O Progresso
There wasn’t much time between departing the hotel and boarding the train, and Cornelius was glad for it.
His mind swam, and his heart was heavy. It was easier not to think if you were busy.
Perhaps all the travel was catching up with him.
The past few days, weeks even, had been enjoyable if mildly stressful.
The other day at the beach was especially nice.
Last night he and Watt had gone to bed early, both had spent the evening writing letters.
Cornelius had gotten a decent amount of sleep, but Watt had dark circles beneath his eyes.
He didn’t seem worse for wear though, smiling when Cornelius gave him attention and making small talk without being prompted.
Severino met them outside the Estac?o Central do Brasil right on time, having spent yesterday and early this morning with his family.
The station was generously sized with three lofty levels and dressed in the same stone architecture much of Rio offered, with many great arches across its face.
There was a figure cast in bronze high above, standing astride a clock.
A nude man with all the important bits covered by a draping of sorts, and in his right hand he held a shield across his chest, which depicted a locomotive. His left hand was raised, clutching …
“Electricity,” Severino murmured, smoking a cigarette beside Cornelius.
“Oh, I see now,” Cornelius said, able to interpret the jagged, wiry construction in the man’s hand as lightning bolts.
His heart clenched with thoughts of Dimitri, who had always reminded Cornelius of lightning.
He was passionate and confident, defiant and radiant just like the sculpture.
Gabriel's opposite, to be sure. Gabriel was a quiet intellectual with a fondness for art, and the artist. Dimitri dabbled in watercolors and oils, men and women and everything in between.
The pair had an interesting arrangement that involved partners coming and going into their relationship in different ways, although the core remained the same.
They had taught Cornelius a great deal, and it had been an electrifying time.
“O Progresso,” Watt said, a solid presence at Cornelius’ other side.
“Almeida Reis’ work, yeah?” He asked Severino with a slight quirk of the mouth that said he already knew, and Cornelius shook his head fondly.
He found Watt’s lingering animosity amusing since Severino was the epitome of pleasantness, while Cornelius was the complete opposite and Watt tolerated him just fine.
Severino nodded, exhaling a plume of paper and tobacco. “Indeed, commissioned by his long time friend and director of the station at the time.”
“Your family isn't seeing you off?” Watt asked, an abrupt change of subject.
“Oh no, we said our goodbyes already. I will not subject Isabela to the terror of children at the train station,” Severino said, chuckling.
The smell of Severino's cigarette had Cornelius craving another.
But Watt had stopped asking Cornelius for them, resorting to habitually smoking his pipe once a day, usually after dinner.
So Cornelius had tried to limit his smoking to only a few times a day, for Watt's lungs sake.
It hadn't been going so well. “Should we get going?” Cornelius said, prompting them to get a move on.
There was a mild hangup at the station regarding Maggie, but after some words from Severino the dog was allowed at Watt’s side instead of holed up in the luggage car.
Their luggage was attended to and they boarded the train in short order, despite how crowded the station was.
They had a cabin to themselves, fit with two upholstered benches.
The space was snug with three men and a dog, but not uncomfortable.
The air coming in through the window was thick with smoke, heat, and chatter.
When the train pulled away from the station, dust entered the equation as well.
Maggie did not like the train. As a result, she sat on the seat beside Watt, leaving Cornelius to sit beside Severino.
Cornelius liked the man well enough, but he didn’t know him as well as he knew Watt.
Regardless, they made conversation easily enough, having to talk somewhat loudly in order to be heard.
The ride to S?o Paulo was as boring as it was beautiful.
They climbed the steep cliffs separating Rio de Janeiro from the rest of Brazil, and Severino pointed out where the construction on a new road was taking place, the Petropolis Road, which was predicted to be a far more efficient mode of travel than the train.
Cornelius couldn’t imagine cars having an easier time carving these mountainsides than trains, but figured the engineers knew best.
By the third day, Cornelius was starting to feel restricted.
