=====================INTRO=====================
Ancient legends abound in stories of automata, machines animated by divine or human genius. Since antiquity, the various civilizations of the world experimented during their Golden Ages with mechanically-driven devices to perform a variety of tasks, of which the only surviving examples are clocks and simple mannequins.
But it was only since the Age of Enlightenment, man sought to apply his ingenuity towards a better world, where machines will set him free from his labors, and allow him to explore the heights and depths of the Earth beyond the reach of his mortal body. Some even dreamed of transforming their societies into ones governed by the principles of Reason, Liberty, Equality and Brotherhood.
The Industrializing nations of Europe immediately realized and capitalized on the practical value of science, and soon scientific institutions sprung up to disseminate the fruits of its labors. A breakthrough emerged in white-shored, coal-rich Albion, the future workshop of the world, when it was discovered that steam could be harnessed to great effect, unleashing tremendous energy that could be easily channeled to productive ends via the external combustion engine. Millions of patents were devised that employed machine power in nearly every aspect of practical life, and the landscapes of Europe became dotted with factories and billowing clouds of black smoke.
In the political upheavals of the early 19th century, the only great institutions to survive were scientific. The Church had lost most of its credibility and practically all of its political authority. Only those competitive nations that aligned themselves closely with pioneering research and technology, and implemented the scientific ideals of meritocracy and technocracy, were fit to be called Great Powers. It was they whose footprints on the world were largest.
It was the autocratic nations, such as Austria, Russia and the Ottoman Empire, who most frequently stood in the way of progress. By their abundant natural resources and populations they clung to power, despite their repressive practices and outdated customs. Yet all had teeming masses of peoples yearning to live free, turning each into a veritable powder-keg of potential conflict. It was in their regions of the world that drew the rest into conflict.
==============CHAPTER ONE===FOR WANT OF A SCREW===========
London, England
July 1853
Doctor Roger Bellamy was an esteemed practitioner of medicine, whose ingenuity and broad approach to human illness reflected the renaissance nature of his education and his aristocratic upbringing. Despite being only in his early thirties, no one questioned his unconventional ideas, as he frequently kept in contact with the eminent figures in all the branches of medicine, and each experimental approach was validated with unheard-of rates of success. His very person simultaneously embodied the go-for-it spirit of modernity and a romantic, yet sensible attachment to England's past. Genteel and gentlemanly, Bellamy both engaged in manly sports and the humanities in his spare time.
In fact, the only real flaw of his was his eligibility. Women everywhere sought his hand, frustrated that such a desirable bachelor wasn't interested in marriage. While the age certainly had its share of distractions and worthy endeavors, being unmarried in one's thirties opened a man to terrible rumors, made in whispered breath. An overriding interest in the sciences could only excuse Mr. Bellamy for so long.
"Whatever they may say about Doctor Bellamy, he is a fine man, and you'd better leave a good impression, Prudence. You will not scare him off like your suitors with your outrageous disease," came a stodgy, matriarchal voice from the lobby.
"Mother, I shall be on my best behavior. But I have told you before, my bouts of...exuberance, are not mine to control," replied the more youthful, subdued voice next to her. From inside the practice, Roger could only discern vague outlines from the pastel-like glass on his clinic door.
"Silence, child! We will have this talk at home!"
Roger could tell that the figures in the lobby were looking through the blurry window at him as well, and decided that they had waited long enough. He opened the door with the best nonchalance he could affect, which always seemed to work. He caught the matron's stern expression for a brief second before she disguised it with a polite smile.
"Greetings," the doctor cast a soft eye to the daughter, who could only return her gaze in doses. She was quite nervous, both due to the circumstances of her disease, and the pressure her mother placed on her to impress.
To be honest, while Dr. Bellamy was a handsome enough man, and worthy of admiration, there was no place Prudence would rather be than at home. There was only one prescribed cure for hysteria in Victorian England, and it would be almost impossible to create a favorable impression of herself after receiving it. Listening to her mother discuss her problems with the doctor was almost enough for her to run out the door.
"While we do not believe as the Ancients did, that your daughter's symptoms are caused by a malignant uterus freely traveling around the body, it is possible that her erratic behavior can be explained by some underlying nervous disorder, or flaw in the reproductive tract. The latter would be very simple to find, but the former would require further consultations. You should be proud of your daughter if the cause is psychological. I hear it is more common in the mentally advanced."
