exhibition hall 13

8/8/2019 Exhibition Hall 13

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I thought the cover and

its artist deserved a few wordsof appreciation, and that theeditors ofExhibtion Hallcould beimposed upon to publish them.

Although I take full credit(or blame) for the Photoshopcolouring, the artist who drew

Modern Times was Joshua W.Kennedy. Josh is a furry artist

with a love/hate relationshipto the subject, who lives asomewhat hermit-like existencein Virginia. I think I may be oneof the few people in fandom

any fandom to have methim. Weve been friendly for agreat many years, and have been

frequent parnters in art-crime.A couple of years ago,Josh was going to have a comicbook published. Unfortunately,monopolistic practises of theonly major distributor of comicsput an end to that foolishness.Worse, the publisher hadalready persuaded me to write

a glowing introduction whichwould subsequently never be

used.Josh has a thing about my

his narrative for its expression

and bounces right along.When I came to the page

223 of Zandars Saga I foundthe medieval heroine had beenkidnapped from her Poe-ian self-immolation in a wall, stuffed intougly and uncomfortable Victorian

garb, and nally whisked awayinto a steampunk city that she

never imagined could ever existWhat else could she say, butEela! which is some sort ofpseudo Anglo-Saxon for HolyShit. Or possibly a misspellingof Eilah which is a misspellingof pseudo-French that I originallyborrowed from Walt Kelly.

From the moment saw page 223, I knew it hadto be coloured. Josh does fewbeauty shots like this one, andonly rarely colours anything, soI took it upon myself to do thehonours. I knew how it had tobe done, almost down to the lastsooty brick. What I didnt know

was how long it would take. Bysticking by it, doing a little more

work every few days, I eventuallysurprised myself by nishing.

skunk characters. Also my deer characters. And oneor two other things over the years that he found tooirresistable to leave where he found them. For a whileit was enough to simply draw pages and pages and

pages of skunks in lascivious poses, crediting them asinspired by Taral Wayne. Then, Josh went far beyondthat by inventing his own cartoon character, Zandar.She was a walk-on character in his own work at rst.Next, the star in a couple of short stories. Then,

without warning, Josh began an epic saga about Zandarthat has run for around 250 pages, so far, and showsno sign of ending as long as he can nd patrons. He isbecoming the Charles Dickens of furry fandom.

I like Joshs story-telling. Okay the plotsometime bogs down a bit while Zandar is put throughher sexual paces. Wild, unrestrained, energetic sex.This tedium rarely lasts more than three or four pages.Often less, thankfully. Then its back to mirth, magic,tragedy and mayhem the good stuff. His art matches

Myself, Im not partial to steampunk. I cantake it or leave it. Given the Victorian architectureand costumes, though, a steampunk fanzine seemed tobe the natural place to submit the art. That gave me

two alternatives Exhibition HallorJourney Planet. Bysome arrangement I remain happily ignorant of, bothzines have more or less the same editors, and theysuggested Exhibition Hall. It was a fairly simple matterin Photoshop to expand the speech balloon to make it

large enough for the longer title. And there you have itthe story behind this issues cover. Dont you wish youhad skipped right to the editorial?

And, when you have read the rest of this issue

you might consider reading Zandars Saga from thebeginning. Including, of course, this cover in its originablack and white glory.

The beginning http://www.furafnity.net/view/933764 Page 223 http://www.furafnity.net/view/3889786/
http://www.furaffinity.net/view/933764http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3889786/http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3889786/http://www.furaffinity.net/view/933764


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vox-haul & i

this issues artcover - joshua w. kennedy coloured by taral wayne, page 1 - joshua w. kennedy

page 2, brad w. foster, page 3 by ajasin (ajasin.deviantart.com)page 8 photos from diana vick, page 11-14 by ariane wolfe, page 14-15 by mark an-

derson. pages 16 to 19 steampunk and works-in-progress by katie karcher(http://inked-phoenix.deviantart.com/) .

his excellency - lloyd penney!Dear Chris, James & Ariane:

Its another Exhibition Hall, and many thanks.Issue 12 looks great, but are they getting smaller witheach issue? Dont mind me, not supposed to noticethese things Comments follow this very paragraph.

Yes, they are shrinking, though Id originally hopedthe zine would only be a 10 or 12 page thing, so its

getting back to where I rst saw it!

Steampunk: The Musical! Bring it on! This kindof video could go viral, and thats just conventions, nev-er mind YouTube. Chris, what would you know aboutGeorge Formby? Youre far too young for that, unless

James put you wise. Next, youll be talking about Lon-nie Donegan and skife.

