Archivist note: This article is from an older recovered archive and might be obsolete or in need of updating.
Most recent revision is shown below, by Lopxie.
”A diary entry by Miss Ceejay Writer”
A Needful Vacation for my Health
July 9, 188x
As much as I love the bracing soot-filled air of Babbage, lately it has become difficult to breathe. It is not simply laden with normal, healthy soot produced by the fires that drive industry, but of late it reeks of whalebone, and satin, and lace, which does not burn as purely as coal. It tires and saddens me, as much as the rumors I have heard on the reasons for this new air… what to call it? Pollution. Yes. Air pollution.
I sigh as I think of this acrid smoke caressing our monument to Ada Lovelace, who proved through her mind and dedication to be the best. Not equal to a man, but her own personal best, and ultimately, ours. I wonder if Miss Capalini, she who has taught herself the fine craft of furniture making, has to sweep the smoky dust from her exquisite music boxes. I ponder if the maze-floor of the Salon, so adeptly run by three women, must be swept daily.
And mostly my heart aches for the women of Babbage that feel they must strike out at inocent bustles and our own dear menfolk, in their craving for equality – which is already theirs!
Perhaps I would not be so gloomy about this odd notion that has been taken up in Babbage, were it not for the already sad state of many of my neighbors. Betwixt spirits, spells, plots, schemes, jealousies and rivalries, it is not the brightest of summers.
I recall last Summer, as our own stalwart Clockwinder was swept out to sea upon a cork, and the city was turned inside out and labeled Obleskidonia. Oh, but we did rally against that! And the cheering and celebrating when the Clockwinder was rescued (by a woman, Miss Jed Dagger!) and returned home.
I can not be of much help to my befuddled sisters until I am able to be cheery from within. And so I have decided – a holiday abroad for my health is in order. I shall send a note to sweet little LoPixie, letting her know that I would be honored if she would tend to the CocoaJava Cafe until I return. I have sensed that in spite of her circumstances, she truly does understand what the cafe’s spirit embodies, and she will tend to it’s hearthfires well.
I shall hide the item I have been charged with from prying eyes, and pack lightly. I am bound for lands of warm sands, ocean breezes, drifting music and dancing beneath moonlight. I shall wiggle my toes in clear blue water and hold my face up to the sky when the rains fall.
And as Autumn traditionally brings the shedding of old leaves in preparation for winter, I will return, having shed my gloom, and I pray that the city that has held and sheltered me will find itself rising from it’s own dark shackles, ready again to fire clean, bright, coalish smoke into the air, as industry thrums its beat once again into our minds, clearing our thoughts.
