thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
nothing to help or hinder.Hed run as far as he could. The tower and the chains shook, and he wondered what good any amountof distance would do him.There is always a way out.He closed his eyes and reached up with his mind. The rock-and-dirt world shunned him as he touched it.A brief impression of pressure, damage, and deformity flashed over him: his second body had been lost,and with it, his link to the city above.The heat and the noise swelled. Aaron began to hear the screams of men and women echo in from thereal world, and longed for the peace of the void, which hid from his reach.There really was no way out.Was he to be a mute witness to this, then? Was he to sit and watch and do nothing?What else could he hope for? His body was gone, and escape into the void unlikely. He dared not placehimself between the two entities clashing before him.So there was no other course. Seeing was what he had always been best at: seeing, thinking, planning,advising, but never acting. He had acted once, and he had been killed.So he seated himself upon the hot air, and watched.On a crowded cable car, halfway between Cambridge-Heath and Dunbridge, Thomas startedscreaming.The cries flew out into the vast spaces around, vanishing without echo. White eyes in black faces turned.Olivers company froze as one for an instant, uncertain. The stunned silence dragged on, each passengerwaiting to see if the sound was repeated.Ah, bugger the dog! Jesus!Oliver leapt up into the wagon and tore the concealing burlap blanket from Toms face. A visage ofagony greeted him. Oil and pus squirted from Toms burned eye.Sorry, Ollie, Tom managed.Oliver knocked him on the head. You should be. Ive told you a thousand and one times you make toomuch noise, chum.Tom chuckled through his grimace. Like a banshee. Awooooo. The mirth dissolved into a fit of horridcoughing that produced brown bile.Oliver skipped his gaze over his crew. Bergen was already reaching for his pistol with his left hand.Hews was likewise reaching for his. Oliver shook his head at them and they stayed their hands.Im terribly sorry. It was Missys voice. Our friend is very sick with the clacks. We didnt mean to bea bother. Were taking him to see a doctor.Half the crowd nodded and turned away. Conversations began all about the car, passing quickly frommouth to mouth; everyone knew someone with the clacks, and everyone had a story to tell. The men ofOlivers troupe communally exhaled a held breath. Missy slid smoothly into conversation with a womanclose by. Thomas coughed and spat up, but by then the crowds attention had been redirected.Got a good tongue, Hews said, from his position at the right front handle of the wagon. I couldnthave made that half as convincing.Its why I hired her, Oliver said. He pulled a rag out of his pocket and started blotting the fluids spillingout of his friend.Tom chuckled. Certain there werent other factors, eh, Chief?Youre supposed to be sick.Wouldnt you know it, Tom said. A dozen knives to the heart and
two shots to the belly and its abloody fist in my gut that gets me.Oliver jostled his shoulder. Youre going out pounding cloaks, remember?Tommy coughed again. Ah. Right-oh. Where would I be without you, Chief?Packing coal in Aldgate, healthy and in one piece, thats where.Im sure youd be neck-deep in troubleby now even without my help.Ah! Stung! Gods own truth, if I ever heard it. Where is the king?Oliver started. Jeremy?Yeah. The little bugger didnt run off on me, did he?I...er...sent him on a mission.Toms one remaining eyebrow perked up. Truly?Oliver tried very hard for a casual shrug. I said Id make him a member of the crew, right? Little guyhas to pull his weight. Besides, hes shown hes capable.Tom squinted through his good eye. After a moment, his expression changed and his face fell.Knew he was a good pick, he mumbled.Oliver gestured to Hews. Take over, would you?The older man ended his conversation with a fellow passenger and obediently mounted the wagon asOliver climbed out. The wagon was of native Whitechapel variety, made of iron rods, tin, and aluminium.Theyd loaded it with a pack of supplies, Bergens steam rifle, Lawrences manual, and the translation ofScareds tapeand then Toms body, for when hed come to, hed been unable to walk and was fartoo heavy to carry.Oliver walked round into Hews place at the right handle and faced Bergen, who stood at the left.Phineas, Heckler, and the doctor, theyd left in the Underbelly: Oliver expected a strike on Shadwell tocome within the hour. Phineas could give fair warning and had been through the last Uprising; Hecklerwas a capable lad, and a prodigy shooter; and Chestle...well, hed be needed soon enough.It would have been nice to leave Bergen and his cannon there as well, but...Where is this mechanic of yours? Oliver asked.Bergen