I found a Facebook page called SteampunkConventions, and the fellow running it, also called

Steampunk Conventions, is trying to nd them all,much like a Pokmon tournament. I dont know howmany people here are going to Dragon*Con for thesteampunk programming, and the same goes for theMichigan and New Jersey sequel conventions.

My locthe Yipe! editorial team nally got areminder sign-up on their website, so I wont fall be-hind again, at least not as much as I have. Gotta keep

Jason Schachat hopping and wondering. Yet anothersteampunk fashion show is happening in Toronto, and

this time, its at Fan eXpo, the big gateshow-conventionbehind held at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre,where Torcon 3 was held. We are taking part in theshow, 10pm Saturday night, and we may be on stage forless than half an hour. Still, could be a lot of fun.I fyou get any photos, send em our way!

Lisa Smedman is from the Vancouver area, and

was connected with BCSFA for many years. A little Ca-nadian history mixed with steampunk should make fora very Victorian adventure. Add this to the enormouslist of steampunk novelsso many to keep up with.

Im actually interested to see what else shes writ-ten.

Wrestling? At least in the 19th and early 20thcentury, wrestlers were true athletes, and there were

no hints of drama or choreography, or anything soap-

opera-ish. Sure, there were a few ringers, all done tomake some extra cash. Ive never been to Battle CreekMichigan to see the Kellogg Sanatorium, but the wholereason behind breakfast cereal was to decrease the sexdrive and keep people quiet and sane.Well, they were athletes, but anyone who says thattodays guys arent has never been elbow-droppedthrough a table.

Nothing more, I thinkFuturecon should be a

good time at New Years, and SFContario in Novemberboth new events locally. And, I can hardly wait for theCanadian National Steampunk Exhibition in the springMany thanks, folks, see you next time.

Yours, Lloyd Penney.Always good to hear from you!

And wed like ot hear from [email protected]


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clementine by cheri priest

I didnt get why Boneshaker was nominated forthe Hugo. I liked it, though it pretty much fell apart forme towards the end. I would have rather seen Soulless

or Leviathan on the ballot, but its not like its a disgracethat it ended up there. Still, I dont think it would have

deserved to have won.You see, Cheris follow-up to Boneshaker was

more straight-ahead than Boneshaker, which may seemlike a bad thing. The Walled Seattle was a great world, apowerful setting that made the story. If theres anythingyou can say about Boneshaker, its that its an amazing

construction. Clementine takes place along a path,mostly in airships or in hotel conversations and attacks.Theres a ton of action, every bit of it spectacular. Priestunderstands how to write a chase, a brawl, a dog-ght,a gun ght. Of all the authors who write action-y

steampunk, Cheri is the nest practitioner.

Clementine makes it to its destination. They eventuallycollide, and they end up in an uneasy alliance traveling

to the show-down. Its very simple, but every stepalong the way is action-packed.

The characters are actually much more

entertaining and less annoying than those in BoneshakerWhile Captain Hainey is the star, Maria, the Pinkertonwoman, is the one who is most drawn. She is not alooker, but shes got a hot body, or so were led tobelieve. Shes a former Confederate spy who went onto become an actress now gone to Pinkertons. Shes

famous, in more elds than one, and shes presentedas a dangerous woman. Its a good character, and everytime I expected things to fall apart for her, she comesup big. Shes a great character, sometimes using herfeminine wiles to get out of jams, sometimes relying on

cold steel. Shes a much stronger and more entertaining

reviewed by chris garcia

Oh, and shesgreat with airships.

Here, she getsto play around withdifferent kinds of airships,and thats a good thing as

shes so good at it. Shemakes you understandeach one as a type, a

form. Too often airshipshas this unity of visionthat makes it seems liketheyre punched out withcookie cutters, but Priest

gets it and shows us thevariations.` The story is ofa trio of escaped slaveswho are trying to get theairship they stole fair-and-

square, rechristened theClementine, and a femalePinkerton operative on

her rst assignment. Theygo forth on completelyseparate paths: the menin another stolen airshipand the lady makingher way from Chicagoto make sure that the

character than Briar fromBoneshaker. She alsoproves invaluable to the

airship.Captain Hainey

is also really a powerfucharacter because hesCapt. Ahab, only blackand obsessed with his

stolen airship instead ofa white whale. Its fun the

way he goes about thingshes straight forwardand he ghts hard andhe has vision. Hes thekind of resourceful andintelligent character thatyou want to be headingup every novel. I reallyliked him.

The others aresuitably talented and putupon in equal measuresThe crew of the airshipis ne, the guy who stoleHaineys airship is almostabsent, which is sad astheres a story to be told

there. The way Cherwrites the Pinkertons


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all the villains being onerace, theres something that

jumps out at me. This wasnot as much of a problem

in Boneshaker (though I doknow of at least one otherreviewer who made the

point), it stood out here.The one otherproblem I had wasexactly how helpful everyencountered individual was

to our heroes. They runinto someone and it endsup that they either haveimportant info or theyretotally into their cause. Itmakes it a little too easy,

much like the ending ofThe Apparition Trail, butagain, its the exceptional

action and the way Cheriwrites it that makes it anentertaining novel. I wasgripped and just had tokeep reading and reading tomake it to the end. So verygood.

