Different Impressions

My father is a pilot.  Not a commercial one, it's his hobby.  

    A fairly important bit of his plane broke and the mechanic made him buy a new one.

 So he brought home the old, broken piece.

  His impressions are: " *Grumble grumble* Can't see why the guy couldn't have just fixed it.  I can see what he should have done there's a thing right here…" And so on.  

   My impressions were:

 

It's a thing of beauty this device.  Close-up it resembles some sort of nefarious generator!  But from the front it's just another ugly piece of machinery.  

     It was built at a time when brass and copper, tubes and gears were actually feasible, nay, required. 

 And the design never broke or became to expensive to produce, so it never got changed. 

  Amazing.

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

More Steam!

This is how I spent my morning.

  MORE STEAM!

 LESS PUNKS!

You can take this however you want, As a call to arms for Steampunks across the world to weed out the posers, Or to weed out the punks by accepting them into the subculture. 

 The least we can do either way is do away with those horrible low-hanging trousers.

EDIT: Re-reading this post I had this image in my mind of squads of roving Steampunks traveling the alleys and byways of the city transforming those regular punks into upstanding citizens.

Somebody get on that.

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 49: TipRău's Tip Top Toppers

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:
This week:
Episode #49: TipRău's Tip Top Toppers

Last Week As You Recall our heroes had come out of the window of Dr. Smith's garage, to find that the world was gray, Capt. Brown was red, and The admiral was asleep.
But we start our story today, not with Dr. Smith, Capt. Brown, or even the sleeping admiral.
 No, this week we start our story with a piece of newsprint,
an unassuming piece of newsprint,
the stories ripped from the days headlines.

-=fig. 338: scrabble club scandal=-

     Quite literally ripped.

  The headline reads: Doldrums Strike City

{Subtitle: Citizens Don't Care. } This was because all the beautiful colours of the grand city of Legopolis had been sucked from their spots by the villainous Villiam Von TipRău, arch enemy of our own Dr. Smith.

  And as everyone knows, when colours leave, souls go with them.

Von TipRău was wanted by The Church, The State, and Several Counties In The North Of France,

not for his impressive mustache but for his crimes against humanity.

   Our lonely piece of newsprint circles its way across the city, fluttering like a long flat butterfly on the chilled breeze.  It flipped and fluttered, happily unaware of it's imminent doom.

  Flying over Dr. Smith's yard, it's mind turned perhaps to dreams of returning to its homeland, the grand forests where it was––FWOOOOHM!!

-=fig. 339: FWOOOOHM!!=-

The explosion incinerated the paper instantly.

"Nice Shot!" said Dr. Smith.  The Man who had thrown the lantern gave a weak smile.

  "But how did you know that the fire from the lantern would react with the mercury in the top hat?"

"If bullets don't work, fire usually does."

"Ah.  Your plume is aflame."  As The Man ran off to extinguish his shako, Dr. Smith went to inspect the carnage. "James! Come here."

  "What is it Zachary?" said Captain James Brown, mayor of Legopolis.  Dr. Smith prodded the burnt and twisted carcass of the Top Hat, it melted a tiny bit.  "James, don't let anyone touch this." He motioned to the Top Hat "I think it may be some kind of mind control device."

"What makes you think that?"

  "The label." 

 "Ah."

"Outfit your men with some kind of flamethrower, and helmets.  With straps. There's probably something you can use in the garage. Another volley should be coming any sec––" A torrent of the terrible toppers traveled the tops of the turrets, targeted at trolling our turnkeys thinkers.     

"Curses.  James,  try not to get yourself killed or worse, mono-chromised, I'm going across the street."

Across the street was Putzkammer's delicatessen, an abandoned deli a mere block from Dr. Smith's front door and the last known location of Villiam Von TipRău.

"I'm coming with you, Sir."  This was Jeeves, Dr. Smith's robotic butler.

  "You don't have to do that Jeeves." 

 "Ah. but I think that I will be a valuable asset, Sir.  Being a robot the mind control will have no effect on me."

"All right, you can come."

They snuck sneakily through what passed for a door but what was really a collection of boards leaned up against the sheet metal barricade.   Dr. Smith made it as far as the middle of the street before being apprehended by Rather Blank Faced Men, the henchmen of Von TipRău.

