Notice to all staff and students:

While investigations into the graffiti are ongoing, we do *NOT* have a clear perpetrator. Due assistance to the sheriff and his deputies will be approved in all investigations.

Torches may *NOT* be requisitioned at this time. When said perpetrator is found, they will be dealt with by the local legal system.

Please remember that the mob permit application process is still in place, and the sheriff must be present for the training sessions. Final committee presentation must include all city management staff, with full environmental assays and community petitions in place.

Just because we are not currently in Europa does not mean we are permitted to bypass regulations.

Fr. A. Lowey
Cc: KW, TLE,TH, FO

Steelhead’s Lost Sleep

I have not slept well over the past few days, and my restless nights have sapped my energy. I put it down to my fretting over the increasing length of time since Sergeant Griggs last set foot in Steelhead, but other incidents have been brought to my attention.

The students have been increasingly peevish, which is odd. The ones in classes now are the ones who chose to be here, opting out of the long summer holiday many of the day students take, in favor of pursuing their particular special interests. However, finding Alexandria and Wolfgang quarrelling over a specific patch of ground (she wanted it for her test trenches, and he is still assaying the chemical composition of Steelhead’s topsoil) was exceedingly odd, since they have worked together harmoniously in the past. Anya has been twitchy, and rarely leaving the company of an adult. Rengerin snapping at one of the other instructors, with it escalating into a brief shouting match before they recalled themselves, brought it all to a head.

Meeting with the other teachers over tea clarified some observations. None of us has been sleeping well, and those who are not connected in some way to metaphysical studies are even worse off. Sister Mary Evangeline reported she had cancelled group target practice for the students, with their mood being so chancy. The sisters have reported some of the same symptoms as the teachers, but none as severe as Professor Lyles. If he has slept at all in the past week, I would be greatly surprised.

Dr Beck’s report at the town meeting did not put a specific name to the issue, but at least we know it is not an attack just on the Consulate or the school. The whole town has been affected, from Harborside to the slums in the Shanghai district.

The next day, half the office staff was out, including my assistant. Since she had come into the office last winter with a severe cold, this was a telling point. Something had to be done - actually, several hundred things, but I was just one person. Luckily, Amarantis was able to take on some of the tasks. I gave her the list of the staff that were out, and the notes Dr Beck had been able to assemble. That left me free to clear the rest of the office work and determine the next step.

My next clue was noting that, though he was melancholy over Miss Burton’s long absence, Messenger was not displaying the same symptoms as the rest of the staff. Some quick questions of the ones that were least affected brought up some similarities. They were either adherents of some esoteric practice, or they (like Messenger) were closely associated with a practitioner. The sisters were sleeping in blessed territory, and only lightly affected. A quick report by Amarantis brought the news that the missing staff were recovering slowly, as they were being shielded by Madame Kitla or herself, but that Miss Burton had shielded Messenger’s quarters against any and all inimical influences.

Surveying the affected population showed that mages and the sisters were the least impacted, empaths who were sleeping under shields were only partially influenced, but that those that were completely unshielded were suffering greatly, to the point that reality was difficult for them to track. Without the Foundation to triangulate the effects of different methods, I had to rely on Kitla’s formulae for structure. That did make it easier to explain our findings in my report to the Baron, as her work is rooted in mathematical forms.

The next escalation appeared at sundown. Messages crudely painted on the walls of the city in tar that “He is coming” and “Offer your heads” match the nightmares reported. The fact these were not some arcane language leads me to believe the person is likely not a practitioner of esoteric arts themselves. The language is Polish, translated by my new roaming assistant, Mrs DeCuir-Irato. We have inquired throughout the staff to find who in town might have Polish as their primary language, cautioning that the person who has done this could be dangerous. Orders are to watch and report only.

The staff members have also been advised that alert status is possible soon. Once we have the reports from the investigators, both ours and the sheriff’s, the next step may be clearer.

So many minor chords.

In this journal I an discordant, but the minor chords also show up in the Home Desk.

I think Amarantis might sound more like her fathers than me.

Oddly, my assistant's journal sounds... sneaky. Hrm.

Dreaming

The contact was initiated in my sleep. One moment I am enjoying lazing in the spring garden in company, and then a visual blurring and a jerking sensation - suddenly I was in the lecture room for the students. At least whoever was needing me let me have my proper clothing instead of what I had almost worn in the original dream.

