((Private journal entry, but what's discussed isn't private, so comment away if you wish))

Though we've had all sorts of disasters and excitement over the past several months, the Ladies Fire Brigade has actually had it quite easy. I don't know if residents are being more careful, or have just had other things on their minds than engaging in activities that can cause fires. Last night, however, ended that.

I'd been relaxing at Miss Ceejay's Cocoajava Cafe for a couple of hours in the evening, working on writing a story. (Goodness, I hope it comes together completely, for once!) I was returning home, and had just started to mount the staircase to my door, when I heard a cry of "Fire!" from over at Mr. Footman's laboratory! I grabbed my long-unused fire equipment and raced over, finding first Miss Allen, and then Miss Macbain, at the scene. The main lab itself wasn't on fire, but his living quarters certainly were. Miss Puchkina arrived very soon after me, and we set about working on it.

It was certainly a frightening experience. The house was narrow and dark, and made even darker by the smoke filling it. I had to creep forward, and up stairs, carefully, peering through the smoke to find the fires to extinguish. With Miss Allen's help, I was able to put out the fires inside, while Miss Puchkina took care of the roof.

Miss Macbain was all right, apart from a little smoke inhalation, but Miss Allen had suffered some damage. She also told us what had happened to start the fire--that Mr. Footman had injected himself with something and collapsed, upsetting a lamp in the process. She'd somehow gotten him to safety on his airship, but she also said that his orders were that no one see him! Stupid, stubborn man--I don't at all like what he's been doing, but I still would have given him what medical aid I could.

There was no arguing with Miss Allen, though, and no apparent way to get there ourselves, so Miss Puchkina, Miss Macbain, Mr. Mornington (who had arrived at the scene after we put out the fire), and I escorted Miss Allen to someone who, they hoped, could help to repair her so she could go back to check on Mr. Footman. I left them there, and returned to the lab, keeping an eye on it for a couple of hours to make sure there were no flare-ups of flame. And, I must admit, I also looked around for the transportation device Miss Allen mentioned using to get up to the airship. Unfortunately, I didn't find it...which is really no surprise, considering I had no idea what it was I was looking for.

I shall have to check the site again later today, but I would guess that the building is mainly destroyed. I shall also have to see if I can learn how Mr. Footman is doing...

((Private journal entry))

I suppose I stuck my foot in my mouth again; it seems that's something I'll never outgrow. But I was concerned for him, so it was hard to keep silent.

I heard about the Clockwinder's outburst against Mr. Underby a few days ago. That startled me so much--it seemed so unlike his usual calm, if dour, demeanor. But that thought called to mind another time when he acted unlike himself. Not long after the election, he was talking to a few of us, and he let slip something that I don't think he normally would have. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but after the incident with Mr. Underby, I thought I should look into it a little more.

Strangely enough, I wasn't able to find anything about it in the Brunel library. All I could learn were a few snippets of information in an old book of folklore in my own collection. And that only left me more confused. But two days before Christmas, I happened to see the Clockwinder at the snowmen contest area and, on an impulse, followed him into a nearby tavern and spoke to him.

I may as well have said nothing, for all the good it did. That one word brought nothing but categorical denials. Granted, his explanations were perfectly sound and rational, but...but...

Oh, I know not what to believe, then or now. But I did try to impress upon him that he would have my help and support, no matter what. Which may have been a mistake--I should have tried to persuade him to gain help from someone he knows better, someone he would trust, unlike me. And now, having seen today the damage at his forge, I wonder if it may be too late.

I haven't been able to take a breath yet. It's hard to believe that Christmas is just two days away--I've hardly had any time to just sit and relax and contemplate Christmas trees. My days are filled with work, evenings and weekends with running around...or more work. Even the holiday itself offers little respite.

That's not to say that there hasn't been fun in the midst of all of this. It started Friday evening with Mr. Mannonen's Clockhaven Ball, which was a very enjoyable event. Then Saturday, after some work in the morning ((helping Mom make lefse--yum!)), I traveled first to the Primgraph release party, then to Caledon Oxbridge for part of their Winter Holiday Ball, then back to New Babbage and Miss Breezy's wonderful holiday ball. So nice to see all the urchins meeting Steam Santa, and getting their presents!

Then Sunday, it was another field trip, this time to Steelhead Shanghai for the Shanghaied! Salon. Our wonderful hosts regaled us with tales of the area ((as well as RL history of the Chinese in the West Coast area)). And it was such a relief to see Miss Viv there, as she had been rescued by Miss Jedburgh after having been, well, shanghaied. Then it was time to go back home, to finish processing the photographs I'd taken of Miss Breezy's ball.

The past two days have been filled with other matters ((work, and dinner and movie with parents Monday night)), but I was finally able to work on the Salon pictures last night. Today will be filled with preparations for the holiday, and tomorrow and Christmas with actual holiday matters. ((Rehearsal tonight for Christmas Eve service tomorrow night, plus dinner at parents' home tomorrow night, and Christmas day with parents, brother, and sister-in-law.))

Then again, much of this is subject to the weather. I'm hearing word of a large snowstorm arriving just in time for Christmas, so who knows what will happen? ((15-20 inches (38-50 cm) not out of the question!))

So, with all of this, I thought I'd best take time now to send a message to the citizens of New Babbage, and friends from other places, in case I forget later.

Merry Christmas to all! Have a happy (and safe!) holiday!

When Gabrielle Riel of Radio Riel announced a new venture called Tales from New Babbage, an idea started percolating in my brain. I wasn't sure it was what she was looking for, but it seemed like something that wanted writing, as if a muse was promting me. So I eventually started writing it. Then I got busy at work. Then sick. And suddenly, I realized that my muse had abandoned me, leaving me with a few bits that refuse to coalesce into a coherent whole.

I'm going to post the bits here. I've got a beginning, and an end, and some bits inbetween. [...] indicates a place where I'd planned to have more. And who knows? Maybe someone else's muse can come and kick mine back into business. *grin*


New Babbage will change you.

Now mind, this isn't a disapprobation of the city. Nor is it an attempt to frighten newcomers away. But it is a statement of fact--well, of perceived fact. And forewarned is forearmed, as they say.

When I first came to New Babbage, I had been wandering for some time in areas that I came to know later as the Steamlands. Caledon, in particular, seemed to have some appeal for me, as, apart from a few small eccentricities, I was very much a straight-laced young Victorian woman. But then, I followed a friend to New Babbage. It wasn't long before I found myself in the middle of a séance and a monster hand roast. Literally--a monster's hand was being burned over an open fire in an alley. Once one experiences something like that, there's no going back. I knew, strange as it was, this was a place I could stay.

