Fantastic Fittings

By C. M. Ries

An EMP throws the world into chaos, but for Sarah Peterson, it provides a chance to shine.

When scientists developed nanobiology to dissolve plastics, they never anticipated EMPs would mutate it to decay everything. The Blackout, a worldwide ban on electricity, was the only solution. Now, in a steam-powered future, Sarah Peterson counts the last days of her apprenticeship with the ingenious but transgressive inventor, Arthur Goldstein.

When her gold-digging parents introduce her to the wealthy, charismatic Kane, Sarah sees a path to independence--until she meets Ethan. He is the perfect test subject for Goldstein's illegal biometal experiments, and despite a rocky start, an attraction blossoms. But Sarah can't let Ethan becomes a tether to the life she's desperate to escape. And when she learns her own ocular lens uses the same illegal material, the threat to her safety becomes as dire as her friends'.

Can marriage to Kane still offer Sarah a path? How can she uphold her promises at the cost of her freedom?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mocha Memoirs Press
• Release date: Mar 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201941918

Book preview

The Fight

T homas Wilson's son is back from Spain.

Sarah lifted her head from the breakfast table and looked at her mother. What does that have to do with me? She yawned, her jaw cracking loudly, and ran her hands through her bushy hair. Strands caught on the edges of the metal panel embedded in her wrist. Annoyed, she pulled the hairs free. Without the accompanying glove attachment and fingertip tools, the edge of the metal caught on everything. She rubbed her eyes, running her fingertips over her ocular panel where it connected at her temple.

Trina set a plate of crusty bread and a jar of summer strawberry jam in front of Sarah, avoiding eye contact. Show up at tonight's Blackout party, look pretty, and be on your best behavior. She poured the steaming hot tea, her hand shaking. We need this.

Sarah let her hand fall from her forehead. Are you trying to use me for one of your business ploys?

Her singsong statement, He's handsome and single, dismissed the question.

Stop it Mother. What do you want from the Wilsons?

Trina sliced a thick piece off the hardening loaf. They're one of the most prestigious families on the west coast of Lancashire. If your father and I can convince them to grant us a salvage smelting contract, this will make us rich. She paused, then added, That's where you come in.

Sarah sat up. You expect me to sleep with him!

Her mother shot her a look. That, she said, pointing, is what we can't have tonight. Keep your attitude and temper in check. She passed Sarah a teacup a little too quickly, and sloshed its contents on the tablecloth. With a mutter she dabbed at it with a threadbare towel. Should he notice you tonight, I expect you to act like a lady and treat him respectfully. If you're not thinking about your future when your apprenticeship ends, at least think of your family.

And butter up a stranger so you can get to his father. Sarah scowled and took a sip of the scalding tea. It was over-steeped and far too strong. I don't have a choice, do I?

Her mother spoke through her pinched mouth. I suggest you be grateful. It wouldn't hurt you to take a chance with a wealthy bachelor. You wouldn't have to struggle like we have and a relationship like that would offer us all opportunities.

Like you took a chance on me with my contract?

Your apprenticeship with that inventor came at a steep price. Our factory was collateral for your education.

I love how you remind me every chance you get of the 'risks' you took gambling my life away. Never mind you needed my apprenticeship to keep the family afloat.

Your father and I want the best for you. We did you a favor.

Sarah rolled her eyes. She'd heard it all before. At the expense of a decade of practical slavery. I work night and day making contraptions for Mr. Goldstein's shop with only one day off a week, if I'm lucky.

Oh, you poor thing, her mother simpered. One day off a week, a roof over your head, food in your belly, and oh yes, a highly paid position and education with the knowledge to start your own business when it's finished. Maybe I should take you for a walk where we used to live and remind you of how nice you have it. If we're lucky, we'll only be mugged for our purse and not raped in an alley.

Two more years, mother. Sarah held up her fingers. I'm not free for two more years.

Yes, and then you will open your own device shop and stop complaining about how bad you have it. She slapped the tea towel on the table.

What if I don't open my own shop? What if I just want to travel the world when I'm finished so I can decide for myself?

I hope you're not this ungrateful to your mentor.

Sarah scowled out the dirty kitchen window. Of course not. He's been nothing but kind to me since the day we met.

At least you've got that much good sense.

I was only thirteen! Do you have any idea how frightened I was?

