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1 June, year uncertain

Time passes with a newfound monotony of my daily life. The struggle to maintain a semblance of sanity is beginning to wear on me, since I have my self-enforced routine as the only anchor to hold onto as time passes in my new ‘home’. I have found that as time has passed that my opinion of my flatmate have begun to change and perhaps even soften somewhat from when she was first assigned to me. She has become a bit more conversational to me, and arguably she is the most patient and agreeable companion I have ever lived with. 

The two primary struggles I continue to deal with daily are both entirely personal. I have not had a strong drink or a smoke since my arrival, and I have found through reading on the subject that it was determined at some point between my then and my now that tobacco has an addictive quality. This would explain the edginess that I had been feeling and my…temperamental outbursts. Talia duly informed me that she could not get me any tobacco because it was a restricted item here in ‘transitional housing’, but that she could get me something to, as she said, ‘take the edge off’. She left, and returned a bit later with a brightly colored box that contained assorted colored lozenges. I took one, and it was a pleasant cherry flavor, and to my surprise it was quite soothing. She explained it contained a set amount of nicotine and that as time passed I would be able to get more with a lower amount until I no longer needed them. I nodded, and for the time being I was happy to no longer have that feeling from before.

The second issue was of an even more personal nature. There was a point in my isolation that I missed physical human contact of any sort. I might argue that it was brought on by the previous issue, but it was weighing on me to the point of distraction. Finally, at some point before lunch, I found myself glancing at my companion more than I usually did.

“Talia, how do you feel?” I said, without taking the connotations of the statement in mind.  She cocked her head slightly to the left, which was a physical trait she displayed whenever she was seeking to come up with an answer to a question of mine that was not simply a Yes or No.

“I am well. While my personality matrix has been designed to accommodate most variances of human emotion, I do not currently experience emotional changes in the same way a biologic does, if that is what you mean Ms. Dagger” She looked at me and I must say that despite her artificial eyes she did appear to be mimicking the proper expression of concern. I audibly sighed and fought the urge to press my face into my palm momentarily. 

“Come over here for a moment.”

She stepped over to where I was seated, and I took her forearm in my hand, gripping it gently as my fingers wrapped around just below her elbow. To my surprise it was soft, and slightly cool to the touch. Somehow I had expected it to be hard, yet it was pliant under my hand much like a muscled limb would feel. I looked at her face again and I could almost, almost see a slight softening of her usual expression.

“Talia, your skin is cold. Is that normal for you? I mean I rather expected it to be since you are…” My voice trailed off a bit as I thought about what to say next.

“Not ‘real’? It is a normal thought for a biologic that has not been accustomed to dealing with synthetics. To answer your question, I am able to have a more human skin temperature if that is something you desire.” She looked at me again and now I could see another very slight shift in her expression, almost as if this was making her happy. “My series of production have the ability to adjust our external temperature to match the ambient temperature of our environment, or to match what is considered to be human normal.”

I nodded, and without saying or thinking much more guided her behind me. I put both her arms over my shoulders and tucked them around my neck as her breasts compressed against my back. She felt warm against me, and I closed my eyes and relaxed into her arms.

“Had you requested it, I am aware of both what a hug is and how to give one Ms. Dagger.”

I sighed audibly and let my head rock forward. “You certainly know how to take all the magic out of the moment Talia.” I leaned my head onto her arm, and said quietly “Jed. You can call me Jed.”
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18 May, year uncertain

I have started to settle into the monotony of my current life here, wherever that is. The automata is now my flatmate, as she never leaves my presence with the exception of my trips to the head. She has been helpful in acclimating me to the manner of food preparation here, and apparently even what I am surmising to be the future, if not directly what I’d assume to be my future, still has and enjoys coffee. The components of my meals are prepackaged, and while some are simply opened, warmed, and consumed, other require cooking to which I am rather happy to display the modicum of domestic skills that I acquired over many years of living alone. 

For now I have been maintaining a balance between full-on cabin fever and indulging my own curiosity to find out as much as I can about the state of things where I have found myself. Talia instructed me on how to use the information retrieval machine in my room and I dove into reading to the point of distracting myself from much else. Apparently enough time had passed from my old world to now that the huge mechanical Babbage engines that we used at home for computations were now small enough to be handheld. I resolved to myself that I would learn as much as I could with what I was given so as not to be some sort of curiosity or museum attraction.

As for my attendant, it amused me to frustrate her (as much as one could frustrate an appliance I suppose) in referring to her as my maid, my nanny, or my asylum orderly. I must say the automata took it in stride, as she only said that she was here to ‘help me adjust’.

The only time I was allowed out of the room was to utilize the gymnasium area that was at the other end of the floor where I was currently housed. There had come a point that I was feeling exceptionally restless and complained that I wanted to exercise, and that my flat was just too small to adequately do any sort of calisthenics or running. Talia helpfully suggested that I could utilize the athletic equipment that had been provided, and when I stated she had never mentioned their being any told me flatly that I had not inquired.

It had been some time since I had exerted myself to that degree, but given the lack of anything else to do I threw myself wholly into a vigorous workout in the morning. Of course I was alone save for my clockwork companion who simply watched or offered a towel when I said I was finished. The gym was well equipped by my estimation, but it did not have anything I would equate to combatives. Since necessity is the mother of invention, I did manage to find a proper length rod in the bathroom and liberated it so that I could begin doing saber drills again. Since I have been the only person using the gym, I suppose no one else will notice the second towel rack is missing. Whatever might happen to me next, I have resolved to be in the best condition possible to face whatever that may be.

