A Cure for Hysteria (closed)

[Strangebuddy]

A Gin-Sling. Yes that was the cause of the problem…well two or three gin-slings…maybe half-a-dozen. After such an imbibement of liquid courage, what man wouldn’t make some bold claims? And would not those claims be made all the bolder if the man in question was already a leading genius of the technological revolution that much of the civilized world was already awash in? Well of course they would be, even if the title of genius was a self-imposed one.

So naturally, if such a man found himself in a somewhat exclusive gentleman’s club repairing an automaton, plying himself with procured drinks from the bar, and a distinguished general…or admiral, whichever, decided to share a saucy anecdote from his time in India which involved the pleasuring of several exotic women simultaneously…any rational inebriated man whose manhood swung proudly would make a greater boast, truth be damned.

“A few desperate women whom you spent enough on to build a fleet of War balloons? Yes, I’m sure their moans of delight were over the wrinkled mealworm that lives in your pants, rather than the thoughts of the real men they could acquire with the excessive purchases you made for them.”

“My fine fellow, are you saying that you, with your dashing good looks and supreme intellect could outdo my lacking manhood?” Was what Dr. Henry Truehart believed the man had said, while other, less inebriated witnesses would recall challenges to a duel that were silenced when a repaired automaton crashed its fist into the admiral’s face, reminding him of the ‘no dueling’ rule which had been issued less than a year ago. In either case, the good doctor spun an elaborate response, describing how his infinite creativity had laid out the plans for a device that would bring any woman to the heights of lustful pleasure. A device that would make the fondlings of men obsolete.

It was the gin-sling’s fault he hadn’t noticed a certain member of the privy council watching his speech with a look of intense curiosity. It was that wonderfully vile concoction and the two cocktails he was served later that led him to being spirited away to a private wing of Buckingham Palace where he sworn to secrecy and made to sign statements of confidentiality under threat of summary execution. The courage and invulnerability it provided his weakened mind made him go through with it all and promise delivery of the imagined item within two months accompanied by a live demonstration in front of the Queen herself.

The doctor’s body must of agreed with this assessment, as by the time he reached his riverside domicile and workshop, it made him double over and refused to allow him to return to his full two meters until he spewed forth every trace of the drink from his gut. When Henry finally was allowed to regain control of his own body, he quickly attempted to straighten his suit over his wiry frame and correctly align his hat on his auburn hair. Proud that he had not besmirched his clothing, he removed his ring of keys and unlocked the door to his workshop.

Like many of his ilk, Dr. Truehart kept a chaotic assortment of cogs and various parts for projects past present and future scattered about his work station. The room was stifling hot as a result of the steam generators in all of his devices, many of which were left wandering the large, termite infested room. He quickly stepped over a mechanical beetle that was designed to collect tossed away cigars and went to his workbench, where he began to hammer a sheet of metal until it was in the shape of a tulip-a meditative exercise he only practiced when everything was going wrong.

“Should have stuck to tractors,” he thought, “or weapons. Anyone can make those and the queen would only want the latter.” Perhaps he could just hire a very convincing unattached lady to just put on a show of enjoying whatever device he could cobble together. It would only have to work long enough for him to book passage to somewhere his genius wasn’t known…Germany perhaps…or, god forbid, France. Not that he couldn’t design such a device but it would take time with a woman who was duty bound to be honest with him, whom he could force to engage in hours of torturous titillation, whom he could swear to strict confidentiality, and most importantly, a woman whom could perform all of the required services and not require a large purse in exchange. If he could find a woman like that, he could possibly fulfill even his most brazen of boasts.

“Maybe I should ask my assistant before I flee,” he mused as he started calculating the cost of shipping his valuables through a network of proxies, “She might know of such a woman.”

Stay. ‘She?’ He paused. Yes, his assistant was a woman the last time he checked. Really more of an apprentice to be factual. A veritable indentured servant if he was to be more blunt based on his use of the young person. Amidst providing critiques and grueling assignments, Henry could swear he remembered times where his eyes were drawn to his assistant’s budding breasts and womanly posterior. Even if his memory failed him after only being alive for thirty-two years, this was a matter worth investigating. Henry flung his hat aside and loosened his tie.

“ASSISTANT! You are needed!” He bellowed, ignoring the intercom system he had repaired a few days prior, “Prepare to be inspected!”

