Read Online Chasing Schrödinger’s Cat - A Steampunk Novel by Tom Hourie - Free Book Online

said, as we got into line at the wicket.
    “Not if I can think of a way to
ride for free,” I whispered.   “We need to
make your money last.”   It was at this
point that I felt someone tap me on the shoulder from behind.   I turned to see a plump man in a clerical
collar accompanied by an equally well-fed woman who had to be his wife.
    “Excuse me my man,” the vicar
said.   “Would you be so good as to assist
us when you have finished helping your current client?”
    “My pleasure, Guv’,” I said.   “Be right back in a mo ’.”
    “Why are you talking in that
ridiculous manner?” Sarah whispered.
    “That’s my cockney accent,” I
whispered back.   For once Sarah said
nothing but merely snorted.
    I had no
trouble getting access to the platform, thanks to the porter’s trolley.   I soon had Sarah installed in an empty
compartment and turned to leave.
    “Where are you going?” she asked
    “Back to get the Reverend’s
baggage,” I said.   “We need the money.”

    I f anything,
the clerical couple’s luggage was heavier than Sarah’s.   Good thing for these people nobody had yet
invented passenger aircraft.   The excess
baggage charges would have bankrupted them.
    I finally got the Reverend and his wife
settled into the compartment next to Sarah’s and stood waiting for my tip.   The Reverend reached into the breast pocket
of his coat, but instead of coming out with his wallet, he held an illustrated
tract titled A Young Man’s Guide To
Self-Control which he handed to me with great solemnity saying, “This will
benefit you far more than money which you would no doubt spend on drink.”
    Lucky for him I didn’t want to draw
attention to myself or he would have found out a few things about the limits of
my self control .
    “Is that the bag that man Schrödinger
gave you?   You were meant to throw it
away,” Sarah said when I get back to her compartment.   “Whatever can it be?”
    I realized I still had a leather
bag hanging from my shoulder.   “I don’t
think so,” I said.   “His was heavier.”
    There was a small brass key
protruding from the bag’s clasp.   I
turned it and looked inside to find a black shirt, a clerical collar and a
well-thumbed paperback novel titled Girls
in Tunics .   I opened the book
randomly and read ‘Melissa writhed sensuously to the rhythm of the
Headmistress’ caresses until she gushed forth a stream of womanly love
cream.’   I took a second look at the bag
and saw the name Reverend E. Bunsen embossed on the side.   “You naughty
Reverend,” I said.   “I bet they called
you Bunsen burner back at the seminary.”
    I relocked the bag and was putting
the key in my pocket when the train lurched forward, causing me to fall into
the seat next to Sarah.   “That’s funny,”
I said, feeling around in my pocket.
    “What is?”
    “The American passport your chum Alistair
Fox gave me.   I could have sworn I left
it there.”
    I was rummaging through my other
pockets when we heard the conductor coming down the corridor checking for
tickets.   I had to do something
fast.   The last thing I wanted was to get
thrown off the train in the middle of God knows where.
    There was nothing else for it.   I opened the side door, stepped out onto the
outside footplate and scrunched down below the window hanging onto the door
handle.   It looks exciting when you see
someone do it in an old spy thriller but trust me, hanging on in mid-air with
railway ties speeding past your feet at sixty miles an hour is no fun.   I tried to get back in as soon as the
conductor was gone, but the handle was stuck.   What now?   If I got Sarah to push
the door open, there was a good chance I would get thrown off onto the
tracks.   Then I noticed the window in the
next car forward was open.   I stretched
sideways and was just able to reach its handle.   I inched along the side of the car trying to ignore the smoke and
cinders blowing into my face and pulled