My father, Mr. Leominster, insists the device is still functioning properly. I believe I am being reasonable with my decision not to employ it again any time soon.
More than a year ago, by the city clocks, he convinced me to head off with him via his machine, with assurances his repairs had addressed the problems that had stranded us in New Babbage a few years earlier. I am loathe to describe the peculiar environs we were forced to make our home for those many months. ‘Tis enough to suggest that the device returned us to this place, and we found the laboratory still standing in Wheatstone Waterways. We also managed to collect the vast stores of Phlogiston he had his sights set upon as the rationale for our trek through the aether.
It will take us both some time to get caught up with the various turns of fortune for which the City has provided its smoky backdrop. We have already made a few new acquaintances, and look forward to a time when we can more confidently call them allies or otherwise.