The following was transcribed from an Edison recording made by Prof. Nishi, and is believed to have been made on the evening of August 15th:
A second body has been found, near the factory on the canal. I was working in the Museum when Miss Paine brought to my attention the crowd gathering at the edge of the square. She led me to what we soon learned was the scene of the crime. Another stabbing, and another note pinned to the back of a slain man. This time, though, the note was a list, and there upon the list were the names of a number of the street urchins, including Loki Eliot, as well as Moriarty, whom I know to be the lycanthrope I pursued through the streets of New Babbage at the beginning of August. And the last name on the list was my own. As the crowd swelled, becoming a panicked and horrified mob, I felt myself falling under suspicion. They do not know I am blind, for I have learned well to conceal it. Mr. Lucien Commodore offered to help me, should the mob turn against me, and Mr. Oolon Sputnik, who appeared (much to my surprise), has left his time cabinet, his ETC, docked in Babbage should Miss Paine and I need to seek refuge therein.
Damn Alexander Eliot, and damn these fools who do not begin to guess what they are up against. They worry about murders, and do not see that their entire world is in peril! I swore to wash my hands of this matter, and I also planned no more entries in this journal. But now...
I declared I would not stand accused without some evidence, and shortly afterwards, spoke with young master Eliot in the absinthe house. My guess is that this list is of intended victims, and that some agent seeks to cover up all proof of the "Sunrise experiment." I have offered Loki and his fellow urchins sanctuary in the Museum, should it come to that. Afterwards, I was briefly questioned by an inspector from Bow Street, a Mr. Reitsuki Kojima. I fear I said too much, for, shaken by what had just transpired, I spoke of the experiments of Alexander Eliot and my own arrival in New Babbage (and in this time continuum). Kojima had not visited Sunrise, and I bade him do so. Nor did be know that Mr. Moriarty is a lycanthrope. Besides the note, there was a recording found lying very near to the corpse, and Kojima agreed to allow me to examine the cylinder. Back at the Museum, playing it, I will freely admit what I heard gave me chills. It seems to have been made at the moment that Eliot's experiment failed, the moment of the eruption at Sunrise, the moment my father's cabinet was steered of course and splintered. The moment of my own damnation, captured on the cylinder.
I can not say what suspicions Bow Street may habour regarding me, but it is clear that I know far more of the work of Prof. Eliot than they. And, unless I miss my guess, someone here means to murder me. Oh, if my part in this could only end that simply! I would welcome such a fate, by god.
I do not know what my next move shall possibly be. I fear this latest murder will draw unwanted attentions, and my purposes and true nature must remain secret. If I were not blinded, Christ, at least I might continue my own investigation into this matter.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Editor's Note 3
The following passage has been transcribed from a voice recording which Prof. Nishi made on an Edison cylinder, the first of many such recordings made during the protracted period of her blindness, this affliction having begun suddenly on the evening of August 6th:
I can not see. I can not see to use the typewriter, nor even to write these words by hand. I have terminated the experiment. Last night, all was almost lost, and it was only through my own impatience, arrogance, and miscalculation. I must find some other path by which to reach them. But it can't be done with my own hands, not the deletions. There was something I failed to understand about the nature of time, about these parallel existences. Worse still, I underestimated it, the Gallifreyan device, the greater part of the whole. Last night, I opened a window through which it almost entered. It filled me. It filled me utterly. I shudder to think at the horrors Miss Paine and Miss Underwood witnessed. Now that it is gone [extended pause] God, I have never known such profound emptiness. I have never known such complete loneliness, now that I am divided from it. I see what I am. I see what must be done. I must make an end of this, of it, of her. Would that I could make that end without the aid of others, and yet, this is a war, a secret war, and all of them are fighting for their lives.
My own comments on the events of August 6th-7th will be set down in a separate note, to follow shortly.