Still, change does not happen overnight. It was several months before I truly found a firm foothold within the city and people of New Babbage. I'm sure that for much of that time, I was known, if at all, only as the quiet woman who spent much of her time in Burton Public Library. But that was mainly due to my own reticence, I'll admit--there have been many outgoing people who have made their mark faster than I.

[...]

Creativity is a hallmark of New Babbage. One could swear that it seeps out of the sewers and hangs in the air, mixing with the miasma of soot, crackling along with the discharges from generators. Spend long enough in the city, and it will permeate your being, leading you to do things you never thought you could. My friend has always been creative with words, so it was no surprise that she started herself in New Babbage with editing services, nor that she has moved on to working on The Primgraph staff. But to see her cheerfully setting to and renovating an old building into a cafe, and providing its services to her customers with such aplomb--I'd never thought to see such an endeavor from her.

Even I am not immune to the muses here; my own recent foray into journalism is proof positive of that. And I have recently been remembering a certain small train station in America with fondness, digging through my pictures from that time to try to find images of it, and pondering what it might take to recreate it here...

I've never entertained such thoughts before. But one cannot help but be inspired by what one sees all around the city. The architecture of this city is truly amazing--and I say that as someone who has never been particularly interested in architecture, beyond the most ancient of buildings.

[...]

So come to New Babbage. Find people with whom to converse. Visit the city hall in Babbage Square. Explore the narrow streets and alleyways of Clockhaven, and laugh at the antics of the urchins. Peruse the varied shops of Port Babbage. Sip some coffee (or a more potent potable) in Cocoajava Cafe, and marvel at the work occurring in the Academy of Industry. Venture into the underwater areas of the Vernian Sea. Attend one of Miss Breezy Carver's monthly balls at Piermont Landing in Wheatstone Waterways. And take your time doing these things.

Just don't be surprised when the city changes you.

My article on the zombie nightmare of October is finally complete and published. It certainly was an interesting experience, interviewing people and gathering data and accounts of the events of that terrible time. I think it might be interesting to try something like this again. We'll see.

((This is completely public, despite being written in my journal.))

What have I done now?

I happened to run into Miss Saffia Widdershins this morning, and we repaired into a nearby shop for some tea. It was so nice to be able to have a relaxed conversation with her; ofttimes, I only see her at dances, which are far too busy for me to hold extended conversations. We fell to talking about the events of the past couple of months here in New Babbage, including the plague that hit last month. I said that, while I'd played my own small role in it, and had heard some accounts from others, it didn't seem as though anyone had tried to get a coherent account of things--how it started, how it progressed, etc. "Someone from the Primgraph ought to do some investigative journalism on that subject," I concluded.

"An excellent idea," she replied. "You're hired."

And, of course, she simply had to wait until I was taking a sip of tea before saying that. Much coughing and spluttering ensued before I tried to marshal arguments against her.

I said that I'd never written for a newspaper or magazine before.
She replied that she'd seen some of my other written accounts, and thought I would do well.

What of her other correspondents?
All busy with other assignments, she said.

I had been involved in fighting the situation. How could I approach the topic with enough impartiality?
She is certain that I can.

I'd need to interview Mr. Phineas Frakture if this article was to be in any way comprehensive. How could I possibly convince him to do that, after having tried to shoot him several times during his...change?
She has confidence that I'll find a way to convince him.

So the upshot is, I'm apparently taking my first foray into journalism. I guess I just can't back away from a challenge. All I can do is keep repeating to myself, "What could possibly go wrong?"

((Private journal entry, but feel free to comment))

I think the question now is whether I truly want peace. Answering that is going to take a great deal of thought.

Halloween was a special day for Miss Breezy Carver, so she held a celebration on the docks near my apartment. I took a great many pictures of the event--free of charge, my present to her. I'd originally gone down in an everyday dress, but soon realized that others were arriving in costume, so I ran back to the apartment to change, pulling out something that was much more revealing than I usually wear. My only excuse is that I was infected with the spirit of the day. There was even an invasion of tiny, mostly-clockwork dragons, in form quite like Miss Skytower. Their...exuberance added much to the event, despite my initial fears that I would step on them.

I also spent a great deal of time dancing with Baron Wulfenbach, which, despite his costume (complete with hand-held brain), was quite lovely! (Stop right there, self.) But, as the dance started to show signs of winding down, I heard a distant cry from Clockhaven. Somehow, I knew this meant real trouble, so I excused myself and ran off toward that quarter, followed by the Baron. We tracked the trouble to Miss Mara's new hostel, and learned that the strange, bag-carrying man I'd seen once a week ago or so, apparently called Creaky Gloom, had kidnapped Gilhooly!

Urchins and adults rushed after him, but he disappeared into the sea near the edge of the wall. We searched Clockhaven, but could not find him. But then I wondered if, perhaps, he'd gotten into the wall at that spot, as I'd once exited it in that vacinity. So I rushed back home to quickly change, then ran to the Palisade gate.

As I neared it, I saw Vash, and she told me she'd seen the man in question in the area. Others must have had the same thought I did, as they beat me to the area, and found Gilhooly, left alone in a bag. He was freed, and said that Gloom had gone off to get some food for him.

The others left, taking Gilhooly back to Miss Mara's hostel, but I stayed, thinking that the man might return, and I might be able to surprise him. What happened next...well, this is what happened, to the best of my memory:

[17:24] Bookworm Hienrichs hears crunching on the ground and holds her breath.
[17:25] Creaky Gloom stops near his bag and lets a dead fish fall on the grass near it
[17:25] Bookworm Hienrichs throws off the torn bag and stands up, gun drawn.
[17:25] Creaky Gloom steps back a little, startled
[17:25] Bookworm Hienrichs: All right, sir, hold it there, please.
[17:25] Creaky Gloom: My my, the little rat has grown up quite a bit
[17:26] Bookworm Hienrichs: Yes, indeed.
[17:26] Creaky Gloom: I get he escaped
[17:26] Bookworm Hienrichs: He is safe, now.
[17:26] Bookworm Hienrichs: And you, sir, have much to answer for.
[17:26] Creaky Gloom smirks malevolantly
[17:26] Creaky Gloom: Have I?
[17:26] Creaky Gloom: As you can witness, I was bringing him food
[17:26] Creaky Gloom: Mistreating him ?
[17:26] Bookworm Hienrichs: Kidnapping is frowned upon here, no matter how the victim is treated.
[17:27] Creaky Gloom: Hah! I didn't kidnap him
[17:27] Bookworm Hienrichs raises an eyebrow.
[17:27] Creaky Gloom: The child came of free will
[17:27] Bookworm Hienrichs: Indeed, sir? And the hue and cry after you? That was all nothing?
[17:27] Creaky Gloom: Oh, people are so easily tickled
[17:28] Creaky Gloom: They cried and shouted after me indeed
[17:28] Creaky Gloom: They were rather annoying I must say
[17:28] Bookworm Hienrichs: Gilhooly certainly said nothing about leaving with you freely.
[17:28] Creaky Gloom: Oh certainly, he didn't want to look dumb
[17:28] Creaky Gloom: so he lied, saying I kidnapped him, when he came freely
[17:29] Bookworm Hienrichs: Well, then, if you've nothing to hide, perhaps we should both go back to Clockhaven, where you can explain things to Miss Razor.
[17:29] Creaky Gloom: Anyway, there is no point is trying to justify my acts.
[17:29] Creaky Gloom smiles : "Is her little party still going on?"
[17:29] Bookworm Hienrichs: Whether it is or not is not your concern.
[17:30] Creaky Gloom grins as sweetly as he can : "Oh it could be. I mean... If some of her delicious guests are still over there..."
[17:30] Bookworm Hienrichs coughs and splutters at that statement.
[17:30] Bookworm Hienrichs: Delicious?
[17:30] Bookworm Hienrichs frowns darkly.
[17:30] Creaky Gloom: Certainly, aren't those children sweet?
[17:31] Creaky Gloom: Don't tell me you don't like them.
[17:31] Bookworm Hienrichs: I do, but sweet is hardly the word I'd use for most of them.
[17:31] Creaky Gloom takes a step forward
[17:31] Bookworm Hienrichs frowns and raises her pistol a little.
[17:31] Bookworm Hienrichs: Keep your distance, sir.
[17:31] Creaky Gloom: Really? How would you call them then?
[17:31] Bookworm Hienrichs smiles evilly. "Oh, I'd love for you to meet Bob."
[17:32] Creaky Gloom laughs and raises suddenly his pickaxe armed hand, causing it to sway up, sweeping her gun out of her hand
[17:32] Bookworm Hienrichs gasps and backs up, looking around for it.
[17:32] Creaky Gloom steps forward quickly
[17:33] Bookworm Hienrichs gulps, but stands her ground for the moment.
[17:33] Creaky Gloom leans and glances in her eyes, threatening
[17:33] Creaky Gloom: Now listen. If you stop interfering with my business, I won't harm you.
[17:34] Creaky Gloom: I am looking for a boy, named Quill. When I will have found him, I will leave the town.
[17:34] Bookworm Hienrichs: I think you'll find that after this, everyone in New Babbage will interfere in your "business."
[17:34] Bookworm Hienrichs: And what does Gilhooly have to do with this Quill?
[17:34] Creaky Gloom: That rat was a child.
[17:34] Creaky Gloom: As long as I stay in the town, I must feed.
[17:34] Bookworm Hienrichs pales.
[17:34] Creaky Gloom: When I have found Quill, I will leave the town.
[17:35] Creaky Gloom: You have my word, take it for the value you think it's worth.
[17:35] Bookworm Hienrichs: And how long will you stay to look for someone who may not be here?
[17:35] Creaky Gloom smirks at the lady's pale complexion
[17:35] Creaky Gloom: As long as it will take.
[17:35] Creaky Gloom: Of course, if you help me, that may go faster.
[17:36] Bookworm Hienrichs: And so kidnap and feed on more of our children?
[17:36] Creaky Gloom: Heh!
[17:36] Creaky Gloom: You are a fast learner I see
[17:36] Creaky Gloom smirks.
[17:36] Bookworm Hienrichs: No. We will not allow that.
[17:36] Creaky Gloom grabs the ripped open bag : "Shame."
[17:36] Bookworm Hienrichs: It would be best if you left town now.
[17:37] Creaky Gloom: Ah, my dear lady. You are quite the dreamer.
[17:37] Creaky Gloom: I see you won't accept my offer. Fine, I will go back to my hunt.
[17:37] Bookworm Hienrichs: Quite determined, actually. I and others.
[17:37] Creaky Gloom: I did see. But determined I am too.
[17:37] Creaky Gloom: And hungry.
[17:37] Creaky Gloom smiles, showing his rotten teeth, and his eyes shine.
[17:38] Bookworm Hienrichs quickly eyes the ground again, looking for her pistol.
[17:38] Creaky Gloom: Now if you will excuse me.
[17:38] Bookworm Hienrichs: We'll be watching for you.
[17:38] Creaky Gloom passes next to her and runs away, laughing.


I didn't sleep at all well that night. Those eyes kept haunting me, awake or asleep. (Slight silver lining, though--I was able to process Miss Breezy's pictures that much sooner.) I've alerted the milita to be on the lookout for this man, though how we're to stop him, I don't know.

((Private journal entry, but feel free to comment))

This month just seems to be one distressing event after another! First the plague, now this!

Last week, my adventures in running around New Babbage, including the sewers, led to a distressing illness. I also discovered that my photographic equipment, which had gone with me through so many adventures, had finally given up the ghost. Before I became too sick, I was able to put together enough money to send for new, and state-of-the-art, equipment. Last Thursday, just as I was feeling well enough to go out, it came!

Of course, that left me with barely enough time to acquaint myself with its basic operation before it was time to attend Miss Carver's ball. I really hadn't been well enough to give dress much thought, so I just threw on a fall-colored gown and matching mask.

The environment for the ball was suitably spooky, given the month. And there were new touches of decoration that were quite wonderful. My new equipment worked like a charm, too! So, for the first hour or so, everything was wonderful.

But then...oh, horrors! Miss Mactavish was murdered by Professor Parx, right in front of us all! And we couldn't do anything to stop it! The truly frightening part, though, was the performance of her manservant, who said or chanted something, which caused her body to disappear! And an image of the murder was somehow inscribed on the marble floor! Oh, that gave me the shivers.

I know Miss Jedburgh has made some preliminary investigations into the matter. I certainly wish her luck. But I think I may well start carrying a weapon to the upcoming balls, just in case...