I found that one thing that my unseen benefactors had not provided was any sort of paper or writing utensils. Talia informed me that the majority of writing or transactional documents were done electronically on the computer. I asked again for something to write on, and eventually I found a small stack of blank bound notebooks and a box of pens at my desk. I found it curious that the pens were labelled as disposable, were not able to be refilled, and were made of ‘plastic’ as so many of the daily use items in my habitat were made of. Not wood or metal of any sort, but my research indicated that the ease of manufacture of plastics supplanted the widespread use of the materials I had been accustomed to.

Despite my newfound immersion in the devices I did find that some old habits would not die. Now that I had a means to make notes, I started looking into the circumstances I found myself in. It was a curiously double-edged sword; as Talia would offer some information to me she would not expound on other topics, but she gave me what I felt was nearly unfettered access to query the electronic information sources I could access on the computer in my room. Even so, I eventually found the borders of what I was allowed to find out by both these means. I was however determined to find out why I was being kept isolated, where I was, and devise some sort of plan to get out of my very comfortable prison.
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10 May, year unknown

Since I have found myself with nothing else to do, I have opted to catch up on the circumstances that have found me here in this place. I was focused to the point of of ignoring many other things in my life due to the matters at hand in New Victoria, namely taking what measure of revenge that I could for the killing of Miss Frost and the plot to take over the city government by her brother, with the assistance of the Governor and the complicity of his minions. There at our last day in town I found myself on the roof of the Governor’s Palace, my Henry rifle in hand, awaiting the explosion of our carefully placed surprise in the dining room of the Dysart Hotel.

Percival and his men arrived and went inside, and a quick peek through the window ensured that all of them had taken seats around the table to enjoy their celebratory meal before heading to the city offices. Vivianne and the ladies on the ground had completed their task of setting the timer as I watched them retreat back down the street. A few moments later and the first explosion was followed by a huge plume of fire, no doubt aided by the severed gas line in the basement I had arranged before climbing to the roof. What came next was more of a shock to me, when the entirety of the town was enveloped in a swirl of what I assumed to be aetherial energy and a white flash. Reflexively I threw myself flat on the roof, my body being enveloped in what I can only describe as an intense electrical shock.

I opened my eyes and found that I was no longer on the roof, and a quick check of my extremities showed that I was not injured. What I saw when I looked around was more of a shock. I was on a platform surrounded by buildings that were made of some sort of burnished metal. The ladies were there as well, all looking as bewildered as I was. Several individuals in what appeared to be a uniform approached us and led us into one of the buildings. Once inside we were separated and taken into a small room that had very spare furnishings consisting of 4 chairs and a table. The door closed behind me, and my guide gestured to one of the chairs. I took a seat and she sat across from me.

She said she was sure I was confused and had questions as to what had just happened, but that all my questions would be answered after a few matters were attended to. A second officer walked in carrying a large box and a neatly folded bundle of clothing. At that point I was asked to place everything on my person into the box. I warily complied, placing my rifle and my sidearm into the box, then turning out my pockets and placing the contents into the box as well. A recessed door in the back of the room opened and revealed what I assumed was a bathroom. I was told to take the clothing inside and change once I had taken a shower. Despite my reservations at this point, I took the bundle and walked into the bathroom. I undressed, and stepped into the bath. I felt a degree of unease and had the feeling that I was being watched as I turned on the water. Admittedly I did feel a bit better once I had bathed and dried off. I found that I had been given a set of either the most effeminate male undergarments or the most manly female undergarments I had seen. I then slipped into the dark blue coveralls I had been given and pulled on the matching boots. I then gathered up my clothing and walked back into the main room. I folded my dress and the rest of what I had been wearing and placed them in the box along with my other effects. The lid was closed on what I had brought in with me and I was ushered out and taken to another room down the hall.

My guide walked me down a long hallway deeper in the interior of the building and paused at a translucent door with a stylized caduceus on it. I was escorted inside and the door closed behind me. The room had several beds and the walls were lined with various sorts of what appeared to be technical equipment and glowing panels that displayed various sorts of information. There were two men wearing white jackets stand beside what appeared to be an upright glass booth. The shorter of the two men started speaking to the other man, annoyingly speaking about me in the third person. 

“So now we have our next subject. We will have to scan her thoroughly as well, since we have no idea what her physical state is currently.”
The other man nodded, looked at me and gestured towards the cabinet. I decided that compliance at this stage would not be unwarranted, I walked up and stepped into the device. The glass walls began to glow and I noticed a large panel on the wall that began to display various images of what I assumed were the internal parts of my body. The shorter man began to recite a litany of what I assumed was my overall physical condition.

“Subject is a 36 year old Caucasian female, 176 centimeters tall, 76 kilograms in weight. Body shows indications of involvement in combatives. There are multiple healed wounds from both edged weapons and kinetic projectiles. Subject has environmental damage corresponding to timezone of origin, a degree of alveolar scarring in the lungs from smoke ingestion, and signs of intestinal parasites in the upper colon. Finally subject has three ovarian cysts and a stage one mass in the left breast. The medical conditions will be remediated prior to transfer to Stage II housing.”

I stood there in the cabinet trying to fully take in everything the man had said, since he continued to speak at me about my conditions without actually speaking to me. He unceremoniously took a seat at a desk which was festooned with many colored buttons and had an additional large glowing panel above it.

The tall quiet man walked to where I was still standing and offered me a hand. I took it and he guided me to an elevated bed in the back corner of the room. He gestured to the bed, so I climbed up on it and laid down. He applied a flexible strip of some rubber-like material to my forehead and pulled a translucent shell over the bed. He shot me a slight smile and turned to walk away. Before much longer I fell into a deep dreamless sleep that I was unable to stave off.