———Bellatrix S. Bracken
I can not see. I can not see to use the typewriter, nor even to write these words by hand. I have terminated the experiment. Last night, all was almost lost, and it was only through my own impatience, arrogance, and miscalculation. I must find some other path by which to reach them. But it can't be done with my own hands, not the deletions. There was something I failed to understand about the nature of time, about these parallel existences. Worse still, I underestimated it, the Gallifreyan device, the greater part of the whole. Last night, I opened a window through which it almost entered. It filled me. It filled me utterly. I shudder to think at the horrors Miss Paine and Miss Underwood witnessed. Now that it is gone [extended pause] God, I have never known such profound emptiness. I have never known such complete loneliness, now that I am divided from it. I see what I am. I see what must be done. I must make an end of this, of it, of her. Would that I could make that end without the aid of others, and yet, this is a war, a secret war, and all of them are fighting for their lives.
My own comments on the events of August 6th-7th will be set down in a separate note, to follow shortly.
———Bellatrix S. Bracken
Saturday, August 4, 2007
A Game of Chess
The short days rush past me and so quickly melt into the sallow, yellow-grey haze of the past, and I am become quite entirely certain that I must, indeed, be a sterling example of Dr. Kraepelin's dementia paranoides. Forgive my weakness of character, dear Father surrogate. But I have turned once more to the blessings of the pharmacopoeia, the unfailing tincture of opium — which is to say, the damned laudanum — in an effort to calm my nerves and pray forget now the things I saw in the Imperial and above the absinthe house and in that small shed upon Sunrise Island. Whatever such sights might or might not have meant, I know I want no more part of them. I would, rather, believe that I only imagine connextions where none exist. Let that be some other's nightmare, some other's drama, and none at all of mine. Whatever the late and unlamented Alexander Eliot did, whatever he did not do, I only want not to think upon it anymore. Let it be lost. Let it be forgotten. Let that corpse rot away to only bones and dust, and I will struggle not to think upon it ever again.
And as for the new lycanthrope, that is none of my concern, either. I push these things away. I am here, and what has been done has been done — fait accompli.
And then there is Miss Molly Underwood, a young woman from the Row, newly arrived in Babbage. She asked yesterday if ever I have known comfort, true comfort, and I would not lie (though I have lied so many times before). I told her no, I have not. I passed several hours in her company yesterday, and no doubt spoke many things which should have remained unspoken between us, if only so that I would not know that I have drawn another into the web of my madness and, perhaps, if there be more here than mere madness, fixed upon another the blistering, flensing gaze of the one who watches me. It is still there, she is still there, always, at the edges of my perception and waiting in my dreams, hardly even daunted by the laudanum and alcohol. She is still there, always, calling me home. I told Molly Underwood a fairy tale. I told her some dim shade of the truth, what only a lunatic would take for the truth. The sight of Miss Underwood raises inexplicable, conflicting emotions in me, and I feel my strength that much more diminished.
I have not seen Capt. Susenko and Miss Maertens in many days. He has fallen ill and is convalescing, and she is away, traveling. Miss Paine is here with me, and I know that it should soothe the white fire seething behind my eyes to have her so near. But, Father, I feel there is some vast blackness laid between us now, a bitter void, something I would place squarely at the feet of that bastard Lucius Sin.
I have removed the last of my belongs from the flat above Ruby Flanagan's, and we are installed now above the Gallery.
And as for the new lycanthrope, that is none of my concern, either. I push these things away. I am here, and what has been done has been done — fait accompli.
And then there is Miss Molly Underwood, a young woman from the Row, newly arrived in Babbage. She asked yesterday if ever I have known comfort, true comfort, and I would not lie (though I have lied so many times before). I told her no, I have not. I passed several hours in her company yesterday, and no doubt spoke many things which should have remained unspoken between us, if only so that I would not know that I have drawn another into the web of my madness and, perhaps, if there be more here than mere madness, fixed upon another the blistering, flensing gaze of the one who watches me. It is still there, she is still there, always, at the edges of my perception and waiting in my dreams, hardly even daunted by the laudanum and alcohol. She is still there, always, calling me home. I told Molly Underwood a fairy tale. I told her some dim shade of the truth, what only a lunatic would take for the truth. The sight of Miss Underwood raises inexplicable, conflicting emotions in me, and I feel my strength that much more diminished.