If I'd told you about the surgery, you would have backed out before the contract ink dried.

I wouldn't have signed it in the first place!

But, she said, emphasizing each word with a thin finger pressing on the table, Here. We. Are. She stood tall, You've a talent for artifacing, and if you decide not to continue altering devices after your tenure is done, you'd be a fool. However, I'm sure your father can find something useful to do with you at our smelting factory. We always need someone to oversee intake of crushed cars and cable. Trina leaned against the counter rubbing the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

Sarah glared. Shouldn't you be getting ready for the party? You look haggard.

Trina bit her lower lip, opening and closing her mouth as she searched for the words to spit back. Then she turned on her heel and stormed down the hall, her long thick braids swinging behind her.

Sarah crammed the last of the toast into her mouth and wiped her lips on a napkin before gulping the now lukewarm tea. She was determined to make the most of the party and enjoy herself, despite her mother's schemes. She looked forward to a soiree as much as everyone else and hoped to meet someone to flirt with. Nights like this offered the rare chance to pretend she was like other girls. Her mother said the son was handsome, but Thomas Wilson was a pasty-faced portly man. If his son resembled him even a little, then her mother lied. It wasn't that she didn't want to date, but men typically lost interest once they found out she had so little time for them.

Sarah went down the hall and closed herself in her childhood bedroom. She lived in a room over Mr. Goldstein's shop and returned to her parent's house as infrequently as possible. So it always felt strange seeing the room she remembered most as a young child.

When she first went to Goldstein's shop, he reassured her everything would be alright. Then gave her an injection of something to help her sleep. When she woke up, a bandage covered the side of her face and she saw double for a week out of that eye. There were tiny cuts stitched shut where he'd placed sub-dermal magnets and a strange silver panel the size of a small coin that showed through puckered red skin at her temple. He warned her to always keep it covered or her ocular tool wouldn't work properly. Then he fitted her with part of the device so she could get used to the weight. At first it was heavy and uncomfortable, but she soon grew used to it. He made weekly adjustments to it as he taught her to use her orbital muscles to control the lens by blinking or squinting. Seeing out of her own eye sometimes took some getting used to without the enhancement of her ocular lens, but Sarah no longer suffered migraines from the strain it once caused when she removed the device.

She removed the thin metal cover on her temple by pulling it from the strong embedded magnets and scratched beneath it. It served as both decoration and protection for the connection point for her ocular device, which allowed her to do microscopic work on Mr. Goldstein's inventions. She took out her more decorative cover, the filigree silver mesh curved around her right eye and framed her brow attractively. The wealthy wore pieces like hers for vanity, some lavishly encrusted with jewels. Hers were decorated with a combination of tiny diamonds and emeralds. Her mentor Arthur Goldstein had made it for her sixteenth birthday.

She cleaned the cover until it glinted in the light and set it aside in its velvet lined case to wash her face. Sarah ran her fingers through her thick hair and searched for a pick to tame the knots. She heard her mother's heels clicking down the hall.

Trina barged in without knocking and draped an evening gown over the end of Sarah's bed. I only hope you fill out the top.

Sarah ignored the thoughtless remark.

I wish you hadn't worked so late last night. Trina clucked her tongue. Look at the puffiness under your eyes. She took the pick from Sarah and began roughly working through the web of tangles from her dark brown hair. Trina sighed and took out her face creams, then slathered a copious dollop all over Sarah's face.

Mother, I'm perfectly capable of doing that myself. She'd just turned twenty-one and her mother still insisted on treating her like a child.

Trina ignored her daughter's protestation. Let me look at you. She gripped her chin and looked her over. I've got my work cut out for me today. I want you to soak your eyelids with this on a cloth. She shoved a small pot into her hands. Sarah set it aside pointedly.

Her mother fussed over Sarah's hair for nearly an hour. Sarah wanted it down and natural and her mother kept insisting she wear it up. She agreed to compromise only if she could borrow her mother's chain necklace. It consisted of fine layers strung together with precious stones and diamonds set along them to hide her angular neck in its web. Her wrist panel, she hid with a simple cuff bracelet.

Sarah applied her eye liner with a skinny brush as her mother prattled on about everyone she hoped to see at the party. Sarah paid no attention to her gossip-mongering and concentrated on getting her liner right. She swore softly as her hand slipped and she smeared the black cream across her eyelid. She dabbed at it with a cloth and started over again.