This doesnt feel like

a sequel to Boneshaker, andits not. It also doesnt feellike a book in an endlessseries, though thats exactlywhat it is. It has a beginningand an end, and thatssomething a lot of booksin a single Universe donthave. You could drop in on

Clementine and it wont

be a difculty at all to attach to it. Theyre two very

different stories: one a straight ahead adventure andthe other a serious horror sci- story. I have a well-known bias against open-ended series, and this doesntfeel like one. I love that feeling.

I can give my highest recommendation toClementine to anyone who enjoys steampunkadventures. Its my favorite steampunk novel so far

this year and now I cant wait for Dreadnaught, thenext stop in the Clockwork Century!

may be ht erst time a writer has actually managed

to make the Pinkertons not so much of a villainousband of bastards. Missing is the rag-tag band of miststhat inhabited Walled Seattle and provided so muchentertainment. Here, the chases, the airship battles andthe ghts have to settle the bill and they do just that.

If theres one problem I have with the characters,its the Evil White Guy Syndrome. Priest gives us a

variety of characters of the Caucasian persuasion andonly one seems at all decent. All of the villains are white

dudes, which isnt a terrible thing, but anytime you have


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arrowsmith; so fine in their smart uniformswritten by kurt busiek and pencils by carlos pacheco

reviewed by james bacon: london bureau chief

160pp pb 9.99 DC Comics(Wildstorm)

Our eponymous heroFletcher Arrowsmith lives in awonderful fantasy world but ina far off land darkness has fallen.He is a blacksmiths son in theUnited States of Columbia, livingin Herbetsville on the great lakes.He encounters a display by therecruiting Overseas Air corps

in 1915 a volunteer force andFletcher becomes infected withthe desire to do something tohelp those in war torn Europe

as his own nation is neutral. Hisneighbour, Rocky a rock troll whohad seen rsthand the horrors ofwar and had come to the United

States to escape it all, but Fletcheris idealistic and strong headed in ayouthful way and has a polarised

create weapons of considerable

destruction and one can seemany parallel drawn with themore sinister aspects of war andFletcher upon his involvementin a heroic atrocity has causefor much reection which is nothelped by an encounter with bothGrace and his neighbour Rockywho are cut off as a result of the

counter attack driven motivatedby his actions.With many intelligent war storiesthe futility of war is prevalent inthis comic as are the bonds that

young people make that can beso easily broken by our mortafrailty. Creatures, deadly sprites

to powerful Dragons mountingartillery are no mere additionthey are intrinsic to this worldwhere Gallia and Albion ght

view from the safety of his small comfortable town.

We follow Fletcher as he and his best friend jump a night goods train and they leave to join thecorps. In New York they do not learn how to y

magnicent machines, rather, they are provided withOrichalc a mined mineral that holds a spell thattransfers the power of ight from a Dragonet to theairman. Thus airmen y, and learn how to duel withboth sword and ballistic weapons. Each airman hasa special bond with his Dragonet and they wear the

sheded skin from dragonets mother as puttees. NewYork is a true melting pot and we nd every type ofmythical and magical creature working, doing businessin this city, interestingly the different creatures have the

accents of the nations of their myths. Fletcher meetsthe beautiful Grace who he infects with the desire toact, and she ends up joining the volunteer ambulancecorps.

Soon enough Fletcher and his friends are inthe mire that is the western front and much bloodand tears are shed in his rst taste of battle with theairborne men of Prussia. Battles are won and lostwith the assistance of wizardry, magic and creaturesmythical that exist in this alternative historical visionof the world at the time of The Great War. Wizards

against the central powers of Bavaria, Prussia and

Tyrolia-Hungry. The device of letter writing helps toadd to the narrative.

I cannot describe how much I really loved this

comic. I grew up on the weekly comic Battle and PatMillss seminal ongoing series Charlies Warwas a rmfavourite and in recent times, I have enjoyed NaomNoviks alternative world with dragons ghting in theNapoleonic era. This comic originally published in 2003mixes magic and mysticism into an alternate history in

the right doses and with beautiful visuals and somehowis both a brilliant war and fantasy comic a hard mix.

The artwork by Carlso Pacheco is very niceindeed and he had a hand in the creation of the tale

but it is his ability to create realistic visuals that back upa fantastic story that is the real winner here. Its all verywell being a good artist, but the subliminal accuracy andattention to detail that allows a fuller submersion into

this alternative yet very realistic feeling world that is itsreal strength.