I have not seen Capt. Susenko and Miss Maertens in many days. He has fallen ill and is convalescing, and she is away, traveling. Miss Paine is here with me, and I know that it should soothe the white fire seething behind my eyes to have her so near. But, Father, I feel there is some vast blackness laid between us now, a bitter void, something I would place squarely at the feet of that bastard Lucius Sin.
I have removed the last of my belongs from the flat above Ruby Flanagan's, and we are installed now above the Gallery.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Editor's Appendix A: Evidence in the Case of Alexander Eliot
Among the personal effects and papers of Prof. Nishi, I found the following photographs, which must have been taken on 31 July. I will here treat each one in turn, as they have direct bearing on her discovery of Alexander Eliot's corpse and the existence of his device. Also, their visual impact may help the reader to understand why she began drinking again:
Figure 1:
This photograph reveals the corpse of Alexander Loki, the body the orphans of New Babbage referred to as "The Sleeping Man." The location is in the attic of Loki's Absinthe. The scene is much as Prof. Nishi described. I assume this photograph was taken by Artemisia Paine, as Prof. Nishi is plainly visible in the foreground. Also visible here is a spectral image in the glass of the cabinet on the corpse's left, a face, which is not mentioned in the Nishi typescript until several days after her discovery of the dead man.
Figure 2:
Possibly the most horrific of these photographs is this one of graffiti on an interior wall of the Imperial. I have examined these images myself and can attest to their authenticity. Here we see a young boy on his knees, with some monstrous being crouched above him. The boy holds something bloody is his cupped hands. Was this image painted by one of the orphans? Does it depict one of their number making an offering? Note also the symbol that appears above the boy's head: a circle enclosing a triangle, which, in turn, surrounds an open palm bearing an eye. My own tests indicate that much of the reddish pigment, especially that to the right, is human blood.
Figure 3:
Detail of the symbol from Figure 2.
Figure 4:
This image shows writing on the same wall, located above and to the right of the image of the kneeling boy and the monstrous being. I believe this script was placed upon the masonry long before the more gruesome images. Most of it was obliterated by the later graffiti. The quote is from George Washington, and in full would read:
"Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation."
I have placed in bold red those letters and words that may be easily discerned.
Figure 5:
Another grotesque and enigmatic image, which was located to the right (south) of the kneeling boy and the above quotation. The body of a man lies half in view, and half in, half out of a circle. The style here is markedly more realistic than that of the kneeling boy and the creature, and so I conclude it might have been painted by another hand. From Prof. Nishi's notes, I have learned that it put her in mind of the Ouroboros, if one sees the man's right hand as the head of the serpent swallowing its tail. More blood stains are present, as well. The man appears to be sleeping or deceased. Note, also, the peculiar dark shaft which enters or exits the circle's center. In her writings, the Prof. seemed to associate this aspect of the image with the Greek omphalos, or "world navel," and believed it a "symbolic interpretation of Alexander Loki's Porta Terrarum Device." Additionally, she writes: "Omphalos stones were said to allow direct communication with the gods."
Figure 6:
A mural inside the Imperial, located west of the Figs. 2-5, of obvious Masonic origin. I will return to this image in a later appendix.
Figure 7:
In Prof. Nishi's estimation, this was the most important image of these seven. Her notes indicate that it was taken on the nearby island of Sunrise, near Nemo Beach, in a lab that had belonged to Mr. Alexander Loki. Here we see his schematics for the "Porta Terrarum Device," and a list of its three components. The significance of the two images tacked upon the drafting table to the left of the schematic remain a mystery to me. The letter, visible below them, I will treat in Appendix B.