-=fig. 340: apprehended by monoids=-

"Good afternoon Rather Blank Faced Men!"

The R.B.F.M. all talked at once, in a monotone no less:

"We are the Monoids."

"Ah! So you can talk."

"Yes.  We have been sent to capture you."

 "And if I don't want to come?"  The sound of eight revolvers all pointed at your head being cocked at once is a worrying sound to say the least. 

   "I thought you wanted to capture me?"

"Our Master cares not if you are dead or if you are alive."

 "By Jacob!  It's a three-headed-monkey!"  Dr. Smith pointed, none of them looked.

  "It is not."

   "I Suppose you wouldn't believe I have a colleague on that roof pointing not one, not two, but three long-range rifles at you?"

    "No."

     "Would you believe… two long range rifles?"

      "No."

-=fig. 341: for preference=-

       "Drop 'em Brigadier!"

          "ARRRGH! DUCK ME HEARTIE!"

Brigadier Black was the sort of man you want at your back in a fight, facing the enemy with some sort of heavy artillery, for preference.   Eight shots rang out eight monoids fell dead, as soon as they hit the ground the eight monoids disintegrated in a cloud of tiny squares.  Not cubes, but one-sided squares.  Dr. Smith did not have time to ponder this physical improbability, because five-hundred monoids were marching in from the east.  He had to go, but he left a parting bit of advice to the guard nearest him: "Set fire to their hats, pass it along."  The monoids were marching so close that one good lantern could create a chain effect, saving bullets.   Always thinking, our Dr. Smith.  As he made a mad dash to the other side of the street, he very nearly was knocked over when he ran into Jeeves.  Jeeves, who was dressed in black and white anyway, was almost invisible in the mono-chomised world.  "Jeeves! Watch where you're standing."

"Sorry Sir.  Fascinating building, This is a delicatessen?"

-=fig. 342: Putzkammer's deli=-

Back in the young days of Legopolis, this derelict building was the assayers office,  Legopolis was originally a mining town and people would come from miles around to mine the hills of Legopolis for Upsidaisium and Luddite, the two rare minerals that made The Grand City of Legopolis what it is today.  A plateau.   The door to the Deli was locked and rusted shut due to years of disuse, but it was mysteriously lacking in glass so it didn't pose a problem.

The walls inside were covered with the lewd and profane graffiti of deli-goes through the ages, and in the middle of the floor, badly covered in loose boards, was a gaping hole.

-=fig. 342: a gaping hole=-

"Jeeves, Pull those boards away from that hole."

  "Yes Sir."  The boards, when pulled away, revealed a pitch black hole.

Dr. Smith and Jeeves stared down into the abyss.

"You first, Sir."

 "Thanks alot Jeeves."

   "You are welcome Sir."

    "That was sarcasm Jeeves."

      "Ah."

  Dr. Smith toed the edge of the hole tentatively.

"That's very deep, Sir."   Dr. Smith nodded his agreement.

Jeeves leaned in closer to get a better look,

Dr. Smith fell.

"JEEEEVES!"

-=fig. 343: whoops=-

"So sorry Sir!"

 "JEEEEVES! USE YOUR ROCKET FEET!"

  "You forgot to install them, Sir."

What willl happen Next? Will Dr. Smith perish at the hands of… In a deadly Fall? Find out in our next exciting episode:

 Episode #50: The Black Planet

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode #48: Putzkammer

Last week as you recall,  Jeeves had just revealed where the colours of The Grand City Of Legopolis {Last seen in the clutches of the villainous Von TipRău} were being hidden.

"Putzkammer's Delicatessen?" asked Dr. Smith, as if he could hardly believe it.

"Yes Sir." 

"But that's just across the street from here!"
And indeed it was,  Putzkammer's delicatessen was an abandoned building, derelict yet architecturally significant, directly across the street from Dr. Smith's house.

 Unfortunately Dr. Smith, Morton {Dr. Smith's father} And Jevves 2.0 were inside Dr. Smith's garage and laboratory, a place only accessible through the trunk of Dr. Smith's car. 
     "How are we going to get there, Zachary?" asked Morton.
       "Why, The Door, of course."