This series collected is one of the mostunderrated and missed fantasy comic alternativehistories and one that is worth seeking out.


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my recent acquisitions:nevermore & scarlet traces

by james bacon: london bureau chief

Nevermore is a graphic adaption of nine ofEdgar Allan Poes short stories, the title taken from

his story The Raven, which is also adapted in this ne

collection. This is a ne selection from the publichinghouse of Self Made Hero, who have been producingthe Manga Shakespere line of graphic novels. There is amixture of talent in this collection, from Jamie Delanoto Leah Moore and John Reppion. The Murders in the

Rue Morgue is nicely adapted in a futuristic Victorianstyled setting by Ian Edginton and dIsraeli. Alice Dukesartwork on the Tell Tale Heartand Natalie Sandals work

on the Oval Portraitare both very worthy of mention.These are adaptions and some of the writers have hadtheir own take on the stories, while still encompassingthe terrifying and intriguing imagination that was Poe.One hopes more such works may bring works of wellknown horror writers to new audiences while still

managing to do justice to the original work which thiscollection succeeds at doing.

From Ian Edington and DIsraeli we have an

adaption ofWar of the Worlds produced by the Americanpublisher Dark Horse Comics, ok not a local publisherbut this comic feels locally and lovingly produced. Thisgraphic Novel is nicely presented in hard back form isthe rst of a trilogy. The pair had envisaged a sequeto War of the Worlds and produced Scarlet Traces whichlooks at the aftermath of the world following thefailure of the Martian invasion, but of course to the

winners are the spoils of war and technology takes aninteresting direction. This adaption which I suppose isScarlet Traces Zero, is very emphatic to the originawork and is a really beautiful adaption. The wholeseries is well worth looking at.


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steamcon 2: a preview

by diana vick

Last year Steamcon, held in October in SeattleWA, was a smashing success, generously exceedingattendance expectations. This years show should betwice as good. We have added a lot of conferencespace to accommodate an even larger crowd. Our

vendors space will be twice as large as last year as will

be our art exhibition. The Games department will havetwo rooms to play in as well as a large panel room.Shane Hensley, the creator of Deadlands will

join us to run games and talk about them. Our authorguest of honor, James Blaylock, one of the fathers ofsteampunk, will be on hand to entertain and edify.

Jake Von Slatt, one of the most popular makers in the

steampunk community will talk about his creations, hismethods and his sartorial style. Our favorite airshippirates, Abney Park return to perform on a largerstage along with the hellbilly rockers, Ghoultown and

the local musicians of Bakelite 78. The award winningauthor, Cherie Priest will be there to talk about herrunaway best seller, Boneshaker. There will be a newaddition to our convention called Authors Rowwhere you can talk to up and coming steampunkauthors about their creations and pick up a copy

Artists Alley will give artisans a chance to showoff their creativity as well. The Foglios of Girl Geniusfame, return to perform one of their wonderful radio

plays. Also returning will be Mr Bodewells Cabaretwith extended hours, more performers and evenburlesque. Our very popular tea party and fashionshow will add an extra show to Sunday to give morefolks a chance to attend. On Friday night we are verypleased to announce the addition of the Airship AwardsBanquet to honor the most outstanding talents in the

steampunk community. Also new for this year are theRiverboat Gambler Night, the Pearl de Verre Cotillionand the Artful Bodgers Gizmos and Gadgets Show.

The theme for this years con is the weirdweird west, and is meant as an addition not areplacement to our beloved steampunk format. Wewanted to remind everyone that steampunk doesnthave to be set in London. Some of the best examplesof steampunk come from the American west; TheWild Wild West television show and the movie , the

third Back to the Future movie, and the little known

television show Legend are steampunk stories at theirbest. So put on your brass spurs, holster your aethericsixshooters and head on out west to the rip roaringestlittle steampunk con ever! Check out our website atwww.steamcon.org.
http://www.ste/http://www.ste/


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old-timey bats and balls The 19th Century was where modern sportingdeveloped. Ive said it before, Ill say it again. Whilemany sports had long-standing traditions of local play

for various games, it was the invention of the railroadnetworks and how much easier travel became thatreally made competitive sporting possible. Most, if not

all, of the major sporting teams rose out of cities thatwere on major ports or railroad terminuses. WhileSoccer and various forms of football rose quickly(and thats the next article), it was bat and ball gamesthat really exploded and changed the way sports wasplayed.

Lets start with Cricket. Cricket has beenaround in one form or another since at least the 16thCenutry. There are lots of references to games likeCricket much earlier, but the rst reference that used

the name Cricket (well, Creckett) is in 1595 or so.What was being played was country cricket, and laterthere developed a form called village cricket, whichbecame the popular form for wagering on.

