Professor B. Symmond's Aetheric Manufactorium

Tomorrow marks a year since the Professor's last visit to the Manufactorum. During his convalescence in the countryside, he had given all of us time to take sabbaticals and go on research expeditions of our own. I have only just returned myself from the Far East, and while the stories that I can tell of those adventures still chill my bones, I am overcome with greater trepidation as I wonder about the story behind what I find here at the Manufactorum.

I returned to find the front gates padlocked, the chains rusted over from apparent disuse. Finding that I have no key that fits the old lock, I went in search of the Professor, starting with his home on the outskirts of town. His groundskeeper said his illness had taken a darker turn, and he'd not been there for nearly a year. As it was, he had sought treatment at a progressive Wellness club to the South. Naturally, I followed the directions and located the place, in which all manner of strange "healing" techniques were being advocated and executed upon the guests. I daren't repeat much of what I witnessed except my brief relief turning to apprehension upon discovering that the Professor was no longer in residence there either.

The healers in the place spoke of a small group of visitors who also had come to find the Professor. Normally they pay little attention to the comings and goings of guests, citing privacy and decorum reasons. Decorum, given the barely observable practices thereabouts, was a strangely inappropriate term, I found myself thinking. They spoke of several well-accoutred gentlemen of breeding, in the company of one surly and clearly disreputable individual. It was that single person who so drew their attention, dressed as he was in the strangest of garb, all leather and metal and replete with strange markings and gilded symbols.

Their description set my heart to beating rapidly, and brought back to mind some of those adrenaline-induced moments from my own recent adventures. If my mind's eye conjuration of their description could be counted upon as accurate, they were describing a laymans view of an AirTrooper's steam-reinforced armor. That encounter had been some eleven months prior, near the beginning of July, they believed. Heedless of my worried excitement, my queries could drag little more information from them, save that it was one of the more gendtlemenly of individuals who spoke the most and had convinced the Professor to accompany them, and upon my cajolation the attendants assured me these men left no clue or hint as to the destination upon which they were bound, save a single strange word uttered by the "demon-man" as they called him: "Excelsior."

Is it possible that the Professor was returning with them to The Excelsior? I have been unable to locate Lt. Wembly either, and upon tomorrow, I expect to take bolt-cutters to the Manufactorum to divine what I may from that place. Perhaps we can find some information about the Professor. Failing that, I plan to round up the rest of my fellow assistants, and stoke the forgefires of the Manufactorum and carry on his work as best we can alone.

A gifted navigator, Lt. Wembly was injured in the crash of an experimental airship some few years ago. Fortunately, the East India Company's best medical facility was nearby and he received extraordinary care. Since the accident, he has mustered out of the E.I.C.'s Air corps and is on contract to the Manufactorum, where he has been instrumental in developing many new equipment designs. He has become one of the leading minds in AetheroMagetic theory, even if he does have a somewhat biting and sarcastic personality.

The Professor is also aware that an emergency can happen any time, whether in the darkest jungles of the subcontinent, high in the atmosphere aboard an airship or when out socializing in High Society. To answer that last need, he also has made this particular kit in high dress black and brass, to better blend in with those Opera engagements, or Black Tie Socials.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/235361483/dress-black-alchemists-traveling-kit?ref=shop_home_active_1

During his many travels, the Professor learned that having access to the achievements of modern medicine and science can be essential.

This Alchemist’s kit is specially designed to enable the traveler to keep the essential components one might need for emergencies quick and easily accessible. With belt loops affixed to the back, this kit is easily toted along on even the most active expeditions. A quick unbuckle opens the kit to reveal nine small 3ML bottles and two 10 ml bottles.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/235317216/leather-traveling-alchemists-kit?ref=listing-shop-header-1

The Professor is back! Well.. he'd been back for a while, as the Bristol Packet returned to town about three months ago. However, he has been .. hospitalized .. for some time due to the trauma of the Expedition's aftermath. He still is more than a little reluctant to discuss the particulars, but we are pleased to have him home and coming in to the Manufactorum!

The Professor's newest device. We haven't gotten a full debriefing on this device, all we know for now is that it is extremely dangerous.

AetherPilot's Log Book.

The Professor's newest AEtherEngine design, the Mk-1 PsyEngine. Specifically created to augment and operate in the Psy-Aether wavelengths of energy. Powered by a single Amethystine PsyCrystal, the wavelength adjustment needle allows the operator to tune in whatever specific frequency best suits his or her needs.

He studied the man who sat across from him. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, but the truth is that some folks are a bit more transparent than others. Where Professor D. Balthasaar Symmonds was concerned, one mostly was looking at the man himself. He was a study in contrasts and a unique individual in British Academia. He was, as stated already, very much a man of science. He was driven by an intense curiosity and drive “to know” about the world. He also was unlike most English Academics in that he didn’t hesitate for a moment to get his hands dirty. He was that rare combination of man who combined both thought and action. He had spent some time in the military as a youth, and had, according to rumor, stayed commissioned just long enough to get the funds to enter university. Most of the more educated men in the Empire were from the upper society, and Symmonds had attacked his passion for science with the same precision and dogged determination that marked a trained soldier. Just a glance told Lord Berkshire that he was a man who took his physical condition as seriously as his mental one. Now in his mid forties, he was still rugged and trim, and the gentler life of academia had done nothing to soften him. His blue eyes were bright and clear. He walked with a confident stride and bore himself with a certainty that came from a man of conviction. He had been on more than one expedition to Africa or the British Concerns in South America, chasing after some theory or another. This was a man of propriety and action, a man of science and adventure.