And now, I'm hearing rumors of something terrible under the streets of the Clockhaven neighborhood. I'm afraid I shall have to censor my letters to my family even more...

((Journal entry, but you can treat this as public knowledge.))

Goodness, I've slept the clock around, and then some! In fact, I could have slept longer, were it not that I became so hungry. I've a sandwich and some fruit to eat, and once I finish writing this, I'm off to bathe, and then sleep again. I don't think anyone can blame me for being slothful today...not after what happened yesterday. I'll try to set down all I can remember, but so much of it seems a blur.

The plague was spreading quickly. Much as I wanted to barricade myself in at home and let it all go on without me, I knew it was my responsibility to help in any way I could. So instead, I changed into something that would allow me freedom of movement, grabbed my militia rifle, and headed out to patrol. (As it turns out, that was likely a wise move. Miss Elleon had been infected, so, as Miss Sheryl pointed out, the apartments at the Mechanix Arms would not have been safe.)

I went to the area of City Hall first, as I thought that would give me an excellent vantage point to spy out the area. And indeed, I quickly saw two of the infected--Mr. Frakture and, to my horror, Dr. Watson. Somehow, they sensed me, and soon found the stairs that led up to my level. Once I saw that, I fled quickly and managed to lose them.

But seeing Dr. Watson like that made me very concerned for Mr. Holmes, so I worked my way around to approach their rooms. And, indeed, I saw Mr. Frakture and Dr. Watson there at the front. I slipped around and entered a courtyard at the back, and so determined that Mr. Holmes, Dr. Kaligawa, and Mr. Sixpence were trapped inside. Whether they heard or scented me, I don't know, but Mr. Frakture and Dr. Watson came after me again. I shot at Mr. Frakture, and I know the rifle shots hit at least a few times, but even that didn't stop him! I escaped the courtyard, and in so doing, drew them off enough that the others were able to escape the apartment.

However, they didn't flee far. They had something they wanted to test as a cure, and so they managed to trap Dr. Watson within a cabinet. When they tried to administer the cure, however, he reacted violently, and it was spilled. Then Mr. Frakture broke down the door, and all was chaos. Mr. Frakture came after me once again--my first narrow escape--but with the help of Mr. Sixpence and a Mr. Ironmask Landar, we maneuvered him to an open manhole cover and got him to fall down into the sewers.

It was during this time that I saw Mr. Baroque and Miss Elleon, both of whom were infected. At that point, I thought it best to withdraw for a time, so Mr. Sixpence, Mr. Landar, and I retreated into City Hall. I didn't want to be trapped anywhere that didn't have more than one exit, as Mr. Holmes and his companions had been. Mr. Landar and I rested there while Mr. Sixpence went to look for Dr. Kaligawa again. Unfortunately, we didn't have long to rest, as Gilhooly Skute came rushing in to tell us the infected were coming our way.

We fled north, and found Miss Ambrose Steampunk, who was also infected! The others came after us as well, and it was during this confusion that we were separated from Gilhooly, but picked up Miss Sheryl. She certainly was marvelous, flying about and running interference for us; her metallic body certainly gave her an advantage. After that was a great deal of running about, in the process of which we picked up Mr. Sixpence again, until we found ourselves in Mr. Landar's small room in the Academy area.

I didn't feel comfortable staying there long, though. There was only one exit, and the room was...rather small for me. (I bumped my head on things at least five or six times.) So Miss Sheryl, Mr. Sixpence, and I soon left again. Mr. Sixpence still wanted to test something on one of the infected--I never did understand what--so Miss Sheryl and I worked together to lure one to his place in Clockhaven. It was during this time that I had my second close call--I had to leap over, and several feet down, a wall! The one was soon joined by another, and whatever it was Mr. Sixpence had planned, I don't believe it worked. So it wasn't long before Miss Sheryl and I were fleeing back through Clockhaven, with those two infected still hot on our trail. In Port Babbage, though, I hit upon the idea of using the Fire Brigade fire boat to escape them, which, thankfully, worked. They wandered the docks for a bit, evidently trying to find a way to get to me, but then finally left.

Just after they had, we saw Mr. Mornington, and finally received our first piece of good news. Dr. Dayafter had compounded a cure, which he and Miss Jedburgh tested on Miss Elleon--and it worked! Elated, I left the fire boat and started back toward the Mechanix Arms...just in time to see Miss Jedburgh and Mr. Mornington administer the cure to Miss Gizmo Theas. Not the most pleasant of sights, at least at first, but it was wonderful to see her return to normal. Before she left, Miss Jedburgh gave me a spare vaccine gun.

With that, I knew I couldn't rest--not yet. It was my duty as a member of the militia to seek out more infected and cure them, before they infected others or were themselves destroyed completely. Miss Sheryl and I first checked the area around the Mechanix Arms, where we found Mr. Baroque. It was another close call, but I managed to shoot the cure into him, and it did indeed work. After that, Miss Sheryl went back to her rooms to rest.

And it was then that I made a very foolish decision. I can only attribute it to my state at the time, hovering between exhaustion and an adrenaline-fueled euphoria.

I went into the sewers. By myself.

Inching my way through the darkness, wading or even swimming through the foul water--that has to be ranked as one of the worst experiences of my life. And yet, in the end, it was a good thing I ventured down there. It wasn't too long before I heard the voices of Skyler and Gilhooly echoing down the tunnels, evidently yelling at an infected one. How I managed to follow their sounds, I don't know, but I found them, and shot the vaccine into her rabbit girl they had trapped, curing her. They said they'd take her to Miss Mara's place, and I left them to do that, while I went back into the Academy area. I eventually found Mr. Osterham there, and a newly-infected Mr. Wright, a friend of Mr. Osterham. For some reason, though, the cure didn't appear to work on him.

At this point, though, exhaustion was catching up with me with a vengeance. As much as I wanted to stay and try to assist more, I knew that my tiredness would lead to mistakes, which could endanger myself and others. And so, after a short side-trip into Loner's Lane, I staggered home. After stripping off my soggy clothes (and not putting on anything else--Mother would be scandalized!), I collapsed into bed.

And that bed is calling me again. Though I shall have to change the sheets first--I'm afraid what's on there now has picked up much of my sewer-tinged smell. I just pray that the rest of the infected will be found and cured soon.

((Private journal entry, but feel free to comment if you want.))

Well, that was...interesting.