regarded him coolly, as if evaluating whether he was trustworthy enough for such information.John Scared has a hide at the top levels of the Dunbridge slope, and the mechanic keeps his workshopin it.Oliver crossed his arms and leaned on the wagon. So youll be leading us right into Scaredsheadquarters.The German glowered. I dislike your tone, English. Had I wished your death, I could have effected itany number of times.That much was true. The man had certainly made an effort, and yet something about him tickled atOlivers attention and set his mind to doubting every time the two ended up in the same room:Why wouldBailey, with his God-save-the-queen bravado, go out and hire a German? Why not a fellow Briton, bornand bred?Will Scared be there?Bergen snorted. Doubtful. Hes likely evacuated to a different hide, as I know the site intimately. Hehas another in Aldgate, and he has told me there are several more. I suspect one in Shoreditch, though Icould not say where.Oliver noticed Missy glance their way. After a second she turned back to her conversations with theother passengers.Why would he evacuate, I wonder?Barring any other report, he has to assume Ive been captured, either by the cloaks or the English,Bergen said. Although his spies have probably noted me with you. Scared
is a prudent man.Why did he hire you?Bergen crossed his own arms, arms much thicker than Olivers. I am growing weary of your distrust,Sumner. Do you interrogate all of your men like this?Oliver felt his hackles rising again.Keuper, I have a rule that I never question after the history of my people. I dont believe a man has tocarry his past with him like Marleys chains, and so I will not ask you about your past. I will, however,ask you about the work youve done for Bailey, and for Scared, becausethat could be necessary.The cable car bumped as it passed over one of its junctions, where the cables hooked through the bent,wobbling beams of an infant tower, still too young to hold inhabitants. The wagon car clanked and rolled,and for a moment Bergen and Oliver halted to steady it with the handles.So, tell me, Bergen said, when the car had stabilised again, how do you choose your men, withoutknowing anything about them? A mans past is his definition.I dont believe that, Oliver said. I trust my sense of people is all. I consider myself a good judge ofcharacter.Bergen barked a laugh. Character? Your American is a criminal, Sumner. Your woman is a whore.Olivers fist flew out before he even felt the anger rising. His knuckles cracked the German across thejaw, forcing him back and down against the wagons handle.Good Lord, chap, what were youBergens fist hammered into his cheekbone and drove through to the back side of his head. His necksnapped in a wrong way and his whole body gave out.He felt the German take a heavy footstep in his direction. Then Hews rang out like a bell: Thatsenough!Oliver groaned and tried to right himself. In his blurred vision, he caught Bergen, hand on his weapon,and Hews, hand on his.Missy appeared behind Bergens shoulder, eyes dark. She slipped one hand into her handbag and drewan object halfway out. Even through tumbling perceptions Oliver recognised what it was. Missys lipsmoved, muttering something for only Bergens ears.You came out the top on that one, Hews said, still covering Keuper with his pistol. Let it go.The German straightened, retreating into the general blur.I will not tolerate that again, he said.Then dont...insult...my crew! Oliver slammed his hands down onto the grate floor and shovedhimself up.They bring it on themselves, Sumner, Bergen said. You have no discipline; you keep no controls onyour men. Africa would swallow you alive.This isnt Africa, Oliver said. He grabbed on to the wagon handle to steady himself, then rose to hisfeet. Feeling began to seep back into his cheek: an acute, throbbing pain. But tell me: if it were, couldyou kill every lion and tiger and snake and whatever else all by your lonesome? Could your one gun killall of them before they got you? He jabbed his finger out. It seems youre so stupid as to think you canfight this all on your own, and while Id be happy to be rid of you, I frown on people getting themselvesneedlessly killed.Bergen harrumphed. Then you are a weak and stupid man.Hews stuck