-=fig. 334: hello, The Door=-

     "Of course."
        "Don't you like The Door dad?"
"Not particularly.
    "Tell you what, I'll go first."
Dr. Smith walked up the catwalk to The Door, turned the handle, and stepped through.
     There was no special effect, no sound other than the creak of the wind and the thud of Dr. Smith's body as he hit towards the ground at high speed.
   "Ow."  He said.

-=fig. 335: red captain brown=-

A more literal translation would have been "AAARRRGH! STUPID NORTHERN LEATHER!"
     This was because his briefcase had flown out of the window and hit him in the head.

"Hi Zachary.  You came out of that window at quite a clip, you all right?"
Dr. Smith groaned, "Yeah, James. I'm fine, but I don't think The Door likes me much.  Why are you bright red?"  Capt. Brown sighed, "The admiral's here, turns out he didn't get mono-chomized like all the rest, and he's taken control of the whole situation.  His first order of business was to get me out of my old 'more-patch-than-coat', and into the Official Mayoral Uniform."  At the words 'Official Mayoral Uniform' Capt. Brown's fingers tightened and formed themselves into an angry fist, his teeth set themselves on edge, and his eyebrows shot skyward.  
    "Sorry about that James,"–said Dr. Smith, sympathetically–"Help me up.  Oh, and put something soft right here, Morton and Jeeves should be along shortly."  As Capt. Brown set off to find somebody who could cushion Morton and Jeeves' falls, an old man in a blue coat with gold epaulets and a stupid hat walked up to Dr. Smith and started to talk at him "WHO THE BLAZES ARE YOU!?"
     Dr. Smith was affronted, he had never been so verbally abused by a stranger in his own yard before.   He carefully bent to retrieve his hat, and only when it was perfectly straightened did he deign to answer the bothersome verbal assailant.
     "My name, horrible sir, is Doctor Zachary Smith, you may call me Dr. Smith, and I own that building, that building, and this alleyway that we are in now.  Who The Blazes Are You?"  Unshaken by this sudden supply of unexpected information, the admiral supplied his name, "They call me The Admiral and I own this County.  I Don't like insolent little <expletive>s like you shooting out of windows at every turn–"–This was punctuated by Morton and Jeeves shooting out of said window and landing on three rather pudgy cadets,  who were, apparently, the softest things Capt. Brown could find–"–Why when I was your age son I had to fight my way up from the streets, battling barbarians and republicans till I was at the top of the legislative pile and by Jacob I still have some fight left in me!"  Having said his piece, The Admiral collapsed and started to snore.  Dr. Smith watched him fall, with pity. "Narcoleptic.  James?"  Capt. Brown appeared from around the side of Dr. Smith's house, where he had been trying his darnedest to conjure a pot of tea.  His inability to find Dr. Smith's kitchen had not hampered his efforts in the least.    "Zachary? How do I get into your house?  Every time I try the front door it just leads me back outside."  Dr. Smith looked at him, then realized what he meant. "You need to unlock the door with the key, other wise you are just on a feedback loop.  It's a security measure.  What I wanted to talk to you about is, oh what was it… Ah, I remember now.

-=fig. 336: the barricaded petunias=-

WHAT IN JACOB'S NAME HAVE YOU DONE TO MY PROPERTY!"
   "Its a barricade."
    "Please tell me you didn't dig up my petunias."
   "We needed a base for the barricade, sorry."
 While Dr. Smith did not weep over the loss of his plants, it obviously hit him hard.  "Why are you so upset over these plants Zachary?" asked Capt. Brown, "As far as I know the only thing you're not at all good at is gardening.  So what gives?"  Dr. Smith looked him in the eye, "They were fossils.  I was engineering them from fossils recently discovered in Peru.  five thousand years the world has been without this particular strain of petunia, and you dig it up for a barricade."

It was then that a black top hat trailing darkness shot through the sky.

-=fig. 337: topper=-

Join us next week for our next exciting episode,

#49: TipRău's Tip Top Toppers

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 47: Hatshrooms

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:

This Week:

Episode 47: Hatshrooms

Last week as you recall, Zachary Morton Smith, {Morton to his friends}  father of our own Dr. Zachary Smith, had climbed out of a hatch, on the other side of a tunnel which is only accessible through the trunk of his sons car.

