Ch.0Prologue

“How could I dare defy your noble will? However, the British Empire still has a long way to go. And I can still do more work from the bottom.”

“Is there any reason to soil your hands, Lord Holmes?”

“Because doing the dirty and difficult work is my way of showing loyalty.”

The man once again sang beautiful music.

The Queen’s performance stopped abruptly. With a rumble, the inner door opened. It was the entrance to a place that even Clarice couldn’t face without preparation. The man bowed his head completely. Now that Her Majesty’s chamber was open, looking inside would be an act of disloyalty.

“She commands you to enter.”

Clarice walked inside. Various sizes of springs, pistons, steam pipes, and wires blended together with softly glowing vacuum tubes.

– Clariiiice. My faithful servaaaaant.

Clarice couldn’t stand upright. She knelt and prostrated herself.

– Ahhh my belooooved daughter. Is the woooorld ready yeeeet?

Clarice denied it.

After a long moment, the Queen “embraced” her. Just like that day when she returned from Pollard Island.

The Queen’s deep, profound will was transmitted to Clarice.

– I entruuuust to you agaaain, the daughter I molded with my own haaands.

Clarice’s left prosthetic hand trembled once more. She clenched it into a fist. Fortunately, this time she maintained control.

“I shall do as you command, my sovereign.”

The world stepped back from Clarice. In an instant, she returned to the room.

Steam billowed from the far side of the large hall.

Those blessed with grace surrounded Isabel’s body and sang. It was a beautiful harmonious song modulated from machine language.

Someday, when the Queen’s nerves reach the entire world, and all beings become the Queen’s cells, discord will vanish from the world. Only harmony, harmony, harmony, celestial chords, these beautiful pipe organ-like sounds will fill everything.

– Isaaabel. My lovely daughteeeeer.

A new Isabel begins another cycle.

* * * * *

Another new day dawned.

Further investigation revealed that the “previous” Isabel had been Desiree’s pawn.

Mycroft Holmes had analyzed the broken “mirror” and completed reverse engineering it. It was quite a lethal weapon against humans with machine implants.

Just as humans can be hypnotized, it was a device that induced malfunctions in machines. Where the French obtained such technology remained to be seen.

The “new” Isabel was being trained again. She would easily secure the leading role in the play prepared for her. By the time the curtain falls, she would be assigned to the Circus, craving another medal.

“I already want to kill her,” Clarice Holmes muttered. Lestrade scratched his chin beside her.

“You seem increasingly strained. You nearly broke down this time.”

“But I won.”

“I’m saying this because I’m worried, Ms. Holmes. You’ve only just been reassembled, so why are you back at the scene? And during cleanup, no less.”

Clarice and Lestrade were at Desiree’s house. Workers were waiting idly outside.

“I thought Desiree might have hidden some French cheese or something. I want to check one last time. Keep everyone out until I return.”

“Yes, yes. How could I refuse?”

Lestrade complained that he would be working late again today.

Clarice entered and closed the door. She walked lightly to Desiree’s room. The corpse was gone, but the severed, creaking high-pressure pipe remained.

The Circus agent gently placed her hand on the pipe. Her left hand trembled slightly. The future whispered by the “Queen” unfolded in the mind of the British Empire’s greatest intellect.

By Her Majesty’s grace, the people of the Empire were freed from the oppression of labor. But now they had become slaves to coal. They must burn coal at home to produce steam for daily power.

Therefore, the Queen aims to connect the entire Empire with high-pressure pipes. No more need to burn coal at home. It won’t completely eliminate New Albion’s smog, but it will clear much of it.

The high-pressure pipes will become peripheral nerves. They will transmit everything in the Empire to the Queen, and she will convey her will through the pipes.

Because the Queen loves the Empire.

But knowing that not all imperial citizens can receive grace, the Queen seeks to humble herself and reach out to the masses.

Great Britain will become a mechanical life form named Queen. From the heart called New Albion, arteries, veins, and nerve bundles will extend to the most remote rural cottages.

Eventually, all imperial citizens will become machines. They will entrust their lives to those leaden pipes.

And finally, every being in Great Britain will become the Queen. It will be an Empire of perfect unity, with steam breathing through leaden vessels.

But the imperial citizens, and people around the world, are not ready to accept this great grace. They even misinterpret and distort it.

Look at Desiree. Look at that insolent Frenchman who dared to lay hands on the Queen’s body. Yes, the steam supply station on Preston Road was already part of the Queen.

Thus, Her Majesty personally punished Desiree. Just as nerves move to bend fingers, she bent the pipes to punish Desiree. She purified him cleanly, like cells expelling germs…

How could one repay such immense grace?

Is it truly grace?

– You need fear nothiiing. I shall remain with you until the end of the woooorld… Just breathe quietly in my embrace. Breathe quietly.

Is a life without fear truly gracious?

Is a life suffocating in familiarity and comfort truly living?

Clarice couldn’t answer. The Queen’s embrace was different from that distant being’s solemnity.

“Fear.”

Clarice thought of Hilde, the diplomat’s wife. The woman who, terrified of her past being revealed, made a foolish choice, but then sought to overcome it by taking a gun to find Desiree.

The pitiful woman who, finding the man she so desperately wanted to kill already dead, became frightened again and foolishly gave up her wedding ring.

That is fear. That is dread. It confronts you with limitations you’ve lived unaware of. Will you cross over or retreat? It demands choice. It commands change.

If you want to live, you must change. If you want to preserve yourself, you must move.

If you cross over, you’ll lose your way in an unknown world.

If you retreat, you’ll be forever comfortable in your fear.

But choice belongs to humans.

Machines cannot make it.

Only humans embrace fear, wielding terror to sustain life.

That’s why Clarice chose.

She took a pencil and began blackening the wall. The spot where Desiree had left the letters “rahe.” That capable spy couldn’t help but reveal the terrible truth.

While human hands would color even the indented parts, Clarice’s precise mechanical hand, the pride of the Empire, skillfully avoided the subtly pressed marks.

Eventually, a sentence emerged.

Whether it was true or not, she couldn’t know. What Clarice witnessed was another form of ignorance. But it was the final trace left by a human from an enemy nation.

Was the Italian secretary who claimed to have sent the letter telling the truth? Again, unknowable. New Albion is like a blind sage, able to answer only about what it sees.

Clarice took out a fountain pen from her pocket. A fountain pen with transmission capabilities. It was exactly the same model Desiree had used. Because she used that model herself, she could immediately recognize Desiree’s handiwork.

She opened the back of her left hand and connected the fountain pen. She turned the dial by rotating the joint of her little finger. A pleasant tingling sensation filled her left hand.

Transmission preparations complete.

* * * * *

May 8, 1930. 6:21 PM

Cerotti Farm

Arkham, Massachusetts

“It’s happening again!”

Aurora finally lost her temper. Her left hand wouldn’t obey. Last time, her trembling hand nearly caused a serious injury while slaughtering a sheep.

“Piece of junk! I should just tear this thing off, I can’t live with it anymore! I’ll smash it with a hammer, this worthless thing!”

Abassina rushed over and gently gripped her hand. She knew Aurora wouldn’t stop at just words. Of course, “gently” by vampire standards meant Aurora’s left hand was easily restrained.

“It hasn’t happened for a while, has it?”

“It hadn’t, but now it’s starting again. Ugh, it’s so frustrating. And it’s not like I can go to England to get it fixed. Do you know anyone good with machines?”

“…Um, Crayfield?”

Abassina seemed notably uncertain. Aurora twisted her lips in distaste.

“Come on, even you don’t think that’s a good idea, right?”

“Then Katherine Scully?”

“That fox—”

Aurora barely stopped herself from saying “that fox woman” when Abassina put her hands on her hips and tilted her head.

“…she probably doesn’t know much about machines, does she? Even if she is a Federal Security Bureau agent and a good doctor, she doesn’t know about machines. And if it’s medicine, I know a bit too. I was a medical officer, after all.”

Abassina released her hand. She carefully observed the trembling limb.

“Hey, Aurora.”

“Yes?”

“There seems to be a pattern to the trembling. Look. The fingers are twitching, but not all of them are moving. The way the pinky and ring finger are curled, it’s almost like… it’s holding a pencil.”

Before she finished speaking, Aurora walked toward the incinerator. She picked up a piece of half-burned charcoal and placed her hand gently against a wooden board.

“Fine. Do whatever you want. But if you write nonsense, I’ll put you through the shredder and sell you for scrap.”

Aurora growled, but her left hand moved vigorously as if it couldn’t care less.

R a he

“What is this?”

“Keep holding it there. A little closer… Yes. Like that.”

Abassina gently held Aurora’s hand. Once the position was set, something resembling writing appeared on the board.

Q■■■ni■■■r■a■h■te■

Q■e■ni■■■rla■h■te■

Q■e■ni■n■rla■h■te■

Que■nisn■rlath■tep

Queenisnyarlathotep

Queen is nyarlathotep

The Queen is Nyarlathotep

“Nyarlathotep.”

Aurora and Abassina murmured the name. They didn’t know what it meant, but it sounded ominous somehow. Aurora clenched and unclenched her left hand. Like a lie, the trembling had disappeared.

“…So all this time, the trembling wasn’t just a simple spasm.”

“What could that mechanical woman be thinking?”

Abassina asked with disapproval. Aurora brushed back her hair.

Creak.

The barn door opened. Abassina broke into a happy smile, while Aurora tried to smile but cleared her throat and slightly turned her head.

“You’re here?”

“Ah, Crayfield. Want to take a look at this?”

The afternoon sunlight crossed the floor, illuminating the wooden boards.

<End>