Figure 1:
This photograph reveals the corpse of Alexander Loki, the body the orphans of New Babbage referred to as "The Sleeping Man." The location is in the attic of Loki's Absinthe. The scene is much as Prof. Nishi described. I assume this photograph was taken by Artemisia Paine, as Prof. Nishi is plainly visible in the foreground. Also visible here is a spectral image in the glass of the cabinet on the corpse's left, a face, which is not mentioned in the Nishi typescript until several days after her discovery of the dead man.
Figure 2:
Possibly the most horrific of these photographs is this one of graffiti on an interior wall of the Imperial. I have examined these images myself and can attest to their authenticity. Here we see a young boy on his knees, with some monstrous being crouched above him. The boy holds something bloody is his cupped hands. Was this image painted by one of the orphans? Does it depict one of their number making an offering? Note also the symbol that appears above the boy's head: a circle enclosing a triangle, which, in turn, surrounds an open palm bearing an eye. My own tests indicate that much of the reddish pigment, especially that to the right, is human blood.
Figure 3:
Detail of the symbol from Figure 2.
Figure 4:
This image shows writing on the same wall, located above and to the right of the image of the kneeling boy and the monstrous being. I believe this script was placed upon the masonry long before the more gruesome images. Most of it was obliterated by the later graffiti. The quote is from George Washington, and in full would read:
"Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation."
I have placed in bold red those letters and words that may be easily discerned.
Figure 5:
Another grotesque and enigmatic image, which was located to the right (south) of the kneeling boy and the above quotation. The body of a man lies half in view, and half in, half out of a circle. The style here is markedly more realistic than that of the kneeling boy and the creature, and so I conclude it might have been painted by another hand. From Prof. Nishi's notes, I have learned that it put her in mind of the Ouroboros, if one sees the man's right hand as the head of the serpent swallowing its tail. More blood stains are present, as well. The man appears to be sleeping or deceased. Note, also, the peculiar dark shaft which enters or exits the circle's center. In her writings, the Prof. seemed to associate this aspect of the image with the Greek omphalos, or "world navel," and believed it a "symbolic interpretation of Alexander Loki's Porta Terrarum Device." Additionally, she writes: "Omphalos stones were said to allow direct communication with the gods."
Figure 6:
A mural inside the Imperial, located west of the Figs. 2-5, of obvious Masonic origin. I will return to this image in a later appendix.
Figure 7:
In Prof. Nishi's estimation, this was the most important image of these seven. Her notes indicate that it was taken on the nearby island of Sunrise, near Nemo Beach, in a lab that had belonged to Mr. Alexander Loki. Here we see his schematics for the "Porta Terrarum Device," and a list of its three components. The significance of the two images tacked upon the drafting table to the left of the schematic remain a mystery to me. The letter, visible below them, I will treat in Appendix B.
A Visitor in the Night
The orphans spoke true. There is a second werewolf, and it roams the streets of New Babbage. Last night, from my attic workshop above the Gallery, I heard a horrific sort of growl or roar. Looking outside, I saw the creature, standing upright before the Museum doors. I pursued it, with the aid of Miss Paine, but it eluded us. It was also seen by Miss Molly Underwood of the Canal District, who seemed quite shaken by her experience. I have taken steps to insure that Miss Paine will not ever be in Babbage after sunset. I will not risk her a second time. And, by god, I know the beast's human name — Jason Moriarty.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
The Sleeping Man
Have I become that species of lunatic who believes herself the center of creation, and so all matters — fortuitous or grim — must perforce exist in direct relation to me? I have read a book I found in Caledon, Lehrbuch der Psychiatrie, by a Dr. Emil Kraepelin. I will not dwell on the inexplicable fact of it's being here, in this world, or its publication in the year 1893 — six years after my departure from Providence a scant two months ago. In this book, Dr. Kraepelin, an alienist, describes a degenerative mental condition that he labels dementia paranoides. I fear the diagnosis might well be applied to the woman I have become.
