All Men of Genius

XXII.



JACK loved Christmas. He loved making garlands from berries and stringing them around the tree. He loved caroling with his mother and dressing the field mice he caught in little red or green coats and hats. He even loved going to church for the pageant and for Christmas morning services. But most of all, he loved the presents. This year he had gotten his father a fine wooden pipe with an ivory handle, and for his mother he had found a silk wrap. From them he had received a leather-bound copy of Mrs. Shelley’s Frankenstein and a collection of bird whistles. They had all hugged one another and eaten Christmas breakfast; then Jack had put on his warm jacket and mittens and taken a bunch of wrapped boxes from his mother to deliver to the Adamses.

Jack knew the lands of Messaline well, probably better than Violet and Ashton did, as his father had supervised them and taken Jack out on his runs since he was little. The estate was lovely, particularly in the snow. At the top of a hill marking the end of the apple orchard and the beginning of the last long field before the manor itself, Jack paused and leaned against one of the trees. Below him rolled sheets of diamond-like frost, which stopped at the gardens surrounding the house proper. The sky glowed a soft white, like the color of a damp pearl, and snow seemed to fall from it without needing any science at all. Science seemed far away from here; Illyria, too. Thoughts of killer automata and blackmail and disguises had all been swept under the snow. There was no need to worry about any of that here. It was Christmas, after all. The skies were becoming darker as the clouds overhead thickened. Jack breathed in deeply and caught a snowflake with his tongue before finishing his walk.

“Jack, my fellow!” Ashton called when Jack came into the sitting room. Their tree was up, decorated and sparkling, and it looked as though they had only arrived back from church a few minutes ago, probably from a much later church service. “We were about to open presents, so your timing is perfect.”

“Everything about me is perfect,” Jack said, laying his presents under the tree. “I bring gifts from my parents.”

“And we have gifts for you to take to your parents, as well,” Violet said, grinning archly. “But first you must stay awhile. After we open gifts, we will eat and drink eggnog.”

“Well, I would never say no to eggnog,” Jack said.

“I’d imagine not,” Ashton said, clapping him on the back. “Mrs. Wilks!” he called. She appeared in a doorway, where she had probably been waiting. “Let the servants know that we will be opening gifts and that they all have a gift under the tree as well.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Wilks said, and vanished again into the shadows. The servants all filed in silently and stood around the edge of the room. Mrs. Wilks went to the tree and handed out their gifts to each of them. Violet poured eggnog into glasses and handed them to Jack and Ashton.

“How has your Christmas been so far, Jack?” Violet asked.

“Quite lovely,” Jack said. “Da’ and I built a snowman yesterday. It was fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever built a snowman,” Violet said. “At least, not since I was very little.”

“That’s because you’d probably use clockwork parts made of ice to bring the thing to life,” Ashton said. “So we tried to keep you away from snowman building.”

The servants opened their presents quietly save for small gasps of delight. Ashton had done the shopping this year, and he had excellent taste. With murmured thanks, the servants, except for Mrs. Wilks and Fiona, retired to the kitchen to admire each other’s gifts and drink their own eggnog.

“Mrs. Wilks, have I ever built a snowman?” Violet asked.

“I’m sure you did once, yes, when you were five or so.”

“I wish to do it again.”

“Well, there’s plenty of snow. But why don’t you open your gifts first?”

Violet grinned and walked to the tree and sat beneath it, picking out her presents. Mrs. Wilks poured glasses of eggnog for herself and Fiona before they joined the children and opened their own gifts.

From America, Mr. Adams had sent a turkey feather hat for Mrs. Wilks and a book of American poems and a jacket for Ashton. For Violet, there was a set of American tools, supposedly used by the great American train engineer Matthias Forney, along with the full schematics of the airship he had taken to America. There was also a large set of arrowheads for the twins to share. Violet pored over the schematics as though her father were there looking at them with her, and rubbed the arrowheads in her fist. For a crushing moment, she felt a sense of loss at not having him there, but then she read his letter and felt better. It was a short letter, lacking in poetry and detail, but it described his travels in America, and his meetings with various astronomers.

“I wish he would describe America,” Violet said. “I think it must be very lovely.”

“Certainly not lovelier than England,” Mrs. Wilks said, adjusting her hat.

