The Magnificent Flying Contraption

ELSEWHERE

Jacqueline DeWitt, or Jack as she preferred, crouched in the alley surrounded by young, rough looking men. They all watched her very closely as she reached out for the dice. The pile of notes and coins was not an insignificant amount to them. To Jack, it was a pocket money, but it wasn't about the money, it was about the thrill of the game. Winning or losing was all that mattered. The thrill of the chase as it were.

"Alright there luv, we ain't got all day. Sam's got lady friends waiting for us!" one of the men chortle at Jack. Mentioning other girls was something these boys thought got under Jack's skin. They thought by ignoring the fact she was a girl, and thus implying they did not find her particularly attractive, it somehow hurt her feelings. The truth was that Jack would much prefer that they found her undesirable. They did though. Each one of them had found a way to get her alone for a second and subtlety, or not-so, incenuate they fancied her. She had shot each of them down, gently. She had nothing against these young men specifically, she did not look down on them for being of 'lower stations' than she, but rather, she found them all to be horribly mundane. Not a one of them possessed the spirit of Adventure or Ambition she knew her future partner would have to have. In truth, the only person she had ever seen it in was her uncle...shudder...and he was old, family, and her caretaker.

"Eddy Clay. I doubt very much that any woman reputable enough to be considered a lady would have time for you. Including your own mother." She smirks up at him, tossing the dice without looking.

"And with that roll, I imagine even your cocotte illusoire won't even let you darken her doorstep tonight!" Jack can tell she's won because of the crestfallen expression that comes over Eddy and his gang. Glancing at the dice, she sees exactly what she expected and starts gathering the pot.

"Aw, perk Eddy. Better luck next time." She stands and punches him playfully in the shoulder. Turning to the two lads that had bet with her to win, she hands them their winnings and tufts the rest in her coat pocket. Glancing at her pocket watch, she gasps. It is far later than she thought. Her uncle was ready to launch his contraption today. She practically had to beg to be invited along on the Maiden voyage. She couldn't miss this, possibly the biggest adventure of her life.

She hustles toward the mouth of the alley and is about to join the traffic of the high street we she hears Eddy shout. "OY!!! WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT ME MUM!?"

Jack takes off running. She can hardly contain her laughter, which would be a problem if Eddy were any faster. She hasn't even gone two blocks before the stitches in her side start to ache. The proper women promenade up and down between the shops. All turn and stare as the trouser clad girl careers down the avenue laughing like mad person. Glancing back she sees Eddy and two goons still in pursuit, but lagging behind. She slows to a speed walk for a few seconds to catch her breath. Just as the youths close within 10 feet she rabbits away down an side street next to a produce warehouse. She makes it about 40 feet when she hears a crash and shouted curses. Glancing back she sees Eddy and his fellows have collided with a wheelbarrow of cabbages. They lay sprawled in a pile of tangled limbs. She stops to let out a hardy guffaw and point at Eddy so everyone on the street sees his shame.

Once everyone is looking Jack tips her hat to Eddy and takes off again. She runs for another block then turns. Checking back she does not see Eddy or anyone following her so she continues on at a leisurely pace.

---

Joining the small crowd Jack makes her way toward the dock and heads up the gang plank. "Uncle? How are we proceeding? The skies look right chuffed for sailing today."

The clearest blue sky over a desert flowering with spring rains blossoms would be lost on Tupper Chesterfield. A personal rain cloud follows him. His skin reflects no palour. The flask of vinegar he keeps tucked into his jacket pocket is said to wash out his natural color by those who gossip. Others say he is cursed and the speculated natures of such curse are as broad as those who care to gossip.

Today he's rushing, long limbs stepping storklike from his tall frame. Important papers are clutched in his attache, a leather bonded affair gifted to him from Doctor Brown when he was called to the bar. The satchel is his most prized possession. In a life spent on the shadows of high society, used to the finest of things, it isn't the wealth, but the sentiment. The personal touch speaks of pride. Dour Tupper would never be accused of sentimentality, but unwavering loyalty? Yes, those words might be used.

