The Lamplighter's Love by Delphine Dryden

Chapter One

    It was not quite cold enough at the bottom
of the shaft for her breath to show as vapor, and that was the best
Mary could say for the climate in the Lamplighter’s domain. But it
had to be cold. That was the point, why it must be buried so deep
below the streets of London. Because the engines ran so hot, down
in the cavern where the Lamplighter plied his trade.
    So familiar, after so many years. The
chatter of keys and gears, the constant motion of rods moving up
and down over the exposed workings of the four great engines. The
soft hiss of steam and hydraulics as the machines dispersed their
printed messages up the tubes that ran throughout the Lampworks.
The crisp, acrid odor of lubricant.
    And in the center of it all there stood the
Chair, and in it sat the Lamplighter. Both of his hands were
secured in a framework of leather and metal, fingers extended to
multiple tiny, felted hammers that stayed in constant motion,
tapping over a dizzying array of ivory keys more rapidly than any
mere human could ever do unaided. She had seen the Lamplighter work
so fast those hammers blurred into invisibility.
    “I’m here,” she announced, knowing he could
not see her from within the framework of mirrored viewing panels
surrounding his head.
    “Two minutes,” he replied softly, haltingly.
“The bridge is up at Northampton.” He was still distracted by the
work around him, all the various calculations for which he was
responsible. Not just the lamps, although initially the post was
created for that purpose. The first engine had run the city’s gas
lamps, but had worked strictly on a timing mechanism.
    The first true Lamplighter had been needed
when the traffic lights were added, when it became clear that more
precise calculations and oversight were needed throughout the
course of each day to avoid accidents between carriages and the new
steamcars.
    “I’ll just set out the food.”
    “It’ll only get cold. Leave it covered.”
    Now there were the street and traffic
lights, the synchronized chiming of the city’s great clock towers,
the drawbridges and factory whistles and endless other systems. And
all this was overseen by the Lamplighter. There were others who
performed similar tasks throughout the country, of course. But only
the one in London was the Lamplighter.
    Nicholas , she reminded herself. He
liked to be called by his name. So few used it, so few even knew
it.
    “And with that, the noontide is upon us,
Mary.”
    She grinned, flushing with anticipation as
she rushed to his side. The sound continued all around them, the
engines still ran and marked time and did impossible calculations
at inhuman speed and sent missives that would be relayed to the
farthest reaches of the city within minutes. But for this hour, the
Lamplighter took his ease. It would be one of only two rest periods
for him between dawn and midnight, one of his few chances to speak
with another human being in person. For years, Mary had been that
person. And what had started as a relationship between master and
apprentice had transformed, over the years, into a rare
friendship.
    “Are you sore?” she asked. She had already
started on the straps that held his arms in place, whipping the
tails free of their buckles with practiced efficiency. She could do
this part blindfolded, if she had to.
    “Not today. It must not be too cold
outside.” Even as deep as they were, the
    Lamplighter often found himself reacting to
the weather outside, particularly finding that his joints ached
more readily during the winter months.
    Mary laughed, the sound quickly lost among
the machinery. “It’s freezing. It snowed yesterday.”
    “Snow, really? I can’t remember the last
time I saw snow.”
    Probably close to the last time he’d seen
the sun, Mary thought. The Lamplighter’s skin was almost as white
as the snow he couldn’t recall. His schedule, over the years of his
tenure, hadn’t even allowed him time to see the sun. He worked