The 19th Century saw the rise of the CricketClubs. Many of these are still around, and they startedplaying touring matches. The rst international cricketmatch was actually between the US and Canada at St.Georges Cricket Grounds, the major Cricket clubof New York at the time. The year was 1844, and itwould be 15 years before the rst English International

matches against the Americans. The English toureda lot, as did the Australians, who had been a very

powerful nation in Cricket for years. In 1868, a groupof Australian Aborigines toured England, making themthe rst Australian team to tour outside of Australiasia(they had toured New Zealand previously). This wasthe start of International Cricket, a sport with massivefollowings around the world. Australia and Englandplayed a lot of matches against each other, includinga very famous match at The Oval, which led to the

regular event called The Ashes, which is still playedtoday. International Test play was pretty much betweenAustralia and England, though South Africa joined in onTest play in 1889.

Every sport needs a superstar to turn it intosomething huge. In wrestling, it was Muldoon and Burns(see issue 12 of Exhibition Hall) and for boxing it was

John L. Sullivan and Jack Dempsey. For Cricket, it wasW.G. Grace. William Gilbert Grace was an amazing

batsman, probably the best batter from his start in1865 until his retirement around 1898. The rules for

international play werent solidied until after his eraand they were partly codied with help from GraceHe was a massive man of heavy frame and that madehim the Babe Ruth of his era. The period between1890, when Grace was no longer the greatest player

in the world, but was still productive, and the start o

the rst World War is often thought of as the GoldenAge of Cricket. There were a number of the legendarynames playing at that point and it was thew period thatsolidied it as Englands top sport.

Baseball is much like America English: acomplete bastardization. The game known as roundershad been played since Tudor times. There was also a

version called Town-Ball, and a German game calledSchlagball, which was very similar to Town-Ball. All thiswas happening in the early part of the 19th Century, andby 1840, a lot of groups had started playing Base BallThe rules were very much as those of us who currentlyenjoy the game. This is the version of the game thatcatches on with clubs like the Knickerbocker Base BalClub. The rules are pretty exible until the 1880s, butafter that, things get more standardized and the rise of

teams like the Gothams, The Philadelphia Quakers, TheBuffalo Bisons and the Red Leggings.

The rise of organized teams and leagues led toBase Ball becoming the national pastime. The leadinggures in the game of the 19th Century are still well-

by chris garcia


11/20

known, as Baseball has always been one of the few

sports to takes its history seriously. Names like TrisSpeaker, Cap Ansen and Nap Lajoie were huge stars,and players from the period of 1900 and 1915 are oftenseen as the Golden Age of Baseball. Ty Cobb, ChristyMathewson, Connie Mack, John McGraw and Cy Youngare still huge names and they were all active in thatera.

One thing that has started to peak up in the USis Vintage Baseball. This is likely the kind that would be

of most interest to the Exhibition Hall readership. Itsthe combination of costuming, sporting and historicalre-creation. Basically, groups try to re-create the BaseBall of times gone by. Most try to bring back the kindof baseball played in 1845 (by the Knickerbocker BaseBall Club), 1890 or as late as 1920. These groups wearappropriate outts for the day and play the establishedrules of the time. There are dozens of clubs around

the country that play Vintage Base Ball, including onein Auburn up in the Gold Country. Ive often thoughtabout going out and playing with the guys, but alas, as anon-costumer, Id probably have a hard time.

Ive not seen any groups that play VintageCricket, but theres something we might wanna thinkabout for a future Steampunk convention. If theresone thing thats missing from Steampunk Fandom, itsphysical culture!


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dressing the part

by ariane wolfe: fashion editor

Steampunk Attire From West to East!

I am almost nished with a new coat, a thriftshop nd that Ive been modding for Nova AlbionsWild, Wild East Exhibition in March. Moving awayfrom a Euro-centric aesthetic has been an interesting

stretch for me - theres a huge eld of possibilities and

interpretations that could t the theme, and Im havinga lot of fun deciding what I want to wear and how bestto present it. Ill show you the coat and talk about itin a minute. The bigger part of this months Dressingthe Part is that I want to see what YOU will create forthat same theme - and Nova Albion is willing to put upsome comped passes to the Steampunk Exhibition, to

nd out!

The prizes

Runners Up (2 winners): Two comp tickets to NovaAlbions Wild, Wild East and your outt mentionedand displayed in Exhibition Hall and on the SteampunkExhibition site

Grand Prize: Two comp tickets to Nova Albion, yourwinning outt featured in Exhibition Hall, a full blog

post on the Steampunk Exhibition website... and aspot as a Guest Judge for the Exhibitions Friday nightCostume Competition!

