Einstein Must Die! (Fate of Nations Book 1) (2 page)

Tesla awoke to the sound of such clamoring and turmoil, he was certain the building must be coming down around him.

“Nikola!” a man yelled through his door, followed by a staccato beating against the wood. “Wake up, man! The Academy is waiting for you!”

Tesla blinked and sat up in bed. Groggy from the late night’s work, he looked about his room. The DC generator was still in pieces, which vexed him. Some small, critical detail was eluding him. Perhaps if he—

“Nikola!” yelled the man again.

Tesla bolted straight up, still clothed from last night. “One moment, I’m coming!”

He found his overcoat and pocketed an apple for breakfast. Opening the door, he came face to face with Charles-Henri. The short Frenchman was red in the face, and his glasses were askew.
 

“Charles-Henri, did you run the entire distance here?” Tesla asked, throwing on his coat.

“
Oui
! Yes, I most certainly did. The entire Academy is waiting for you at the Royal Hall. Please do not tell me you forgot your presentation.”

Tesla patted the man’s shoulder reassuringly. “Of course not. I am not half the mad scientist others think of me. Come, let’s go and educate.” He headed out, charging down the hallway.

“Nikola! The oscillator?”

Tesla froze, then returned to his room. When he returned, he was carrying a small mechanical device.

“Right, off we go.” Tesla led the way, and Charles-Henri caught up to him.

Ten minutes later the two bounded up the marble steps of the Royal Hall of the Academy of Science. Tesla threw the double doors open wide, and strode into the hall. A raised central stage was surrounded by a sea of benches. Three hundred scientists and reporters turned to look as he entered.
 

“Good morning, gentlemen! I am Nikola Tesla, and it is time we began the presentation.”

As he walked down the aisle toward the stage, there was minor grumbling from the audience, but Tesla’s work on oscillating vibrations was nothing short of thrilling. And besides, he was hardly the first scientist to behave oddly.

He leaped unto the stage and reviewed the audience. He knew many of the faces. His friend Samuel Clemens, who never missed his talks, sat in a front row. His novels, written under the pen name Mark Twain, were gaining quite a reputation. Tesla nodded a welcome as Samuel shook his head, smiling.
 

Farther back, he found George Westinghouse, the financier who was particularly interested in Tesla’s work on AC power, sitting with William Stanley. A few rows away, Thomas Edison was whispering to J.P. Morgan. Tesla smiled at his current employer, but Edison didn’t return the gesture.

A small table had been set up for his use, so Tesla sat his oscillator on it. Behind him another table held a steam generator, and various tools and devices from the previous speaker. He brought the steam generator over to his table, and lit the fire within to begin building up steam.
 

While the generator built pressure, an assistant brought him a pitcher of water and a glass. He thanked the man, then turned back to the audience and raised his arms.
 

“Gentlemen, thank you for your indulgence. As you will soon see, the investment was a wise one. Now… resonance. Every object has a natural frequency at which it vibrates. If we know this frequency, and apply a vibration of said frequency to an object, we build up a wave effect that grows over time. Think of a snowball rolling down a hill and becoming an avalanche. The same happens within objects and can tear them apart from within.”

“Such as the Angers Bridge?” someone asked.

“Precisely. The wind had already begun making the bridge vibrate, and when the French soldiers marched across, they added to the effect. The bridge collapsed, and two hundred men died. For this very reason, soldiers break step when they cross bridges.”

Samuel Clemens chimed in. “I do hope we aren’t felling bridges today, Nikola.” The audience chuckled.

“No, I have something less grand in mind today. I see we have a full head of steam, so let’s begin. I will attach the steam output to my oscillator thusly,” he said, attaching a heavy hose to his device. “And now, to switch it on.”

He activated the oscillator, and immediately a high-pitched whine sang from the device. Some members of the audience plugged their ears with their fingers.

“An unpleasant tone, to be sure. But watch how it can be put to use.”

Tesla turned an adjustment valve, and the pitch of the sound dipped lower. He turned the dial the opposite way, and the pitch rose. Higher and higher it went, becoming almost painful to hear.