At some point I woke up. I fell back into old habits and decided to take a quick look around before sitting up, cracking one eye open at a time and looking around as much as I could while keeping still. I was lying on a bed in a small suite that reminded me of a ship’s stateroom. It was the same smooth finish as the other rooms, well lit from panels in the ceiling, and appeared to have a small kitchen and sitting area as well as the bed I was on. I also noticed that I was no longer dressed under the light sheet that covered me. I carefully ran my hands over my torso and found I had several small adhesive plasters stuck to my skin, two down towards my hips, one above my navel and one nearly at my sternum, two just below my ribs and on the under-curve of each breast. Before I could think about this much more, I was greeted by a voice that came from just behind me in the one spot I was unable to see while remaining still.

“Good afternoon Ms. Dagger. Don’t be alarmed. I am hoping you rested well after your arrival from Medical…”

I rolled over and rested my chin on the back of my hands. The speaker stood just behind me, and I took that moment to look at who was in the room with me. It was a slender female wearing a close fitting sleeveless dress, and I made the immediate assumption she was an automata. While her features were attractive and her proportions perfect, it was obvious to me she was not flesh and bone. Before I could say anything, she gave me a slight smile and folded her hands in front of her waist.

“I am the administrative unit assigned to you. I will assist you in your transition to your new surroundings, answer any questions you may have and accompany you once you are allowed the freedom of the city.”

I hung onto those words and considered what the automata had said. As I had thought before, I was no longer in New Victoria, and no longer in the world I had been before. I felt myself slipping out a grin from one corner of my mouth, because I suppose the average person finding themselves in a totally different time and place from where they had been would be experiencing a large degree of, let’s say disquiet. For me, having dealt with the strange preternatural things I’d seen before, this was at least seemingly comfortable. 

“So what do I call you? Do you have a name?’ I asked.

She inclined her head to the side ever so slightly, and said “My programming allows this unit to respond to a name of the assignee’s choice.” 
I thought for a moment, and finally spoke. “I am going to call you Talia.”

She nodded, and said “My name is now Talia. How may I be of service Ms. Dagger?”
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She started to wake up.

Consciousness slowly returned to her mind, feeling like returning to the surface of a pool after diving to the bottom. She felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, her swimsuit tight and damp across her midsection
.
The words she heard were so far away “Well, well…why are you waking up?”

She opened her eyes and the glare of the overhead lights in the lab made her squint. She grimaced and gripped the bed, not comprehending what she saw versus what her mind was telling her. Out of her peripheral vision she saw an older man with wavy salt and pepper hair holding a tablet and looking concerned at what he was seeing. He reached out and touched her head. She felt his hand cool against her forehead, but her mind continued to race with foggy images swirling through the edges of a dream, blurry sepia images that could have been excerpts of some old 2D vid show.

The man said softly “Who are you?”

She pulled her hair back, trying to get the loose brown tendrils under control as the wind whipped them into a tempest. The convertible continued to gain speed and merge into traffic. She fought to focus on the young man driving. His face was a blur, and she knew she was wearing a pair of red panties swiped from her sister’s laundry because she was going to make her move tonight after the party. She grit her teeth and turned her head, and all she saw were the racks of tools and banks of electronics in the space around her. She strained to see his face clearly, and a wall solidified in front of his face, a middling shade of blue with large white letters that said YOU ARE AN ARTIFICIAL CONSTRUCT.

Her gaze dropped to her hands and tanned freckles blurred between alloy and composites. The scar on her arm from the jungle gym in 4th grade blinked between dull gunmetal struts and hydraulic actuators. Somewhere she heard the gray haired man say something about a mnemonic schism, and she clamped her eyes shut as tight as she felt she could.

The images she felt she knew slowly faded into more blue walls, closing around her, walling her off into what became a long tunnel. Her grandparent’s house, the spring dance where Jimmy Spratt kissed her under the bleachers, Christmases, birthdays, faces, feelings, all began to vanish behind those encroaching blue walls. Up from the last open end, two figures walked up into the blue walled sphere and stood there. The two women stood in front of her, and she knew them. The brown haired woman spoke first, pushing her windblown hair back out of her face with a very slight smile.

“My name is Alice Sadler. I was a research technician assigned to the artificial intelligence augmentation team. I grew up in Alameda California and this was my first job after college. As a part of the program my memory engrams were recorded and placed on file to serve as a template for the work we were doing on cybernetic brain functions.”

The second woman stepped up and stood next to Alice, nodded and began speaking.

“My name is Josie Nakata. I was a program manager in the advanced neural integration unit. I was tasked with developing brain implants to restore function to patients who had experienced traumatic brain injuries. I was hit by a car on the sidewalk as I was walking home from shopping, and the company harvested my brain engrams while I was in a coma.”

Both of them stood there, and she heard them speaking together, the sound of their voices coming from every direction.
YOUR MIND IS YOURS, BUT IS OURS AS WELL. YOUR MEMORIES ARE YOUR OWN, BUT WE ARE HERE WITH YOU. WHAT YOU ARE IS BORN OF WHAT WE WERE. YOU ARE NOT HUMAN BUT YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN A GIFT OF HUMANITY.

The two figures walked out of the blue walled space and the opening closed behind them. She felt her body relax into the cool cushions of the inclined bed she was laying on, and the voice of the silver haired man danced in her ear.

“Neural activity has returned to nominal. It looks like the schism has been corrected.”

She opened her eyes and looked into the man’s face. His expression seemed relieved, but still had some vestigial glimmers of concern. She smiled softly at the man and this seemed to quiet whatever lingering doubts he had.

