Rip realized that when the king moved, everyone else moved in response.

First, a bevy of servants entered through a side door and cleared away all the plates and cups. One stayed behind cleaning the table, leaving it immaculate once more.

The king stood, and everyone else followed suit. He walked out the office door, and his two bodyguards fell into step alongside him. A variety of servants either ran away or toward him, depending on their function.

Rip thought it all rather odd, having no experience with royalty before now. This entire place revolved completely around the one man.

I guess the whole kingdom does, too.

He took an underground tunnel beneath the park, a small army of people accompanying him.

Someone must have notified the Lyceum, because a small reception committee of their highest-ranking people waited nervously at the tunnel’s terminus.

Allo waved them away and gestured for Rip to join him. Rip did so, walking just behind and beside the king. He had read in the book on etiquette this was the proper way to walk alongside royalty. He felt very grateful to Blair at the moment for lending him that book.

“I like you, Sergeant. Your story is fascinating. I hope to meet with you and hear much more about your world in the days and weeks ahead.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Of course.”

“Enhancement is handled by the Lyceum. They recommend those individuals who have been tested for natural skills and ability, then forward the lists to my office. I’m usually something of a rubber stamp, in that regard. However, I retain the prerogative of nominating someone myself for the procedure. And that is what I’m doing now.”

People still ran ahead of them. Inside this vast building, filled with lecture halls and offices, Rip thought it reminded him of an anthill kicked over. Students ran out of classrooms for a glimpse of the king. One professor almost walked into the procession coming around a corner. He dropped an entire stack of papers and ran pell-mell back down the hallway.

The king stepped over the papers and smiled.

“It’s been a while since we’ve personally visited this side of the park, eh, Sir Prescott?”

“Over seven years, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, I recall. There was a political kerfuffle we intervened in. Sergeant, I will have to administer an oath to you before the procedure. Are you amenable to that? I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable. You’re about to become my subject.”

Rip shrugged.

“I have sworn to protect my President and the Constitution, and to follow the orders of my superiors in the US Army. But there is no United States in this world. I have no problem swearing allegiance to you, Your Majesty.”

“Very good. Ah, here we are. I see word of our arrival preceded us.”

Three men in white lab coats stood outside the door to a rather large room. All three bowed in unison. One of them Rip recognized: Percival Hedgefield.

Hedgefield stepped away from the other two and said, “Your Majesty I received word you are exercising royal prerogative and submitting Sergeant Coulter as a candidate for enhancement.”

“That is correct. I believe it is the best thing for him, as well as the empire.”

“Indeed. Sergeant, if you will follow us inside, we will get on with it.”

Rip nodded to the king, and stepped inside. The doors closed behind them, shutting out noise from the outside.

Rip looked around and found the place to be a rather sterile-looking laboratory. He followed Hedgefield to a door on the opposite wall, the other two scientists trailing.

“They say the first enhancement took place on top of Mt. Olympus, in an electric storm. Some fellow was up there near a magnetic boulder, apparently. Now, of course, we have a much better handle on it, and superior ways to control things.”

“So, it’s done through electricity?”

“Yes, but what we use the electricity for is to draw luminiferous aether into the body. That is what enhances us, not the electricity itself. You don’t want too much of that running through you, it’ll kill you.”

“Yeah. We used to execute criminals that way, back in the day.”

“Really? What a gruesome world you come from. No offense.”

“Well, we don’t do that anymore, to be fair.”

“Right, then. Here we are, please have a seat. My colleagues will set you up for the first part of the procedure, where we deduce the best class to give you.”

“Ah. Like a sorting hat.”

“A what?”

“Never mind.”

Rip sat on a wooden chair attached to a large metal contraption reaching up to the ceiling. He let scientists attach electrodes from the machine to his face, chest, arms and legs.

“We’ve made great strides in recent years, thanks to the introduction of tabulators to our computational procedures. Previously we used humans to compute the necessary arithmetic with the readings detected. Now it’s all mechanized. Sit back and relax, Sergeant. This will take only a few minutes.”

Vacuum tubes glowed softly on a large breadboard nearby, and the tabulator hummed loudly. After a few minutes, it spit out a single yellow punch card, like the kind Oggolopoli had in his briefcase.

The scientists nodded at one another.

One of them said, “We just need to let it wind down, now.”

“I don’t exactly see what this thing is doing?”

Hedgefield said, “Ah. Well, it’s rather difficult to explain in layman’s terms. Let’s just say that by running very mild electrical currents through your body, the tabulator is able to discern existing concentrations of luminiferous aether residing in your system. In previous centuries, these efforts were much less precise. More art than science, back then. But in recent decades we’ve been able to pinpoint these readings with much finer precision.”

The machine spit out another card. The scientists exchanged a glance.

“What? What was that look for?”

“Nothing to be worried about, Sergeant. It’s just unusual to get a two-card reading on someone. The last time I—”

A third card popped out, cutting him off.

Everyone stared it, wide-eyed.

One of the assistants said, “Could the discernment machine be off?”

“Impossible,” the other one replied. “It was thoroughly examined this morning.”

The lights in the tubes dimmed as the machine cycled down with a tired hum.

“Well!” Hedgefield said, staring at the output tray. “Three cards. I do believe this is a record, Sergeant. Perhaps it will lend additional credence to your origin story. I say, good fellow. Run and inform the king of this development.”

One of the men nodded and dashed away.

The remaining scientist said, “He’ll likely sell the news to a reporter, that one.”

“Never mind that now,” Hedgefield said, picking up the three cards. “Let’s see what class is recommended for our world traveler.”

He walked the cards over to another machine on the other side of the room. This one had many more tubes, softly glowing.

Hedgefield dropped the cards in a slot on the side and waited.

Several minutes passed by.

No one said anything.

Finally Rip said, “Does it usually take this long?”

“No. But recall, normally it only has to process the punch holes on one card. To have two is highly unusual. Three is unprecedented.”

The other man returned and joined them in waiting.

At last, a clattering noise within the machine sounded, and a small strip of paper fluttered out of a slot.

Hedgefield walked over and ripped it off, reading the word on it.

He frowned.

“What? What is it?”

He ignored Rip’s questions and handed it over to the other two scientists who walked up to see.

They frowned, too.

Rip said, “Dang it.”

He pushed the other men aside.

“Let me see.”

Hedgefield handed him the sheet of paper.

In monospaced teletype letters he read, “ROGUE +/-.”