The Reader Magnet

by

Lazarus Gray

“That, my esteemed friend, is a trade secret! And I’ll never tell!”

The flatfoot snorted a grunt to convey his dire disappointment. “Well if you can’t tell me how this ‘Horseless Carriage’ works, then how about you get it off the road, Mr… what was the name again?”

The man sitting upon the large, ungainly box-with-wheels affair removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Painted as it was in bright orange letters along the side of his contraption, ‘Henry Plimsoll’s Amazing Horseless Carriage’ was difficult to miss. “Oh please. You call yourself a policeman? Here.” He took a card from his shirt pocket and handed it to the officer, who scanned it with a raised brow. It was a simple business card that read only ‘Henry Plimsoll – Inventor’

“Well, Mr Plimsoll? Your contraption is blocking the carriageway, and I need you to remove it immediately… whatever it is.”

“This, sirrah, is an invention that soon enough will revolutionise the whole country – if not the entire world!”

“Sirrah?” The cop crossed his arms and lifted his chin.

“Shakespeare! I can only assume you haven’t read the great plays of the bard?”

“I majored in literature during my college years, so yes. That’s how I know the term ‘sirrah’ is an honorific reserved only for subordinates.”

Henry Plimsoll tutted and shook his head. “Don’t try to confuse me with all that big-city gobbledegook! I’ve read all the classics! Every one! I’m an inventor, like it says on the card right there in your awestruck, meat-fisted hand. And this is my invention…” Henry spread his arms to indicate the bulky machine that he was perched on top of, sitting on a fixed bench with some sort of panel in front of him that had levers and pulleys on both sides of a large red wheel which dominated the centre. A deep-purple velvet canopy on fixed poles covered it all in the event of foul weather. Bells, whistles and other such oddities adorned the large structure, placed haphazardly along its length and breadth.

“Impressive and mysterious as it is, I’ll still have to insist that even an inventor like yourself doesn’t have the right to block traffic coming in to the city. That’s against the law, and if you don’t do as you’re told and move it post-haste, you’ll be arrested and charged with obstruction.”

“Ah. Much as I’d like to oblige and keep moving, I’m afraid the way forward is inadequate for the size of my ‘contraption’ as you so blithely refer to it.”

Thirty feet ahead, the road passed under a stone bridge which might have had plenty of leeway if not for the large stone columns supporting the centre of the arch. The spaces that remained on either side left just enough room for normal horse-and-carriage type vehicles.

Henry’s invention was about the same height as most of them, but it was considerably wider. There was nowhere to go except back the way he had come.

The policeman removed his cap and scratched his head. “Then you’ll have to go back.”

Henry crinkled up his nose, causing his short, bushy moustache to quiver. “Ah.” He knew very well what was coming, and was desperately trying to think of a remedy for the situation, but none seemed to be at hand, meaning he would be forced to spill the bare facts of the matter. Intolerable.

The cop got impatient before Henry’s courage to continue reached its required strength. “Ah? That’s all you have to say? I assume I’m about to hear some unfortunate excuse or other. Well? What is it, then?”

Henry chuckled weakly. “Slight dilemma there, I’m afraid. In fact, it’s the very conundrum that I drove my invention near half-way across the country to solve, ironic as it may sound. This invention, it’s a wonder of modern science, but… well, it does need some adjustment. Though it goes forward at quite a steady clip, its function in the reverse is not yet… ironed out, so to speak.”

“Are you telling me you can’t get this thing to move backward? Then turn it around! Get it out of here before I call in reinforcements!” The cop’s face was approaching a healthy shade of pink, which would soon transition to red if this nincompoop didn’t hurry up and clear the way.

Henry looked to both sides of the road, which was narrow, and had been cut through a gentle hill. There was nowhere wide enough for the machine to turn. As he couldn’t go backward, it would block the road for some time to come if he tried. The inclines on either side were too steep.

“Turning circle’s too big. It’ll tip if we try it, and trust me when I tell you, officer, you don’t want this sweetheart to tip over on your roadway. No sir. Then we’d really be in trouble!” Henry swung his eyes heavenward and back again while breathing out a shrill whistle.

“That’s not quite accurate. I’d be in a small amount of trouble trying to figure out how to unblock my thoroughfare after such an incident. You, on the other hand, would be in some very serious trouble indeed, Mr Plumson.”

“Plimsoll! Henry J!”

“Mmhm. Plimson. Understood. Now. What are you going to do to improve this quandary we find ourselves mired in? Can anything be done?”