“Just a bit more!” he yelled over the sound.

He dialed the piercing tone higher, and the water glass beside him shattered as if detonated by explosives. A moment after the pitcher also flew apart into shards. The audience was shocked, then impressed.

Tesla turned the dial down until the tone was low and easier on the ears.

“As you see, oscillating vibrations are yet another tool man can harness and put to good work. In fact, I would go so far as to say-“

Crack
!

The sound of splitting wood echoed through the hall. Everyone looked about for the source, but saw nothing unusual.

Tesla continued. “I would go so far as to say that through judicious application, controlled vibrations could be an untapped source of great power. There are innumerable applications, from mining to—”

CRRRACK
!

Much louder now, the sound had an ominous quality, like imminent danger. Outside on the street, people were yelling, but the words were muffled.

Tesla’s brow furrowed as he looked about the hall.

With a splintered roar, the main entry archway snapped, and half of it fell like a logged tree. The huge support beam crashed to the ground in a cloud of plaster dust.

Then the stage buckled, and Tesla fought to remain standing. Beneath him, he felt the heavy wood beams settling and falling apart.
 

“My God, the building’s coming down,” he whispered to himself.

The crowd panicked now, and everyone leaped to his feet, pushing toward the exit. Several men went down in the aisles as their peers flowed around and over them for safety. Here and there the audience held on to their wits and pulled the trampled men up to their feet. But mostly the large room held a spooked herd, bolting from a threat.

Tesla’s friend Samuel jumped onto the stage, escaping the pandemonium. Tesla pulled him up to safety, then turned back to the oscillator.
 

“It’s reached the natural frequency of the building!” he yelled above the turmoil.

“I should say so!” Samuel answered. “Disable it man, or your genius will turn to infamy. And worse, I will be dead!”

Tesla reached for the hose that delivered steam to his contraption. He turned and wrenched the fitting, but it refused to give way. “The heat has sealed it!”

Samuel stood rock still, feeling utterly helpless to assist his friend or himself. Then he saw the second table behind Tesla. He sprang forward to it, running his hands over the devices and tools. There must be something…

He found a huge iron hammer, suitable for driving railroad spikes.
And hopefully, smashing oscillators
, he thought. He grabbed the heavy tool and turned back. “Nikola!”

Tesla saw and understood in a flash. He whipped the hammer from Samuel’s hands and heaved it back. With a full body swing, he brought the hammer crashing down onto the rumbling oscillator.
 

Clang
!

The hammer bounced off, leaving a thumb-sized dent in the device’s thick hull. The low, rhythmic vibrations continued.
 

Just then a new ripping sound tore from the east wall. Tesla glanced and saw a thick crack appear in the wall’s plaster finish. Then the crack split wider, and became a running gash that leaped up the wall and above the large stained glass windows.
 

The sudden settling of the wall was too much for the old glass, and the windows shattered under the new weight bearing down on them. The audience was showered by a red, blue, and green rain of glass fragments.

Tesla turned back and set himself for another attack. He drove the hammer down with all his strength. The head struck the oscillator squarely, cracking the outer hull. The high-pressure steam inside escaped violently, sending a scalding, shrieking white jet shooting over the terrified audience members.

And then all was quiet.

The low vibration ceased. There were no more sounds of splintering wood or plaster. The yelling of men calmed.

Tesla stared at his device, eyes wide. He remembered he still held the hammer, and let it slip to the floor.
 

Samuel looked to his friend. “Well done.”

Tesla tore his eyes away from the wrecked machine. “I—”

A shrill police whistle cut through the room, giving the anxious men a jolt. Six uniformed officers pushed through the masses.
 

“What’s going on in here?” one demanded. “We have calls from all the nearby businesses. Women going on about the end of the world. What’s happened here?”

Samuel stepped forward, hands open in a genteel welcome. “Welcome, officers. What occurred here was nothing more than… than…“

“An earthquake,” said Tesla.

Samuel gave his friend a sour, sideways look. “Yes, that’s the answer.”

Tesla stepped forward. “I was just giving a presentation on applied oscillations when the quake struck. Made a hell of a mess. Thank God you’ve arrived.” Then he closed his mouth and waited.