At least on the Eastern Prince there were places to retreat to, to hide and reset.
But there was nowhere to go on the train, which was beautiful but too industrial for days on end.
He tried to focus on the positives instead of the cabin walls shrinking with each passing day.
The food was good, and the company was pleasant.
He and Watt had finally found their stride, able to behave as true colleagues with little awkwardness between them.
Severino was a good addition, even if Watt hadn’t fully warmed up to him yet.
He wasn’t rude to Severino, but withdrawn in a way that he wasn’t with Cornelius, not anymore.
He tried not to feel too smug about that.
The landscape was ever changing. Thick jungle and curving tributaries, scrub country and marshland.
They passed through tunnels that seemed to never end, and bridges that were impossibly tall.
At one point Cornelius remarked on the astounding ingenuity of Brazilians, and Severino beamed with pleasure.
There was a great patriotism that South Americans had, one that Cornelius had read about but never experienced.
He’d never felt attached to his own country, a fact that he’d never admitted to anyone.
Or to any other country he’d visited. It felt strangely selfish, and wrong. But there it was.
On the fifth day of their trip, there was an uncomfortable conversation.
“We are fairly certain the area was occupied by a Toltec era civilization, but there are some discrepancies that we are still investigating. I have a feeling we will be here for some years. It is a pity that you cannot stay,” Severino said.
He’d been patient, Cornelius had to give him that much.
“I’m looking forward to seeing it,” Watt said.
Cornelius met Severino’s inquisitive gaze. “What do you know of our intentions, Severino?”
Severino flicked a glance at Watt, then to Cornelius. He said, “I know what Joaquim tells me. I know you are retracing Colonel Fawcett’s steps, and searching for him. And if not him, the Enchanted City, where the lights never go out.”
“You think it’s a fool’s errand,” Cornelius said, shifting on the bench to get a better look at Severino beside him. “Does Joaquim feel the same?”
“Yes.” Severino nodded. “I have told Watt this.” He gestured to Watt, who watched them with great intent.
When Cornelius caught the other man’s eye, Watt dipped his chin.
Not quite a nod, but affirmation enough.
Cornelius wondered when they would’ve talked about it.
While making arrangements, he supposed. Back when Cornelius was barely talking to Watt and making an ass out of himself. Still, he felt cut out somehow.
“And yet, Joaquim granted us permission. You’re taking us there. Why?”
“I do not know what Joaquim is thinking, he did not tell me why he agreed to this deception. But I am telling you it is pointless to go any farther than the site, because that is where Fawcett disappeared. To go where he went is to disappear.”
The word ‘deception’ stoked the fire inside Cornelius. He knew what they were doing was a lie, but he didn’t like to be called out on it, not by a man he’d come to like. Severino didn’t seem angry or to think less of them though, just … confused, or pitying?
He darted a look at Watt. “Did you know about this?”
Watt shook his head, looking at Severino strangely. “You did not tell me that. How do you know?”
“I do not know for certain, but I believe it to be true. All these landmarks,” he gestured to Watt, or presumably the map that Watt had been showing him that morning, “the stone tower, the waterfall. They are there, just to the north of the site. He was there, I’m sure of it.”
“I made a promise, Severino,” Watt said, and he sounded very tired. “I have to look for him, I can’t say ‘well that’s far enough’ based on a good feeling. I at least have to find something of his, something genuine, to bring back to his wife. I can’t go back empty handed.”
Severino lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair, then replaced it. He said, “Do what you must, and I will do what I can to help. But this plan you have, with retracing the steps. Are you sure it is necessary?”
Cornelius frowned. “His path doesn’t diverge from the one you have planned, does it?”
Severino hesitated. “No, except for the detour to the Galv?o estancia, before the Post. I do not think that is necessary, do you?”
“Yes,” Watt said. He did not elaborate, and the following silence was thicker than hell. Severino wrung his hands. Watt added, “Is that a problem?”
“We shall see,” Severino muttered, and lit up a cigarette.