“No,” Violet said, “but I have never left England. A description of exotic places would be nice to hear.”

“Well, when he returns, you can question him in as much detail as you like.”

They opened the rest of the presents next. Jack had gotten everyone lovely articles of clothing: scarves and gloves of fine quality, soft to the touch, as well as a leather-bound journal for Ashton and a lady’s pocket watch for Violet. Everyone agreed, though, that Violet’s handmade gifts were the best of the lot. For Jack—and, truthfully, for herself as well—she had created a cage with an enclosed bottom level that had been carefully soundproofed. For Ashton, she’d made a lock that even her automatic skeleton key could not open, and a music box with an image of their mother and father inside, dancing. And for Mrs. Wilks, she created an umbrella that opened with the press of a button, and spun itself dry and closed with the press of another.

“What a marvelous mechanism,” Mrs. Wilks said as the umbrella spun around again.

After opening presents and drinking their fill of eggnog, all of them went out into the snow, which was falling quite heavily now, and built a snowman. And though she thought hard about it, Violet could not see any way to properly mold ice into gears to make the snowman live.

* * *



CECILY and Ernest were also building a snowman, in the barren garden next to Illyria. Ada, who stayed with them for Christmas—she had two living children of her own, but Anne was always in Arabia with her horses, and Ralph’s wife, Mary, talked of nothing but conservative politics since her father’s death—did not feel like joining in the building, so she sat on a bench nearby, sipping warm eggnog.

Cecily giggled as she packed the head on top of the creation. “What shall we use as eyes?” she asked.

“Coal is traditional,” Ada said, and held out two lumps of coal.

Cecily kissed her for her foresight. “Thank you, Auntie Ada,” Cecily said, smiling at the snowman as she gave him eyes.

“I’m cold,” Ada said. “Let’s go back inside and play with our presents again.”

Inside, in the sitting room, their unwrapped gifts lay amidst a pile of wrapping paper under the tree. Their tree was very traditional, with a Nuremberg angel sparkling on top, and strings of berries, paper chains, and garlands wrapped around it. Here and there, a few German glass ornaments shone.

From her cousin, Cecily had recieved an automaton dog that would chase after a magnetized ball, and, from Ada, a book on early chemical development. Ernest had recieved a book on plant life as well as a small glass terrarium filled with exotic plants from Cecily. Ada had given him a new suit. And Ada now had an automatic card shuffler and a new deck of cards from Ernest, and a locket from Cecily with both of their pictures in it.

Supper would be served soon. Ada lit a cigar, sat down in one of the chairs in the sitting room, and pressed the button on her machine, causing the cards to shuffle themselves. She laughed, delighted. “Anyone want to play cards? If you think I’m cheating, blame Ernest.”

“I’ll play cards,” Cecily said, “though we don’t have enough players for bridge.”

“Let’s play cards after supper,” Ernest said. Ada snorted and inhaled deeply on her cigar. Cecily picked up the silver ball and threw it. The dog chased after it until it was close enough to grab it in its jaws, then sat down.

“Sorry I couldn’t think of a way to make it return the ball,” Ernest said.

“It’s quite delightful the way it is,” Cecily said. “And besides, running after it is good exercise.” Ada laughed. “Ernest,” Cecily said, taking the ball from the dog’s mouth, “tomorrow, we should go for a ride in the country. Through the snow. I think it would be lovely.” The automaton dog’s head followed the ball—almost hungrily, Cecily thought.

“I don’t know,” Ernest said. “I should prepare for the next trimester.”

“You’ll have days to prepare,” Cecily said. “And we haven’t been out in ages.”

“We were just out.”

“Out of the city.” Cecily pouted, then dropped the ball at her feet. The automaton dog picked it up and held it out for her.

“Oh, go for a ride, Ernest,” Ada said, blowing smoke out over the room. “You’re in here too much, and Cecily wants to go.”

“Will you come with us?” Ernest asked.

“No. Riding isn’t fun when you’re as old and your bottom gets to be as thin as I am and mine is.” She puffed on the cigar. “Besides, there’s a poker game I’m already committed to.”

“Please, Ernest?” Cecily said, “I know exactly where we could go, as well.”

“You do?” Ernest asked.

“Yes,” Cecily said innocently. “It’s a lovely landscape, and I’m sure the trees will look quite pretty covered in snow.”

