Free Onyx City (The Lazarus Longman Chronicles Book 3) by P. J. Thorndyke Page B

Whitehall’s drawers in a knot, then it was these chaps.
    Afterwards, they adjourned to the refreshment room where hot tea was served and the club members struck up La Marseillaise. They were in high spirits. Kovalev was in his element; doing the rounds of the room, shaking hands and introducing his guests. Mr. Clump’s mask and tale of horrible disfigurement had them all enthralled.
    “And yet, no matter how horrible the conditions are in the factories, people will still bear them for they have no other choice,” said one.
    “Because the lowly London worker has it worse than the Africans in the old slavery days,” said a youngish man whom they had not been introduced to. “At least their masters had to feed them to keep them working. Here people drop dead from hunger and there is always some other poor bugger willing to step into his predecessor’s shoes.”
    “Well, I’m not defending the London masters,” said Kovalev, “but I think that’s an unfair comparison. Here there is no lash or branding.”
    “Not in the physical sense,” said the young man. “But metaphorically this society lashes us all with unsafe working conditions, brands us with class definitions, and keeps us all in bondage through hunger. My name is Levitski, by the way.”
    Lazarus took his extended hand and introduced himself and Mr. Clumps.
    “You both look to be in rather fine condition for dock workers,” Levitski commented. He had a thin, mousy face and nasal tone that Lazarus did not like. “Most dockers are like Comrade Kovalev here; stooped, broken and bow-legged.”
    “Give them a couple of decades,” Kovalev muttered bitterly, “and they won’t look so different from me.”
    “We are both new to the trade,” Lazarus explained. “Mr. Clumps was in the navy factories, as you know, and I was in the military.”
    “Really? A military man? Most interesting.”
    “But getting back to the question of feeding the country’s workforce,” said the other man, “have you read that article in the Evening Post? About the future of the English workforce should this country go the way of the Americas?”
    “Steam cabs and all that?” said Kovalev. “Can’t see it happening, myself. At least not in my lifetime. The Americans are leagues ahead of us, technologically speaking.”
    “Only because they struck veins of that blasted mechanite stuff,” said Levitski. “Its discovery didn’t spell the end for just cab horses. Do you think they would have passed that emancipation act if they still relied on slavery for their industry? The mechanite furnace rendered the Negro obsolete.”
    “I disagree,” said Kovalev. “The United States was pushing for emancipation long before mechanite was struck. That was how the war started in the first place, although few remember it now. Who knows how things might have turned out had the mineral never been discovered? Besides, are you telling us that the replacement of human slavery with a mechanized workforce is a bad thing?”
    “Not at all, but imagine what such an industrial revolution might mean for a country that has no slaves.”
    “Oh, England has slaves, all right,” said another man. “Weren’t you listening to the speech in there? You’re looking at us!”
    “Exactly,” Levitski continued. “And what happens to us when England starts building her own mechanicals to work in her factories, to till her fields and to mine her resources? We’ll all go the way of the Negroes; jobless, landless and penniless. Emancipation means nothing if there is nothing to do but starve.”
    “But you’re forgetting one important thing,” said Lazarus. Levitski blinked at him expectantly. “To build mechanicals, one needs mechanite. And both the United and Confederate States have an embargo on mechanite against all nations.”
    “And how long will this embargo last should the European powers start picking sides? Neutrality has gone on for nigh on thirty years but that’s no insurance