I did, indeed, attend Miss Obedience Mactavish's bridal shower, hosted by Miss Breezy Carver in the Lotus. I even took pictures; it was good to have a paying job after having to miss the Ball and Salon last month.

I arrived as early as I could, and the first person I saw was...well, was a very pallid woman, dressed in black. Not exactly the attire I expected for a shower. I learned that she was, indeed, Miss Mactavish. So I quickly took her aside, and asked her if she really was fixed on completing this union. She replied that she had to, as it was her father's wish. Which is...somewhat understandable, especially as I learned in later conversation that her father had been Dr. Obolensky's teacher. But still...

I told her that Dr. Obolensky was well used to using people, and that I couldn't imagine that this union would produce any other actions from him. I'd hoped to say more, but more guests were arriving, so I had to content myself with making myself available to her should she need any assistance.

After that, though, the procedings were, more or less, like usual bridal showers. Conversation, cake, and the opening of a few gifts. Miss Mactavish also asked if some ladies would help with the wedding, given that she is new in town. I'll be out of town during the wedding rehearsal. And given my...extreme antipathy for Dr. Obolensky, I did not think it advisable to assist in that way, nor to attend the wedding itself. At least, not officially. Depending on what venue is finally chosen, I may well see if I can be close by, unofficially. I'll have to wait and see.

Wait a moment. I was just reading back over what I'd written. Her father was Dr. Obolensky's teacher. Given how old the Doctor is...how old then was her father? And thus, how old does that make Miss Mactavish? She certainly doesn't look very old, but I know full well that looks can be deceiving. And given her extreme pallor...could it be?

I think there's more going on here than meets the eye.

((Private journal entry, but feel free to comment if you want.))

Once again, I seem to have missed the larger events of the times. I was called away on family business (true family business, this time), and so missed Miss Carver's ball and Miss Trafalgar's Salon. Such a disappointment, but it couldn't be helped. When I returned, I learned that--and I simply cannot believe I am writing this--Dr. Obolensky has become engaged!

I am, frankly, still speechless at this, even though it has been a couple of weeks since I learned of this news. I do not know the lady to whom he has engaged himself--I only know that her name is Miss Obedience Mactavish. Miss Carver has arranged a bridal shower for this evening, which is, I suppose, the polite thing to do.

I've been debating back and forth on whether or not I should attend the shower. I've finally decided, though, that I will. I do think I should take this opportunity to meet the young lady, and try to learn something of her--perhaps even dissuade her from this disastrous course. No good can come with such a union!

((Private journal entry, but feel free to comment if you want.))

Saturday afternoon, I met with Mr. Somerset at Mr. Szuster's firing range, as he had offered his training assistance before I'd left New Babbage. His steam-powered motorized chair was certainly an interesting thing to watch in action, especially in getting up the stairs! I practiced first with the militia rifle, then with the derringer. He was certainly kind and encouraging, but one thing he said has certainly given me pause for thought.

At the end of the practice, he told me, "It's fine to have a preferred weapon, but train enough in the others to become proficient with whatever is on hand when the moment comes that you require it. That includes *anything*, Miss Book. Chairs, hatpins, bare hands...your mind. I don't mean mental powers. I mean the ability to think your way through a situation. That's your most formidable weapon."

That...would require quite the shift of mine for me. Even in my travels through the wilds of America, where I faced dangers from weather, or bad trails, or wild animals, or even robbers once or twice--those dangers were all direct. Not the hidden, subtle dangers that lurk here in New Babbage. But I think Mr. Somerset is right--that kind of mindset may well help me now.

Afterwards, Mr. Somerset escorted me home, and offered his...help with the security of my home. Though I watched closely, I'm really not sure what he did, but apparently my apartment is now protected from those who would wish me harm. I certainly do hope we will not have to put that to the test, but it's best to be prepared.

Last night's topic for the Jaeger Poetry Slam was "invisibility." When that word was settled upon, it sparked something in my mind, something that I think I'd always felt, but hadn't articulated. Below is my attempt to articulate it.


There are so many bodies here
Of more races and types
Than one dreams possible,
And yet the true minds behind them
Are invisible.

The controlling force
Behind each body here
Could be anything,
Could be very different than what we see.
This we know, or think we do.

But then there's me.
I seem so incapable of being
Anyone other than who I am.
Even what is seen here is very like
The person behind the person.
Instinctively I was shaped
To reflect the reality behind the reality.
I am so very, very visible.

And yet, that very visibility
Renders me so very invisible.
This is a person, after all,
Who can spend an entire night
With half a dozen people
And hardly say ten words;
Who can reveal nothing about herself
Even as other bare their souls;
Who gravitates, by choice,
To the back rows, the hidden corners.
Revealing her personality ends up
Hiding more about herself.

This was sometime a paradox...

And, actually, it still is.

Bookworm once again left New Babbage to head north. This time, though, she left by the main gate, rather than over the wall at night, and was able to take clothing and other necessaries with her, as well as her militia-issued rifle and the smaller handgun she'd bought. She went past the aeroport, and worked her way east, trying to find the place where she'd met up with Mariah before. Once she'd found it, or thought she had, she stood there, waiting. And waiting.

Finally, feeling bored, she began wandering around the area, and suddenly spotted a small note pinned to a tree. It read, simply, "Go."

'Go?' she thought. 'She wants me to find that place by myself?' Bookworm knew she'd hardly been in a condition to see her surroundings that night--at least, she hadn't been by the end of the journey. Still, she had asked to be Mariah's pupil for the week; somehow, this must be part of it. Crumpling the scrap of paper in her hand, she cast around and headed into the woods.

At first, she didn't have much trouble, and was pleased when she hit the stream only a few yards away from the rock where they'd paused that night two months ago so she could wash the soot from her face. At that point, she heard a branch snap somewhere in the woods behind her. It was loud in the silence of the woods, silence that she had created in her unquiet progress, and it caused her heart to leap into her throat for a moment.

'No,' she suddenly thought. 'That's probably Mariah, watching to see how I do.' Calm again, she waded across the stream and continued her journey.

It wasn't long, though, before her progress slowed as she tried to pick her way along the small paths that appeared and disappeared like magic. Finally, she stopped and shook her head. She could go no farther from memory.

"Not bad," Mariah said as she seemed to suddenly appear before Bookworm. "You got farther than I thought you would."

"Why?" Bookworm asked simply.

"Observation is as important a skill in a city as it is here," Mariah replied. "I wanted to test yours." She gestured Bookworm to follow her. With a silent shrug and nod, Bookworm did.

The rest of the trek was conducted in silence, except once, when Mariah looked back and asked, "Drinking?"

Bookworm shook her head.

"Good."

Once they'd reached the lodge where Bookworm had stayed with her parents, Mariah allowed her a little time to settle in, and then took her to a make-shift firing range to begin the firearms training. Though she'd discounted Bookworm's stated reason for wanting to join the militia and learn to shoot--her certainty in Dr. Obolensky's imminent return--Mariah seemed willing enough to help Bookworm, especially with the mutually-agreed price they came to.

Over the next few days, Bookworm learned cleaning and basic maintenance of her firearms, as well as marksmanship. Mariah, hearing from Bookworm that she was more comfortable with the handgun than the rifle, nodded and allowed her to concentrate on its use.

Four days after she'd arrived, as Bookworm practiced her marksmanship, she saw Mariah approaching, with another woman hanging back. "I've news from New Babbage," Mariah said.

Bookworm carefully holstered her handgun and turned expectantly to Mariah.

Mariah seemed a little reluctant to speak it. But finally, she said, "Doctor Obolensky is back. Evidently not without injuries--he's in some sort of metal suit--but he seems hale enough. He stopped the auction of his observatory and drove everyone out."

Bookworm said nothing, and simply raised an eyebrow.

After a moment of silence, Mariah finally said, "Fine, I'll say it. You told me so. Repeatedly, and at great length. Now, do you want me to fall on my sword, or shall we get back to work?"

Bookworm simply smiled grimly, and turned back to the target, gun back in hand.

By the end of the week, Mariah seemed cautiously pleased with her progress. Enough that she was downright voluble on the walk back to New Babbage, imparting any further tips she could think of. "Have you anyone else to help you train?" she asked as they came just within sight of the gate in the Palisade wall.

"Yes, someone has offered his assistance," Bookworm replied. "Thank you again for all your help."

"Send word if you need more help," Mariah replied as she turned away.

Bookworm strode back into the city, her rifle hidden under her hooded cloak, hurrying back home. She hoped she was ready for this new responsibility, and for whatever Dr. Obolensky might have in mind for New Babbage now.

[17:36] Bookworm Hienrichs: Greetings, Mr. Somerset. I was out for a stroll, and thought I'd come and see how you are doing.
[17:37] Zachary Somerset: My humble abode is this way, Miss Book.
[17:37] Zachary Somerset: Lady Nell is just upstairs, if you're concerned about proprieties. *smile*
[17:37] Zachary Somerset: Her apartment is just above mine.
[17:37] Bookworm Hienrichs raises an eyebrow. "Seems a little...Spartan...down here."
[17:37] Bookworm Hienrichs smiles.
[17:38] Zachary Somerset: Yes...I'm afraid My Lady is more into decorating than I am.
[17:38] Bookworm Hienrichs chuckles.
[17:38] Zachary Somerset: Please, make yourself comfortable.
[17:38] Zachary Somerset: You'll have to stop by Nell's apartment later. Much more homey.
[17:38] Bookworm Hienrichs smiles and nods.
[17:39] Zachary Somerset: Me, I'm boring. *g*
[17:39] Bookworm Hienrichs: How are you, sir? I do hope you are well on your way to recovery.
[17:39] Zachary Somerset: Well enough, I suppose. Considering I ought to be dead.
[17:39] Bookworm Hienrichs nods and shudders a bit.
[17:39] Zachary Somerset: For a dead man, I'm in excellent shape. *grin*
[17:40] Zachary Somerset: Still hurts to walk or otherwise exert myself without the steam chair.
[17:40] Bookworm Hienrichs nods.
[17:40] Bookworm Hienrichs: Are you able to get around well with that?
[17:40] Zachary Somerset: But I'm told that will eventually get better...let's hope.
[17:41] Zachary Somerset: Well enough. Stairs are a bit of an issue, but it hovers
[17:41] Zachary Somerset: Somewhat.
[17:41] Bookworm Hienrichs smiles. "The wonders of technology."
[17:41] Zachary Somerset: I wouldn't want to attempt flight. *g*
[17:41] Bookworm Hienrichs chuckles. "No, indeed!"
[17:42] Bookworm Hienrichs: Have you or Nell seen aught of the man who attacked you?
[17:43] Zachary Somerset: Lupindo? No, not since that evening.
[17:43] Zachary Somerset: Can't say that I miss him, really.
[17:43] Bookworm Hienrichs nods.
[17:43] Bookworm Hienrichs: Yes, let's hope he's left for good.
[17:43] Zachary Somerset: *grim smile* I doubt it. But that would be nice.
[17:43] Bookworm Hienrichs: Though there are a distressing number of places to hide here in the city, it seems.
[17:44] Zachary Somerset: Indeed
[17:45] Bookworm Hienrichs: I do hope the books I sent have been able to give you some company.
[17:46] Zachary Somerset: Oh yes, they kept me from going stark raving insane!
[17:46] Bookworm Hienrichs: Oh, dear. That bad?
[17:46] Zachary Somerset: I'm told I'm not good at the bedridden invalid thing. Lady Nell threatened to shoot me again. *sheepish smile*
[17:47] Bookworm Hienrichs chuckles. "She certainly takes the direct approach."
[17:47] Zachary Somerset: Quite.
[17:47] Bookworm Hienrichs: I should have come to visit sooner.
[17:48] Zachary Somerset: Any shyness completely lost due to years of proximity. She just aims and fires. *g*
[17:48] Zachary Somerset: We're glad you stopped by. I hate being cooped up in here with little news from the outside world.
[17:48] Zachary Somerset: Not counting the Snitch. *g*
[17:49] Bookworm Hienrichs laughs.
[17:49] Bookworm Hienrichs: No, I wouldn't count that.
[17:49] Bookworm Hienrichs: But thankfully, things have been relatively quiet.
[17:49] Zachary Somerset: RELIABLE news.
[17:49] Zachary Somerset: Oh, that's good to hear. Um...WE haven't made the papers again, I hope?
[17:49] Bookworm Hienrichs: Not that *I* have a very good connection to the grapevine.
[17:49] Zachary Somerset: My Lady and I, I mean?
[17:49] Bookworm Hienrichs: No, not after that initial report.
[17:50] Zachary Somerset: I know. I saw that in the Primgraph
[17:50] Zachary Somerset: The publicity is...not helpful, as you can imagine. Hard to lie low with a spotlight on us.
[17:50] Bookworm Hienrichs nods.
[17:51] Zachary Somerset: I'd considered moving on to another town, but My Lady won't hear of it. So we're looking at...other options.
[17:51] Bookworm Hienrichs nods.
[17:51] Bookworm Hienrichs: Have you heard that Dr. Obolensky's observatory has been seized, and is going to be auctioned off?
[17:52] Zachary Somerset: Oh, really! Hm...I imagine the security in there would be pretty tight....
[17:52] Zachary Somerset: No, I doubt we could afford it. Pity.
[17:52] Zachary Somerset: Sorry...woolgathering. *grin*
[17:52] Bookworm Hienrichs: Yes. Though we do have plenty of engineers to search for those. I do hope they'll be devious enough to find them.
[17:53] Bookworm Hienrichs: Though I can't help but think...no.
[17:53] Bookworm Hienrichs shakes her head.
[17:53] Zachary Somerset: I'm sorry? Please pardon me...I was entertaining brief fantasies of buying an observatory. *g*
[17:54] Bookworm Hienrichs: Well--oh, I wonder if you heard about what happened at the ball last week?
[17:54] Zachary Somerset: You have to admit, I could make such a fortress pretty secure for My Lady.
[17:54] Zachary Somerset: The Ball? No.
[17:54] Zachary Somerset: I...ah...skipped the Ball. *looks down at chair*
[17:55] Bookworm Hienrichs: Dr. Obolensky's sigil was projected onto a strange, dark cloud that was above Piermont Landing.
[17:55] Zachary Somerset: Hm. Not good.
[17:55] Bookworm Hienrichs nods.
[17:55] Bookworm Hienrichs: Most seem to think that it was a prank played by some of his minions.
[17:55] Bookworm Hienrichs smiles grimly.
[17:55] Zachary Somerset: It seems the most obvious possibility, yet....hm.
[17:56] Zachary Somerset: Need more data
[17:56] Bookworm Hienrichs: I must admit, I'm entirely convinced that he's still alive.
[17:56] Bookworm Hienrichs: And I'd imagine he wouldn't take kindly to his obervatory being sold.
[17:56] Zachary Somerset: Actually, I need a full staff to ferret that info out, not just me stuck in this dratted chair.
[17:56] Zachary Somerset: Probably not.
[17:57] Zachary Somerset: I'll have to get more information about this from...my sources.
[17:57] Bookworm Hienrichs smiles and does not inquire.
[17:57] Zachary Somerset looks lost in thought
[17:58] Bookworm Hienrichs: Other than those bits, though, I cannot think of any important recent events.
[17:58] Zachary Somerset: I suppose that's a good thing. No news is usually good news.
[17:58] Bookworm Hienrichs: Well, much as I'd like to stay, I should probably think about going back home. I've some packing to do.
[17:58] Zachary Somerset: I hope you're doing well?
[17:59] Zachary Somerset: Going on a trip?
[17:59] Bookworm Hienrichs: Yes. Some...family business that's calling me away from the city.
[18:00] Bookworm Hienrichs feels a little warmth in her face at that statement, and hopes Mr. Somerset doesn't notice.
[18:00] Zachary Somerset: *raised eyebrow* Really?
[18:00] Bookworm Hienrichs: Yes. Nothing terribly pressing, but this seems a good time to take care of it.
[18:01] Zachary Somerset: Well...it's probably a good idea to be out of Babbage, under the circumstances?
[18:01] Bookworm Hienrichs nods, feeling a touch more heat in her cheeks.
[18:01] Zachary Somerset: If there's to be an auction and all, and a possibly alive Dr. O to object?
[18:01] Bookworm Hienrichs says grimly, "Yes, indeed."
[18:01] Zachary Somerset: I may offer to carry your bags. *wry grin*
[18:01] Bookworm Hienrichs chuckles.
[18:02] Bookworm Hienrichs: Thank you for the offer, but that should be taken care of.
[18:02] Zachary Somerset: I hope I'm not too out of line, but you seem to be ...somewhat disturbed by the prospect of visiting your family. I hope nothing is amiss?
[18:03] Bookworm Hienrichs says, startled, "Ahh--no. Not at all. They just...need my help with something."
[18:03] Zachary Somerset: I see. *faint smile* Well, I won't pry, Miss Book.
[18:04] Bookworm Hienrichs flushes even more.
[18:04] Zachary Somerset: God knows I have my own secrets. *grin*
[18:05] Bookworm Hienrichs says, a bit disjointedly, "Don't we all?"
[18:06] Zachary Somerset smiles at his visitor, an eyebrow slightly raised.
[18:06] Zachary Somerset: Some more than others. *smile*
[18:07] Bookworm Hienrichs catches Mr. Somerset's gaze, and finally exhales, half sigh, half chuckle.
[18:07] Bookworm Hienrichs: I'm a terrible liar, aren't I?
[18:07] Bookworm Hienrichs smiles wryly.
[18:07] Zachary Somerset: Yes. *chuckle*
[18:07] Zachary Somerset: I would say we could work on that, but I don't think I'd be doing you a favor.
[18:07] Bookworm Hienrichs looks at him steadily. "I think I can trust you. And Nell."
[18:08] Zachary Somerset: We would be honored. I promise we would hold anything you might share in strictest confidence.
[18:08] Bookworm Hienrichs: I've...joined the militia.
[18:08] Zachary Somerset: Oh? Good for you!
[18:09] Zachary Somerset: Babbage can always use another set of hands
[18:09] Bookworm Hienrichs: This past month of June taught me that I'm pretty fair useless in a crisis.
[18:09] Bookworm Hienrichs: I want to be able to contribute to the well-being of this city.
[18:09] Zachary Somerset: Oh, I don''t know. There are more ways to serve than with a firearm, although I must say that's a more direct approach than most.
[18:10] Bookworm Hienrichs: Perhaps.
[18:10] Zachary Somerset: May I be of assistance in any way?
[18:10] Bookworm Hienrichs: But, I'm also utterly convinced that Dr. Obolensky will be back. And when he does come, I want to be ready for him.
[18:10] Zachary Somerset: Understandable.
[18:10] Bookworm Hienrichs: I'm actually leaving to meet with someone to practice my marksmanship.
[18:10] Bookworm Hienrichs: She only has a week to train me, but that should help.
[18:11] Zachary Somerset: Really? Well, in that case, I would be glad to lend my assistance.
[18:11] Zachary Somerset: You know there's a shooting range above Gatsby's shop?
[18:11] Bookworm Hienrichs looks over. "If you feel well enough for that, I'd welcome any assistance you can give."
[18:11] Bookworm Hienrichs nods.
[18:11] Bookworm Hienrichs: I did go there once, to try out my firearms. That's what convinced me I need more training.
[18:12] Bookworm Hienrichs smiles.
[18:12] Zachary Somerset: My legs might not be working so well at the moment, but i rarely use them to shoot. *wink* I'd be glad to help.
[18:12] Bookworm Hienrichs: Good! I'll be in touch with you when I return.
[18:12] Zachary Somerset: I would be honored to assist you, Miss Book.
[18:12] Bookworm Hienrichs: And on that note, I really should go.
[18:12] Bookworm Hienrichs: Thank you very much, sir.
[18:13] Zachary Somerset: It was a pleasure seeing you again, miss.
[18:13] Bookworm Hienrichs: And you. I hope I'll be able to see you on your feet again soon.
[18:13] Zachary Somerset: I hope that as well.
[18:13] Zachary Somerset: Let me see you to the door.
[18:13] Bookworm Hienrichs: And I shall have to come again to see Miss Strathearn's rooms.
[18:13] Bookworm Hienrichs smiles.
[18:13] Zachary Somerset: Yes, do!
[18:14] Zachary Somerset: Otherwise she'll accuse me of hogging your attention. *teasing smile*
[18:14] Bookworm Hienrichs laughs.
[18:14] Bookworm Hienrichs: Good evening to you!
[18:14] Zachary Somerset: *Good evening, Miss Book.
[18:14] Bookworm Hienrichs waves as she leaves.
[18:14] Zachary Somerset: *smiles*