He hears a ruff from behind the fence. Dante Fiegro, the huge prized Cane Corso attack dog senses his oldest friend is back. Tupper has no time for his friend, raised from a pup by his own hand, trained to protect the Doctor's elaborate estate and residents. No, no time today, and the working dog does not press, but jogs along the inside of the fence.

The airship suits preposterously on the launch platform, and Tupper rushes faster, though not to the point of running or even jogging. That would be entirely out of character. The stiff limbed lawyer performing an athleticism? Inconceivable. Everyone forgets his fencing trophies at boarding school. A lifetime ago, though less than a decade.

The doctor greets him and gets back to his preparations. Lost to the wagging of hands, he follows the waved instructions and find himself aboard, waiting to intercept the doctor before lift off. He sits and waits for the Doctor's full attention. The paperwork is ready of course, he simply need retrieve it and produce the quill and ink, then review the terms. He loosens the fastening on his attache. "At your pleasure, Doctor Brown."

Evelyn knew right when she got off the bed that today will be an amazing day. However, she had no idea how truly amazing it will end up being! These golden beams of sunshine woke her up, and they started the day in such beautiful colours. Since Evelyn only had some editing work to do at the Post, she figured she might as well take her time to enjoy the present moment, don't rush to work.

Making her way into the Post's building, she noticed that the office was in utter chaos. And the young Clifford boy was there too, standing nervously, as the Boss was pacing around the room.

"Evelyn!" raised the Boss his voice as he noticed her. That wasn't his usual demeanour, so Evelyn pursed her lips in surprise for a split second. She answered with a big smile: "Good morning Mr Boss! How lovely the wea-"

"Stop. Evelyn. I need you at the lake to make a story on Doctor Brown's invention." her Boss cut into her sentence.

"But Ms Clifford-" she looked at the kid, not able to complete her sentence yet again.

"Yes. Cannot make it." said the Boss, making his way towards Evelyn. The kid nodded, eyes on the ground, and mumbled "food poisoning".

"Oh! The bakery!"

"Evelyn, focus." Hearing these words made her turn back to the Boss.

"Thames. In twenty minutes. A story on Doctor Brown's invention."

Evelyn was nodding, her eyes starting to sparkle as she was realizing what has been going on.

"I want an inspirational success story or a dramatic failure. Ask the right questions, push the right people, notice the right things..."

"But don't be too nosy," he added after a slight pause, "I don't want another article about an unrelated family drama or anything like that."

"O-I would never! Not again, at least." she replied, not able to keep her eyes locked on her Boss. He was measuring her with a serious expression that quickly turned into a confused one. "Why are you still here?! Go!"

"Of course! I won't let you down!" she said as she turned around and run out of the building. And as luck would have it, she caught a carriage to the river just in time.

---

A small crowd was already there, blocking the way. She was slightly out of breath as she tried to be here on time. That didn't stop her from making her way through with confidence. "Hello, excuse me. Excuse me. Evelyn Merrick, the Post. I know you've been enjoying my story on the Farmer's market last week! My investigation of the cheese shortage will be concluded in tomorrow's issue! Excuse me-"

She noticed an important-looking man getting aboard the flying machine and decided to follow him. It was a good decision. She could hear someone talking about patents, and more likely than not, that was the man she should introduce herself to. That's exactly what she did when she made her way to the man she has followed, Doctor Brown (or what she presumed to be), and a gentlemanly-dressed woman.

"Evelyn Merrick, The Post. Good morning! Ms Clifford couldn't make it today. What lovely weather to show of this safely tested flying machine, wouldn't you agree?" she proceeded to look around and then she held out her hand towards Doctor Brown. He looked busy enough, so she instead changed it towards the man she followed as he was the closest. "Nice to meet you!"