Must you curse?

Oh Mother. Sarah rolled her eyes and began reapplying the liner. You act like it's the end of the world when I swear.

Nice girls don't curse.

Who says I'm nice? She ignored the look her mother gave her as she painted her lip stain carefully. She swore she heard her mother's teeth grinding.

I need to get myself ready.

Mhmm, she murmured through pursed lips.

Trina left to dress and do her own makeup, and Sarah sighed with relief. Until she recalled what she was being forced into.

She dressed in the emerald gown her mother let her borrow for the occasion, which complimented both her medium brown complexion and her ocular cover. Its sweetheart neckline accentuated what little bust she had but with the right bustier, her cleavage filled out the top nicely. The black beading on the shimmering silk gown rustled against the floor as she stepped in her soft dancing slippers out the door to their carriage, waiting to take her to Thomas Wilson's portly, pasty son.

The Party

The gaslight torchieres glowed against the night sky along the long driveway. A cool breeze flickered flames in their glass encasements where the wind gained entrance through the seams. Sarah leaned out the window of their carriage. The smell of roses wafted on the breeze from the opulent estate gardens. White gravel crunched underneath the wheels as they approached the waiting valet. Sarah and her mother waited on the expansive front steps while Mr. Peterson harassed the attendant to take care with their vehicle.

The Wilson manor lay on the outskirts of the southern edge of town on a hillside overlooking the city. Sarah never saw such a large home dedicated to one family. The Wilsons owned half the wealth of Lancashire as well as other neighboring cities on the coast. Their trade and salvage businesses dominated the factory revival. Its wealth showed well.

I thought you said these people are rich, Sarah joked.

Trina glared at her for an instant before plastering an overeager smile on her painted face as Jack Peterson took her by the arm and led them inside. Sarah trailed behind them, already forgotten as they put on their masks of joy and greeted distant friends and associates. She gathered her skirt and trod the steps behind them through the open carved doors.

Inside, rich tapestry carpets lined the stone floors, oil paintings in gilded frames hung on the wall from chains suspended from the crown molding along the ceiling. Sculptures and vases displayed on pedestals and stone columns littered the hallways. All of this would have been impressive to everybody else, but what caught Sarah's eye and caused her jaw to drop, was the unwavering glow of countless bulbs fixed into sockets. She quickly glanced around to see if anybody else noticed them. Every other person in the growing crowd was too busy to pay any attention. The prospect of electrical currents terrified her, and she trembled.

Don't worry, they're powered by crystal batteries.

Sarah, startled, turned to find a pale young man with high cheekbones and dark hair that contrasted his complexion standing beside her. The cut of his suit and the newness of his leather shoes suggested that he was one of the wealthy traders. His face was broad but not unattractive, and he wore a similar filigree brow decoration not unlike her own. His looped behind the curve of his ears rather than being attached by an embedded magnet like hers.

Sarah smiled. I've never seen so many bulbs lit at once. Where do you suppose the Wilsons found them?

He raised an eyebrow and answered, Oh you know the Wilsons. They can get their hands on anything they want. He paused, I'm sorry, where are my manners? He offered his upturned palm for her hand, which she gave. He bowed. I'm Yoshida Kane. He gently pressed her hand between his. A pleasure to meet you, miss.

Peterson. Sarah Peterson.

Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Peterson. He kissed the back of her hand softly. Sarah held her breath as his lips grazed her skin. Will you save me a dance later?

Of course. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. The warmth from the brief contact lingered on her fingertips.

There you are. Her mother bustled towards her. I want you to meet some people, come with me.

Always the same routine. This is such-and-such and so-and-so; nice to meet you, how have you been? Half a dozen other shallow questions the answers to which she quickly forgot. Sarah endured countless reintroductions to old and new acquaintances before she could politely excuse herself.

Don't wander too far, her father warned her. I want you to meet Mr. Wilson's son before you disappear for the rest of the night.

She spotted a familiar face across the room. Tara Blair caught her eye and waved her over. Their mothers forced them to endure enough parties over the years, that they eventually became friends. The first time they met was at her mother's weekly afternoon card game. As soon as the older ladies were engrossed in their game, she and Tara would sneak off to meet up with her brother and his friends. Through their friendship, Sarah had her first crush and heartbreak when an older boy named William kissed her in a small orchard, only to later abandon Sarah for another girl they knew. Tara didn't speak to her brother for a week for his poor taste in friends.