"What is this place?" Morton said, to no one in particular. 

"It's my laboratory, Like it?"  Morton Yelled,  Dr. Smith had inadvertently snuck up behind him. "Zachary!  Don't do that!"  

     "Sorry dad."  

   "Where are we?"  Dr. Smith waved an arm in a magnanimous gesture, "Welcome to my Garage!"  "Did you say Garage?"  

    "And laboratory.  You didn't think I made all of my fantastic inventions in that tiny house, did you?" Morton nodded, it made sense.  "Well, where do you store your car?"  Dr. Smith shrugged.  "On the street, Everyone knows its my car, and I'm friends with the Mayor.  They also know that besides thievery, stealing my car is treason.  You get hung for that.  Here, let me give you the tour."  

As Dr. Smith walked off, Morton turned back to look at the hatch he had just climbed out of, it wasn't a hatch.  It was the rear end of a car identical to Dr. Smiths, but that was hard to tell for sure, as it was only the back third.

-=fig. 328: the back third=-

     Dr. Smith was explaining the volatile qualities of the espresso machine, and the benefits of standing well to the left of the steam nozzle to an empty patch of air, not that he knew it.

"Zachary?" said Morton, hurrying over, "Why are we a hundred feet in the air?"  "we're only 50 yards up, and besides, I need the room below for my hatshroom experiments." 

"Bless you."  

"No, Hat-Shroom, like mushroom?  I Figured out how to grow hats.  Right now they're only Mushrooms shaped like hats, but you can pop 'em off the stem and wear them just like your standard McAllister & Dobbins."  Morton Looked at Dr. Smith with a worried eye,  "Son, are you feeling all right?  Do I need to find you some medication?"   

"No, Dad, I did.  Look, right there, see?" Morton looked and saw several varieties of Hat, growing out of the ground.   

-=fig. 329: a specimen of a hatshroom=-

"Mon dieu.  Son you're brilliant."–Dr. Smith shrugged–"How come I haven't heard of this before?"   "James says the market isn't ready for a hat-shaped mushroom.  A mushroom-shaped hat, but not a Hat-shaped mushroom.  Come, there's more!"

There turned out not to be much more, there was an eating area right next to the Espresso machine, a platform with early incarnations of Jeeves, a record player with a wire connecting it to a white bulbous device,  {which turned out to be the Internal Motherboard Actuating Calculator, I.M.A.C., for short,} and a table with a half finished android on it.  "What's that?" Asked Morton, pointing.  "That's Jeeves, 2.0" Answered Dr. Smith proudly, "he's nearly finished.  I just need to Synthesize some skin for him, tailor some old clothes to fit, and transfer the old Jeeves Data over from version 1.0.  Speaking of which…" Dr. Smith put his small brown suitcase on the table, undid the clasps and locked it open. "Here, dad, this may take awhile. why don't you go get some coffee, or I'm sure if you look hard enough there's a snack" Morton had already wandered off,
"O.K. then." 

He then slid a robot out of his briefcase, this robot's name was Jeeves, and he was about 5 feet tall.  Dr. Smith then carefully positioned the robot in the center of the table, produced a cable from the suitcase and connected the two robots to each other, and then to the I.M.A.C.  He pressed the screen of the I.M.A.C. a couple of times, took a sip from his espresso mug, determined that it was ice cold, then, grasping his mug firmly in one hand, set off for the machine. 

-=-

The I.M.A.C. beeped merrily while Dr. Smith was gone,

"Beedlee Beep!"  It said.  "Now Transferring 1 of 43,789,001 files! Beedlee beep!"  

If it had a mouth the infernal thing would be smiling. 

"Beedlee Beep! Now Transferring 2 of 43,789,001 files! Beedlee Beep!"  

Dr. Smith came back about then with a piping hot cup of espresso.  "Boy that's annoying, lets turn that down."  As the sound went down, the I.M.A.C. decided that it needed to tell Dr. Smith the sound was going down. "POP pop pop pop…"  Dr. smith opened the 'iPhonograph' application, and the Record Player behind him sprang into a jaunty jazz tune,  'Bugle Call Rag' was its name.   Dr. Smith started to whistle the tune, 

if it had words he would have sung.