The ... "unique" smell of the Themes very kindly faded into the background as Captain James Hamish, M.D., scrawls a few last sentences into a battered leatherbound pocket journal "The second Afghan War brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it meant little more than misfortune and disaster. I returned to England with my health irretrievably ruined and my military future bleak. Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great whirlpool activity and progress into which all the great rivers of intellect of the Empire are drained. My old schoolchum Stamford has informed me of the great opportunities for men of science, and indeed I have already found work." As the ferry was skillfully docked into its little station he looks up, grey eyes scanning the horizon from beneath a practical black derby "Nearly out of pages. Good a time as any to start a new chapter" comes his admission as feet finally strike the familiar pavement of London for the first time in more than a decade.

Getting his bearings along the ancient aquatic thoroughfare as only a native could he turns a quick right to follow the easterly downstream course along the river walk. A left turn would bring his goal in sight, the swelling of... well... "An actual flying machine" half laughing, half sighing, but it's London "Pardon me. Excuse me" he queries in a mild baritone, taking a moment to straighten his already impeccable overcoat, jacket, and tie before pushing into the crowd.

"Excuse me. Pardon me. I'm afraid that I must get to the, ah, the craft". Transferring a well-worn physician's velise - embossed with the Coat of Arms of the British Royal Army Medical Corps - to his left hand he raises a black-gloved fist to knock on the edge of the basket while eyeing a... well, a particularly dour gentleman "The Honorable Mister Chesterfield, I presume? I'm Doctor John Hamish, you offered terms of employment via correspondence while I was traveling from the Continent."

"Oh, tosh, Uncle! No one wants to read about logistics! Miss Merrick wants to right about adventure, and the wonders of a new age. That's what we've got going on here today Miss Merrick. The whole of Europe...nay...the Empire...NAY! THE WORLD! at out feet! A mere stones throw away. In the very near future, travel to the Americas, the Dark Heart of Africa, or the mysterious Orient will cost a pittance and be available to the common man! Wanna spend your 'oliday feeding the penguins? Sure, why not?! That's what the amazing Doctor Alisotor Brown's Flying...eh...er...Machine promises the future."

Hooking an arm to Evelyn she swings her around. "Now, you'll want to get some technical quotes, but I think that for your story, you should just take in. Soak in the experience of the journey and learn the specifics later. Don't kill them gif too early."

Evelyn considered both of the viewpoints. She was supposed to embellish the story to either make it very inspirational or very hilarious. She was more interested in writing... the truth! And you can make truth engaging without the need to embellish it.
"We'll see what the journey will be like! So far, I feel like on an adventure. I will need to interview you more, Doctor Brown, to make the article shift to the 'future of logistics' viewpoint. Hopefully, you won't be busy for too long!"
Evelyn was surprised to see the soldier-type man who came to the ship while she was having this conversation with the Doctor and his niece. He would make for an interesting interview as well.

When Evelyn realized that they're slowly lifting, she went over to the handrail and took her notebook out of her messenger bag.
'The first meter was without problems.' she notes as she's leaning. "At which altitude will we leave the platform?"

Chesterfield blanched even more pale if that's possible. He clutches his forms, and carefully but hurriedly stuffs them back in his attache.

"Oh, are we... I thought this was ceremonial," he mutters.

Things... seem to be moving rather quickly. Or I am less than punctual comes the unbidden thought as the basket jerks slightly under his gloved hand. Polished oxfords strike a resounding note on the dull wood platform as he steps back and away from now trailing guide ropes, calling "I say, hello up there? Am I to stand by in case of an emergency, or did someone want my services in more of an academic capacity?"

Tupper clutches his case but moves toward the man. "I'm tall but not that strong. Someone help!"

He slides the case to the side and grasps at the man.

Seeing an extended hand the doctor grins, wrapping one arm around a trailing guiderope and using the other to hand his own medical bag into the outstretched hand "Capital, much obliged" comes his cheerful response. As he's pulled aloft a foot would likewise rap around the now trailing rope, turning him into something of a Mary Poppins figure, gently rising up into the air along with the machine.

Tupper retrieves his case and sees the man. "Doctor, is that man in your employ? He seems to be sabotaging the rigging."

His palour shifts even more waxy and pale as the blood drains from his face.