A child who was not a child sat in the center aisle, sulking. Behind him, standing quietly, arms crossed...there was no mistaking his identity. This was bad. If the Elder had come back, we were all in a great deal of trouble, again. The children in the hall were not anyone in the school currently, thank the Builder. This was for the Elder's benefit, not a portent for any of my charges.

Whatever had brought me here placed me the lecture outline in my mind, and I cringed inwardly. Most of the surmises the Baron and the children had formulated on the reanimation formula were correct. My dread was not reflected by the tone I used in the lecture introduction. Even as I wished otherwise, whatever was controlling my dream-self had me pull the sheet from his form.

The thread of a connection I had to Darien roiled with fear, anger and desperation. I tried to reach back through the link to reassure him, but the thread did not only connect to the figure in the aether suit, it webbed out though the classroom and beyond to multiple anchors. So, I had been pulled to his subconscious. Interesting, I wonder if he intended to bring me here at all. My anchor was set, and I dove into the lecture material.

"Common issues with the reanimation serum involve dosage difficulties with repeated use, and theoretical damage to the cerebellum," I found myself saying. Theoretical, my foot. Darien threw himself into dangerous ventures without a second thought on a regular basis, all Sparks have that trait. But the tendency to think himself indestructible became worse with each dosage. The anger flares were worse the more he used the formula as well.

The lecture room was not fixed, fluctuating between the one at the school in Steelhead, and several I did not know personally, though I caught a glimpse here and there that resembled the drawings of the School of Medicine at Miskatonic. The children fluctuated as well, though the one became recognizable quickly... Darien, as he had appeared when he was younger. Other slightly familiar faces flickered through the class, some almost recognizable, but most were not.

I outwardly babbled on about the combined effects of radiation poisoning, gamma rays, explosive decompression and the toxins in the bloodfruit, while sifting through the connections, trying to find a link to Ash or Gematria. They still lived, but were too far distant to help at the moment. The lecture wound down to the concluding remarks, and I regained enough control of my dream-self to place my hand on the aether suit, stopping the slow tumble. My dream-self then faced the Elder and asked, "..permeating the subject's mitochondria down to the RNA level and re-engineering for its own replication functions. Questions?"

A young girl, (a name teased on the edge of memory, Clara?) in the front raised her hand to be recognized. At my nod, she stood and asked, "So Doctor Mason is now a walking reanimation serum factory?"

I confirmed her thesis, and checked my links to the others again - closer, but not nearly close enough. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the Elder goading Darien to participate. After I nodded to him, he asked without standing, "So if he can't die from an overdose of the serum that won't let him die, what will happen after complete insanity?"

I pulled on one of the links to gain the information, "Well, continual overproduction of serum compounded by radiation levels will result in an exponentially expanding level of mutation..." I was interrupted by shattering glass, and my voice started to spiral up, "...will lead to the final Pandoran phase."

As the children screamed and bolted for the exits, I grasped for my astral anchor, making sure I could thread out of his mind without damaging him. He was damaged enough without me contributing. Then I felt something brush against my ankle.

The Elder shouted, "CLASS DISMISSED!" disrupting the image and the pull that held me there. I had bolted out of bed before I realized I was awake. Standing in my shielded rooms, searched for the link to Darien, and found it thinning. I tried to reach Ash....

Shirtless Against Breast Cancer - The Book!

This year's Shirtless Against Breast Cancer campaign includes four calendars, yet there were many more submissions than could fit in these offerings, and some that might be a bit too much for a calendar displayed on a wall... so the collection includes a lovely book!

Two different cover options, but the same interiors, available from the vendors at all Consulate offices, in addition to Piermont Landing, Ruby's Pub, Ruby's II, Lotus of the Sea Gallery and CocoaJava Cafe in New Babbage, Steampunk Adventures in Winterfell, Tricia Aferdita Gallery and Exposure Gallery in Tabula rasa, Designing Worlds studio in Northpoint, Oliveto, the Primgraph offices in Caledon Glengarry, Velvel's Emporium in Steelhead Shanghai, Regent Theatre, Pneumatic Revolution Lounge, StratoGear Station and Steelbucks in Steeltopia, Ironhound Train Station in Steeltopia Anchorage and the Victoriana Harbour train station.

