Having procured a new biographer, one of the maintenance drones actually had a breif career during my death as a sports journalist. I’ve started a new set of journals for a new Raptor.
Narrowly escaping the site of my ressurection from retreived DNA the cat had somehow injested or absorbed. I had left Babbage for a while, as there was much to do. The maintenance drones had done….adequit with keeping the Time Egg running, but everything was dusty. The larder was empty (aside from a lone cupcake), and so were my pockets. Going forward, some time was spent developing new things, gadgets, automotons, and such (I am an inventor!), and selling the designs for a tidy profit (after retrofitting to run off of less than up to date fuel sources, and work with antiquated materials), Eventually forming Raptor Co.
Contacting the few non-metallic contacts I know, I heard of a recent explosion in Wheatstone, with a ruined power plant.
Returning to Babbage, I waited in the bucket until the man I heard about limped in and had a drink. After introducing myself and talking, steering the conversation to his exploded plant, I made an offer, since this doctor needed heavy power for his experiments, and I needed space for my factory, I took the plant off his hands under the agreement I’d hook a direct line from the power grid I would be building, to his lab and observatory.
Deed in hand, construction started immediatly. Soon Raptor Co. will be a household name as automotons are bought into people’s homes, I will do what I should have in the beginning and just build an army, and then we will eat the cat.