     Life was great, Dr. Smith was well on his way to locating the colors of Legopolis, he'd found Jeeves, and was loading him into his new body.   He'd found his father, relatively unharmed and living in the camp of the Northern Villains.  

-=-

It took quite awhile to transfer all those Files, but Dr. Smith made use of that time to catch up with his father, Morton.  It took so long they nearly ran out of records, which would be a tragedy.  But eventually the I.M.A.C. merrily said: "Beedlee Beep!  File transfer complete!  Jeeves 2.0 updated to latest firmware!  Would you like to restart now? Beedlee Beep!"  Dr. Smith pressed the button marked "Yes" and there was a brief moment of silence, and them a chime.
"Oh Boy, here we go, DAD!" Dr. Smith yelled, "Come here!"  Morton hurried up the ladder and across the catwalk just as Jeeves 2.0 was waking up.  "Oh dear," me murmured.
"Jeeves, Rise." commanded Dr. Smith.

-=fig. 330: Jeeves 2.0=-

     "Isn't he beautiful?" asked Dr. Smith.
"How Long have you been working on this?"
     "A couple of months now, off and on.  This is the future!"   Jeeves 2.0 adjusted his stance to accommodate for an uneven flooring tile.  "Jeeves, Speak." Commanded Dr. Smith.  "ALL RIGHT THEN.  HELLO SIR.  I SEE THE GARAGE IS IN GOOD HEALTH?"  "Jeeves, you are in an a new body,  if you'll notice, you now have two legs and a vocal simulator.  Use it."  There was brief pause, then Jeeves said:  "Far Be It My Place To Ask These Questions, But Where Did My Original Body Go?"
"Just behind you, I need you to sew up some clothes to fit you while I melt up some latex for your new skin. Oh, and stop enunciating so perfectly, real people don't talk like that."
"Very Goad Ser."

 -=-

Dr. Smith melted some shoe soles and latex gloves in a pot, stirred it around, and poured it into a mould.  Surprisingly what came out was a latex mask, perfectly suited to Jeeves' face.  "Jeeves, you done sewing up your new duds?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Right, put them on and come here, I've got a face for you." 

-=-

-=fig. 331: he needs a hat=-

"You look good Jeeves, Dad, what do you think?"  Morton Looked,

"He needs a hat.  Or hair." 

"Yes, well, I'm no good at hair, Jeeves go pick out a hatshrooom you like."
"Sir, I am robot.  I cannot 'choose something I like' as you say.  I could perhaps choose a hat based on current data about the status of men's fashion, but I do not have said data."  This was quite the problem, Dr. Smith didn't have the data either, not being one to follow trends, so he solved the problem.  "Hmm, well, lets see,  I think mainly what you need to do is match, so go pick out a black hatshroom, some kind of cap.  That should do it."  "Very good sir."  Jeeves then walked off the table, falling 150 feet, straight to the ground. "You know Jeeves,"  Dr. Smith called, "we do have a ladder."  "That's very good to hear sir, because if I have to do that again I may damage something."

-=fig. 332: sneaking up on a hat=-

Jeeves walked with both his legs.
He was enjoying having two legs,
He missed his rocket, though.
Maybe Dr. Smith could place rockets in these new legs?
Aha!  A black peaked cap…

{{use-#eyscan on-$Scenery}} * object-sighted *

if-$ObjectSighted=yes start-#Program1 #Program1-started

$ColorMatch=100%

#FootstepSound=50% start-#AttackJump, * adjust landing parameters * start-#TackleRoll 

{if $bodydamage=50%=abort.}

{{start-#AssessBodyDamage}}

$BodyDamage=5%

{{start-#AssessInventory}}

#Inventory=(1) #PeakedCap {Color=Black}

use-#Inventory=(1) #PeakedCap {Color=Black} on-#Headtop 

#Program1=complete

-=-

-=fig. 333: Something is off=-

Morton nodded his approval, The hat matched.
"The hat's a nice touch, but something's wrong.  I can't seem to put my finger on it."  They both searched Jeeves' face for what was off, it wasn't his eyebrows, they were both there, it wasn't his pupils, they matched, "I've figured it out."
"What is it Dad?"
"He doesn't blink. " And indeed that was the problem.
"Jeeves," ordered Dr. Smith, "Remember to blink periodically.  Other wise you will creep people out.  Good, that seems to solve all the technical difficulties we had, now down to business.  Jeeves, where are the Colours of Legopolis?"
"Well sir, last time I laid my eyes on them, they were in the basement of Putzkammer's delicatessen."

