Prologue

The sound of broken hearts does not fill the streets in my good city of New Orleans. Well, if I may clarify; it is not really my city. I, myself, was born in new York City. Hubub of everything, the city of new thought- the “Big Apple” as some had started calling it… myself included (though, mostly when I was a young boy. So long ago…). Yet, as I aged and my affinity for invention and adventure grew I found myself heading to the University of Florida to attempt and get into their school system… Yet I never made it thanks to an unfortunate chain of events on the train down south that involved my broken pocket watch and a bottle of absinthe. So now… here I am. A bit more haggard, more than a few years older and wandering Bourbon Street like I actually know where I am going. Women in their brightly patterned dresses swing by, hardly any of them paying a mind to the tattered looking man with less than fifty cents to his name for now. Although sometimes, one of these pretty women with bright red hair makes me do a double take; but I quickly shake the memories and keep walking. The night is heavy with perfumes and my own growing excitement. An automobile passes and my thoughts drift again… to a time where automobiles fly…
The smell of the water snaps me back to the present. Looking around I realize that I have arrived at the dock-side warehouse that had become my home and laboratory. I start to rummage in my pockets for the key to the front-lock as the first of the carriages start to arrive. A man in a crisp suit steps out carefully just as I find the key and fit it into the lock.
“Good evening, Professor.” I nod and mumble a hello under my breath as I jiggle the key around in the lock. Of course, this is what I get for using the lock the previous owner left. It must be older than the building it keeps safe… “I am rather glad to see you are still… well.” The man says as a large, shiny black automobile arrives. “Ah, that must be Mr. Garver. He was a very prominent investor in your project, Professor.” He says in a suggestive tone. As if I should pay great attention to the large man with the curled mustache huffing his way out of the automobile.
“Good evening, Sirs!” The large man- Mr. Garver, calls as he waddles towards us. Such a clichéd rich man. The other man greets him as I finally manage to get the lock open. I can hear them discussing me as other men arrive; the other investors that the first of the dapper gentlemen roped into this all. Only one thing really captures me interest- the whispers of the subject for the test run.
“Will he be ready?”
“Yes, he is in the city. Very lucky, really. Fresh from the north and down to be executed anyway…”
“Well look at this so called scientist! We might as well be signing his death certificate ourselves…”Once again I block out their chatter and slide the door open. Though the building is old, the door is quiet. I step in and walk along the wall to get to the light switch. The hum of excitement I feel must be vibrating the air, because my hands will not stop shaking.
“Professor?” The men are starting to carefully feel their way into the dark warehouse. I smile, glad to know that they are now in my territory. One of them starts opening and closing a pocket watch. Instinctively I take my own out. Battered and broken, it fails to tell time for this world anymore. Five hands replace the two known to most, and I smile as my hand reaches for the light switch.
“Here, good sirs. Thank you all for coming… now. What you have helped me build.” I throw the switch and my smile grows wider at their gasps. I can hear Mr. Garver whisper ‘My God’, and a clatter as the other mans pocket watch falls from his hand.
“Gentlemen. Meet Copper Heart.”
The hum of the generator powering the lamps calms my own humming excitement as I gaze at it. “My dear Copper Heart…”

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