Henry looked ahead to the bridge. The only way he could clear a path would be to pull over to the side, so as to leave enough room for a carriage to pass, but it would still be a close thing. He mentioned his idea to the cop, who raised an eyebrow.

“And what good would that do? You’d still be there blocking my throughway indefinitely if it can’t be reversed. I need it gone, not put aside.”

“Aha! Finally I have some good news for you, Officer Sirrah, if that’s really your name. It would only be for several hours or so while I went to get the part that I need to rejig the drive sprocket and start it turning the other way, then another hour or so to install the part and we could be out of your tousled hair.”

“Several hours?... There must be some way to improve upon that, surely. Which part is it you’re needing? Perhaps one could be had from a local hardware and sent here to save time.”

Henry waved his hands and shook his head. “No hardware would stock the part I require, I’m afraid. The thing is so rare as to be unique. It was developed several years ago for the Chicago World’s Fair, to suit an engine design that had yet to be invented. The two engineers involved were Nathaniel Reed and his European business partner, Lars Urr. Brilliant men, the pair of them.

Unfortunately, after a most successful debut at the Fair, they had a falling out over the engine design, and in a fit of rage, Nathaniel struck Lars with the magnet that they’d spent years developing and cracked his skull, killing him instantly. Nathaniel’s now serving his time in the Ingleside County jail. The magnet, to the best of my knowledge, is still being stored as evidence.”

Henry scratched his balding scalp. “I invented this engine from their design, with a few adaptations of my own, of course, but the Reed-Urr magnet’s properties were impossible for me to replicate.”

The cop stood, and after an unsuccessful attempt or two at some sort of rebuke, simply settled for a slow head-shake. “Are you joking, Mr Plumsill? Stored as evidence? Your part is being held as a murder weapon? You can’t possibly be serious.”

The road behind Henry’s oversized contraption had been clear when he had stopped, but by now it had backed up four carriages deep, and folks were starting to grumble about the delay. The cop waved for them to be quiet and pointed a stern index finger at Henry’s face, which was starting to perspire.

“Alright. Move this abomination to the side and let people pass. I’ll deal with you once things get moving again.”

Henry sighed and nodded. There was nothing else that he could do. He reached for the lever on his left and shifted it upward, then turned a large pulley on his right three times before grasping at the bright red wheel in front of him. The contraption shuddered once, and slowly began to move forward. Its inner workings chugged along with a steady beat as it advanced slowly and pulled in as far to the side as gravity would allow. When Henry was satisfied there was adequate space, he shifted the lever in the opposite direction and the machine shuddered once more before grinding to a halt.

Four carriages had backed up during the time it took to clear a space, and as the vehicle pulled to the side, they began to move carefully through the opening that had been created, leaving only scant inches either side as they passed. Unable to do much else to help the situation, the cop directed them through to the underpass. After the first had made it all the way through, he had to stop as a carriage coming from the opposite direction trundled through the other tunnel and slowed to a timely halt as the driver realised there wasn’t enough room to pass.

The twenty feet that Henry’s move had cost left no thoroughfare for traffic headed out of town.

That meant the whole damn operation would have to be managed to a fine detail to get anyone in or out. The cop shook his head in disbelief. On top of everything else, the other tunnel was now blocked, and anything else coming behind the stuck two-horse carriage would lead to a catastrophic pile up of frustrated travellers on both sides of the bridge.

Steam was beginning to vent from his ears as his face adopted a mask of stressed outrage. There was no-one besides him to sort the situation out, and it seemed to already be sliding out of his control. The traffic on the other side had moved toward the unblocked tunnel of its own accord, only to find numerous carriages and an enormous, colourful object with wheels firmly wedged across their path.

Horses were not much easier to back up than Henry’s invention, as it turned out. The cop strode around the scene, blowing his whistle and waving at people to stop their jostling. He needed order so he could take the time to call for reinforcements, but tempers were starting to flare, and the closest police box was a quarter mile away on the other side of the bridge.

If he left the scene for that long, there was likely to be a riot in full swing by the time he got back. Much as he hated the idea, he’d have little choice but to send Henry to call in the report and get reinforcements up here to help.

He shouted and waved for quiet, which took some doing, and then started giving orders, getting the ones at the back to turn around and wait further up or move on to the next access road, which was a good two miles out of the way. When he’d restored what order he could, he marched over to Henry, and told him in no uncertain terms what was expected of him.