Join us next Week for our next Exciting Episode:

#48: Putzkammer

Every Tuesday at 4:10pm GMT

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episdode 46: Побег из тюрьмы злодея Северный

The Continuing Weekly Adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:

Episode 46: Побег из тюрьмы злодея Северный
{Escape from Northern Villain Jail}

Last Week as You Recall, Dr. Smith had, through a complicated series of events, found himself incarcerated in the jail cell of the northern villains.  This, normally, would stymie even the great mind of Dr. Zachary Smith,  "I'm Stymied" He'd say.  But luckily he doesn't need to say that.  Because besides his cell mate {the illustrious Captain James Brown, Mayor of The Grand City Of Legopolis, who isn't looking too good, owing to a large scar down his arm, and numerous {now patched} bullet-holes in his coat,} The guard is on Dr. Smith's side.  He is on Dr. Smith's side because he is Dr. Smith's own father, Zachary Morton Smith, who was kidnapped one day by the dastardly Northern Villains, scourge of the north.  Last week we left them just as Dr. Smith had discovered this fact…

-=fig. 323: Mortoninski=-

"Hey!  Dad!  Let us out if you're here to rescue us!"   "Right-o son."  He fit the key into the lock and wrenched open the door, releasing Dr. Smith and Capt. Brown from their snowy reform school. 

There was a brief embrace of father and son, "Dad!  It's so good see you again after all this time, and the kidnapping and everything.   You know James?"   "Of course I know James,  he's your only friend.  Hello James,  still neurotic is he?"  "Yes sir Morton, He's still completely deranged, brilliant, but deranged."   "You know I'm still standing right here?"  Dr. Smith's father, taking charge of the conversation, completely ignored Dr. Smith. "There will be time for more small talk later, right now we need to get out of here.  Here, I think there's a way out over here."   As they half-ran, half-trudged through the icy passages, a thought occurred to Dr. Smith, "Dad?"  "Hmn?" " If you knew a way out, why didn't you just leave a long time ago?"   "Transportation son, it's 200 miles of snow in every direction.  I Couldn't leave so I convinced them that I was Russian, like them, just so they wouldn't kill me.  It turned out pretty well, They made me a guard!   It's only probationary of course,  But it kept me alive long enough so that you could come here with that flying car of yours and get me out of here!"  He saw the expression on Dr. Smith's face, it was that of one who is either worried, or constipated.  "You did bring the car didn't you?"  "Well… Getting captured wasn't part if the plan, I think we'd settled on 'Plan: Marseilles' right James?–"  Capt. Brown, not wanting any of the blame spread to himself,  just nodded silently.   "–when quite by accident 'Plan: Budapest' happened."  Dr. Smith's father, Morton, thought to himself, then failing to remember anything about Budapest said "What happened in Budapest?"  "Well, James and I were minding our own business,  Buying–" "–Stealing–" interjected Capt. Brown, Dr. Smith continued "–Stealing fruit from the stalls along the main road, when 20, no, it was 200 Arabs, swaddled in black robes jumped out of nowhere and attacked us!"   "Because you were stealing fruit?"  "Yes."  They trudged in silence for awhile, "Zachary, Hungary is nowhere near Saudi Arabia,  Might these '200 Arabs, swaddled in black robes' have been a passel of policemen?"   It's quite hard to squirm and trudge at the same time but Dr. Smith managed it.  "The point is, 'Plan: Budapest'  has come to mean a sneak attack.  James and I were out on The Digger No. 5!  Trying to find you actually, when we got attacked by The Northern Villains, they shot me with a tranquilizer and tried to kill James here."  Capt. Brown piped up, as this seemed to be his part of the narrative, "Actually Zachary, I'm immune to Tranquilizer darts.  Thick skin,  Most of my body is covered in coats and such, so there weren't very many places they could shoot me, and I have an extremely slow metabolism."  Morton and Dr. Smith both looked at him in wonder, the question begged to be asked, so Dr. Smith did; "How'd you end up so scarred then if all they did was shoot you with a dart you're immune to?"   "After they failed to tranq' me, they boarded The Digger No. 5!, and what with all the spinning machinery Morton here put in the darn thing,  and my lack of a weapon, I couldn't properly engage the villain in battle. Most of these wounds are inflicted by  The Digger No. 5! itself."  As the absurdity of the situation sank in they turned what can only be described as a corner, and far off in the distance was a glimmer of daylight.  "Ah!"  Said Morton, "See Son, I told you there was a way out."  But Dr. Smith knew that without The Flying Jaguar, Dr. Smith's Flying car of renown, The way to the outside air held no escape for our hapless team.  "Dad, Could you tell me on this map where we are?" He had pulled a Map of the area out of his suitcase, and was attempting to unfold the wretched thing on a nearby handily flat piece of ice. Morton Pointed. "About here, son."  "How far out does the territory of the Northern Villains extend?"   "Hard to say son, but it goes at least as far as this ridge." Capt. Brown spoke up worriedly, "Zachary, I parked the car right there!  In a cave on the east side of that ridge!"   Dr. Smith smiled.  A rare occurrence, in itself, and one not to be risked, especially now, with  these freezing conditions as his mouth itself may freeze like that, and then where would he be? 
But It didn't freeze, and with his continued mouth-related articulation he said: "Dad?  Where do the Northern Villains keep their captured vehicles?"
-=-
It was dark and poorly lit in the Northern Villain garage.  You would think the Villains would like to actually see their stolen vehicles, but not in this case. 