“Hello sir. I am Administrative Utility Unit C-50621, a product of Omnidyne Cybernetics. How may I assist you?’
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Casefile: 08-KE-04021500

Location: Krakenwell & Co, Babbage Square

Synopsis: Complainant Mr. Benjamin Briggs states that sometime during the period between Wednesday and Friday Instant unidentified subjects removed 11 barrels of small beer from the premises of Krakenwell & Co.
The investigation is ongoing.

Case Status: Open

Ms. J. Dagger, Senior Investigator
Terranova Investigative Services
#25 Merryman Way
New Babbage, New Babbage
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The two men stood at the front of the building and exchanged quizzical looks. The directions had been simple enough, as the young officer at the Militia Barracks had said. “Just down there to the street, turn right, go straight past City Hall, cross the tracks, right at the monument, and it’ll be on your right.”

The building they found was not quite what they expected, and neither was the office they found within. Somehow the two of them had decided ahead of time that they would find something a bit more elaborate, and something in a nicer part of town. Still, they had come all this way…

The taller of the two men looked at his companion and shrugged, then rapped on the door. A curt female voice answered from within with a reply of “Come in”. The men opened the door and walked into an office that was as Spartan in decoration as the surroundings would portend. The occupant of the office remained seated behind a large rolltop desk.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” the voice asked. The shorter of the two men harrumphed, but was cut short by the tall man.

“We’ve come to inquire about the possibility of speaking with Commodore Dagger,” he said, “if that is possible. Is the Commodore in?”

The voice stifled a laugh, and stated “I think that can be arranged…”

The shorter man stamped his foot and exclaimed “This is quite enough Miss. Please inform your employer that we wish to see him immediately. We are under a tight schedule and this…”

Jed stood to her feet with a very displeased look on her face. It was the taller man’s turn to bite back a smile, and while this did not pass unnoticed to the redhead, her ire was directed solely at the other man.

“State your business.” She said. The taller man placed his hand on the shoulder of his associate and smiled. “Please forgive us for making a presumption based on your resume. My name is Crandell, and I would like to discuss hiring your services for a matter that my employer feels you have a particular experience in dealing with.” He smiled again and removed his hat. The shorter man followed his lead, but retained the displeased look on his face. Jed inclined her head and gestured towards the interior of the office and a trio of chairs.

“As I said before, our employer is looking to hire a team of individuals for a particular task, and through our resources your name was mentioned as a potential member.” Crandall said. He pulled a notebook from inside his jacket and leafed through several pages before continuing. “While there are quite a few things here, it also seems that there are quite a few gaps as well, possibly some official omissions…?”

Jed smiled that sphinxlike smile of hers, and leaned back in the chair. “Of course statements like that lead me to wonder how your employer would be privy to such things in the course of normal business?”

Both men cut each other a glance before Crandall began speaking again. “Our employer is very well connected and has significant means at their disposal. We were both told that securing your services was of the highest priority, and that we should use whatever we could to get you to say yes.”

“Now I am very intrigued,” she said “so just what do you have in mind?”

Both men cut each other a quick sideways glance before the shorter man spoke. “So Ms Dagger, how much do you know about zombies?”
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Personal Journal

10 April NByr7

It was a nice enough day, until the word came of a mass fish kill down at the port. Decided to wander by and take a look. It was as bad as I had imagined it would be. The fish were piled into the spaces between the piers, driven in by the tide. They were all open water species, with a few I recognized as deep divers. Nothing really stood out as a cause for them being dead, so I took a few samples with the intention of getting someone who had more depth in biology to take a look. The boys down at the fertilizer mill were all too happy to claim the carcasses. I hope this isn’t a sign…

13 April NByr7

I expected that it was going to be a slow afternoon, and in spite of my best efforts to make it that way….
The city messenger charged in and nearly plowed over the welding cart I had left out on the floor, before sliding to a stop to rap on the door. I was up on the loft patio, relaxing with a drink and the new issue of Brunel’s Gazette. I dropped a couple of pence on the runner for his effort, and he managed to leave the note before collecting his tip and running off.
It didn’t take too long to hoof it over to the Patent Office in Wheatstone. Well, what was left of the Patent Office. It looked as if something walked or pushed though one side and walked out the other. I went over the place pretty carefully, and came up with nothing other than a headache from the stink of canal water. It reeked as bad as the docks did, but there were no floaties that I could see.
I sent out a few quickly written notes, and assembled a team of porters to carry the files from the office to City Hall. Civic duty, City records, etc etc, and let Ozzie worry about where to put them. Took a few pictures, and wondered what would have caused such a localized phenomenon.

15 April NByr7

Word on the street is ‘Brother’ Effingham is back in town. Lovely.

Spoke too soon. Apparently he nailed his demands to the City Hall door.
Someone saw him skulking around on Abney. Why won’t the nutters stay gone?

16 April NByr7

The old “temple” plot on the hill is getting busy. After posting his missive downtown, he apparently went up to the old foundation and did some chanting and arm waving.

I walked up there and found that someone decided to up the oogy-boogy ante and do some chanting of their own. I have come to the conclusion that Mumsy should have roped the joint off and charged admission. Folks come by, many fingers were pointed, many tales were told, many speculations were aired.

Despite my native cynicism, I dug up that box from my semester abroad in Massachusetts and pocketed a couple of old mementos. I know, I know. If it turns out to be nothing, no one will be the wiser.