“Very well,” Ernest said. “But I’m bringing my books with me, in case we stop and I have time to work on them.”

“Don’t be such a bore, Ernest,” Cecily said, smiling. A servant rang a bell to let them know that supper was ready. They ate roast goose and cranberries and a dozen other Christmas delights before they all went off to bed, Cecily dreaming of her trip to Ashton’s home tomorrow.

* * *



BY morning, the snow had stopped falling and frozen, so all of London looked like a great ice sculpture, or a city of glass. Cecily dressed alone, as Miriam was still gone, and she didn’t think she needed a maid to help her. If she could have it her way, she would wear her nightshirt all day, but she knew she was pretty enough to be noticed no matter how she dressed, and she preferred to be thought well of at first glance, and not as disheveled or insane. She tied her corset a bit looser than was fashionable so that she could breathe easily, but otherwise she looked quite presentable. She pinned her hair up in a bun, chose a blue hat to match her dress, and went downstairs for breakfast. Ernest was already there, and Ada, too, eating and reading their newspapers. Cecily sometimes wondered if normal families talked over breakfast, or if they all just read the newspaper in silence as hers did. Cecily helped herself to eggs and toast and took out her diary to reread at the table. Often, when bored, she found the sensationalism of her diary to be a great diversion.

After breakfast, Ada left them to return to her own home in town, and Cecily, barely able to contain her excitement, got into the coach with Ernest and whispered their destination in the driver’s ear.

The drive was quite soothing, Ernest had to admit. He had nearly told Ada about his kiss, asked her what it was that she felt was so striking about Ashton. But that, he decided, would have been awkward, and most definitely won Ada their bet. So he had remained quiet. In fact, he was quite determined to avoid thinking of young Adams ever again, if he could. The rolling, snow-covered countryside helped him to feel good about this decision.

The manor whose driveway they pulled up into did not. “Cecily, where are we?” he asked.

Cecily was glowing. “This is the Adams estate,” Cecily said, smiling. “I thought we could call on them.”

Ernest felt his breath wheeze out of him. “Call on a student? That would be most undignified!” he said. The world seemed to be spinning around him. “Quite inappropriate.”

“Don’t worry, Cousin,” Cecily said as the coachman opened the door. “Ashton won’t even be here. He is with his aunt and uncle for the holiday. We are calling on his sister, Violet.”

“His sister?” Ernest asked. Cecily noticed the corners of Ernest’s mouth briefly perk up at this before his brow settled into a scowl. She felt quite sure, all at once, that Ernest was in love with Violet, and it delighted her.

“Do you know her?” Cecily asked coyly. She was now standing outside the carriage, though Ernest was still sitting inside.

“She delivered her brother’s application.”

“Well, then you must come with me, if you know her already,” she said, and started for the house, leaving Ernest to hop out of the coach and chase after her.

* * *



INSIDE, Violet, Ashton, and Jack were playing darts in the lounge. Mrs. Wilks was the one who came in to announce the unexpected arrivals. “There is a Duke of Illyria and Miss Cecily Worthing here to pay a visit,” she said, apparently just as surprised as they were that the word duke had just come out of her mouth. Violet, Ashton, and Jack stared at her, stricken. Jack began to chuckle. “How do you know a duke?” Mrs. Wilks whispered. “Did you meet him through your father’s friends?” Her eyes were larger than Violet had ever seen them.

“Well, send them in, then, Mrs. Wilks,” Jack said. Mrs. Wilks waited a moment longer for an explanation, but when it was clear none was forthcoming, she nodded and left the room.

“I suppose we’re lucky you’re not the sort of girl who faints,” Jack said to Violet.

“I told her I—I mean, Ashton—wouldn’t be here. I said that he would be away and our cousin Ashton would be here instead.”

“I’m the cousin again, am I?” Ashton said.

“This is…,” Violet began.

“Quite amusing,” Jack said.

“No!” Violet nearly screamed. Ashton and Jack stared at her, now much more nervous. “We will be polite. But not too polite, so that they leave quickly,” Violet said, her hands out, palms down and bouncing, as if motioning them to sit down, “and so that we give nothing away.” She thought for a moment. “In fact, I may have to be rude.”

Ashton raised his eyebrows, but he poured himself a glass of brandy and said nothing.