And, I will mention, in the interest of avoiding lies of omission, that I have begun drinking again. I have not yet gone back to the laudanum, though.
There is a corpse in the attic of Loki Absinthe. Last night, Miss Paine and I came upon it after we discovered a makeshift bridge of planks connecting the Imperial, where the orphans live, with the absinthe house. But already I have gotten ahead of myself.
Why am I even bothering to write these things down? Who will ever read them?
Late in the afternoon, Miss Paine and I were standing near the western canal, by Ginsberg's Dept. Store, when we noticed one of the street urchins exiting the front of the Imperial. He approached us, and I expected no more than another request for monies from a hungry child. But then I noticed that he wore a heavy rucksack upon his shoulders. We spoke briefly, and during our talk he did not once ask for coin. However, he said that his name was Victor Wunderlich — known to friends as "Wunder" — and he was leaving New Babbage for Caledon, and that there was a "monster," a "wolfman," prowling Babbage that had the orphans afraid to go about by night. I gave him a few bills, as did Miss Paine, and he left us wondering if the nightmare of Lucius Sin was about to be revisited upon us. Miss Paine, understandably, grew taciturn and frightened.
So it was that later, after sunset, we searched the streets of the town together for any evidence of this wolfman. In time, we made our way to the attic of the Imperial, and from there to the attic of the absinthe house, and it was here we discovered the body of a man slumped over a drafting table. A dagger protruded from out his back, and there was great quantity of dried blood all about, including bloody handprints. There were also three pages in longhand, one of which was afixed to the man's back with the dagger. I have seen dead men before, and have studied human anatomy at University. But coming upon this body, and the foul stink of rot that pervaded the attic, it was not the same as looking upon the corpse on the dissection table, or even the broken body of my father. I rushed up a set of stairs onto the roof, fearing I would be ill. Fortunately, Miss Paine had the presence of mind to examine closely the papers, which had been written by a Mr. Alexander Eliot, a scientist of some sort, and presumably the dead man.
What dark secrets were hinted in these pages...it is hopeless to try to explain it all now. But they led us to other secrets and other papers, and evidence that Mr. Eliot, Mr. Alexander Eliot, who I take to have been Loki Eliot's grandfather, carried out extensive and terrible experiments. And that he built some device which I have seen referred to in his notes as the "Porta Terrarum Device." This mechanism, composed of three elements — the "Babbage Mark 6," a "sprogmagnatic" ball, and a stabilizer — was ultimately responsible for some catacylsm. Thereafter, Mr. Eliot had it broken into three parts and, according to the evidence we have seen, one of those parts was sent away from New Babbage to Caledon, where it would be delivered to a "contact," in the care of one of the orphans, referred to as "Ally Wunder" in the writings of the dead man. Also, Eliot names his murderers as members of a certain Vangreed Society, who had come for the component of his invention.
In his writings, Alexander Eliot bemoans the damage done by his contraption, and states that he fears by his experimentations that a hole has been torn open in space and time! I quote: "After studying the data collected from the failed experiment I feel we may have caused something so catastrophic to perhaps tear our world apart." A few lines later, "Instruments reveal a lasting residue of the energy created by the device. This I fear could in fact be a scare [?scar] in time and space and is our doing." When did this event occur? Surely not long distant, as Loki Eliot is still a boy. Could this "scare" have been the signal that waylaid my father's time cabinet from its course? How am I to conclude otherwise?
Also, I know that Loki Eliot was given the second component, the "sprogmagnatic" ball, for safekeeping. And the orphans refer to the body as "the sleeping man," and seem ignorant of the fact that it is a corpse, which seems patently absurd, that these streetwise children do not know death when they look upon it!