The cop pulled out his notepad and pencil and drew a quick sketch, then handed it to Henry, who caught on right away that it was some sort of map. Underneath was a number and a name. “Give the superintendent a call and tell him what’s going on. Have him send some more officers.”

Henry scratched his head. “How many men do you think it might take?”

The cop surveyed the scene. “Two, or three if possible. Now get down from there and move. I want you back here in no more than five minutes.”

Henry studied the map, and drew a sharp breath. “Not with my hip, Officer Sirrah. I’ll be as quick as I can, though.”

“Make sure you do!”

Henry climbed down from his contraption and sauntered off to find the police box, leaving the cop to go back to trying to sort the mess out. More traffic had arrived in the meantime, and the order that he had restored just a few minutes ago had already been unrestored and the chaos added to.

He stomped from one side of the bridge to the other, barking commands while his patience wore thin waiting for Henry to return. After almost ten minutes, the ageing inventor sauntered back into view. The cop waved him over and eagerly demanded to know when the reinforcements would arrive.

“Well, I did find the police box, right there on the corner pole as you said.”

The cop’s eyelid twitched. “And?”

“It was locked.” Henry shrugged. “I guess you forgot to give me the key.”

The cop’s eyelid twitched again. Twice. He wanted to scream into Henry’s face with such force that the fool’s hat would blow off. But it was his own fault. He dug out his keyring and shuffled through it in silence until he found the right one, then unbound it from the ring and handed it to Henry. “Do NOT lose it. I will have your guts for garters if you mess this up, Mr Plomsill. Now. Go… Hurry!”

Henry pocketed the key and winked. “You can count on good old Henry Plimsoll to get the job done, Officer Sirrah.” He stressed the intonation of his own surname, as if he thought it would do any good.

The cop winced to distract himself from needing to growl. He supposed there must have been worse days on the job. He couldn’t think of one offhand, though.

Henry was absent for a full twenty-five minutes. By the time he returned, the cop had almost had the blockage cleared twice, but had been foiled by his inability to be on both sides of the bridge at once on each occasion. His frustration had peaked some time ago, and he was currently on a downward slide toward depression.

“Well? How long will they be?” The cop checked his pocket watch and shuddered. Lunchtime had finished a half-hour ago, and he’d missed breakfast this morning.

“Ah.” Henry handed back the key with a slight bow. “There, you see, Officer Sirrah? I got the job done and didn’t mess up, just as instructed.”

“And the reinforcements? They’re on their way?”

“Ah. No. Your superintendent, Chief Carstairs said to tell you that there were no men to spare, and you’d have to sort the situation out yourself.”

The cop’s face fell. He looked as if he might begin to weep. “Oh.”

“Nice chap, we had a good long tongue-wag. He did apologise for the lack of manpower, but explained that all his available officers had gone off to investigate a bank robbery. Anyway, long story short, I explained the problems we were facing out here, and told him about the only quick-fix we could manage – the Reed-Urr magnet. When he heard where it was, he said he’d do what he could to get it sent out to us as soon as someone came back from the robbery.”

The cop took a deep breath. “Well, that’s something, at least. Now you’re back, you can get over the other side of the bridge and stop anyone coming through while I sort out this side.”

Henry ruminated for few moments while scratching his cheek. “Hmmm, I have just the very thing! Yes, just give me a few moments to gather my supplies.”

“Supplies? Supplies? What Supplies?”

The eccentric inventor grinned and held up an index finger. “Aha! Observe…” He went to the back end of his contraption, produced a key from his ring and clipped open the brass padlock that hung from a latch in the middle. He slid up the rolling door, which had in fact once been affixed to someone’s writing desk, to reveal a large space with luggage packed inside of it.

Henry selected one of the larger suitcases, and pulled out another odd looking contraption along with it before closing the shutter and locking it firmly again. He looked back to the cop, and with a conspiratorial wink, remarked that the insides of his invention were a closely guarded secret, and absolutely had to be kept secure.

The cop rolled his eyes and shook his head as Henry disappeared through the tunnel opening with his suitcase and accessory, and for the next twenty minutes, things were ominously quiet from that side.

Whatever Henry had done to stop the traffic, it had worked. The backed-up wagons on the cop’s side were finally cleared long enough for him to try to erect some sort of roadblock. He didn’t have anything official that he could use, but a number of loose boulders were available by the roadside – detritus from the road’s creation. They would work, though rolling them into place would surely prove a chore.