Some of the audience voiced their disapproval, and called for Tesla’s head, but the police decided against placing blame and turned to getting everyone out safely.

Samuel clapped him on the shoulder. “Good show, Nikola. Better than the circus.”

Tesla turned, his eyes still wide. “I believe I need a drink.”

“A capital idea!” Samuel replied. “And it’s on me. The least I can do for such an entertaining morning.”

***

Tesla and Samuel hastily found their way from the Academy and turned down an alley. They crossed Post Street, then turned west, through the grocer’s area. New York had many fine taverns, but for Tesla, there was only one favorite, the Petal & Thorn.

Samuel checked his pocket watch. “It’s not even ten yet. John will likely be sleeping still.”

“A gamble we must accept.”

They quickly walked the remaining six blocks. Above them, dark, swollen storm clouds gathered, threatening rain.

Samuel looked up. “God is unhappy with you,” he said, smiling.

“He’s not the only one.”

Samuel followed his friend’s gaze, and saw a rough, hulking man approaching. He looked like a railway worker, or maybe a professional fighter.
 

“Nikola Tesla,” said the brute. “Good to see you.” The smoldering hostility in the man’s eyes belied the friendly words. He joined the men, standing uncomfortably close. “Going to be getting paid soon, am I?”

Tesla’s face warmed, embarrassed to have his private issues made public to Samuel. “You will. Now if you’ll excuse us.” He walked around the brute, and Samuel followed him.

“That’s good, very good,” he called as they walked away. “Be seeing you soon then!”

They continued to the bar, and Samuel looked at his friend in concern. “Well?”

“That was Clay Bracken. He’s a debt collector.”

“Debts?”

“I had a bad run with the cards. A small matter.”

“Hmm. Well, I’d wager he’s good at his job. Do you need help?”

Tesla waved off the offer. “Not at all, my friend. But thank you.”

They reached the bar just as the rain fell. The door was locked, so Tesla knocked, and they crowded together under the awning. “John Roberts! Please open, we need a drink!”

The two men stood in the doorway, waiting. Tesla raised his fist to knock again, but then a face appeared in the glass. John’s eyes were red, and his face hung slack. Tesla wondered whether the barkeep had a late evening, or was the victim of a robbery.

John’s bloodshot eyes slowly fixed upon the men. “Gods. My two best customers. At once. This cannot be a good sign.”

Tesla knocked again. “Come on, John, let us in. It’s been a trying day.”

John grunted.

Samuel joined in, leaning over Tesla’s shoulder. “Yes, we’ve narrowly escaped an earthquake, after all.”

If John was surprised by this news, he gave no evidence of it. “An earthquake. Of course. You’d best come inside then.”
 

He opened the lock and swung the door wide, standing aside for the men to enter. A bear of a man, he loved his liquor, beef, and women.
 

After they bounded inside his bar, John closed and locked the door behind them, then shuffled to his station behind the fantastic bar. It had been carved from a single large oak eighty years ago and had survived four fires, three bankruptcies, and now, apparently, an earthquake.

Tesla and Samuel settled onto high stools at the bar as John poured two whiskeys. Tesla found the warm wood paneling and rich jewel-tone tapestries especially welcoming today, and his nerves began to settle. The huge flagstone fireplace was not yet lit, but the upcoming warmth of the whiskey would suffice.

John pushed the glasses to the men. As they reached for them, he pulled them back.
 

“I am going back to bed. These are on the house, but no more, agreed?”

“Absolutely, John,” said Tesla.

“Agreed!” echoed Samuel.

“Very well.” John slid the glasses forward, then turned and shuffled into the back kitchen, where he kept a spare bed.

“You are a prince, John Roberts,” called Tesla.

The prince grunted and waved once over his shoulder, not looking up as he disappeared into the kitchen.

The two men sipped their whiskey, savoring the icy burn. Samuel let the silence hang, then offered, “A formidable weapon you’ve devised, my friend.”

Tesla laughed. “It’s incredible how many things that capture my interest become weapons, despite my not having that intention.”

“Well, we all have our talents.”