Some guidelines

Your creation does have to be clothing with orwithout accessories, that can be worn - not sketches,drawings or digital art depicting an outt. Concept

art is always welcome, particularly as part of yourdocumentation and we will be happy to post it if welike it but it will not be considered your contestentry

Your submission can be a special article of clothing, acouple of pieces that go together or a full outt. Thegoal is to showcase what you feel best epitomizesand represents an Eastern Steampunk aesthetic or

attire appropriate for a day (or night) in the Wild,Wild East

Area of origin depicted can be anywhere consideredThe East (near, far or middle East) during theVictorian era

How to submit...

Send photos, a description of what youvecreated, how you went about it (the more detail, the

better), why you feel it represents the theme and

anything else you think we need to know, to me at: [email protected] with Ex Hall CostumeCreation Contest in the subject line

Your creation can be completely hand-madealtered vintage, modded thrift shop wear or even newand modern stuff youve repurposed so long as YOU

(or people you name with you) did the work on it Be sure to include your full name and contact

information, the title of your submission, and whatmaterials were used

We will accept submissions through, hmmOctober 15th, to give you time to put somethingtogether

SoI found this jacket at a thrift shop in Berkeley a

while back.

I tend to grab things that look like theyll beuseful or t a theme or character I know Ill be puttingtogether, and sock them away until theyre time arrivesWhen I saw this, I knew I wanted to make somethingSteampunk out of it, but I didnt really get the visionfor it until a few weeks ago. It was also several sizestoo big which I gured was easier than too small, butwould still take a bit of alteration. The rst thing I did

was to cut off the sleeves
mailto:[email protected]:[email protected]:[email protected]:[email protected]


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I laid them out side by side, and decided that,with a little creative coaxing, they would make excellentcoat tails!

So I set to work. I used a leather piece from

a pair of old braces (suspenders) that I had, and acouple of brass buttons, and stitched them so it wouldlook like the tails were buttoned on and removable. Iactually did toy with making that a functional feature,but it proved a bit too unstable, so I kept the look andstitched them down

I had some wispy tuling, and tied them stitchedit into a bustle of sorts. Its not done yet, but by putting

elastic loops up on the top edge, I will be able to attachthe bustle to the brass buttons or not, depending uponmy mood and the occasion.


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I found a shirt, also at a thrift shop - a hippie-

gypsy-ish piece with a few ill-placed sequins andsparkle cloth, that I felt nevertheless had one veryusable element - the collar.

I separated it out from the rest of the shirt

(which close up, was really not half so nice as itseems), and plan to place or stitch it over the collarof the coat. I am also putting hat wire inside the collaritself, so that it can stand or be shaped. Oh! I almostforgot the amazing upholstery fringe I found! Onenever can have too many tassels!

To pare down the coat but a few sizes, theback was gathered in a bit (and reinforced inside)when I attached the buttons and tails; I also addedtwo rows of large eyes (think, hooks and-) up highon the back, that will be laced together to take awaysome of the oversize bulkiness.


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I found some lovely asian silk brocade at the discount

fabric store and decided to try my hand at makinga mini-topper, to go with it, too! I used the othersuspender piece and more brass buttons, to tie it inwith the coat, and added a new-but-antique-lookingpiece of lace from the fabric store...

My cat thinks thisis the coolest thingEVER.


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Thats what Ive been working onI cant wait to see yours! Get your submissions in

In highest esteem,Ariane


17/20

Tap, tap, tap.The cane foot tapped measuredly on the plank,

hammering out a steady tick-tock rhythm. It was nota rubber foot, such as had been common on cane-feetfor a century now, but a proper pinned steel cane foot,suitable for a weapon or a prop to lean on or a scepter

with which to gesticulate. It kept its clock-like rhythmeven as a steam engine pulled out of the station, a fewfeet from the bench where its owner sat in his frockcoat and top hat, measuring the minutes in percussivetime.

The late afternoon summer was dry and hot,save for the oppressive blasts of humidity that coatedthe ticket window with fog for a few brief momentswhen a locomotive deigned to grace the lonelyplatform with its presence. The endless in-between

times stretched on like the deep-split grain of thewooden planks that seemed to continue uninterruptedfrom one oorboard to the next. Across the double-tracks, past the far platform, ies and weevils swarmedabove the autumn grain, taking from it what pickingsthey could before the harvest.

It was the last day of summer. Soon the dustwould rise from the elds and the northern world

would hunker down for a winter season that wascomfortable and warm, circumscribed by brick andberglass, hearths long since replaced by electric

heaters. The days when people froze to death for wantof wood, or heating oil, or gas were well gone, but the

Doyle or the misty streets of Whitechapel. And yet forall his out-of-place formality, the bench he sat on waswrought iron, and the foot of his cane kept perfect timeHe seemed a xture in the weatherbeaten station.