The cop hurried to the other side as soon as the coast was clear to retrieve Henry, who would be under instruction and doing most of the heavy lifting. What he found when he got there stopped him in his tracks. He hadn’t had time to think too much about the items that the annoying little fellow had carried off with him.

Henry’s odd-looking contraption turned out to be a folding trestle table, and he had set it up in the middle of the roadway. A gaggle of folks were standing around gawking as he spruiked wares from the suitcase he had also carried. An assortment of small glass bottles containing different coloured liquids, hair combs, tie pins, ties, coloured ribbons and brightly painted child’s dolls were arranged across the surface. The open suitcase was adorned with fob chains from which hung gold and silver pocket watches, and laying below were strings of rosary beads, plain and bejewelled rings, brooches, cufflinks and necklaces all displayed on a purple velvet sheet which had been draped over the open case.

Unseen by Henry, the cop crept up behind him and stopped a bare foot away from his unprotected ear. He took a deep breath, and bellowed “What’s all THIS then?” as forcefully as he could manage.

Henry let out a yelp and jumped with the shock of the blast, losing his hat in the process which went flying into the similarly startled crowd standing before him. The ageing inventor turned around on his heel and came nose to nose with the cop, who stood his ground.

“Do you see that sign there?” The cop pointed to a painted sign affixed to a lamppost that bore the official mark of the San Francisco PD. In large red letters, the sentiment seemed simple and clear enough – ‘NO STREET PEDDLERS’.

Henry peered at the sign for a moment and shook his head with a loud ‘tut’. “I’m not surprised you’ve banned bicycles. Those penny-farthings are a menace! From all the reports I’ve read in the newspapers, they’re responsible for a good many injuries, and I believe a fatality or two, as well. Bravo! Keep them off the roadways, I say.”

There was absolutely no trace of amusement on the cop’s face. Even his hair looked angry. “You were supposed to be directing traffic away from the bridge, not inviting more to stop and buy your wares! Mr. Plumcott, if I didn’t want you and your contraption as far away from me as possible in the shortest span of time that we can manage, I would drag you downtown in handcuffs and throw the book at you! Now pack this mess away and get back to the other side of the bridge before it backs up again.”

Henry knew when he was licked. He’d already made fourteen dollars and thirty-five cents, which wasn’t too bad, considering. Another five minutes and he’d have had it over twenty. Oh well. C’est le vie, as they say in Italy, or Spain. Somewhere exotic, anyway. He packed up his trinkets as fast as he could manage, apologising to the crowd as he did so.

The suitcase had been crammed full with its original contents, but Henry was having trouble closing it. Even though he’d sold several items, there didn’t seem to be quite enough room, so he put some of the bulkier items in his coat pockets. He’d just gotten to the table when he heard a shrill whistle coming from somewhere behind the milling people and vehicles, and then another.

The reinforcements had apparently arrived, but they seemed to be having trouble getting through all the lively ruckus of the crowd, which had backed up considerably with no-one to manage it. The cop had waded in as Henry was packing up to try to restore some order and get the vehicles moving, and had disappeared into the throng.

At that moment, another carriage came clopping through the tunnel from the now unsupervised side of the bridge. The roadblock had not been put in place immediately, thanks to Henry’s activities. It slowed to a halt as the driver registered the scene ahead. There was nowhere for him to go, at least not until the jam was completely cleared. More hoofbeats could be heard coming from behind him.

Henry sighed, wishing he’d taken another road into town. They were back to square one, and getting his invention mobile again was starting to feel like an impossible dream. He was surrounded by people and horses and carriages and policemen, and Henry wished he could just rise above it all and go home to Grackle Gulch where he belonged. The Big City was clearly no place for forward-thinking inventors.

They just weren’t ready for him here.

As the crowd began to close in on him, an opening sprang into existence, and a cop stepped through it carrying a large canvas sack. He checked his notebook before speaking. “Are you Henry Plomcuss?”

Henry nodded vigorously. “Yes yes, that’s me. And it’s Henry Plimsoll, not ‘Plomcuss’ thank you very much. I suppose you’ve been talking to Officer Sirrah.”

The officer raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Oh I see. I don’t suppose you know where I can find this Mr. Plomcuss? It is rather urgent, apparently.”

Henry pointed at himself with both index fingers and waggled his eyebrows, as if the enthusiastic gesture would identify him beyond question. “It’s me, I’m Henry Plomcuss, if that’s the name you’ve been given. I assume you carry the part from Superintendent Carstairs? Well it’s for me, and yes, it’s most definitely urgent!”