 

[ky_moonwillow]

"Dear Lord! What is he on about now?" Jillian Spangler flipped the spark toggle on the clockwork beside her bed in order to illuminate the hour. Three fifty-seven. For the first time in over eight hours, Jillian cursed her employer quietly under her breath. Aside from his resolute refusal to bother with learning her name, his worst quality was his failure to recognize that the vast majority of the human race required the setting aside of some minimal allotment of time each day for sleep.

She did not argue. She did not delay. She simply kicked out of bed, grabbed her spectacles off of her bedside table, and her dressing gown from the hook by the door, then doubled back to deluminate her clock, and went out to see what mechanical crisis had cropped up in the middle of this particular night.

"I'm sorry Mr. Truehart, I didn't catch that last bit. What would you be needing at nearly Four o'clock in the morning?" She finished tying her robe in place just before reaching the workshop door.

Her hair was a mass of blonde tangles, that flipped and frizzed in every direction due to the humidity in the room. Not that it mattered. He never actually looked at her, something that she considered one of the finer points of Mr. Truehart. Though he dismissed nearly everyone as completely incompetent in every way, he at the very least treated her the same way that he would treat any other assistant, which in her world would mean any male assistant. He seemed to see an assistant as a somewhat convenient tool, that lacked the good manners to remain in exactly the same place that he had last put it. Still, his treatment was a damn sight preferable to that which she had received working under the supervision of other "masters of mechanized wonders", all of whom had proven themselves to be half as competent and she, and completely beneath comparison to Henry Truehart, who despite his foibles and lack of social niceties was a man of true vision, and the pinnacle of his field.

 

[Strangebuddy]

"What else would I ask my assistant for? I clearly need assistance, don't I?" Truehart bellowed offhand, "Also, it's <b>Doctor</b> Truehart. Just because Academia lacks an appropriate curriculum and degree to bestow upon my genius does not mean I have not earned my title. As for it being 4 o'clock, isn't that the BEST time to be working on a new project? We'll be free from those idiots who will soon be clogging the street, we'll have the whole day ahead of us and..."

Truehart's voice was stolen from him as he looked at his assistant. Even wrapped in her robe she was quite fetching, even attractive, and most certainly a woman. The scientist was taken aback, pondering if his assistant might be too attractive for the case but then figured that the queen would consider it a compliment to have someone more attractive than her being used for the demonstration.

"Good" he mused, catching himself, "Good to see you haven't forgotten your way here." He then jerked his head from side to side, as though he was making a last-second search for spies, "You see my dear assistant, we have received a commission from the queen herself. A task of that will require our confidentiality and ingenuity in exchange for future patronage and prestige."

Lies of course, there was some talk of awards and money but nothing concrete. A whistle went off and the doctor poured himself a cup of coffee. Many of his countrymen couldn't stand the stuff but black tea didn't have enough kick to keep him up.

"Care for a...'cup of joe?' He joked, "So, assistant, once you've dragged your chin from the floor, tell me what you know of the curious ailment known as 'Hysteria?"

 

[ky_moonwillow]

It took Jillian a bit longer than usual to make sense of her employer's words. She began answering his last question, even as she was still processing the rest of the information he had lobbed at her.

"Hysteria. Generally considered to be a condition of nervousness, extreme emotionality, and irrational behavior, sometimes accompanied by symptoms of psychosomatic illness, and entirely exclusive to women... yes, coffee would be most welcome, thank you... Current treatments involve manual pelvic massage, resulting in hysterical paroxysm, and immediate relief from symptoms. Symptoms are believed to be caused by a wandering womb, dislodged due to an over-extension of the female's physical or mental capacities... Did you say we... you have received a commission from the Queen? ...I've been accused of showing signs of hysteria no less than nine times, by various employers, and still maintain that the entire concept is nothing more than a load of medical poppycock, designed to discredit women who have chosen to work in... Have you been speaking to my previous employer, Jonathan Riddlestone? I assure you, the incident that he is referring to is a gross exaggeration of facts, and is being placed entirely out of context... What are we supposed to be building for the Queen exactly?"

A commission from the Queen was of course excellent news, so long as they could actually produce whatever it was that her majesty had requested. There was a great deal of bravado among inventors that if someone could imagine it, then it could be built. Dr. Truehart was exceptionally guilty of making many improbable ideas seem simple and easy to execute. But if he had promised something to the Queen that was too improbable, the only thing that would be executed was him, and possibly his unfortunate assistant.