Sarah swiftly made her way through the growing crowd to greet her.

Finally, Sarah exclaimed. I thought I'd never get away.

I've been here over an hour, Tara said. I've already been approached by two men old enough to be my grandfather asking me if I want to dance with them.

Sarah scrunched her nose in disgust. I'll pretend to twist my ankle. I'd rather sit out the night than dance with those disgusting codgers.

Mum is trying to marry me off to the highest bidder, Tara said.

Yours too? Sarah laughed. I'm glad I've a night off. Sarah steered the subject away, not wanting her gossip-greedy friend to goad her into telling all the circumstances.

Tara eyed a roguish dark-eyed man appreciatively. I wouldn't mind being married off to him.

I wouldn't mind an evening with him. Her brazen statement won a smile of agreement. Another woman approached him, shared a kiss, and strolled away arms linked. Oh well, you'll have to settle for the grandfatherly type.

Tara smacked Sarah’s arm with her fan. That's disgusting, she teased. The thought of having to... she trailed off, shuddered. I'd rather die single than sack with one of them.

Sarah agreed. They found the punchbowl and other refreshments laid out in a spectacular display. If Sarah's dress weren't so snug, she could eat every item on the table. Everything looked delicious, fresh, and in some dishes, exotic.

Sarah's mouth was full of cheese and fruit when, in a moment of unfortunate timing, she heard her mother's voice behind her. Ah, there you are. Mr. Wilson, please allow me to introduce my daughter, Sarah.

Tara made a quick exit as Sarah swallowed quickly and wiped her lips with her napkin before turning around.

Mr. Wilson resembled her father with wavy blond hair, mustache, and pale watery blue eyes which looked her way with disinterest. But there the comparison stopped. He was fat, and his jowls wobbled as he sipped at gin in a tumbler.

A pleasure to meet you, sir. Sarah bowed her head. Thank you for inviting us. Her mother smiled approvingly.

Think nothing of it. I'd like to introduce you to my son, but he's disappeared again.

What a shame, Sarah simpered at her mother.

As Mr. Wilson scanned the crowded room for his son, Trina pounced. How exciting it must be, having traveled all the way to Spain and back!

Yes, he was gone nearly two years securing new business interests for us. He directed a team in restoring shipping lines to Monaco. A cargo freighter is due any day now with a load of steel telephone poles for smelting, he beamed proudly. Ah, and here he is. He held out his hand gesturing towards his son.

To Sarah's surprise, Yoshida Kane stepped forward.

Son, I'd like for you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, and their daughter Ms. Sarah Peterson.

Kane laughed at Sarah's confusion. Once again, the pleasure is mine. Would you care to dance? Kane gestured toward the center of the room where couples circled around one another.

Sarah ignored her mother's pleased expression as Kane took her hand and swept her onto the floor, her skirt fanned out behind her in a fluttering ripple.

Yoshida? Not Wilson? Sarah matched his steps effortlessly.

Kane laughed, "My mother is Japanese, and my father is from Scotland. I was named for her family, and it suited my best interests to use her surname in my business travels through certain countries.

I see. She tried to hide her annoyance.

I didn't mean to deceive you. I've recently returned and have introduced myself so often as Yoshida Kane, it's become second nature.

So, do I call you Wilson or Yoshida?

Not Wilson, I've never cared for my father's name.

Why not?

My father is a money hungry bastard who doesn't appreciate me. All he cares about is the next business deal I can make for him, Kane sneered. If I wasn't good with negotiations and convincing people to work with him and his factories, he wouldn't give me the time of day. Lucky for us I worked out a deal with an auto scrapper willing to give us blocks for cheap. Blocks were old cars, crushed into solid rectangles for recycling.

Sarah was startled at the callous admission. But you're his son.

Kane rolled his eyes. He sent me off to Spain for two years and when I returned, the only thing he was happy to see was my report.

That's terrible. Sarah's own parents didn't appreciate her, but it wasn't that bad.

At least the Spanish coast has some pleasurable entertainment. He leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, Tonight's company is far more enjoyable.