The steel band left small indentations in theold, grey oak, and the canes wielder was beginning to

regret his promise to await the train from Bonn. It hadseemed like a good idea at the time, it had seemed themost natural thing in the world. Leaving Gibraltar, theyeach had business to attend to, loose ends of past livesto tie up before they embarked together for the newfrontier. She could have own in, of course, the airportwas near enough from their ships moorings. Or shecould have driven, but somehow, even back in Moroccothe steam train had seemed best. It had seemed ttingthat they leave their old world behind in its proper

style, and the Orient Express and a few of the otherremaining locomotives on the planet ran right pasttheir destination.

So, it had been settled. They had kissed goodbyewith promises to meed in two months. There had beenchats, and vid calls, and letters, and every other sort ocommunication that was available to them, and whenthey got busy and went without each other for a few

days or a week, their reconnection was that muchsweeter for the absence. She was a hunger for him, asreal as his need for meat and far more dearly sought

while he was to her like water. Thats what she hadsaid, over and over again.

train time

fiction by j. daniel sawyer

anachronistic frock coatand cane went seeminglyunnoticed on the forgottenrailway line, where steam

power serviced thenostalgic aging populationwhose automated homesdrew nuclear power fromthe worldwide grid. The

coming months would bea time of hibernation forEurope, but neither thecold slow yearly death the

old world had endured,nor the slowed downfallow time of the newworld were in the futureof this man from out thestorybooks of Conan

Tap. Tap. Tap.

That was whatshe had said, and he hadbelieved her. But he hadbeen here, waiting on theOrient Express, its last runof the summer, for two

days. It had been delayedthere had been no wordPerhaps a mechanicabreakdown had strandedit in a high pass - but hediscarded the notion assoon as it occurred to himThis wasnt the nineteenthcentury - there were were

sat phones and radios, and if


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nothing else the ticket agent should know something.

But if he knew anything, he wasnt telling.She was a practical woman, not one to wait

around for repairs. If the train were stranded shedprobably found a at to let while she waited, even thoughthe train had comfortable accommodations, shed wantto take advantage of a last chance to explore an alpinevillage. Shed dig in and sample the culture, nd a club

with a good local band and drink microbrews. Shedtour the local historical monuments and maybe have a

long conversation over chess in whatever language wasspoken in that remote corner of the world.

She spoke all the languages, shed have notrouble blending in. But when her train departed shedbe on her way to him again, forsaking whatever briefaffair she found to occupy her time, to be her lasthurrah.

Assuming she had gotten on the train at all.

Assuming she would tear herself away from her newlife by the stranded train.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

That was, of course, assuming that she was evenable to board or re-board. Even in todays relativelysafe world she may have met with intrigue, or accident.She could have been abducted and ferried off to one of

the remote corners of the world where they trafckedin women like her...but no. Of course she would come.

It was not her fault that the train had been inexplicablydelayed. Was it possible that it had simply vanished?

popped the cover, enjoying the ritual quality it added

to checking the time, and the sensuality of the softlypulsing clockwork. their time was slipping awayTomorrow, the last ship would be leaving - the last thatthey would be allowed on board, the last that couldbe caught. If they missed it, there would be little leftto do. The new life they planned together would befrustrated.

They had both, with great care, disposed ofeverything they would not need on their voyage. Jobs

had been quit, possessions that were not too dear topart with were given away to family, to friends, to oldlovers, and to charities. Loved ones had been biddenfarewell. There was little now left to do but wait, andhope that she arrived in time.

Each day, as the hours rolled away around theclock face, he would take his lunch at a bistro on themain street and sit by the window, where he could

watch the train tracks wending their way down themountains from the pass into the vale. As his teeth cutthrough the bread and meat he would contemplate thevoyage that lay before them, and as he sipped his winehe would roll it around on his tongue, remembering thetaste of her sweat in the North African heat. He closedhis eyes and remembered photographing her that rstday they had met; she had lain naked atop a crumblingarch in the ruins of Carthage, painted orange and rose-

pink by the retreating sun, making a cruel mockeryof the exquisite idols strewn over the city long-since

wasted. They had lasted longer than she would, andyet she burned brighter - the Platonic ideal the ancient

Certainly there hadbeen two other coachesthrough from Berlin,how else could they havegotten through if the oldmaster of the Europeanrailway had fallen on hardtimes and was blocking

the track? Could it haveslipped through sometear in the fabric of theuniverse, vanishing in themountains like an ancientRoman legion?

As ridiculous as itsounded, it seemed theonly thing that t the facts.