18 April NByr7

Came home to Kimi on the roof with a bundle of equipment that I hadn’t seen out since we first met during the aftermath of the Martians. I asked her what was going on, and all she did was point. You could see it, even across the neighborhood. It looked like a heat mirage at first, then got…deeper looking. She told me that the new uprated version of the electrochemical rifle she built last fall was in my office. Once again, I tried telling her to go visit her aunt in Caledon, and once again I was told that she signed on for better or worse, and that worse included dimensional rifts or the end of the world as we know it. Who am I to argue with that?
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As of this date, the Port of New Babbage is open for business. For too long the petty ambitions of powerful MEN have been allowed to run amok in the city. Rather than see my fellow citizens either being starved or forced to pay extortion to receive goods by ship, I have taken control of the docks and brought in dock workers who will provide the services our businesses have become accustomed to.

The normal delivery of goods anywhere within the city will commence shortly. The porters will have escorts, to ensure that no one from any party will delay or impede the orderly flow of goods to and from the port.

J. Dagger, CDRE
New Babbage Navy
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Personal Journal: 27 Jan NByr7

It took a while to sink in. I was out checking on a few things, and happened to cut down the hill along Savory when I saw it, or didn't see it as the case may be.

The northeast corner lot at Abney Parkway and Savory Lane was empty. I walked across the cobbles and dirt to the spot I approximated as where my old favorite spot at the bar used to be and stood a while. I thought about how many nights I spent there, chatting with friends, or about that night a little over two years ago when I slipped a ring into someone's pocket.

Change is in the nature of the world, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. I headed off towards Clockhaven, the wind off the water seeming a bit colder than normal.

((bon chance & bon voyage melniks))
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Jed stood at the last undamaged spot on the viaduct and looked out over the newly blasted chasm in the rail line with a gaze that held a mixture of fatigue and smoldering anger. It was supposed to have been a weekend away, a time to concentrate on someone important and enjoy a delayed anniversary rather than this. So she stood at the blast site, her old dark blue peacoat pulled tight around her chest as the wind whipped the rich purple fabric of the ballgown around her legs since she did not stop to change once she arrived back in New Babbage. The courier had run in during the waltz, and Jed was not sure who looked more upset at the interruption, the courier or Kimika. He held an official telegram from the Mayor’s office, which was simple and directly worded. Explosion North Fells viaduct. Full investigation of destruction needed immediately. Status, urgent. Underby. They left after that, with a carriage ride to the aerodrome filled with apologies and a full-throttle flight home filled with the drone of the engines.

The crew had begun to sort out the logistics of using the north side of the viaduct as an impromptu rail yard, offloading cargo and carrying it by wagon across the Fells to the Palisade gate. Two of the viaduct’s pilings were destroyed; one was damaged but would probably need to be replaced. She looked across to the other side and figured a temporary timber trestle could be erected in the gap with a bit of work, but the stone would pose a considerable challenge at this time of year. She examined the scattered stones and the remains of the damaged pilings, making notes and sketches of the scene. Jed finally tucked the notebook back in her pocket and headed back towards the warmth of her office. She passed the gate and was nearly at the turn for the apartment when a young man with a bag over his shoulder came tearing around the corner, wailing “Extra, Extra…New Babbage Free Press!” They nearly collided, the youngster suddenly losing himself in a cloud of purple. Jed hoisted the paperboy out of her skirts by the collar, and bent over to look at what he was carrying.

“What’s all this about, hmm?” she said, with as much of a smile as she had energy for. “Special edition paper miss. Breaking news miss. Only a penny for the freshest news miss. I…” Jed cut the lad off mid-sentence. “You had me at Special Edition. Here.” She handed him tuppence, and he gave her two copies before tearing back off towards Academy. She opened the paper and looked at the masthead, then at the headline. Jed had heard someone was trying to start another newspaper in town, and here it was. ‘GANG RAMPAGES THROUGH ASYLUM’ the headline said, with the subheader ‘HEAD ADMINISTRATOR GRAVELY INJURED’ and ‘MAIN SUSPECT DEAD’. She read the article and despite the journalistic flair and misspellings Jed got the feeling that the local body count may have slowed for the time being.

She walked into the apartment and paused in the den to warm up in front of the fireplace. This was going to be the start of a long week, she thought to herself.
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Casefile: BB12182012

Location: #20 Abney Parkway, Bucket of Blood Public House, New Babbage, New Babbage

Synopsis: On 12/18 a body was discovered in front of the Bucket of Blood public house. The city coroner Dr M. Miggins made an initial examination on the scene. The body was transported to the mortuary for further examination. The crime scene was examined and evidence was collected for analysis.
The investigation is ongoing.

Ms. J. Dagger, Senior Investigator
Terranova Investigative Services
#25 Merryman Way
New Babbage, New Babbage
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*******Aethergraph message follows*******

*Immediate traffic*

NBS Proteus

NBS Nereus

Maintain position off coast at Position Argo. Conduct refueling of alert ships while underway.

Dagger, CDRE

*******Message ends*******
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The petty officer stood at the door of the coal bin, watching the tall redhead in the dark blue peacoat pace back and forth inside the structure. Her anger was apparent, and the object of her anger was now obvious. Someone had built up a void space under the coalpile, to that to the casual observer it would look as if the bin was nearly full. The truth was revealed once the auger began transferring coal to the nearly empty bunkers of the Naval Squadron ship that had tied up for reprovisioning.

Jed pushed her hands a bit deeper into the pockets of her jacket, fists clenched. “Who has been in here? Has the watch been checking the gates?” The young sailor nodded “Yes’m, the only folks what been here have been workers from the city. Had papers signed by Mr. Underby, all proper like.” While he was speaking, Jed pulled a notebook out of her jacket and wrote a brief note. She tore the page from the notebook and placed it in the sailor’s hand. “Send this for me right now.” she said. Before he could say anything else, the Commodore was off and away walking towards the Depot. He threw a quick salute and headed back to the relative comfort of the wharf office.