His warm breath against her neck gave Sarah a shiver. The music came to an end and the musicians announced they would return in ten as they set down their instruments.

Kane took two glasses of wine from a passing servant and led her through the open French doors. Other people wandered around, several stopping to give their regards. The boisterous laughter from guests inside spilled out into the night.

Sarah followed him onto the veranda. The cool breeze caught her hair, giving her a slight chill. Kane offered her a glass and his arm where she gently rested her hand as he led her down the steps to the garden grounds below. An ancient fountain splashed water into a pond which was surrounded by paths lined with flowers.

Tell me about yourself. What do you do for fun?

Fun? Not much I'm afraid. I'm apprenticed to Arthur Goldstein. He doesn't often allow time off for fun.

Ah, so you're an artificer. What sort of devices do you make?

The last thing Sarah wanted to discuss was work but the company was enjoyable. Mostly medical tools, some dentistry, other pieces which require the use of my ocular.

That sounds fascinating. He held her hand.

Nothing she said sounded fascinating to her. No grand travel tales to regale, only stories of difficult customers and the occasional mishap in the shop. What did she have to discuss that would interest him?

They entered a part of the garden surrounded by a low stone wall. Several large ornamental pots occupied the space around a trellis covered in climbing ivy. Fragrant roses and lilies perfumed the air. They sat on a cool iron bench and sipped their wine.

What about you? What do you do for fun?

This. He suddenly leaned in and kissed her.

She froze, startled but not unpleasantly, then warmed to his touch, exploring his lips with her own. He tasted of wine and berries. In her mind she told herself she should stop him. Between alcohol dampening her sensibilities and her long dry spell since someone showed interest in her that way, she told the voice in her head to be quiet.

She swooned as much from the wine as the sensation of his lips. His kiss was aggressive, but she was no timid virgin afraid to take what she wanted. Her hands explored the breadth of his chest over his crisply starched shirtfront. His lapel pin pricked her fingertip and she yelped and jerked away. She watched a bright droplet of crimson swell on her finger and sucked it away between her lips.

Kane grasped her wrist and kissed her injured hand tenderly, whispering, I've found a little pain can be pleasurable. He tilted his head to kiss her exposed neck. His teeth lightly grazed her skin as he nibbled at her nape where the necklace rested. The sensation caused goosebumps to rise up and down her body. He laughed softly against her ear.

As much as she was enjoying the spontaneous moment in private, she felt dizzy and wrong. Kane was getting too familiar too fast. I'm afraid the wine has gone to my head. The moment and mood broken, she stood and looked toward the house. I should be getting back. It's nearly midnight and the Blackout ceremony will be starting soon.

Kane held onto her hand. Please stay, we're just getting to know one another.

Sarah hesitated.

One more kiss and I'll let you go, he pleaded, his eyes dark and inviting.

Against her better judgment, she stepped back into his arms and let them envelop her in an embrace. The heat of his body radiated through the thin dress she wore. As he kissed her, his hands roamed over her body, coming to rest on her curved hips. Her eyes closed with pleasure, and she submitted to his insistent embrace.

Kane stopped as someone called his name. He groaned and held her close for a moment longer.

I have to go. I hope we see each other again, he said.

The cool night air replaced his warmth, and she opened her eyes to find him already gone.

Everyone was being called inside for the ceremony. Sarah supposed she'd better find her parents before the lights went out.

After the sickness spread worldwide from the mutated microbes which were meant to be the salvation of the planet by destroying all plastic waste from the world, a unanimous decision was made to eliminate all electricity to save the planet and the human species from extinction. The foolish attempted to run generators of their own, clinging to the past technology in hopes to sustain life the way they knew it, only to perish as they decayed inside and out. Starvation, sickness, and rampant violence decimated the majority of the modern world. The farthest reaches were largely untouched, and life went on as it always had, having never known the uses of electricity. But the rest of humanity was vastly changed as they learned to create new technology and resources for power.

Blackout Day was in remembrance of all that was and could no longer be.

Inside, everybody crowded into the parlor, jostling for standing room to see and hear Mr. Wilson's speech. While others watched the clock on the wall, Sarah scanned the room for her parents, but also for Kane.

A voice rang out for silence, then Thomas Wilson stood on a chair for everyone to see.

Welcome friends. He waited for everyone's attention. "Tonight, we mark the passing of year one hundred and