his gun in Bergens face, then in Olivers. Enough, he said. I wont stand for any more ofthis lunacy. The next one to say anything gets a lump in the face.Bergen and Oliver exchanged glares. They stood that way for a long time. On their right, the slope ofDunbridge faded into view through the smog. Their audience stared at them raptly, caught in theirmoment.Bergen broke the gaze and spat on the floor between them. Then he turned and strode away. The otherpassengers parted around him, and watched as he walked to the far corner of the car and took a poststaring pointedly out at nothing.Oliver sighed, righted himself, and turned to face the crowd.Dont. Missy pressed him back against the wagon with a firm palm. Right now its gossip and thatsall. Theres no sense turning it into something bigger.You all right, lad? Hews asked.Oliver checked his jaw, his neck; nothing seemed permanently damaged. He nodded.Only then did Hews stow his pistol. He swung his legs over the edge of the wagon and sat. For amoment he wrung his hands. That was far from prudent, Oliver.Oliver rubbed his cheek and said nothing.Hews frowned. The mans been trying to get your goat since he met you and you just up and handed itto him.Missys face suddenly compressed and she snapped at Hews through bared teeth. Hogwash, Hewey.If this is the only way to put that man in his place then lets have more of it.Lass? Hews said.Thats a vile man weve hooked up with. Ive said it before that he cant be controlled. Do you needmore proof thanthat ? She indicated Olivers face.Oliver watched the tiny twitches of Missys lips and eyelids.Hews leaned down over his shoulder. Lass, our boy, here, struck first.The German struck first, Missy said. She looked at Oliver. Didnt he? Didnt he really?After a moment, Oliver nodded. Thats the truth of it.Codswallop, Hews said. Your bloody tempers the truth of it. That was disgraceful.Ive enough of a lashing for that already, Hewey, Oliver snapped. And youve no right to speak tome like a child.Hews flushed. Ive all the right in the world, boy. I raised youYou let me sleep under your smelting pots, Hewey, Oliver said. You let me carry coal and ore andpaid me a pittance to do it. And sometimes,sometimes, you told the other coves not to kick me for thefun of it and then walked around puffing yourself that you were helping some charity orphan boy andwhat a good soul you were.Hews trembled for a moment, cheeks puffing, eyes bulging. The words came out with slaver through theteeth: We fed you, boy. We clothed you and kept the Chimney gangsOliver cut him off. Istole most of what I ate, Hewey. You werent about to share any of your wifescakes, either, as I recall.Hews looked fit to explode. The next words came out barely a whisper: Ungrateful child.Oliver returned the mans glare until Hews turned away. Then Oliver dropped his head and chewed theinsides of his cheeks. Missy stood back, scowled, said nothing.The maw of the Dunbridge station,
edged in random growths of iron like crooked teeth, sucked thecable car inside. The omnipresent haze of Whitechapel vanished, to be replaced by glaring electrics andblasts of hot steam from a dozen unfathomable engines. Half-human crows scuttled to and fro, tinkering,tightening, massaging, and placating. The Boiler Men that had watched every station for the pasttwenty-four hours were conspicuously absent.As the gates slid apart, Oliver and Hews each took up a wagon handle. Oliver felt every muscle poppingas he strained to move the wagon that first few feet. The wheels screamed terribly and caught on theirown axle every couple of inches.The exertion pushed blood into his face, which made the pain worse. He must have a jolly bruise bynow.If that was the least damage youd caused today, it would be a blessing.Hews marched beside him, puffing and sweating, unused to such work, but no one was about to askBergen to join them again. Oliver stole a look over. Hews, weighted with exertion, walked with draggingheelscrestfallen, tired, and old. Fifty-seven years of life scraped together on Hews face in divots,wrinkles, scars, and jowls, and Oliver felt a powerful sense of wrongness.Hews should be sitting by his fireplace in a country estate by now, sipping port and talking about theupcoming birth of his first grandchild to any ill-fated cove he could con into listening to him. Instead hehad set up shop in Whitechapel, spied for the queen, lost a wife to cancer of the lungs, employed a wholegaggle of men, and kept one little boy from falling into his own grave.The sudden rage, wherever it had come from, boiled away, and Olivers guts sank into his shoes.The wheels of the wagon clattered and bounced as they tipped off the ramp and into the station. Missyssilence and Toms fevered moans trumpeted their arrival in Dunbridge.Oliver should have known better than this.Missy mopped her forehead with a lace-lined white handkerchief. It came away yellowed and soiled.It was Gisellas cardinal rule: dont ever be a mess. A lady should never sweat, never smell otherwisethan with perfume, never have her clothing or her hair out of sorts. Shed discouraged it even at the heightof...moments.Gisella isnt here, bird.That didnt matter. Missy still felt vile, soiled.You were born in filth, little girl.That had been the repeating refrain of her inner voice the entire climb.It had taken considerable coaching and cold water to rouse Thomas enough to get him on his feet. Eventhen, he wobbled terribly with each step, flopping his tremendous weight to and fro without pattern. Ithad taken all three men to keep him upright, and Missy had added her shoulder as well, knowing theyneeded her but would never ask. Missy had never really been to Dunbridge. She had stopped through iton her flight from the bordello, those eternal months ago, but she had merely stopped over at the station,never experiencing the through-the-looking-glass maze quality of its platforms and walkways, itsstaircases and ladders and dead ends.She found her eyes leaping with fright to the shadows slinking out of the smog. Always, they resolvedthemselves into Chinese women carrying baskets, men backing
