Timeline

Coded Telegraph:
Paranoia Rules When Everthing's Shhhh...

 

I continue to be both awestruck and humbled by the dedication and efficiency of this city's developing Network Proxies though I do wonder whether such an elaborate cipher is really all that neccessary.

 I suppose I had best use my Sunday name for this Shaun Hardie chap; chemists can be such slippery characters when not handled correctly.

Ella Mayhem

 

 

Conditions Worsen: "People Are Choking To Death!"
Letter To A Best Mate

 
 

To Me Old Mate Bromley,

Proud as I am to be a working man, methinks now that we'd have been proper to have chosen a different life. This bleedin' fog coverin' the city has shut down all the work that was to be had, meanin' we Union boys haven't got toss-all to do with ourselves.

Thems that ain't dyin' from starvin' are chokin' to death on the yellow air!

Families are going hungry, and thems that ain't dyin' from starvin' are chokin' to death on the yellow air. It's pure acid this, and it'll kill every Brit in London before it's done. You'd think that things bein' what they are, our dearly beloved Industralist friends'd be sufferin' just as badly as we, but that ain't the bleedin' case, and that's got me suspicious mate.

Birdhouses and pubs and card games in our parts are boomin'

The Caledonian's just made a big move up the Scots way, and they'll have more pounds pourin' into their greedy pockets than you and I could ever count, you can bet. And they don't seem to be bothered by the state of the dear old Capitol. Something's on, me old mate, something big, and I aim to find out what it is.

 

I'll admit to feeling a bit happy at seein' all the rich folks' fancy little cafes and shops and whatnot strugglin' for a penny even with their respirators that they ain't quite willin' to share with our kind, while the birdhouses and pubs and card games in our parts are boomin'. I've been down every day with the boys at the Boots and Hammer. Time was when we was all thinkin' this'd pass soon, and we was talkin' our way through what we'd take to doin' once we was back to work. Now all the talk that's left to be had is about where we're going to get our next bit of food.

Half a King's ransom changes hands every night over dice and cards

Lot of the boys have given up on things like food though, and just worry about makin' sure there's still pints to be had. Half a King's ransom changes hands every night over dice and cards and the like. You'd think as Unionists in times like these we'd be poolin' what little we had left together to keep us all alive. But the boys seem to have given up, and taken to thinkin' only about going out having a good time.


But here's the thing mate, strange faces been showin' up in our parts lately. And you know as well as me that our parts ain't the type where strange faces dare to venture. Most of the boys can't notice 'em through the booze and the gamblin' and the birds, but there's a few of us that have, and we've been talkin' it over in the back room at the Boots. We're going to go dark-like, and see who these knobs are, and what it is that they want.

I got one of me old feelin's that these Industrialist sods have got it in their heads that there's profit to be made from this hell we're livin' through, and as usual, they plan to do it at our expense. But I've gotta be off mate, time to head to see my dear, sweet Annie. I'll keep in touch bruv, and let you know what the boys and I find. Until then, keep your boots shinin'.

Yours in Blood, Sweat, and Beers,

Haytham Ashdown

 

A Letter to Rathbone Mayhem
To London!

 
 

Sir,

My warmest congratulations on the Snowdonian Project. I knew it was simply a matter of time before the mighty Caledonian Bronze and Steam extended across the border and proved itself as one of the big players. How I wish I could have been present for your coup de grace but, as you know it simply would not have been the done thing, I had to be publicly present at the merger as part of my apprenticeship.

I cannot begin to tell you how much of a stir we caused, the Edinburgh coffee houses were set all a twitter over the aquisition, after all its not everyday a promising mining operation falls into one's folio for a song. I daresay now perhaps the idea of Alisdair Stevenson naming his daughter as successor to the CBS chair will not seem as abhorrent.

Now onto more exciting and profitable horizons.

You may have already learned that I have been in conversation with Father for quite sometime now over the Long Dark Winter, the Fog and, naturally, his obsession with carrying out his own Clock research. I believe infact that he has tasked Division M with an Errand Run to the capital with a view to gathering intelligence pertaining to the latter. It is my happy duty to inform you that Father dearest has finally indulged my instinct that The Fog is worthy of equal investigation.

For some time I have not been able to shake the notion, that those yellow billowing clouds above are begging to be farmed, their acid rains harnessed in some way though

 

I have yet to discover how and to what purpose; I have some thoughts on the matter so far but I would need to engage a chemist or two, preferably without many scruples before I set them before Father. Long story short I am back with Division M and The Network, naturally, for the forseeable future.

Unfortunately I jokingly mentioned to Father that perhaps a well placed fiance would be a useful asset in circumstances such as this. Infact I felt so sure of myself that I offered to be married off should our endoeavours prove fruitless. Well blow me if the Old Boy didn't let slip to Ma that I might be ready for marriage... she's written to the family of every eligible bachelor south of Watford. Nothing like being put to the test by the man who made you.

Looming courstship and Killer Fog not withstanding, I have to say I'm rather looking forward to London. I hear that most of the shops, theatres, galleries and coffee houses are still crippled and struggling, even after the introduction of portable respirators. And yet.... the brothels, bordellos, supper clubs and card dens are busier than ever. The Network is going to positively thrive, setting ears and eyes in every dark place and we shall wreak merry hell from the bottom up.

I can't wait.

In Anticipation.

Ella Mayhem

 

Readers Letters:
Common Travels Made Impossible

 
 

by Seth Hetharde

It's the end of the week, and I have yet to travel back to my fragile mother's house. My father and I remain patient while waiting for this fog to reduce in viscosity and thickness. However, he has grown tired and is anxious to learn of my mother's condition.

He has been experimenting with certain mechanical filters, in the hopes that mundane lungs are given a chance to breathe through the thick air. His experiments have yet to reach a breakthrough, but he remains utterly adamant. For the best hope I have, I wish this accursed fog does not take my mother's life nor my father's sanity from me.

 

His schematic and diagrams are based on a type of miniature hydraulic within a mask, that pumps the thick air through a filter and, hypothetically, cleanses the fog.

I have little understanding of the physics behind such an object, but my father claims it will work.

For my mother's sake and his mental well-being, I hope so.

 

Country Awakens From From Dark Winter

Date Stamp 1909
 
 

Letter from the Editor:

It has been years since the onset of the Dark Winter, and Victorian society is finally getting to grips with living in smoke.

A lifetime of burning fuels to power the big mechanical machines, coupled with diverse weather conditions created a deadly pea-souper that plunged the world into darkness.

The British resolve has crumbled, ironically not through invasion, war or starvation, but by the yellow sickly smelling fog that has choked life out of 250,000 people, and closed down industry.

Once again people look to Science for a solution, and are dutifully reminded of what happened the last time they turned to Queen Victoria's The Department for the Advancement of Sciences for a miracle.

Some claim it is far from a miracle, and call the arrival of Clockwork Servants a nightmare.

As the human race comes to terms with the fact that we are no longer alone, there are rumours that these Clockwork automatons are about to be introduced into homes.