. and yes, there is an exit where it can be moved outside. Just not in the text yet.)