slips of metal, and stunted, bleary-eyedchildren tromping after. They watched her with tiny eyes.And no wonder: Thomas lurched like Shelleys monster, falling every twenty steps to dent or crack astair or rail. Hews directed them with a few terse words at every crossing as they marched on. Bergen had returned, but the men spoke to each other only in the sparest, most necessary exchanges.Shed caught the German looking at her several times. She couldnt read the look. It wasnt lust, not asshe understood it, but neither was it suspicion nor anger. It was a rapt and undisturbed attention,detached and frigid.When will Oliver listen to me and turf him?Well, it seems you have two men here that cannot be controlled.At long last, Hews announced that they had arrived, and they proceeded to wrestle Thomas through adoor far too small for even a normal man, and more or less dump him onto a thin mattress and a fewblankets in the corner. Each of the men threw the supply packs they carried against the wall. Then theycollectively stood back for a rest.Missy glanced around. All about the place lay filthy blankets draped over filthier men. The air stank likea sick house: sweat and piss, and some other acrid smell Missy didnt recognise. The occupants couldhave passed for corpses, for how still they lay.Missy tugged on Olivers sleeve. He turned, still panting. Her nose wrinkled at the rough smell of him.Why did you bring us to such an awful place? Missy whispered.Oliver smiled. Its not so bad, compared to some. Besides, its friendly territory.I would hardly call it that.We find our friends where we can.A squat, plump Chinese lady waddled from behind a red curtain at the back of the room. She wore adecorative Oriental dress of the most garish green with dulled gold detailing. Hews removed his hat andstepped up to greet her.Mrs. Flower, Im afraid we must once again impose on your hospitality, he said.The lady inclined her head slightly, then turned and vanished into the back.Well take a few minutes rest, Oliver said. Then Bergen and I will go visit this mechanic of his.A twinge picked at Bergens lower eyelid and he glowered darkly. Much to her horror, she realised sheunderstood that expression.Yes, its the murderous one, isnt it, child? Never forget that you are a killer now, too. Born a dog,trained a whore, now you are in full blossom. Isnt that just proper?Shut up, she hissed. She slapped her hand over her mouth.Only Oliver noticed. His eye flicked momentarily her way. Hews interrupted before anything could besaid.Ill go, he said, hitching pants and fixing vest as he spoke.Oliver knitted his eyebrows. Hewey, Im not...I wont hear it, boy. When was the last time you slept?Oliver blinked back his surprise. I dont...If the answer isnt this morning, then youre staying here. In any case, Im the only one who knowsthe ins and outs of this tower.Oliver stood a moment, considering.Missys eyes flicked to Bergen. She recognised that look: studying a man to see how he could becontrolled.It is your duty to control your
client, to bring him to his pleasure by whatever means are most agreeableto him. For each man, a unique set of actions, phrases, and gestures will be his reins. You will learn topick these out through observation and intuition. Now, please, drink your tea, lay on your cots, and thetraining will begin.Oliver could be controlled by treating him like a child.I wont do it.Of course you will, my dear. It is what you were trained for. The German lacks the flexibility to conquerhim, but you, my childyou are as fluid as rain. You can be whatever he needs you to be.It was a new voice, rougher than she was used to. Chills ran up her spine.At last, Oliver sighed.Fine. Just be back quick as you can.Hews screwed his bowler hat onto his head. The Chinese woman reemerged from the back, carrying atray with a brass kettle and four porcelain cups. Hews took his hat off again and bowed towards her. Hejabbed Oliver with an elbow and Oliver removed his hat as well, spilling unkempt brown hair to hisshoulders.Regrettably, we must go, Mrs. Flower, Hews said. By Gods graces, we shall be back before the potis cooled.Mrs. Flower did not appear to