"She is quite a gifted girl, even though she is PRONE TO SULKING," the old woman raised her voice and turned to Prudence, not being subtle about it at all. Prudence lifted her gaze from the marble-tiled floor and forced her eyes and mouth into a tight smile.
"Ever since she was fourteen, she has had a tendency to cause trouble. She gets irritated easily and has refused meals on more than one occasion."
Internally, she grimaced. She had been perfectly healthy and well-adjusted when her father was still alive and her mother hadn't been constantly pressuring her into marriage. It is hard not to be irritable and have a healthy appetite when the only voice you heard criticized you every day. Plus, her corset made it impossible to take more than three bites of anything and not feel like she was full to burst.
Still, Prudence feared she really might have hysteria. She had been feeling unnatural excitement towards a lowborn chimney sweeper who worked her street, even though all common sense says such a man could not be attractive to a well-bred Englishwoman such as herself. Women were not supposed to be sexual creatures, according to the handbooks she was given as a child, and she was mortified to find that her lower extremities often lubricated themselves without her permission. She could find no sane woman who would admit to having such problems, so the chances were good that she really suffered from some disease.
"The fastest way to figure out the source of your daughter's distress is a brief physical examination, following by stimulation to paroxysm. Her symptoms should be reduced for the next week, around."
"I hope you understand my desire to observe you, doctor. I simply must be in the room."
"Of course, madame. You shall witness that no harm will come to your daughter. I am a licensed professional, after all."
The three of them entered his office. On one wall were his certificates and proof of his qualifications, on the others were bookshelves filled with the latest volumes of medical knowledge. His desk had a globe, a fancy pen, and all the trappings of an educated man. In the half of the room furthest from the door was his work station.
"Please, have a seat over there."
Dr. Bellamy gestured to the reclining chair by the window. Prudence sat down on it improperly, leaning too much forward.
"Seat yourself as far backward as possible, then place your legs in the braces."
To her dismay, Prudence's legs became elevated and spread apart, exposing the space between them. Save for her undergarments, he would have had a direct view of her delicate parts. Her mother sat in a chair in front of the desk, observing the two as if everything was perfectly normal.
"If you will, please remove your undergarments and pull up your dress so that there is nothing covering your waist. I will turn around for your privacy."
While he was a charming and handsome man, part of her was annoyed with his pointless sense of formality. What is the point of averting his gaze when she took off her clothes when he would end up seeing her naked anyway? Her mother seemed to approve, even find this gesture considerate of him.
Prudence folded up her panties and placed them in her pocket. She did not want to hand them to anyone if there happened to be an odor or residue on them. She folded her skirt up, exposing her lower body which was bare save her long stockings, garter-belt and shoes.
Meanwhile, Dr. Bellamy was washing his hands in a cold rinse bowl. Hand-washing had recently spread as medical practice, but glove-wearing was yet to come in vogue. He would be touching her barehanded! Prudence almost fainted at the thought, but didn't want to be viewed with even more alarm.
She tried to maintain her calm expression as she found herself becoming moist. The cool air of the office was more noticeable on her hot labia. She almost wished she could wipe herself dry with her panties, but she feared that touching it would make it worse. Her pubic hair was on full display as well, a tiny little thing. Not good. A bald vagina was associated with prostitutes, while a hairy one conveyed meant modesty. It was her misfortune that she was never quite a hairy girl down there. She only had a triangle-shaped patch, almost as light as her light blonde hair, and offering no protection at all from the male gaze. How could she come off as dignified when Dr. Bellamy can see as much of her as he wanted?
"Ah, right away I detect something," Roger said with confidence and certainty. He pointed right between her legs.
"What is it?" Her mother asked, concerned.
"She has an enlarged clitoris. Modern medicine believes it to be a useless appendage, but I have reason to believe it plays a role in influencing a woman's sexual appetite. Hers is about the size of a pearl, and it's not covered by its accompanying flap of skin ."
With insensitive fingers, he pinched the hood above her clitoris with his left hand, and pointed toward it with his right index finger.
"When the clitoris protrudes this much, it can produce excitations upon contact with the slightest breeze, or softest silk."
To demonstrate, he gave it a light flick, which caused her to tremble in her contraption.
"And her lower extremities produce excessive lubrication, largely, but not solely, due to the influence of this troublesome nerve." He ran a finger between her lips and drew up a good amount of mucus. He held it up to the mother to demonstrate her productivity.