-=fig. 324: The Flying Jaguar!=-

 Morton started to cross the vast, yet empty, space.  "Come Son, there's nothing to fear here!"  Dr. Smith quite suddenly halted that topic of conversation by pushing Morton into the snow-covered wall with his forearm. "Dad, That's what scares me."  Turns out he was right, the cavern was not as empty as it first seemed, all along the wall were guards, armed to the teeth.  And some, lacking teeth, were armed to the gums.  "James, I was thinking Plan: Marrakesh"  James scoffed, "Zachary, that'll never work. for one thing, where are we going to find an angry rhinoceros and twelve dancing girls out here?"  Dr. Smith shook his head, " I don't think they were crucial, I think we can work it with just the three of us.   James, how many guards can you take out with–"  He paused to check his suitcase "–A dissertation on the political situation in eastern japan during the 1830's, a spoon, a mug that says: "Latte's are for babies!", and a typewriter?"   "What about that sword of yours?" "Yes, well, I'm using that."  Morton Looked on in amazement.  "Things like this happen to you often?" he said.  "Oh yeah," Capt. Brown replied, "Just about every week, why do you ask?"  "It doesn't seem like you're very prepared, You know, It's only about 50 yards in front of us.  Why don't we just make a run for it?"  Capt. Brown looked at Morton incredulously,  "Because they'd shoot us before we got halfway there, and if, by some miracle, we did make it there in one piece, how do you suggest we get out of here? fly through the ceiling?  It's at least 20 feet of ice and snow!"  But Dr. Smith had that far-off look that he get's when he thinks.  "No, That's a good idea, we'll fly through the ceiling."  Capt. Brown and Morton, like some sort of barbershop duet, chorused "What?"  " I mean we can fly out of here, right through the ceiling.  We can use the heat shield.  We dash across on three, 1, 2, 3!"

