It was a typical afternoon in Babbage, the late autumn sun barely penetrating the smoke and soot in the sky. The weather had taken a cooler turn, and I was very glad for my warm cape. I had been out for a walk, getting my bearings of the city that I now called home, meeting some of my fellow citizens, including a mechanical man, who had the misfortune to be run down by one of the trolleys. Luckily Mr. Lightbulb Brightly was not seriously injured, but I hoped he'd be repaired properly by his creator soon.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
The weather outside was horrible, the sleet pelting the glass and leaving the cobblestone streets below slick, the gaslamps' glow reflecting dimly upon them. I watched as two dark figures, Mr. Gears and Giles came through the front gate, each carrying two large sacks. They disappeared around to the side of the house, no doubt coming in through the kitchen door so they could hang their wet coats in the scullery and get a bracing cup of hot tea (or oil in Mr. Gears' case) from the cook.