Mrs. Wilks came in to announce the guests once more. Cecily and the duke entered and looked around. Everyone stared at one another in silence.

“Perhaps you’d leave us alone with our guests, Mrs. Wilks?” Ashton said. Mrs. Wilks narrowed her eyes. She clearly wanted to stay. But Ashton knew she was far too intimidated by the presence of a duke to argue her case, so she curtseyed slightly and vanished into the kitchen.

“Pray let me introduce myself to you,” Cecily said, approaching Violet. “I am Cecily Worthing.” Violet shook hands with Cecily. “Perhaps your brother has mentioned me?”

“No,” Violet said, sitting again, “he has not.”

“Ah,” Cecily said, “well, let me introduce the Duke of Illyria, my cousin and guardian.”

“We have already met,” Violet said, her voice cool. Ashton and Jack stared at Violet. She had taken on a demeanor they had never seen before. Her back was arched, her chin high, her face pale. “You surprise me, sir,” Violet said to the duke, “by your visit here. While I did say our gardens were lovely, I am afraid that in winter they look just like everyone else’s.”

“Ah, yes,” Ernest said, clasping his hands behind his back. He didn’t miss the coldness of her tone. No one in the room did.

“But we do have—that is, there is an astronomy tower,” Ashton said, stepping forward. “I’m Ashton, Violet’s cousin. I’ve heard of you, of course, sir. Perhaps you’d like to see the tower?”

“Yes,” Cecily said. “You ought to take dear Cousin Ernest to see the tower. You as well, Jack. Violet and I will talk as ladies do.” Jack snickered at this, but Violet shot him a look that quickly made him stop.

“Yes,” Jack said, “let’s all go see the astronomy tower. Of course, it cannot be compared to the one at Illyria, sir.” The three men left the room, and Cecily sat in the chair next to Violet.

“Something tells me we’re going to be great friends,” Cecily said. “I already like you more than I can say, and my first impressions of people are never wrong.” Violet found she could not stop staring at Cecily, at her audacity. She had to force the panic from her throat as she nodded. “And I hope you will call me sister,” Cecily said. “You see, I love your brother, and I am going to be his.” She sighed and leaned back into her chair.

“May I offer you some tea, Miss Worthing?” Violet asked, standing. She felt extremely uncomfortable, and suspected that Cecily could see it in her body. “Perhaps some cake, or bread and butter?”

“No thank you, Miss Adams,” Cecily said. “But I fear what I have said has caused you discomfort. I suppose I was too brusque in my manner. I should say that your brother has not yet proposed. But I do hope he will. I have come here with the express purpose of becoming your friend, so that when your brother and I become engaged, you and I will already be thick as thieves.”

“Ah,” Violet said, sitting down. She hoped Mrs. Wilks was not listening. She was unsure of what to do—she could probably break Cecily’s heart with the right lie, but she did want to be her friend. “Well, I hope we shall be great friends, too,” she said carefully, “but let us not talk of my brother.”

“Are you arguing?”

“Yes,” Violet said, thinking fast. “We had quite a row when he got back. He wanted to take the letter our father sent us from America with him to read on his trip, but I had been saving it for him, so we could read it together.” Violet was ashamed of how well she could lie, but relieved.

“That does seem rather selfish,” Cecily said, her brow creasing with confusion. Violet suddenly realized how she could break Cecily’s heart and still be her friend.

“He is quite selfish,” Violet said. “I should tell you, Miss Worthing, for I like you as well, that my brother can sometimes be quite a brute.”

“No!” Cecily said.

“He has a great many lady admirers,” Violet continued. “I suspect I may already have an illegitimate nephew.” Cecily gasped. “My poor, wounded, Cecily,” Violet said, and laid a hand on her knee.

Cecily clasped it in her own. “But he seems so sensitive.”

“He is,” Violet said. “But men are many things, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Cecily said, looking up at Violet, her eyes wet, “and thank you for telling me. I now know what I must do.”

“Yes?” Violet said, clasping Cecily’s hand.

“I must change him,” Cecily said with complete resolve. Violet held back a sigh. “Like a poor, diseased plant, I will take the good parts of Ashton, the parts I have seen, and help them to grow, while cutting off the disease. Yes. I understand now that love is a difficult thing, but I am prepared for the battle ahead. And I hope you will aid me in it, my sweet, wronged Violet,” she continued, clasping Violet’s hand to her chest, “for he has hurt you, too. But with you as his sister and me as his friend, we will change his deceitful ways, will we not?”