He took out hisantique gold watch and

sculptors had aspired to.He had left her

there among the ruinsdancing to music only shecould hear - had he not

known better he mighthave thought her mad, butsomehow he understood

her madness. He had readthe secret in her eyes andher words, and he knewthat she understoodwhat he was about, as heunderstood her - too well

too soon, and perhaps toomuch, but the age of theplace seemed to reach upfrom the salted earth likea specter to haunt their


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time together, and it fostered the understanding. After

they met again the following day in Casablanca they didnot part again until their ways diverged in Gibraltar.From there, she had gone home to London, and he tohis home in Florence.

The sun was getting on now, and the canetapped measuredly against the aging varnish on the oak.

He knew underneath his justications that she mightnot be on the train when it nally came in. It may not

even have been wise to part as they had - the tying upof loose ends always seemed to spawn new threads inthe tapestry, after all. What was it someone had oncesaid?

Let the dead bury their own dead.Tap, tap, tap.

Tap.

The cane came to a rest, as if it had, of its ownaccord, measured out the nal seconds that it wasallotted. The man in the frock coat knew that his timefor waiting had not yet expired, that there was anotherday yet that he could wait here, alone, at his post. Hehad taken this post of his own accord, a promise freelygiven. And yet the cane would not move.

And still the train would not come. As the

shadows lengthened he heard the music of a loneguitarist from somewhere beyond the wheat eld - a

softly lilting tenor voice sang a plaintive lament thatmirrored the mans own angst. Sounds of beauty and

longer marking time, but meter. It gave him 4/4 time

and he hummed the song that hed danced to withher so often in Casablanca, and as time went by he letthe music grow in him until he oated in a dream, hismusic accompanied rst by strings, then by brass. Herepeated the lyrics like a mantra, as if it could summonthe Express back from its mythic past and mysteriouspresent and onto the platform where it belonged. Had

he been standing rather than sitting on the bench hewas sure that hed have been dancing much like shed

danced in the sunset at Carthage.The music built in his mind, built until it seemed

to ring with a single, sustained note from a steamwhistle, echoing off the mountains and rolling acrossthe now-dark plains to his ears.

He opened his eyes with a start and looked upinto the notch between the high peaks, where he sawsnaking along the dark path a small, glowing millipede

under a full head of steam. Van Gogh himself could nothave painted a more perfect sight under the stars.And as his heartbeat mounted upon itself like

the coal in the steam engines furnace, and he beganto hear the rapid, rhythmic chugging, his eyes ittedaway from the locomotive and up to the toweringgranite peaks beneath the innite expanse retreatingforever above them, and he was suddenly seized withan overwhelming regret. After tonight, there would be

no more chance encounters in ruined cities, no morelovemaking in the grass, no more sunsets, no sound o

the lark and the nightingale, just the artice of radiationshielding and oxygen scrubbers. When her train nally

longing, words of delight

turning too soon tonostalgia, as if the mapleleaves were falling in Juneinstead of October.

It wasnt her fault,he reminded himself, thatthe entire train seemedto have disappeared from

the face of the Earth, northat the underpaid railwaystaff seemed remarkablyunconcerned. That alonetold him that sooner orlater it would arrive. Hesteeled himself to wait justa little bit longer.

His canes foot

began to move again, no

arrived they would both beembarking to a realm wherethey knew nothing, and nolanguage would serve themA place where they wouldbe equally aliens. It was the

future, the chance to builda new world whose soilshad not yet been fertilizedwith the blood of feudingbrothers, but the granddestiny and the import othe task didnt soften thelatecoming realization thattomorrow he would be

leaving mankinds cradle forthe last time. This too hehad freely promised.

And yet, with all the


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aching beauty he would be leaving behind, he would be

taking with him the paragon the Earth had produced,and there would be new generations to carry herbeauty forward to the new worlds not yet familiar withthe grace and barbarity that humanity would bring.She would be with him, and that thought tempered hisgrief.

The train was close now, less than a kilometer

away, and he waited at the near end of the platform likea child trying to make the distance between himself

and a long-expected guest as small as possible. Ashe watched it barreling towards him he made outthe words Orient Express emblazoned under itssmokestack and he breathed a sigh of relief at last.

It had arrived, his time of waiting was over.

All that remained to be seen was whether shewas actually on board, or whether she had come at allThe living, after all, had to get on with the job of livingwhile the dead buried their own.

As the enormous coal-red dragon lumberedto a halt and its doors opened, the man wrappedhis cloak close around his body and closed his eyes

afraid to nd that his thread and hers no were longerentangled on Fates skein. If he concentrated, he could

almost see the tapestry. He could nearly pick out histhread, and hers...

With his cane tapping again upon the roughoak, marking the seconds as the train emptied, the newstory began with a tap, tap, tap.

exhibition hall 13

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