“Hmmm. You did say your name was Plimton. I heard you distinctly.”

“Plimsoll. It’s Plimsoll! No. It’s Plomcuss. It’s me! I need that part!”

“Alright Mr. Plumpton, if that’s not an alias. I have the name of this part on my notepad here, and it’s very specific. If you’re really who you say you are, you’ll know what it is! Well?”

“It’s the Reed-Urr magnet! Invented by Thomas Reed and poor Lars Urr, may he rest in peace.” Henry doffed his hat and held it over his heart for as long as the sun in his eyes would allow.

“It just says ‘one reader magnet’ here. I suppose you could be the man. You certainly fit the description I got from Constable Tarleton.”

“Tarleton? Never heard of him. The man trying to sort things out here was Officer Sirrah. I’m certain of it.”

“I’m beginning to see what he meant. Here, you have to sign for it, and they want it back after you’ve used it.” He handed his notepad and pencil over for Henry to sign.

Henry did, and then eagerly untied the string that bound the sack closed as the flatfoot handed it to him. He reached inside and pulled out an oddly shaped piece of metal which didn’t seem right at all. Henry reached back in and pulled out another, about the same size. Holding one piece in each hand, he tried this way and that to fit them together.

There were no locking tabs or concealed hinges. The Reed-Urr magnet had been broken in half. Closer inspection revealed the obvious crack where the pieces had once fit together.

“It’s broken in half.” Henry held the pieces up so the cop could see his pain. “In half! You clumsy oaf!”

“Now see here, Mr. Plurbidge. The reader magnet was in two pieces when it was retrieved from the evidence box. The report with it stated that it had been broken at the time that it was used as a heavy blunt object to hit someone over the head with considerable force, resulting in their death.”

Henry looked chastened. “Oh. Sorry. Hmmm.” He stared at the broken pieces of his dream and shrugged. “It was an adventure of some magnitude, and I very nearly made it to the top! Back to the drawing board, I suppose.”

*

It took six burly cops almost an hour to clear the jam, three on either side of the bridge, while Henry waited. As it became clear that the situation would be under control very shortly, he began to sweat. He didn’t want them to know. He wanted to turn his invention around with magic and skedaddle as far as he could get from The Big City.

But there was little chance of that.

Even six burly cops acting in unison weren’t strong enough to lift Henry’s invention and face it the other way. Henry knew that for sure.

When the official roadblocks had been put in place, the time had come.

Officer Sirrah or Constable Tarleton or whoever he was stood in front of Henry with his arms crossed, while the other five waited behind him. “Right, Mr. Inventor. We’re all going to lift your oversized contraption and turn it on its axis, after which you’ll start it up and keep going until you cross the county line. Then you’ll be somebody else’s headache. Now. Out of the way.”

“Well, you can try, but you won’t do it. Not with six. Maybe not with ten. My invention does carry some weight.”

“We’ll see about that.” The cop growled as if his ire alone would achieve the feat.

The six of them got into a three-a-side position, and one of them yelled “After three! Heave! One! Two! Heaaavveee!” He grunted with the strain.

One of the others reminded him. “You did say ‘after’ three. You have to be clear on these things, Jack.”

Jack gritted his teeth. “One! Two! Three! Heaaavvveee!”

The six cops heaved and huffed and pulled and pushed and struggled until it was obvious that Henry Plimsoll’s Amazing Horseless Carriage was the better man. It didn’t budge an inch.

“Right!” Declared Officer Sirrah. “Get a saw! We’ll cut it into pieces!”

Henry threw up his arms and cried, “No! You can’t! Please. Alright. You’ll find out my secret anyway, I suppose.” He walked gingerly to the front of the contraption. There were two large panels that were padlocked, no doubt for access to the front of whatever Henry had invented to drive the thing. He went through his keys and snapped the locks open, then without a word, lifted both panels at once.

The six cops stood in stunned silence. No one started laughing. At least not until later.

Inside the chassis, four Shetland ponies had been tethered side-by-side, and appeared to be standing on some sort of wide conveyor belt which, when they walked, turned a drive shaft, of which there were two, though one was clearly not connected.

Officer Sirrah began to guffaw. “Horseless carriage? You, sir, are a fraud and a charlatan!”

Henry crossed his arms and tried on his most indignant face. “Now just you look here! I’m not a fraud, I tell you! The carriage is horseless, exactly as advertised… These are ponies! No horses required!”