-=fig. 325: mad dash=-

They ran as fast as you can in snow that is up to your knees and managed to make it to the car in one piece.  "Son?" Said Morton "Where do I sit?  This is a two-seater."  "Hop in the trunk, It turns into a seat. Okay James, you're driving, start 'er up."  "Son?"  "Yeah dad?" "Why is there a basement in your trunk?" Dr. Smith stopped pulling levers and pushing buttons seemingly at random for a moment to answer his father, "Oh.  That, Dad, I'll explain later, there should be a green lever back there, pull it,  and a seat should pop up."  Morton Pulled the lever, and a seat did indeed slide out, as smooth as orange marmalade.  Which is to say, not very smoothly at all.  "O.K. James, on the count of three you push your red button, I turn this red knob, you ready?" There was a nod of agreement "Dad you buckled up?"  "Yes!"  "Good, 1, 2, 3!"  The Flying Jaguar!  Was suddenly enveloped in a red glow, "Straight up James!"  Dr. Smith yelled over the drone of the heat shield, " Hurry! we can only keep this up for 15 seconds!"  as the 15 seconds ticked down, The Northern Villains fired their bullets, but they did no harm.  Because besides melting through frozen prisons, the heat shield can also melt through bullets, and the molten lead dripped harmlessly away from The Flying Jaguar!  "Ten seconds!"  They broke into the sunlight, barley scraping the 1 second mark.  If this were a film, about now a dramatic overture would be taking place.  But since this isn't a film, and I have no way of getting sound to you as you read these word, you will have to imagine it.   Think to yourselves, "Golly, what pretty music!" or words to that effect.  Dr. Smith popped his head up, "Everybody all right?" No one heard his words as the wind had whipped them away from anyone's ears. "JAMES! SLOW DOWN!"  Capt. Brown heard his words, and slowed down. That diminished the whipping wind noticeably.   Peals of nervous laughter broke out all over The Flying Jaguar!  As the relief of escaping from The Northern Villains  hit our passengers.  But Dr. Smith gets down to business. "Dad?  You have your fingers on the pulse of The Northern Villains, have they heard anything about Jeeves?"   "That butler we had when you were a child?  I think he died."  "No, Dad, A robotic butler, named Jeeves."  "He was a robot eh?  That would explain how efficiently he butled."  Dr. Smith shook his head, "No, Dad.  Let's look at this from a different angle.  Have there been any sudden temporal disturbances?  Sudden geographic changes?  Strange radio activity?"  Morton thought for a moment, "You know there is this one stretch of canyon all the border patrols complain of.  They Say their radios conk out whenever they are within ten seconds of it."  "Ah, that'll be Jeeves, doing whatever he can with his remaining power.  Co-ordinates?"  Morton gave them up almost instantly, his being a patent clerk before being adult-napped gave him quite the head for numbers.

-=fig. 325: flying toward jeeves=-

The Beautiful, frozen landscape unrolled before The Flying Jaguar! As if t'were a spilt iced cream, the lumps and bumps melting their way through your  heirloom Persian rug.
-=-
The Valley of the Robotic Butler was easily found, especially with Dr. Smith's patented H.E.I.S.T.™ Which scanned for Jeeves' unique frequency. {H.E.I.S.T.™  is not available in stores! call right now and we'll throw in FREE interstellar transporter FREE with your order!}
-=-
They Landed in The Valley of the Robotic Butler,  "You said that patrols come through here often?" Asked Capt. Brown  "No, they never come out into the air, they're on the other side of that wall usually." Morton answered, pointing to the south.  "But they try to avoid the area if they can because the interference nigh on explodes their eardrums."  Dr. Smith smiled again, "That would be Jeeves' 'Death Rattle' I'm quite proud of that actually,  It's based upon the same principle of that noise you get when your hold a RadioPhone [3gS]™up to some cheap gramophone loudspeakers, That annoying buzzing?  Robotic Death Rattle.  Jeeves broadcasts that on every possible frequency within about 2 miles and it serves the dual purpose of keeping people away from the 'body' and allowing me to find Jeeves and get him out of whatever trouble he's in."  Everyone stared at Dr. Smith.  "What?"  He said.  It's unfortunate that at times like these that there is no one in your audience willing to speak up, and admit that they haven't been listening to word you have said on account of their attention being focused on that evil-looking insect that has landed on the brim of your hat.  "AAAHHH!" Yelled Dr. Smith as the evil-looking insect succumbed to the cold, and fell to the ground inches from Dr. Smith's face.  everyone's eyes followed the insect to the ground "Why didn't anyone tell me there was a Vespula vulgaris on my hat!"  Quite suddenly the ground and various items of scenery became very interesting.   Before Dr. Smith could finish interrogating his father and only friend, a Robotic Death Rattle rang out in the canyon.  "Hey! That Sounded like Jeeves, