Phantogram - Chapter I
Within the city-state of Chan-Tudor, scientist Marcus van der Mont and his husband, the artist Iehouah, are greeted by a mysterious visitor.
IT WAS A dark day in Chan-Tudor, the only sign of living for miles on the barren plain its inhabitants call “home". Everyone with eyes knew that a storm was coming. Including Marcus, even though it had been five months since he had last seen natural light. His husband Iehouah kept him up to date with current affairs, including the funds he was allotted by Parliament. This project he was working on, he knew, would be his magnum opus.
The Phantogram is what he called the device. Its purpose was simple: communication with ghosts. When Marcus first proposed the idea, he was almost laughed right off the board. Now that he thought about it, the timing was perfectly coincidental: phantasmagorical studies were the most popular. Eventually, the Board sent his proposal to Parliament, and, after a month, received his first round of funding. He was ecstatic. Marcus knew that this would be the beginning of his greatest achievement. Iehouah, on the other hand, was not as pleased. Marcus and him were drifting apart, and all this project would do is drive them further away from each other. For awhile, painting had helped. Now, not so much.
However, today would be different.
The ant slowly walked down the stairs leading to the basement - Marcus’s workshop. The place was a mess. Gears and other metalworks were strewn all over the floor, and the room reeked of oil. In the very center was the Phantogram, that machine that had consumed Marcus’s entire life. Iehouah’s feet clicked across the stone floor, alerting Marcus of his presence. He wiped his hands on his apron, having finished adding more pieces to an already elaborate puzzle.
“So,” Marcus asked, “what’s it like back above ground?”
“Well,” Iehouah started, “the Constabulary, once again, think that they’re above Parliament. I heard that they’re going to start having ‘public demonstrations’.”
“Parliament or the Constabulary?”
“The Constabulary. I swear I can’t even go outside anymore.”
“How’s the shop been?” Marcus asked, trying to change the subject.
Marcus and Iehouah lived in a flat above their shop, a small room that was once an armory. Nowadays it was an art studio where Iehouah paints and attempts to sell his art. Recently, the dust has taken a likelier crowd for Iehouah than any citizen of Chan-Tudor.
“Oh, you know, same old same old,” he responded.
Silence ensued. Both of them tried to restart the conversation, but they could not think of anything. Finally, Iehouah turned and walked back up to the shop, leaving Marcus alone with his machine.
Then there was a knock at the door.
Iehouah opened the door and was greeted by a bluedraco, a half-human, half-dragon hybrid.
“Hello,” he said, “I am Professor Larking.”
“Iehouah van der Mont.”
“Is Professor Marcus van der Mont present?”
“Yes,” Iehouah said, slightly confused. “He’s just downstairs. I’ll go get him now. Find yourself a seat.”
The blue draco sat on a bench while Iehouah went to retrieve Marcus. After much convincing, Iehouah got Marcus away from his machine and to the ground floor. When the two men were audience for the blue draco, he asked them one single question:
“What do the two of you know about Sleavers?”