“Yes,” Violet said weakly. Her plan had failed her.

“And now,” Cecily said, dropping Violet’s hand and standing, “if you don’t mind, I will have some bread and butter.”

“Of course,” Violet said, defeated, and rang the bell.

When Mrs. Wilks came in, Violet asked for some bread and butter for both of them. Upon her return, Mrs. Wilks stared at Cecily for a long while before setting down the bread.

“How do you know Violet, if I may be so bold?” Mrs. Wilks asked, forcing her mouth into a clownish grin.

“Oh,” Cecily said, “we’ve only just met. I know her brother, Ashton.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Wilks said, and nodded, as though this somehow made more sense to her.

“Perhaps you could leave us to talk, Mrs. Wilks?” Violet asked sweetly. Mrs. Wilks nodded again, and left.

As they were eating, Cecily started to tell Violet about her scientific projects, which Violet knew about already, but managed to seem interested in nonetheless. A few moments later, the men came back in and Violet felt herself stiffen.

“It’s a lovely astronomy tower,” the duke said, “and your cousin knows all the details of the construction.”

“As do I,” Violet said.

“I’m sure,” the duke said, coloring slightly.

“We were just having some bread and butter and tea. Would you gentlemen like anything?”

“I will have some,” Jack said, sitting down next to Cecily. “Do you have any muffins?”

“We do,” Ashton said. “I’ll get them myself.”

“I thought perhaps you would honor me with a tour of the grounds,” the duke said to Violet. “I saw what looked to be a lovely cluster of ash trees by a pond.”

“Yes,” Violet said. “It was my mother’s favorite spot.”

“And Ashton said that violets grow there in spring—is that what inspired your name?” the duke asked, smiling.

“Yes. I’m afraid the violets are not in bloom, however,” Violet said.

“I’m well aware, Miss Adams.”

“And yet you bring them up anyway. Tell me, Miss Worthing, does your cousin talk of nothing but flowers to you as well? When I met him, it seemed he was quite incapable of discussing anything else.”

“Well, Ernest does like his flowers…,” Cecily began nervously.

“I believe you overestimate my interest in botany, Miss Adams,” the duke said with an arched eyebrow.

“I believe you overestimate mine, sir,” Violet responded, her eyebrow equally arched. Her heart was beating quite rapidly, and she felt her face flush.

“Oh, just show him the trees, Violet,” Ashton said, coming back in with a plate of muffins. Mrs. Wilks followed with a tea tray and several more cups. They placed their respective platters down on the table.

“We’ve never had such grand company here before,” Mrs. Wilks said. “Ashton, how is it you know—?”

“Very well,” Violet said, standing, “I’ll take you outside, if Miss Worthing doesn’t mind being left alone in the company of two such rogues.”

“Jack is perfectly harmless,” Cecily said, “and I’m sure your cousin is quite charming.”

“Cousin?” Mrs. Wilks asked, looking at Ashton.

“I am,” Ashton said, with a wink. “I’m very little besides, in fact.”

“And I am harmless, as she says,” Jack said with large eyes.

Violet rolled her eyes.

“Who is your cousin, Violet?” Mrs. Wilks asked again.

“Why don’t you put on the kettle for more tea, Mrs. Wilks,” Ashton said, grasping Mrs. Wilks’s shoulders and directing them toward the door. Mrs. Wilks walked out, shaking her head.

“She sometimes becomes confused around the holidays,” Ashton said. “But she’s been working for us for so long, she’s like part of the family.”

Cecily nodded sympathetically.

“Will you show me the grounds, then, Miss Adams—even if they are covered in snow?”

“I suppose,” Violet said.

The duke offered his arm to her, and she took it lightly, nearly pulling away as their bodies touched and a strange sensation crept from her arm to her spine and made her shiver. She kept her face stern, however, and tried to look bored. Nonetheless, the cold wind that blew over them as they stepped outside was a relief to her, as it cooled her face, which had grown quite warm. Violet felt confused. She was angry with the duke. Seeing him again while in a woman’s guise, she remembered the last time they had so met, and how he had talked of nothing but flowers, as though she were a silly-minded girl. But she also remembered the experimental kiss, and though she could see no logical reason to continue that experiment, the results of it lingered in her mind and body.