I must speak with Captain Susenko as soon as I may. Is it possible that I have at least uncovered the cause of my arrival here, or do I suffer from Kraepelin's dementia paranoides? And is it possible that the experimentation of Alexander Eliot upon certain of the orphans of New Babbage (an act mentioned in his writing), has spawned a second lycanthrope, as he seems to have feared? I feel now as though so many of these horrors can be shown to lie one against the other, interconnected, as I have feared all along. More I will not now say, except that I have learned that Miss Paine has cabled Bellatrix Bracken in Steelhead and that even now she is bound for New Babbage. I understand Miss Paine's connextion to this metaphysician, who effected her resurrection when I failed, but it makes me no happier to learn that soon she shall be among us once again.
And, I will mention, in the interest of avoiding lies of omission, that I have begun drinking again. I have not yet gone back to the laudanum, though.
There is a corpse in the attic of Loki Absinthe. Last night, Miss Paine and I came upon it after we discovered a makeshift bridge of planks connecting the Imperial, where the orphans live, with the absinthe house. But already I have gotten ahead of myself.
Why am I even bothering to write these things down? Who will ever read them?
Late in the afternoon, Miss Paine and I were standing near the western canal, by Ginsberg's Dept. Store, when we noticed one of the street urchins exiting the front of the Imperial. He approached us, and I expected no more than another request for monies from a hungry child. But then I noticed that he wore a heavy rucksack upon his shoulders. We spoke briefly, and during our talk he did not once ask for coin. However, he said that his name was Victor Wunderlich — known to friends as "Wunder" — and he was leaving New Babbage for Caledon, and that there was a "monster," a "wolfman," prowling Babbage that had the orphans afraid to go about by night. I gave him a few bills, as did Miss Paine, and he left us wondering if the nightmare of Lucius Sin was about to be revisited upon us. Miss Paine, understandably, grew taciturn and frightened.
So it was that later, after sunset, we searched the streets of the town together for any evidence of this wolfman. In time, we made our way to the attic of the Imperial, and from there to the attic of the absinthe house, and it was here we discovered the body of a man slumped over a drafting table. A dagger protruded from out his back, and there was great quantity of dried blood all about, including bloody handprints. There were also three pages in longhand, one of which was afixed to the man's back with the dagger. I have seen dead men before, and have studied human anatomy at University. But coming upon this body, and the foul stink of rot that pervaded the attic, it was not the same as looking upon the corpse on the dissection table, or even the broken body of my father. I rushed up a set of stairs onto the roof, fearing I would be ill. Fortunately, Miss Paine had the presence of mind to examine closely the papers, which had been written by a Mr. Alexander Eliot, a scientist of some sort, and presumably the dead man.
What dark secrets were hinted in these pages...it is hopeless to try to explain it all now. But they led us to other secrets and other papers, and evidence that Mr. Eliot, Mr. Alexander Eliot, who I take to have been Loki Eliot's grandfather, carried out extensive and terrible experiments. And that he built some device which I have seen referred to in his notes as the "Porta Terrarum Device." This mechanism, composed of three elements — the "Babbage Mark 6," a "sprogmagnatic" ball, and a stabilizer — was ultimately responsible for some catacylsm. Thereafter, Mr. Eliot had it broken into three parts and, according to the evidence we have seen, one of those parts was sent away from New Babbage to Caledon, where it would be delivered to a "contact," in the care of one of the orphans, referred to as "Ally Wunder" in the writings of the dead man. Also, Eliot names his murderers as members of a certain Vangreed Society, who had come for the component of his invention.
In his writings, Alexander Eliot bemoans the damage done by his contraption, and states that he fears by his experimentations that a hole has been torn open in space and time! I quote: "After studying the data collected from the failed experiment I feel we may have caused something so catastrophic to perhaps tear our world apart." A few lines later, "Instruments reveal a lasting residue of the energy created by the device. This I fear could in fact be a scare [?scar] in time and space and is our doing." When did this event occur? Surely not long distant, as Loki Eliot is still a boy. Could this "scare" have been the signal that waylaid my father's time cabinet from its course? How am I to conclude otherwise?
