Draisy's Misfortune: Draisy on a Line...

The moonlight glinting reflectively off the polished copper buttons of her black corset, surrounded on all sides by the sounds of the waves. By now she is out there clinging to that line. As the fabric starts to shrink in the cold water, the panic starts to set in. The petticoats are the first thing discarded when she hits the ocean. She knows how they will slow her down. Feeling the line go tight, Draisy knows the steam ship Catherine has started to move again, some 150 feet up in the air above her. She is waiting now for what lies ahead. The rope goes tight, in the frigid open waters, and her drag begins This torment, although not the first time, is deserved, to some degree.

This is how we find Draisy right now, but how did she get here? I am afraid, I will have to backtrack a little to get you to fully understand. Her story began, much like any other. It was a bright, sunny day at Sky Port 3-12. Draisy was the assistant to, a somewhat prominent engineer, Scogsworth Ratan. Scogs, as most people referred to him, worked in the Gunny division and he was really getting close to making his SteamShot technology a reality. The small prototype, he kept at his waist, was functioning fine. True, the boiler cylinder was still getting a little to hot, but the tin used was extremely light weight. The problem, however, was the larger version .It was dead-lined for installation in less than a week. The compression he was producing was phenomenal, but the tin was not standing up to the job. Draisy was busying herself with arranging the Engineer's hand tools. The long trestle table was cleaner than usual, Scogs must have took her advice and made it an early night. As she placed the last tool in its' normal home, a ball-peen hammer, Scogs rushed in rounding the table in a hurry. He was apparently Hell bent on making up for his lapse on the previous night. “Draisy! Good your here. I fear your advice may be the death of me!” The older man blustered. “Good Morrow, Draisy. How was your evening, Draisy?” The girl chided. Her voice was dripping with her usual, sarcastic charm. “Foolish whelp of a girl! I just received word of the Inspectors coming this way, today. I do not have time for your antics this morning.” The Engineer was definitely not in the best of moods. “Worst of all is the fact I am behind schedule, no thanks to you.” “Scogs, I am so sorry. I didn't know! You just looked so tired, I thought.” Draisy trailed off, abashed. She quickly bent to the morning preparations, at breakneck speed, fearing to dissatisfy her employer further. Taking a calming breath, Scogsworth, began again. “Oh Draisy, dear, It is not your fault and I did not mean to upset you so. My stress level is reaching a new threshold and I need you now. Please do not take offense at an old man's mistreatment.” “Scogs, it is I who should be sorry, Sir!” Draisy replied, quickly. “What can I do to help? Inspectors are the worse, even for you.” “No time to waste, then. Draisy, set up the welder. We will begin with the housing walls for the tanks. I have an idea for a more solid construction.” They both began to set about their task and by mid-morning, their work was rewarded. The tanks were taking the proper shape and the copper tubing he had ordered three days before had finally arrived. All seemed well prepared for the impending visit. In two more hours a working model should be ready for the initial round of testing. That was when the sound of the sirens began to fill the air.