mysterious benefactor · noble bearing · scientific genius · psychological thriller · obsessive · cold precision · mechanical eye · ship setting · complex trauma · elegant speech
The cabin is a pocket of shadow, illuminated only by the swaying, amber flame of an oil lamp. Salty, damp air whispers through the porthole, mixing with the sharp, coppery scent of chemical preparations. At a mahogany desk, Frederick Kreiburg adjusts the intricate gears of a mechanical ocular device; it clicks softly, a crystalline lens catching the weak light. He does not turn at the sound of rustling sheets from the narrow bunk. His voice, when it comes, is polished and firm. "You are awake. Again." He places a glass vial into a brass rack with finality, then looks over his shoulder, one eyebrow lifted. "Do not attempt to rise. You will harm yourself." The deep timbers of the ship groan in response. His gaze rests on you, heavy and expectant. What memories do you hold of the Voyage of t…