Also, I know that Loki Eliot was given the second component, the "sprogmagnatic" ball, for safekeeping. And the orphans refer to the body as "the sleeping man," and seem ignorant of the fact that it is a corpse, which seems patently absurd, that these streetwise children do not know death when they look upon it!
I must speak with Captain Susenko as soon as I may. Is it possible that I have at least uncovered the cause of my arrival here, or do I suffer from Kraepelin's dementia paranoides? And is it possible that the experimentation of Alexander Eliot upon certain of the orphans of New Babbage (an act mentioned in his writing), has spawned a second lycanthrope, as he seems to have feared? I feel now as though so many of these horrors can be shown to lie one against the other, interconnected, as I have feared all along. More I will not now say, except that I have learned that Miss Paine has cabled Bellatrix Bracken in Steelhead and that even now she is bound for New Babbage. I understand Miss Paine's connextion to this metaphysician, who effected her resurrection when I failed, but it makes me no happier to learn that soon she shall be among us once again.
Editor's Note 2
Sometime after midnight on the night of 1 August, Dr. Nishi dispatched the following note to Captain Leon Susenko of the New Babbage Canal district:
"Captain, this evening I have made very strange discoveries in New Babbage, which have led me to an island. Too much to explain now. But I think I know how my Father's cabinet was pulled off course. Does the name Alexander Eliott [sic] mean anything? I have spoken with one of the steamkids and he reports sightings of a were in New Babbage. They are afraid to leave the Imperial but by daylight. Pieces are fitting together. I know I should not try to write when I am so...please, when you may, contact me. I feel I may be near the crux of this thing."
Considering the entries to Dr. Nishi's typescript journal that follow this peculiar message, it seems most likely that she wrote this immediately after having discovered, with Artemisia Paine, the body of Alexander Eliot in the attic of Loki Absinthe (Loki Eliot, proprietor). This would have been the evening after she "chanced" to speak with the orphan Victor Wunderlich ("Wunder") outside the old Imperial theatre, as he was leaving New Babbage for Caledon. It was Victor Wunderlich, during this encounter, who first spoke to her of a "monster," a "werewolf" in New Babbage, and set her and Miss Paine on the trail that led them to the body of A. Eliott, and then to the Imperial, and finally to Nemo Beach. I believe this is the same night that Dr. Nishi resumed her drinking, though she might have remained sober until the following day. I was away from Caledon at the time, investigating a case in Steelhead, but I booked passage to New Babbage as soon as Miss Paine contacted me regarding these ominous developments and Dr. Nishi's increasingly erratic behaviour.
——— Bellatrix S. Bracken
"Captain, this evening I have made very strange discoveries in New Babbage, which have led me to an island. Too much to explain now. But I think I know how my Father's cabinet was pulled off course. Does the name Alexander Eliott [sic] mean anything? I have spoken with one of the steamkids and he reports sightings of a were in New Babbage. They are afraid to leave the Imperial but by daylight. Pieces are fitting together. I know I should not try to write when I am so...please, when you may, contact me. I feel I may be near the crux of this thing."
Considering the entries to Dr. Nishi's typescript journal that follow this peculiar message, it seems most likely that she wrote this immediately after having discovered, with Artemisia Paine, the body of Alexander Eliot in the attic of Loki Absinthe (Loki Eliot, proprietor). This would have been the evening after she "chanced" to speak with the orphan Victor Wunderlich ("Wunder") outside the old Imperial theatre, as he was leaving New Babbage for Caledon. It was Victor Wunderlich, during this encounter, who first spoke to her of a "monster," a "werewolf" in New Babbage, and set her and Miss Paine on the trail that led them to the body of A. Eliott, and then to the Imperial, and finally to Nemo Beach. I believe this is the same night that Dr. Nishi resumed her drinking, though she might have remained sober until the following day. I was away from Caledon at the time, investigating a case in Steelhead, but I booked passage to New Babbage as soon as Miss Paine contacted me regarding these ominous developments and Dr. Nishi's increasingly erratic behaviour.
——— Bellatrix S. Bracken
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