“These, then, are the trees,” Violet said when they had reached the cluster of ash. She pulled back her arm to gesture at them.

“They look quite lovely,” the duke said. “I should like to come see them in the spring, perhaps.”

“You should feel welcome to, sir. You needn’t even bother stopping in. Just drive your coach up, look at the trees awhile, and leave again.”

“I sense, Miss Adams, that you do not like me.”

“I do not like that you seem to only be capable of broaching subjects floral or arboreal when you speak to me.”

“I apologize,” the duke said sincerely. “What would you prefer to talk of?”

Violet looked at him for a moment, evaluating the situation. “My brother,” she said, “wrote a most clever essay on space travel. He tells me you disagree with his points. Why?”

“Ah,” the duke said, looking a bit hurt by the bluntness of her statement. “It is not that I disagree with his points. I feel only that his scope is limited. While a spaceship powered by a mechanical spring and electricity is possible, a better craft could be made by using all the sciences harmoniously. And I do feel quite strongly that a chemical reaction of some sort would be required for launching such a vessel.”

“You don’t agree that a large enough spring could propel such a craft out into the æther?”

“I think it could work, but the energy required to turn such a spring is tremendous. Why not just use a chemical reaction?”

“It could damage the ship, and carrying fuel will weigh it down more.”

“You and your brother seem to feel that a chemical reaction necessitates some sort of damage to the ship. But we could easily account for such a thing, and for the weight. The chemical sciences make such a thing fairly easy to predict and prepare for. Besides, then the ship would be able to take off again from the planet’s surface, something you haven’t taken into account at all.”

Violet smiled. He was finally treating her with respect, but she was too cold to enjoy it fully. “Let’s continue this inside, by the fire, shall we?”

“Of course,” the duke said, offering his arm. Violet took it in hers and laid her other hand on his elbow. “You really don’t like flowers, do you?” he asked as they walked toward the manor.

“I like flowers just fine. I dislike being thought the sort of lady who thinks of nothing but flowers.”

“Ah,” the duke said, looking contemplative. “I apologize for ever having given that impression.”

“Argue with me some more,” Violet said as they reached the door. “Convince me that my brother’s theories are wrong.”

They debated for about an hour longer, while Cecily, Jack, and Ashton played cards. When the sun turned a deep orange, the duke and Cecily bade everyone a friendly farewell. Violet admitted that the duke’s reasoning on space travel was well thought out, but would not concede that it was better than her brother’s theories.

“May I write you, and try to convince you in my letters?” the duke asked.

“You can try,” Violet said.

The duke grinned and stepped into his coach, and he and Cecily rode off into the snow.

* * *



“WHO were those people?” Mrs. Wilks asked after they left. “And why did they think you were cousins?”

“I’m the cousin,” Jack said quickly. “I confess, I masquerade as their cousin in town when we go out. Much more regal sounding than son of their estate manager. You won’t tell, will you, Mrs. Wilks?” Jack got down on one knee and looked pleadingly at Mrs. Wilks.

“But she said ‘Jack and your cousin,’” Mrs. Wilks said, looking confused. “Which would mean Jack and your cousin were different persons. I’m almost sure.”

“No,” Ashton said, “she said I was charming, and that Jack was harmless.”

“Yes…,” Mrs. Wilks said.

“Dear Mrs. Wilks,” Jack said, taking her hand, “I would be ever so grateful if you didn’t mention this to anyone.” He looked up at her imploringly.

She blushed slightly and nodded. “Of course not,” she said. “Goodness, if I met a duke, I’d be so flustered, I might say I was the Queen.” Mrs. Wilks shook her head and went back into the kitchen for more tea. Violet, Jack, and Ashton breathed in deeply and let their shoulders slump in relief. Mrs. Wilks came out and refilled their cups. “What a Christmas. My sister will never believe me when I say there was a duke here.”

Ashton chuckled. “Have some tea, Mrs. Wilks,” he said. She nodded, sat down, and began to sip the cup of tea she had just poured for Jack. Everyone laughed, drank, and enjoyed the heat from the fire. In the sparks from the logs, Violet thought she saw the arc of a launching æthership, leaping away from earth.