((Private journal entry. IC, only Wiggy Undertone and Jasper Kiergarten know I've joined the militia.))

Several days ago, I finally joined the New Babbage Militia. I may have done so just in time.

I talked with Captain Undertone, and was welcomed by him into the militia. A couple of days later, I talked with Mr. Kiergarten, and so learned where to pick up the militia uniform and weapon. Said weapon is a rather formidable-looking rifle, and I have to admit, I'm not entirely comfortable with it. So today, I made a special trip to Ordinal Enterprises, and there bought a Derringer handgun. When I returned, I slipped over to the practice range above Mr. Szuster's gallery for some target practice. I'd been a fair shot with a bow once upon a time, but that was a long time ago. I'm certainly going to need more practice before I feel comfortable with these weapons.

I've not told anyone else yet what I've done. It seems to me that it might be a good idea to keep this private until I'm needed. So I may need to find a more private place to practice my marksmanship...

So why the sudden need to become a better shot? Because of what happened at the Orient Express ball yesterday.

It was a magnificent event, and a great deal of fun. But one thing occurred that was most definitely disturbing. There was a strange cloud hanging above the area, by Miss Carver's airship. After some time, I looked up there and suddenly saw Dr. Obolensky's sigil being projected onto it!



What else could it mean but that he is, indeed, alive, as I'd always suspected, and is returning to New Babbage? When he does, I want to be ready, especially if he brings others with him again. And ready I will be, somehow.

That's what I've been of this journal of late. It's far too easy to slip back into apathy, to let one day pass into another without note.

Though it hasn't all been dull. There was, of course, Miss Carver's monthly ball. It was, as usual, wonderfully organized and produced, and gave me many opportunities for fun and interesting pictures. I didn't dance much this time around (except for a short time with Mr. Mannonen), as my costume did not lend itself well to dancing. This month's ball, though, takes as its theme the Orient Express. I shall have to research it more, to see if I have, or can find, the perfect gown for it.

The next day, on a whim, I traveled to Magellan and the Marzipan Teahouse for a ceilidh. Mr. Somerset joined me there, and we danced away the hour to lively Irish music, pausing now and again to watch the Marzipan Sweeties in their dancing. Such an enjoyable time!

Still, while it is good to have some fun, I mustn't forget that the ability and freedom for such pursuits comes at a cost. The New Babbage Militia, and friends from other realms, fought hard to expel the tyrant. Next time--if there is a next time--I want to be able to assist in such a noble cause.

With that in mind, I dressed in what seemed my most militia-ready suit, and walked to the headquarters to inquire about joining. No one was there, unfortunately, so I left a note for Mr. Undertone expressing my interest. I trust he'll contact me soon.

I just hope they provide weapons training.

And the day was going so well...

I attended the Breakfast dance this morning, which was very well attended, and very enjoyable! Then later in the day was the Town Hall meeting, which went...reasonably well--about as well as a meeting with such disparate personalities can go. (Though I do think some people were unnecessarily hard on some of the newcomers to our city. They ought to remember that everyone was a newcomer at some point.) After that was a celebration for Mr. Holmes, at the rooms he and Dr. Watson share. Fun, laughter, and stimulating conversation, which was certainly a nice change from recent times.

But then, as the party was starting to wind down, I happened to glance out the window, and saw one of the Temple of Dagon people standing outside. And not long after, Skyler Pooley (the Skyler who took up with Dr. Obolensky) stopped on the street between us. Evidently, he hadn't seen the Dagon person, but heard our revelry and paused to listen. When he finally did see the Dagon person, who was quickly joined by another, they were downright malevolent toward him.

They made reference to his master--Dr. Obolensky--having interrupted them, that harm had been done. They also said that Skyler might be "the one," and "might do nicely." At those words, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, and I called to Skyler to come indoors and get away from them.

The two went inside their temple for a bit, but then came back out and began quartering the area around the house. I don't know if they were looking for a way in, or looking for exits that we might take. Dr. Watson went down to speak with them, and he told us that the two evidently objected to Skyler loitering outside their entrance--though I don't think I believe that. He also told us that they said that more of their group were coming.

I am very concerned about this. If they had some sort of plan in motion that Dr. Obolensky's coup interrupted, what will they do now that he's gone? I don't think anything but evil can come of this. I said that to Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, though, and they thought I was exaggerating the case. Well, perhaps--but every fiber in my being is repulsed by them and their temple and their supposed god. This is a situation that, at the least, bears close watching.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't know the entire situation--or probably even the half of it. What I know about is what I've gleaned from various blogs and snippits of SL conversation. But hey, why let that stop me from weighing in? *grin*

( Cutting so you can skip if you want. )