The Last Days of Night(50)

Tesla had been given a small bedroom on the second floor that had once been a maid’s quarters. He spent most of his time in bed in a pair of Paul’s pajamas. When Paul would enter, he would invariably find Tesla under the sheets. Yet the inventor did not seem to sleep much.

He was having visions. That became clear as soon as Paul had been able to coax a few words from Tesla’s lips. The words that finally came, as Paul sat by his bedside, were faint.

“A great winged beast,” said Tesla.

He said little else that Paul could understand that first night. On the second, he produced a few more words, but no greater meaning.

“A fire,” Tesla said. “All I see is fire.”

“Yes!” Paul exclaimed. “There was a fire. In your laboratory. But that was months ago. You escaped and you’re safe now.”

Tesla shook his head defiantly. “No no no no no. With us here. I see a fire engulfing around us all.”

On future evenings Tesla would describe further visions. There was talk of horned beetles. Then there were bloody rivers and a solar eclipse of infinite length. Eventually he described an undead army and a colony of ants whose bodies were comprised of particles from distant stars. As the days passed, Tesla’s descriptions grew more verbose. He invariably spoke as if these terrible sights were not dreams, but scenes before his waking eyes. They were all as real to him as Paul, Agnes, and Fannie, as palpable as his small bed and the single candle that lit his room.

Paul brought a fresh box of saltines every night. Tesla devoured them ravenously. He seemed so hungry, yet he wouldn’t eat anything else. How Tesla hadn’t long ago perished from scurvy, Paul could not imagine. As the nights went on, and Paul helped Tesla to his crackers, he attempted to get more information about the nature of Tesla’s condition. The inventor knew who Paul was. He had some memory of their history together. By the second week, Tesla even referred to him by name, just as he had with Agnes from the start. However, the names “Edison” and “Westinghouse” seemed to have little effect on him. He either didn’t remember who they were, or, in his current state, didn’t care.

Yet Tesla’s presence had the most unexpected effect on Agnes. She seemed to honestly like having him there. Often Paul would arrive to find her already at Tesla’s bedside. Often she’d stay after Paul left.

Tesla seemed to soften her. To smooth the edges in her practiced smiles. When she laughed with Tesla, it was a different laugh than the one she’d boomed at Stanford White’s party. Or even than the little ones she offered to Paul. With Tesla, her laugh was warmer. It wasn’t comedy, it was companionship.

She seemed to be able to understand Tesla more than Paul ever could. She was more adept at deciphering his tortuous grammar. She was even fascinated by his rambling monologues.

“You like him,” Paul said to her one night as they ascended the staircase to Tesla’s room. He’d just arrived and his cheeks were still red from the cold. Her quarrel with W. H. Foster still loomed over them, but Paul had already decided that another letter would not do the trick. He would have to come up with something better.

“It surprises you that I like Tesla?”

“He doesn’t seem of a piece with most of your circle.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time performing. On the stage, for money, and off the stage, for respect. He’s never done so a day in his life. It would never even occur to him. He cares about no one’s opinions but his own.”

Together they entered Tesla’s room. They found him, as usual, mumbling to himself. The winter wind slapped hard against the thick windows, providing a low accompaniment to their quiet conversation.

“Ships,” said Tesla. “The particles that are moving, sliding, pressing up against. They are like tiny ships. We must see what they bring. We must trace the waters of their journey.”

Paul looked at Agnes. Together they had heard so many of these monologues. Together they would be here the next night and the night after that, to hear so many more.

“Particles, they are ships only, are they not? I will make a machine to push them into the waters. To connect one port with another. I cannot believe no one has thought of it previous. It is obvious when you have seen the boats.”

Agnes leaned over the bed, hoping to hear him better.

“It’s a coil, Miss Agnes Huntington. The shape is coiled. Can’t you see it there? It shines from its wonder.”

Paul looked around the cramped bedroom. “There’s nothing here,” said Paul. “Your mind is conjuring up things that aren’t there.”

At this, Tesla turned to Paul and, for the first time since his reappearance, matched Paul’s gaze with genuine consideration.

“Exactly,” said Tesla.

“You’re hallucinating, Nikola,” said Paul.

“No,” replied Tesla with the very first smile that Paul had seen on his face in a long time. “I’m inventing.”





When an abnormal man can find such abnormal ways…to make his name known all over the world…[and to] accumulate such wealth with such little real knowledge…I say such a man is a genius—or let us use the more popular word—a wizard.

—FRANCIS JEHL, AN ASSISTANT IN EDISON’S LABORATORY, 1913



THE NEXT TIME Paul entered the Huntington house, he was met with an alarming development.