The book is L$750, with all proceeds going to breastcancer.org, and will be available until August.

A Rumple in the Weft

I do not often explore on my own, but I do try to be aware of the surroundings as I attend functions in the Steamlands. The most recent salon was at the Dragonlands Hotel, as the discussion was on the archetype of Asian Steampunk, or the local interpretation thereof.

The Baron & Annechen at the Aether Salon, image by P. J. Trenton

I generally enjoy the salons, but my inattention was apparent to the Baron. Standing behind my chair, he subtly tapped my shoulder as the visitors left. "What is it?"

"Hm?" I was still distracted by the... something in the air.

"You are usually very focused at the salons, what is wrong?" He kept his voice low enough to not be noted by the last of the guests conversing with the speakers.

I was unable to answer right away, as I did not have a clear answer. "Something odd here... meh." I shrugged it off as best I could, "Could be all the new people here. Something seems a bit off, though."

His eyebrows twitched, as he hates drawing out inquiries, but he has learned sometimes it is for a lack of proper shared vocabulary when an answer is not straightforward. "What sort of 'off'?" he asked.

I checked for listeners nearby and murmured, "The kind of 'off-balance' that Rengerin brought with her." He winced, as he hates that sort of complication. His eyebrows asked the question he did not want to voice. After tilting my head about, trying to hear the scent and see the sound that was distractingly on the edge of registering, I nodded to him. "I will come back when it is quieter, with some back-up, and see if it is local or a visitor."

The Baron led the way out of the hotel and back to the office on the civic plaza, "Have some of your family cross-check your findings. We do not have full authority here, so make sure of your investigation." He strode to his office to review the reports from the week.

In the following week, I did not have time to make a full investigation, but I was at least able to discern the anomaly was upstairs, not in the Dragonlady's "special" parlors below the lobby. It was disturbingly familiar, and at the same time, set my teeth on edge. I was going to need a professional investigator on this one. Luckily, there were several in the family, and one that had just gotten back from her self-imposed medical trip to Caledon.

"Hokay, so why does this crottle your greeps?" Amarantis said as she leaned against the file cabinets, her wings folded tightly against her back.

I blinked at her terminology, then shook my head, "That is not the issue. For me to sense it, without looking for a problem, it has to be strong enough to be extremely out of joint."

She shrugged, "Or it impacts you directly. I'll take a look. Might even bring Greenie in on it, she needs the training."

"No, I do not like that idea, she is too young for that sort of operation, yet."

"Meh, better she learns with backup than in dire straits." She shrugged again, and headed for the door, "I'll watch out for her."

Which meant the plan would go ahead whether I agreed with it or no. Sometimes working with family can be severely distressing, especially when there is not an official chain of command. Thinking of family, I was reminded of the newest addition to the staff.

I gathered up the last of the copies of the marriage certificates for the diplomatic courier run later this week, with the back up accounting reports and letters regarding the treaty lands, and entered the clerical office. The desk closest to my office was not tenanted by a Consulate staffer, but one sent by the Old Bat to be my magistrate clerk. Once she had settled in, Hâjdău had proven herself to be competent and willing to pitch in with duties outside the magistrate's office. However, her tendency to daydream could be irritating, even if it did not interfere with her work.

My eye caught a flash of silver on her right hand as I instructed her on what she needed to have ready for the courier pouch this week. While she was writing down the particulars, I took a closer look, and recognized the Chinese character for "heart" inscribed in the purple enamel.

So, my assistant is wearing a poesy ring. Were it another staffer, I might not bother, but she is my responsibility, not the Consulate's. It may seem antiquated here and now, but her family is one of the many sworn to the House of my father, the same as my House is sworn to serve the Heterodynes. Past time I started investigating who she is seeing.

Family Travels

Augustus sent a note around to me, saying he had a set of forms for me to approve. So it was that I checked into the office on my usually free day.

A simple enough request on the face of it, a request for leave of a month for Birdie... save that nothing is simple around Augustus. I checked the rota, and she is not scheduled for any specific patrols. She has actually not been on any of the hunts lately, either.

There were no travel chits to Birdsan's home district included in the packet, and a note at the bottom stating they would not be travelling anywhere in Europa. That left one place.

He is taking her home to meet the rest of the family.

Considering this with the research requisitions he sent through in the early summer, it looks as if I might have to dig out another set of leave forms before next summer.