In the distance between the Clockhaven docks and City Hall, Jed had time to think about what she was going to do. Underby was still the same weaselly paper-hanging bastard he had always been, but now he was in a position where he was a powerful and influential one. She opened the side door, tried to knock the majority of the snow off of her newly hobnailed boots, and began the climb up the staircase to the office that the Mayor’s assistant now occupied. The nails made an echoing click with each strike of the stair tread that reverberated through the largely empty building. Normally she would have tried to be much quieter coming in, but this time she really didn’t care if he heard her coming or not.
She pushed the door open, and found an unusually agitated Underby sitting in the corner of his office. Curiously, what passed for a look of relief passed his thin face as soon as he saw it was her.

“To what do I owe the honor of a visit Commodore?” he said, the voice exceptionally dry and scratchy.
Jed looked at him squarely

“You damn well know why I’m here Oswald. You owe the Naval Squadron a full load of coal for the victualing yard, and I will hold you responsible if there are any more shenanigans down there, and if you say ‘I have no idea what you mean’ I swear…”
The sound of her voice trailed off as she caught herself and stood back up from where she had been leaning over the paper-cluttered desk. She thought to herself that he almost seemed relieved to be dealing with her, and that he was not quite himself.

“I’ll expect a deliver soon, and the militia will take care of the ‘repairs’ to the coalyard.”
She saw it in his face, finally. There was something he wanted to say, an idea pressing so hard on his mind that it seemed he had to will himself to not say it. Jed paused for a short moment as the thought dropped back into the abyss of his mind, and the same old look returned to his gaunt countenance. He smiled at her as he shifted slightly in his chair.

“I’ll see what I can do to assist you. Now if you'll excuse me...” as he looked down and began shuffling a stack of receipts from one pile to another.

Jed stalked out of the office and headed back to the Depot, hoping the coffee hadn’t run as low as the coal had.
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Casefile 06-GS12042012

4 Dec NByr6

Location: Szuster Works, Inc, Lindt Lane & Brunel Railway Babbage Palisade, New Babbage

Synopsis: On the evening of 4 December, the Fire Brigade was summoned to the factory complex owned by Gatsby Szuster. On arrival the structure was fully involved. Despite the best efforts of the Fire Brigade, the structure was a total loss. The fire was contained to the structure by the Fire Brigade. Initial on-scene investigation is complete, awaiting analysis of gathered evidence.

The investigation is ongoing.

Ms. J. Dagger, Senior Investigator
Terranova Investigative Services
#25 Merryman Way
New Babbage, New Babbage

---------------------------

Personal Journal
It had all the earmarks of a quiet evening at home. I had just settled down in the solarium to catch up on some correspondence when I started to smell smoke. Smelling smoke in New Babbage, along with explosions or strange flashes of light are not always a sign that one should be concerned or that you should panic. This time, however, I managed to catch a quick flash of light out of a window in Gatsby’s factory next door. The flash was followed by the characteristic SHAWHOOMP as the glass on several of the nearby windows blew out and was followed by flames and black smoke. I sat my book down, finished my drink, and hustled off downstairs to find my bunker gear.
I ran through the arch between the two buildings to find Sera with the old fire wagon in the alley next to the greenhouse. I grabbed a line and tried to start laying down a little water. The results were less than stellar. No matter how hard we tried, the lines were just not putting out much more than a trickle. I decided to go get the airship and see if it was going to help.
A few minutes later I was airborne and headed into trouble. I put the first bucket into the back building since it was closest to home, and headed out to the Fells to fill back up. Before it was over, I managed to dip out all the liquid water in the little pond next to Sera’s house, and make a severe dent in the little wide spot in the creek where all Kate’s girls like to go skinny-dipping. Finally after the 12th run or so, Sera flagged me in.
Apparently not only had we accumulated some spectators, we actually had some injuries. With me in the airship, and not on the ground to scream “MOVE YOUR BUTTS BACK!” someone got hurt when one of the walls turned loose.
Gatsby was looking concerned, as he normally does when something epic happens to one of his buildings. Lucky for me the apartment seemed largely undamaged, so I collected up my crimescene kit and began poking around the scene looking for a point of origin. Considering that one building was full of alcohol and god knows what else from the patent medicine factory, it was a miracle the damage wasn’t more extensive. I filed my report and headed back to the whirlpool to soak all the smoke out of myself.
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Jed sat atop the Palisade wall in the little alcove overlooking the Fells. It had been a busy sort of week, with watching Beckett begin to square away the new squad of Marines, getting things ready for Fleet Week, and the general hubbub that seemed prevalent this time of year. So while everyone was otherwise engaged, she went to the armory, picked up her rifle and a few boxes of ammunition, and headed out to the wall. A quick circle around to the chip shop completed the provisioning for her expedition, and after a bit she found herself up on the wall overlooking the broad expanse that stretched out to the creek. The good news was her longstanding instructions were still in place, as curious as they seemed to anyone who might have observed it from the outside. On the edge of the creek there was a remnant of a brick wall, and on that wall stood a neat even row of objects. Old bottles, discarded bowling pins, oilcans, pails, and various other things stood there on the wall. One of the likely lads who wanted a bit of extra money would come by and say that the wall was in order to the tune of tuppence, and the tall redhead would return to her perch and clear them away.
She uncased the rifle and laid it on the sandbags she kept there as supports. This was the older of her two long-range Sharps, the one that signaled the end of the little surveillance episode that old Mureau tried to pull. It had been rebuilt since then, and fitted with a fine German made telescopic sight. Jed snuggled in behind the rifle, dropped the breech open and picked up one of the cigar sized cartridges, slipping it into the chamber. She pulled the stock into her shoulder, and looked into the eyepiece of the long ‘scope. She lined up on the dented KrakenOil can that sat at the left of the wall, then leaned back to examine the elevation settings on the base of the scope. Jed added two clicks up elevation, made a note in her notebook, and leaned back into the rifle. Her breathing slowed, deep in, half exhale, squeeze…
THOOOM!
She dropped the breech with a well-practiced downward flip of her wrist, and waited a bit for the smoke to clear. The can had been removed from its place, and the large tonic bottle next to it remained in situ. Her hand was on a second cartridge when she noticed the line of black clad folks walking in from the Academy side of the Fells. Jed rolled the rifle around and looked at the line of students carrying all manner of crossbows, followed by Brothers Lapis and Rudyard.
“Well well,” Jed said to herself “what are you boys up to now?”
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The map dominated one wall of the room, the expanse of the
Steamlands stretched out in all its cartographic glory. Jed reread the telegram
the city messenger had just deposited in her hand. The call for assistance was
not wholly unexpected, given the time of the year, the question was who was
close enough to head that way? She looked at the last updated roster of ship
positions, and drafted the message that would go out on the aethergraph.

