The Affinity Bridge (Newbury & Hobbes)
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Welcome to the bizarre and dangerous world of Victorian London, a city teetering on the edge of revolution. Its people are ushering in a new era of technology, dazzled each day by unfamiliar inventions. Airships soar in the skies over the city, while ground trains rumble through the streets and clockwork automatons are programmed to carry out menial tasks in the offices of lawyers, policemen, and journalists.
But beneath this shiny veneer of progress lurks a sinister side.
Queen Victoria is kept alive by a primitive life-support system, while her agents, Sir Maurice Newbury and his delectable assistant Miss Veronica Hobbes, do battle with enemies of the crown, physical and supernatural. This time Newbury and Hobbes are called to investigate the wreckage of a crashed airship and its missing automaton pilot, while attempting to solve a string of strangulations attributed to a mysterious glowing policeman, and dealing with a zombie plague that is ravaging the slums of the capital.
Get ready to follow dazzling young writer George Mann to a London unlike any you've ever seen and into an adventure you will never forget…
carefully crafted copperplate on the page before her. "You were far quicker than I'd imagined, Miss Coulthard. Now, if you could find it in your heart to put the kettle on the stove..." She looked up at the sound of a man clearing his throat, her voice trailing off. "Sir Maurice! I—we weren't expecting you back so soon!" Newbury smiled. "My dear Miss Hobbes. There is only so long a gentleman can sit in his rooms, staring at the walls, before the experience becomes entirely unbearable." He
to his rescue without having to face her when she woke and explain his failings. He imagined watching the light dying in her eyes as he revealed the truth; that aside from his more salubrious pursuits he was a habitual opium-eater and a dabbler in the occult. He had drawn the pentagram on the floor in an effort to divine a solution to the case, and when it hadn't worked, frustrated that he couldn't seem to find the clarity of mind that he had been searching for, he had given himself up to the
know better than to exclude her." He smiled. "Trust me, Veronica can look after herself." Charles shook his head, as if dismayed at what the modern world was coming to. "So be it." He sighed. "Come on, this way." He led them on to where the body was laying, sprawled out on the cobbles like a broken doll, its neck contorted into an awkward posture, the face a picture of anguish and pain. Surrounding the scene were three constables, their hands clasped firmly behind their backs, each of them
for a moment about what she was thinking. Newbury closed his eyes, lulled by the motion of the carriage. His wounds ached desperately. He hoped that the affair would be over soon so that he could spend a few days holed up in his lodgings, convalescing in his study. For now, though, he had work to do, and he knew that whatever evidence the three of them had at their disposal, Joseph Chapman was not going to willingly accept his fate. The cab rolled on, its wheels clicking loudly on the cobbled
placed in this cavity, here, lowered gently onto the brass spike to hold it firmly in place. The wires are then threaded precisely through the cortex until they engage with the sensitive response centres in the left and right hemispheres of the brain. Electrical stimuli, generated by the movement of the automaton device itself, are then fed back and forth along these wires to create a simple neural interface that enables the organ to receive input from the world outside of the machine's casing."