Rudyard's tale

Once upon a time, I lived in India. I was an inventor.

As an inventor, I had a thick striped shirt with thick stripes on it that I wore under a thick apron. Perhaps the apron was lead! I wore thick gloves that went up near my elbows as well as goggles that were very thick indeed. I wore the goggles on top of my head sometimes, and sometimes I wore them down over my eyes to protect them from something that would have been dangerous to look at directly.

I used tongs and beakers and other scientific equipment. Pipettes. Do you know about pipettes? Of course you don't. You are a baby, not a scientist. They are glass tubes that are open at the top and closed at the bottom. Maybe when you are older, we'll get you a pipette and then I'll say "this is a pipette, like I described to you when you were just a baby."

The world had never seen such a device as my invention! It looked, to the world, the never-before-seeing-a-thing-like-this world, like a large cube (which the world had seen) covered with pulleys and coils (these too, the world was familiar with looking at) that attached it to a large motor built from several small motors (the world had seen small motors, but not a big motor made from such small motors). It looked, to the world, like a large cube dressed up as a locomotive, but without the chimney that all locomotives are required by law to have. To me, though, it looked like passage to America. My invention was noisy and wet, but only when you turned it on. When the thing was off, it was silent and dry. When you turned it on, it made a collection of noises known as a cacophony. You knew my wonderful machine was working when it made a cacophony. A cacophony, little Pigeon Boy, is a sound that is as many sounds as you can think of clanging and clattering and spootching together just a little too loud to speak over when your voice is raised very highly. There are few sounds I find as scientific as a cacophony. There is a comfort in a cacophony. Are you curious to know the nature of my invention? It looks as if your little pigeon friend is curious about it. See how he hangs on every word?

I will tell you, but you must tell no one else or you will put them in the gravest of danger.

I invented a machine with which one could wash the dishes from which one ate. I called it the only thing it could be called: Rudyard's Fascinating Mechanical Dish-Cleansing Device! Oh, what a wonderful and useful machine I created! I said good-bye to my family with the promise of bringing them here after I sold my creation at the World's Fair in New York City in 1878.

Oh how I would look upon the joy I had that first day in New York with contempt! For years I would regret my coming here. Resent my younger self for the pig-headed mistakes he made. It was on my arrival that I was met by several other inventors. One of them introduced me to his sister Josephine Cochrane. She was a voluptuous woman, as exotic to me as I must have been to her. She swore and wore pants like a man, but retained her femininity mostly in the region of her bosom and rear end. She smelled of corn mash whiskey, even in the morning. She called me "Rud." The word curled upwards when she said it, speaking as she did with a voice full of the American south. "Rud," she said just like that, and batted her eyes like a matron snapping her clean sheets in the spring air and my heart was lost to her. This was the beginning of my losing things to Josephine Cochrane.

When she kissed me, I lost hours of my life. When she bedded me, I lost days. When I awoke from that corn mash, sweat, and pheromone-scented week, I realized I had lost more than I could have imagined. I had lost the rest of my life. I had lost my dignity. I had lost my invention. Rudyard's Fascinating Mechanical Dish-Cleansing Device made its debut at the World's Fair under a different name: The Josephine Cochrane Futuristic Dish-washer. I was a laughing stock and a failure. Never again could I face my family; the shame of what I'd done with she who undid me for a week in a bed more comfortable than any I had slept in before or in which I would find myself again was far too great. Oh, what a comfortable bed! Oh, what searing shame!

I was alone in America. All I had was my striped shirt, my apron, my goggles, my pipettes and scientific equipment. That, and the shame I mentioned. My scientific outfit and equipment, searing shame and an unquenchable thirst for retribution.

I spent nearly a decade crafting what they now call the Statue of Liberty. But I call her the implement of my revenge. Can you understand how difficult it was for me to build such a thing? It was extremely difficult. I thought I would tell you, in case you could not imagine it. Typically a project of that scope would take many laborers working very hard for a long time. But I did not have many laborers. I had only my thirst for retribution and scientific tools, as I believe I have already spoken about, to create a 150-foot tall steel female automaton! A woman had taken my liberty from me, so it was the only thing I could do to create a woman that would not betray me. A woman to win me back my liberty. I rode on her shoulder as we marched into the city up 16 th Street to where Josephine Cochrane lived. If only you could have seen the fright in her eyes that day. She knew then, as she looked up at me upon the furious giantess, that she had picked the wrong man to ruin. She begged me for her life. But it was no longer up to me. The Statue of My Liberty was built for a purpose, just as Rudyard's Fascinating Mechanical Dish-Cleansing Device had been. She roasted the millionairess Josephine Cochrane "inventor of the dish-washer" with her torch, and then when Josephine was cooked crispy and brown - more like a roast duck than you would imagine, Lady My Liberty ate Josephine right up - chomp chomp!

It was then that the city itself rose up against me. Lady My Liberty and I turned to find the local constabulary collected against us. We could have destroyed them, but my anger had been sated, the bronze stomach of the statue was full, as I had only built it big enough to hold one five foot four inch woman chewed to bits by twenty-three inch teeth. We had no more violence in us. They put my statue in giant handcuffs. I do not know if these handcuffs were built especially for her or if they were extant but absent of use until that day. I convinced them that my statue was to blame for the rampage and to my surprise, the scientists that I had met upon my arrival corroborated my tale. She was tried and charged and imprisoned where she now stands. The scientists revealed to me that they were a league called The League Scientific and that I was only to invent things for which they would take credit or else they would turn me over to the authorities for Josephine Cochrane's murder. This humiliation I could not stand. I disappeared from the League Scientific's agency of spies and thugs. I have lived here in the park with Solly and Moses ever since. Never daring invent something that could bring the League to notice me. There is a lesson in all of this, little Pigeon Boy and someday you will figure out what it is. On that day, I would be greatly indebted to you if you would only tell me what it is.

I am not a madman.