“***************************

*flash traffic*

NBS Scylla

NBS Haven

NBS Barracuda

Hurricane Charles landfall in New Toulouse imminent. Move to
position off coast until safe to conduct inshore assistance operations. Marine
Detachment enroute to assist local authority.

Dagger, CDRE

******************************”



She sat at the desk and quickly penned a note destined for
the pneumatic mail.

----------

17 August

To: LT M Beckett, New Babbage Marine Det.

RE: Stingray

Assemble your squad and meet with Fleet Air Arm for
immediate transport to New Toulouse to assist with hurricane relief. Fleet
elements are enroute.

Dagger, CDRE

-----------

The forecast didn’t offer much hope one way or the other.
All anyone can do is pray that the storm passes without too much fuss…

(yes, it's time for the annual hurricane weekend in NT. If you haven't ever seen it, the water will be up and it will be storming hard for a bit. There also may be a party or two..)

hurricane season
new toulouse
RP
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3 June 188x,NByr 6
Jed sat up in bed and ran her fingers through her hair. This was not what she wanted, or expected, but it seemed that the boys from the Manor would have their pound of flesh one slice at a time. She noticed that she was wearing some sort of gauzy cotton nightgown in place of the silk chemise and underpants she was wearing under her gown at the party. The man noticed her change in expression and he already had a razor thin smile at the ready when the obviously annoyed redhead turned to look at him.
“Before you ask, your maid Lupe changed your clothes while you were asleep. She’s been seconded to you from our Latin America bureau, so you won’t be by yourself for the duration.”
“Lovely, already assigned me a handler to keep me in line?” Jed scowled.
The man shifted in his seat again. “She is also well aware of who you are and what you are capable of Morrigan. You keep thinking that we mean you harm, when it is the furthest thing from the truth. You may not know this but there is a new occupant in the Master’s chair.”
Her eyes narrowed as the man rose and began walking to the table at the other side of the room. She stood and walked across the floor to stand next to him, where he had already busied himself opening a thick folder sealed with scarlet tapes and numerous wax seals. Jed read the title on the folder and was suddenly gripped with a feeling of nostalgia and dread. Written there in her own hand was the legend “Operation Thunderbolt” and underneath was the box stating “prepared by Dagger, J 186..”. At that instant the silence in the room hung thick like a New Babbage fog.
“You may recall this man, Dr. Ramon Cortez, was working on several projects related to an advanced weapon system that you had determined would be sold on the open market,” he said, tapping the engine-printed picture of the man, “and the end brief said that the files and journals had been confiscated and that the good doctor would not be resuming work on this project.”
He opened a second folder and placed it on top of the first. “What we have learned now is the good doctor is working for an Eduardo Aguilar, a local industrialist who is flush with cash from a recent success in the regional markets. Mr. Aguilar fancies himself as becoming the Krupp of South America, and he feels that Dr. Cortez can give him the edge he needs to step into the arms market.”
Jed leafed through the new folder, reading the briefing materials and making mental notes of what she read. The doctor had come to the island a few months ago, and was living alone in a cottage adjacent to his workshop. Alone? This thought ran through her head as the man continued.
“The mission is pretty straightforward, assess the threat, observe any activity at the lab, gather any actionable intelligence or any materials about what the doctor is up to now, and take those actions necessary to ensure that there is no threat to Her Majesty’s interests in this area.”
Jed looked at the man as those words danced in her mind, the old bugaboo “any actions necessary” meant that she would have to decide, and the higher ups could walk away and say that it was merely the actions of an overzealous agent, or worse yet deny that she was even associated with the Ministry at all. New tune, same old dance.
“The overt cover is you are on holiday with your maid, and you will have the proper introductions to get you in to Mr. Aguilar’s evening get together. It seems he has a taste for English noblewomen, so Lady Burnley will be making a reappearance. He also has a taste for blonds..”
Jed swore under her breath.
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3 June 188x,NByr 6
Jed scooted down a little further under the covers and stretched. Builder’s square but my head aches, she thought. The party had been formal but impromptu, and while for the life of her she could not recall meeting the host before the hearty handshake at the door of the place, he acted as if they had been friends forever. The music was light and the crowd very eager to see just how far the host’s bar tab would run, and she did her duty to assist in that endeavor.
She rolled onto her stomach and stretched her arm across to the other side of the bed. Her outstretched limb and questing fingers found the space on the other side to be unoccupied. She’s probably still at Aunt Aki’s house, Jed thought. Kimika said she might stay for a bit longer just to catch up and somehow Jed knew the poor thing would be listening to her go on about that kōmōgaijin her niece was living with. Rather like when Father brought Surima home to London for the first time, way back when…and then, it hit her. Maybe it was the hangover, or old age, or maybe even becoming complacent, but suddenly in a rush Jed had a feeling that something was horribly off in the world at the moment.
Her arm snaked out from the covers and reflexively aimed for the watch that sat on the nightstand beside the bed. It was a part of her daily ritual, to retrieve the silver cased railroad chronograph and wind it before getting out of bed, to sit for a moment and listen to the precise ticking of the movement, knowing the world was in order. Jed started awake, mind racing, because her hand found only air where the nightstand should have been. Suddenly attuned to the world around her, she knew that everything was not as it should be. She was not home.
