Tales of the VOID
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The Strange Case of Milton Edwards, MA, PhD A Reconstruction by Curtis & Tracy Hickman Based on Historical Events
Casefile #551126 Exhibit D / V4
© Copyright 2018, The VOID LLC. Nicodemus: Demon of Evanishment™ is a trademark of The VOID, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
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Part 1: The Face in the Mirror
10:32 pm / Thursday, 15 October – 1891 / New York, New York
“This device is going to kill tonight.” Jarod Clarence Matthews1 was as certain of that fact as he was desperate. The Machine he was assembling in front of him would either kill the doubts of his patroness, kill his chances of getting more money out of her or kill them both dead. In this moment, he was not sure which was more likely. He glanced around the vastness of the ballroom in the middle of which he had assembled the infernal apparatus. The light of 1 -Jarod Clarence Matthews (1864-1893?) Promoter and self-proclaimed inventor. Patent holder of the Electro-medium Machine. Arrested 1891 on five counts of fraudulent conveyance, seven counts of securities fraud and two counts medical malpractice. No convictions. Last seen at the Columbian Exposition, Chicago, Illinois.
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Nicodemus: Demon of Evanishment his single kerosene lamp was sufficient for his work but created ominous shadows in the far corners of the room. The three massive chandeliers overhead were still covered in their draping cloths. The tables and chairs would not arrive until later in the week, leaving the floor an open expanse that night. The building was not supposed to be occupied. It stood pristine and – with the sole exception of Jarod – vacant at the intersections of Pearl Street and Dover on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. The new wooden floors were clean and oiled. There was still the unmistakable smell of fresh paint on the walls. It was near the approaches to the East River Bridge2 which promised a bright future in commerce. The building was complete in every way except for the requisite Permits of Occupancy. It was a thing not yet born, a structure that was waiting to open its doors and take its first breath. He had set his coat aside, draping it over an open crate and had rolled up the previously crisp, starched cuffs of his sleeves. The temperature outside could not be more than in the mid-fifties, and it seemed even colder inside the otherwise lifeless building. Still, he could feel the sweat gathering under the brim of his bowler hat He leaned down into the light radiating from the lamp at his feet. It was the only source of illumination on the enormous ballroom floor, a yellowish pool of light that was inadequate to push back the vast darkness extending around him. Jarod bent over, struggling to assemble the device according to the written instruc2-- Officially named ‘The New York and Brooklyn Bridge’ or later, simply the Brooklyn Bridge.
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Tales of the VOID tions that had come packed with the equipment. They were all hand-written notations and in some places the pencil marks were barely legible. He turned the top page upside down and then back again, hoping it would make more sense. Part of his frustration was that he really had no idea what this device actually was supposed to do. It was as much of a mystery to him as it had been to the widow from whom he had purchased it on Grand Street.3 Jarod had been promising to deliver a device with mystical properties to his patroness for some time now – and this monstrosity appeared to be something that would be convincing enough to his benefactor to keep her money flowing in his direction. If it did not kill them all first. Now, if he understood the scribbled drawings and margin notes properly, he was nearly finished assembling the Machine. He took a step back to try to take in the totality of the madness he had arrayed about the dark floor. It was an ugly, hulking device and now that he could see it fully assembled, he realize