It was the very same combination of personalities that made him both a brilliant scientist and successful inventor that also in combination made him as much of an outcast in the staid and rigid environment of British Academia. Being a “scientist” in the Royal University system required as much social skills and talent as it did intelligence and insight. Rather more, in fact, Lord Berkshire mused. He’d met quite a few “Scientists” in his tenure as Chief Officer of Royal American Interests of the East India Company, and many of them were little more than amateur dabblers, riding on the coat tails of the few truly brilliant men.

Professor Symmonds didn’t have time for social obligations. His was a passion for knowledge and understanding. According to Lord Berkshire’s sources, he was known to find those obligations boorish and boring, and has been on more than one occasion quoted as being more than obvious in his display of disgust for his colleagues that participate thus. In most occasions, that reisstance to the societal niceties would have prevented him from acquiring a position in the academic world, but his unquestioned expertise in the studies of Aetheric theory and application, coupled with his talent for creating devices to harness these revolutionary energies for mankind was enough to pressure the University Regents to overlook his idiosyncracies and maintain him in a junior tenured position.

The businessman in Lord Berkshire chuckled inwardly. ‘Of course they’d overlook them,’ he thought to himself. ‘a tenured professor at University is technically funded by the University and that obligated the Professor to surrender a notable royalty fee to the University of any profits from inventions he created while tenured.’ The obviousness of the business decision was something that was clearly lost on the man across the room. His was a personality of honesty, drive, courage, and curiosity. The guile and manipulation that drove Directors and Regents and Companies and Parliaments was as alien to his thoughts as was the thought that the sun could rise in the west.

By all accounts, that hadn’t held him back, as his blindness to political intrigue was overmatched by his keen insight into Aetheric Engineering. Professor Symmonds was among the leading minds to ever be involved in Her Majesty’s Department of AetheroElectrical Design and Advancements. His tenaciously inquisitive mind never seemed to rest and once set on a task, he was the equivalent of a bulldog. His work with Aethercharging enabled The E.I.C. to develop some of the most advanced powerplants for Her Majesty’s Naval Airship Corps. And that insight was desperately needed. Only the Board of the E.I.C. was fully aware of the threat posed by the American development, and they were working overtime to keep the rest of the Empire, and really the world, unaware of that significance. And this is where the current negotiations with Professor Symmonds were the most delicate. How to properly tempt and tease his Loyalty to Queen and Country while not giving away the full depth of the Americans.

Professor Symmonds continued to stare out the window into the rainy London afternoon. Water splashed along the glass of his Lordships comfortable office, the light from the gas lamps dancing in reflection and casting its warm orange glow, helping to chase away the chill of the rain and damp from the day, even if only in the minds of the two men. Lord Berkshire could almost see him working out the implications of the subtle not-spoken words, and how he was trying to give credence to His Lordships concerns against his own prejudices toward the American mysticism.

“But, My Lord,” he said pleadingly, “You can’t really be serious? We have to involve the AMERICANS?” Professor Symmonds was aghast at even the thought.

“Quite so,” Lord Berkshire replied. He peered through the swirling smoke from his pipe to meet the Professor’s eyes. “Their research in this particular arena is crude, I will grant you.” He held up his hand to forestall the next outburst from his guest. “Crude,” he repeated, “but they have produced results that Her Majesty’s Division has not been able to duplicate. Symmonds, think about it. You’re a man of science. Investigate. Theorize. Experiment. Explain. What do they know that we don’t?”
The Professor sat back in the richly upholstered chair and took a deep breath. The sweet, rich aroma of Lord Berkshire’s particular pipe blend filled his nostrils and he allowed himself a moments distraction, trying to bring his incredulity into check.

“My Lord, “ he began. “That is just it. I am a man of science. It is for just that reason, good Sir, that I find this line of investigation so difficult to tolerate. It is almost the the turn of the century. The coming of the twentieth Century is a time for Science, not séance. The American dabblers are more interested in ceremony rather than experimentation. They don’t even make a pretense at hiding it. None of their researchers follow any kind of scientific protocol. Their “schools” are more like covens than classrooms. The even call their ‘experts’ by the title Magus. How is any self-respecting scientist supposed to take their practices seriously in any way? I might as well stand in a lecture hall covered all over in blue mud and start chanting in tongues!” He had quite worked himself up through that little tirade.

“Symmonds, Symmonds…” Lord Berkshire said patiently. “I understand. I do. But there is more to this than propriety. Of course I expect that you’ll apply all those scientific and intelligent methods to the American theories. That’s why I want you to go along on this. Symmonds, to put it bluntly, we need men like you. Our affiliation with the American scientific community…” he paused at the Professor’s snort of derision. “Yes, I know they use that phrase too loosely for your liking, but there it is. As I was saying, our affiliation with the American’s ‘community of researchers’ is tenuous at best and their advances in this particular realm of discovery is worth investigating. This is our opportunity. By going on this expedition, taking the Americans along, you gain a very unique opportunity to learn about their methods and their capabilities. Professor, this is more than science, it’s also patriotism. We simply cannot afford to pass up this opportunity.” With his exhortation completed, Lord Berkshire leaned back again, and waited. If he misjudged the passions of this individual, then those arguments might have done more harm than good. Then again, that’s not something he did often. One did not rise to the Board of Directors of the East India Company by misjudging people.

The Professor has determined that his little adventures might go more positively if he had better defense weaponry. To that end, he's begun experimenting with aethercharging weaponry.. some prototypes to be forthcoming...