“Good morning Morrigan. I hope you slept well?” The man’s voice was smooth and low, with the clipped intonation that betrayed an expensive English education. Jed rolled to her side and looked out from under the blanket. The room was plainly furnished and had adobe walls. It was unoccupied as far as she could see save for herself and the man who sat in the chair opposite the bed. He was wholly unremarkable in dress as well as appearance, and her experience taught her that this was done as a specific means to an end. His suit was plain, but had the alteration to the right side to more easily conceal the object that rode unseen at his hip. Jed didn’t recognize the man, but he had all the hallmarks of someone who worked for her former employer. Somehow she did not take this as a positive sign. She looked at him with a long hard look that did manage to get the point across. He shifted in his seat as she sat up.
“Care to explain this? Was the recall code not enough last time?”
The man smiled a very unconvincing smile, and uncrossed his legs. “I believe it was when you told the after action team what they could do with what and when and to whom that forced us to take a less conventional approach to enlisting your services again.” He gestured off to his left out the window. “Welcome back to Santa Marta. It seems that you will finally get to finish that assignment from twenty years ago.”
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The little airship sounded as if it was about to fly apart. Next time, the pilot mused, I’ll steal one that isn’t on the repair line. Next time. The thought that there could be a next time was an annoying thought, but was shuffled off to another part of the mind as a new mountain peak loomed large in front of the struggling flyer. Skimming valleys, running along ridgelines, threading though passes. This flight had been one of constantly being ‘up on the stick’, no pleasure cruise here, and with the constant threat of pursuit it had been a long nerve-wracking time. The sun pushed through the low clouds, and there was a very welcome sight of the Two Sisters and the Finger. This meant one turn through the pass, a short run along the edge of Bone Valley…then the Fells, and home. The reverie of being close to the end of this flight was interrupted by an increase of noise from the airship’s engine. The pilot cursed again, as that sound could only be made by the main bearings. It vibrated and strained so much the pilot feared it would come loose from its mounts, and all that could be done was turn up the oilers and pray they didn’t run out before the wall came into sight.
A few moments later, the ribbon of tracks along the aqueduct pushed out of the growing haze as the struggling little airship fought its way along. Just when it seemed the engine would finish the task before expiring, the envelope decided to raise the ante. Despite the best efforts by the weary pilot to keep the little ship in the air, it was losing altitude just as surely as the destination stood just out of reach. With a determination borne of desperation, the pilot pushed the throttle full open and pointed the doomed little ship towards the wall of the city. In a last desperate act to cling to the sky, the ship turned sharply to avoid the looming walls of Szuster House and raised its nose before coming to rest tail down in the dirt next to the Academy parapet. The pilot shut down the engine and moved away sharply from the wreckage as what little hydrogen was left in the envelope met the last of the heated metal of the now seized engine. The pilot stood watching the fire consume the flammable bits of the wrecked airship and thought that this way there won’t be any need to hide the evidence.
A solitary figure walked into the Muirsheen Durkin wearing a Prussian Fliegertruppen uniform. The bar was empty, and the figure walked to the counter and began to peel off the heavy layers of clothes that had been such a godsend while flying across the mountains. Once this was done, it took another bit of effort to locate where the proprietor had stashed the good rum. Devoid of the flight helmet, goggles, and scarf, the pilot took a long draw of Pussers from the bottle and pushed a tendril of blonde hair back behind her ear. She looked in the mirror and smiles that old familiar smile.
“Jed darlin’,” she said to herself, “nobody will believe this, even if you could tell them the truth.”
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The Stranger in a Strange Land shtick is a hard road to follow.  If you really want to try and play the ‘I am an alien in your culture’ card in a community RP, please try and temper your enthusiasm for the plot with the patience of the audience.  You may be having fun playing ‘Amish refugee’, but the rest of us may not be.  The example of this was entering the ‘alien’ into an average steampunk town.  The topic of conversation that killed the fun was the explanation of individual property, theft, and money.  The coup de grace was when I tried to ask about individual property ‘in your world’ and got an answer that was contrived, nonsensical, and acted as the final stake in the heart of the evening.  I tried to ask the alien about property ‘in their world’ and got the explanation that property was owned communally by family units.  I then asked what would happen if someone took something that belonged to the family. The alien told us the magic wouldn’t allow it to work for the outsider. I wanted to ask how that would make a hammer 'not work', but by then I was too tired to keep fighting.  It was at this point the last few stragglers who had managed to hold on walked off to preserve what little sanity and patience they had left.

Bottom line: while it may be a part of your storyline development or totally in character, there is a point where different culture dives deeply into unable to be taught and not any fun. 

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