The House of Franklin

Ellen had been in the presence of huge marble statues before- in the Temple of the Union, and in the belly of the old Congress building. She hadn't expected one to be staring them down as Madame Keturah led them into the building. It was a colossal, seated figure of- well, the face was a little cracked and dingy with time, but-

"That's why they call you the Franklin Girls?" she asked Theodosia. The red-haired woman wore a Dress like the others, one patched together from a dozen different kinds of fabric with more-or-less matching colors, but with skirts of narrow enough dimensions to let her stand next to Conklin's immobilization board without getting in the way. "Because of him?"

"This whole place was dedicated to him once," said Theodosia, nodding reverently towards the statue. "He was a great scholar and diplomat, and an especially great lover of the ladies."

"…. And they put that in a museum?" said Ellen, who somehow couldn't picture people of the pre-War United States she'd learned about in history class being willing to admit such matters existed.

"Honors done to a man without admitting of his faults are meaningless," said Keturah. "It's said he lived by thirteen virtues, one in any given week, and left the others to ordinary chance until it was their turn."

"Chastity being one of those virtues," said Thedosia. "If even a man so great that his memorial lasted through the War could only embrace it four weeks out of a year, one can hardly expect anyone else to do much better."

"So why not make sure that a superior option is available to the good people of Philly in their own weeks of less stellar self-control?" came a man's voice from behind the statue. Ellen held up one fist; the rest of the party stopped at once. "Welcome, newfound friends, to the House of Franklin. I'm Doctor D, and my lovely and talented employees are at your-"

The dark-haired man was perhaps six feet tall and dressed in the most outrageously colored pre-War clothing Ellen had ever seen. He bore no weapon, except for what looked like a walking stick crusted at one end in sparkling chips of glass. His skin had the pallor of someone who made a point of not going outside, but that might have been his emotional state; certainly his genial expression gave way rapidly to shock at the sight of Knight Kang's armored form. "-service," he finally managed, and swallowed before looking back up. "We're not going to have any trouble, are we?"

Ellen could feel the others fidgeting. "I don't plan on there being any trouble," she said. "So as long as nobody here starts anything, we won't either."

"Good," said Doctor D, "good. I must say, I wasn't expecting to encounter anyone from the Brotherhood of Steel here, of all places."

"You know us?" said Kang. Ellen wasn't sure, but thought she saw Doctor D holding back a flinch. "All the way up here?"

"What can I say, my good man? I have contacts and a long history behind me," said Doctor D. "But all of that can wait. What brings you to my doorstep today? Specifically, I mean. Obviously it's a medical issue of some import."

Ellen glanced at Keturah, who made a slight 'go ahead' gesture with one half-concealed hand. "It's a head injury, Doctor," she said. "Knight Conklin here was caught off his feet by a sentrybot's RPG round and thrown into a wall, where his head bounced off the inside of his helmet. He hasn't regained full consciousness since leaving the General Atomics grounds, but he's responded to pain and still has pupillary responses. I'm not equipped to treat a head injury like this myself, so our guide-" She nodded to Painless Parker. "-recommended we bring him to you."

"I see, I see." Doctor D came forward, his sparkling stick tapping against the floor with each step. "Well, you're in luck. I am a fully trained and accredited medical practitioner in my native state of Redding. And thanks to the proclivities of the ruling factions of this fair city I've had more than my fair share of experience with concussions and skull injuries. The helmets favored by nine tenths of the ice-gangs in this city only protect against a genuinely endangering impact once, but they will insist on wearing the things until they've all but fallen off… I can almost certainly treat your man- pending further examination to ensure no unseen injuries complicate the situation, of course- but like everything else in this city, I'll require compensation for it."

"That's all right. Madame Keturah warned us of that already," said Ellen. "Can you give me an idea of what kind of price is involved?"

Doctor D turned to Keturah, who murmured rapidly to him in a tone too low to follow. D nodded, and turned to examine the prone Knight more carefully. "The initial payment will be in bottlecaps," he said, "since regardless of the outcome we're going to be expending money on chems to reduce intracranial swelling and inflammatory response. This being the House of Franklin, the remainder of your price will be a contribution to the House's archives." He swept his glittering stick in a trail of sparkling fire towards the statue. "We strive to emulate the old master's example in whatever ways we can. Bring us a previously unfamiliar work of science, invention, education, governance, music, or philosophy, something we can take apart and keep, and that will fulfil whatever medical obligation your man here may incur. Two, if you're feeling generous."

The Franklin Girls were watching her; Ellen resisted the urge to drag both hands over her face. "All right," she said. "All right. We can do that. May I leave one of my people here to keep an eye on him in the meanwhile?"

"I had a feeling you would say that," said D. "If you insist."

"You'd better believe I insist," said Ellen. "Kang?"

"At your command, Paladin."

"Thank you, Knight," said Ellen. "All right, people. Let's get Knight Conklin to wherever the good Doctor intends to treat him. The sooner we can start our search, the better."