acknowledge the sentiment. She merely placed the tray on the floor byHews feet and retreated through the room, checking on her various semiconscious patrons.Hews replaced his hat. Bergen dropped his steam cannon into the corner and stood it against the wall.Hed climbed the whole way with it lashed to his back and barely looked out of breath.Hes going to murder Hews and then hes going to come back and murder you. But youll stop him longbefore that, will you not? You and your little handbag.Missy found herself piqued.He would deserve it.Theres my little dog.Bergen ducked out into the dark of midafternoon. Hews made to follow. Oliver stopped him with anarm on the shoulder.Hews shook his head. No time now, Oliver.Oliver let him go. The door shut. Missy had never seen a man so alone in a room full of people.Now would be the moment to do it: just step outside the door and put a bullet through the Germansback.Come on, then, she heard her mouth saying. Lets have a sit.Oliver wandered in her direction, then swerved and flopped to the floor beside Thomas. He used hishands to draw his knees up to a cross-legged position, then shrugged out of his coat. Missy gathered thetray and sat beside him.She poured the tea and tried not to let her hands shake when it came out red. Gisellas tea was alwaysredthat awful soporific that conjured up the hobgoblin man.Heh. I see you remember me.The teapot rang as it bounced off the tray and regurgitated its contents onto the floor.Oh, God... Missy breathed.Oliver reached across and righted the teapot. No one will notice.That wasnt what she meant.The hobgoblin man is real. He came to visit me.She felt the phantom sensation of his ghastly fingers against her face, and she forgot.She returned to herself to see the profile of Olivers scruffy face. He stared at Thomas,
who gurgled ashe breathed, and simultaneously stared at nothing. Tea soaked into the leg of his trousers. His skin hadturned several shades towards yellow. The lamplight reflected flickering flames into his eyes.Something wasnt right. Olivers mussed hair fell forward over his brow, shadowing his eyes, so that itcould not possibly be reflected light.She shivered. He reacted to the motion, and turned those subtly burning eyes on her own.What so you see? he asked.She told him.His eyes drifted closed. Its getting worse, he said. It feels like a hot iron up under my skull.She felt a chill rake through the moist air, and dared not ask what he meant.He continued anyway. It gets hotter the closer we get to the Stack. Mama Engine has taken upresidence in my head. It seems she fancies me as a consort.Missy sat very still, her skin crawling.The other one is in my guts. Im not entirely sure what he wants from me. He grabbed and grippedTommys flesh-and-bone hand. This cant be for nothing.Theres the opening. Take him in your lap, coddle him, sing to him, tell him everything will be all right andmake him yours.Missy began reaching for Olivers hand.I dont want to.Yes, you do.She stopped, stripped off her filthy red glove, and took his fingers, skin to skin, in hers.You never asked me, Missy said, where I came from, Oliver.His fingers were calloused and scarred, and rough against her skin. They lay immobile in her hand, but aslight flush crept up Olivers neck.Who you were isnt my business, he said.Missy swallowed. Oliver, I wont...I cant...tell you, but just... She breathed. Just understand thatthe place I came from was a terrible place. She made us...I was dying there all the time.He was staring at her, and the dancing fire did not seem so threatening now.Never think that it was for nothing, Oliver.God, thelook he gave her. She felt a heat in her chest, a lightness of limbs. He was beautiful, his lips in asmall smile potent with such warmth that she...She shot to her feet.Well, Id best let you rest, Id imagine, said her mouth. Weighty mission tonight, if all goes well.Still staring at her with that smilethat damnable alluring smilehe said, I suppose that would bebest.Indeed. Well, I quite think Ill step out for a moment, perhaps buy us some biscuits or whatever theysell here.That would be delightful, Miss Plantaget.And you neednt worry for my safety. Im quite capable of caring for myself.That is something I would never doubt.Good. Well...I shall be back soon.She fled to the door.You forgot!The handbag! She turned, snatched it, didnt look at Oliver, returned to the door, and all but bolted intothe street. The grey of Whitechapel afternoon closed over her. Dunbridge, not having any classifiablestreets, had neglected to install streetlights, and thus the day was only slightly brighter than the depths ofnight.The bag settled over her shoulder like an old friend. Just the presence of it kept her safe.Couldnt he keep you safe?Id rather have the gun.The heat and the weightlessness ended with that thought, and she screamed in her