Teetering on the Edge

Invitation

A sudden whooshing filled the circular office followed by a loud 'thunk'. Two brown eyes glanced at the twin set of tubes to the left then a brown, felt sleeved arm reached out and pale, knobby fingers pulled down the lid covering the opening of one of the tubes.

A rolled up slip of paper slid out.

The same hand clumsily picked it up and unfurled it. Scribbled neatly on its surface was one sentence: Mr. Hemsworth is here

The paper was forgotten as a body rose from the stiff chair fused to the floor and headed for the caged, cylindrical elevator in front of the desk.

In seconds  the elevator was steadily descending into the factory.

The whirring of the assembly machines and shouted commands of the supervisors bombarded the ears and the smell of something burning and melted metal filled the nostrils. At once a white handkerchief was whipped out and pressed against thin lips as a muffled cough came through them.

The elevator stopped with a 'clank' before a conveyor belt that sent gears, pipes, cuboids and combinations of all towards a wide chute. A little a ways was a black door. Handkerchief still against the mouth, the body went to the door. A lever was pulled, the door popped open. With much difficulty, the door was pulled back.

Worn, black shoes thumped against the steps as the person walked down a lengthy flight of stairs. Now the rectangular cloth was tucked away and the same hand held onto the railing.

After a while the person stepped out onto the landing of a metal staircase inside the warehouse.

The eyes scanned the surrounding area for Mr. Hemsworth and spied a chubby man in fine clothes engaged in lively conversation with the foreman.

"Mr. Hemsworth!" The man turned and called back with his arms outstretched. "Mark!"

Mark quickly sprinted down the stairs, though that left him gasping, and met the man halfway. The subsequent bearhug made him wince but he flashed Mr. Hemsworth a slight smile when the man pulled away.

"Good to see you standing again, you gave us quite the scare last week!" he exclaimed with a grin. Mark bowed his head and chuckled. "It'll take more than pneumonia, sir, to put me in the grave." "Amen to that. But is the doctor right to let you work so soon?" Mark shrugged. "This factory can't stay closed because of my illness."

Mr. Hemsworth hummed to himself then put a hand on Mark's shoulder and turned him away from the foreman. Anxiety quickly morphed Mark's sickly features. "Is something wrong?" The man laughed. "No, nothing's wrong. I figured no one else needs to hear this." Mark tipped his head in agreement.

"Right. Now Mark, my sister-in-law is getting married." "I give my regards." "Give them in person." Mark blinked. "I'm sorry?" "My sister-in-law has allowed every guests to bring a plus one and I, as well as my wife, chose you." Mark bowed his head. "I-I am honored sir."

Mr. Hemsworth waved his hand. "Come on now, no need to be so humble and modest." Then he reached into his pocket. "Here's the ticket. All guests are due to leave in two days' time."

Mark accepted the stiff slip of cardboard and looked it over. Golden decorations framed the black ink words:

SPZ Ladybird

Departure: Wednesday 13th March 1864

From: Metal London

Arrival: Sunday 17th March 1864

To: Aether

He nearly dropped the ticket.

"Oh and make sure to pack your best suits, Mark. This is higher company you'll be around and they'll buy your poor man act," Mr. Hemsworth warned. He looked into those jolly green eyes. "Y-Yes sir," he replied in a hushed tone.

***

A/N: SPZ= Steam-powered Zeppelin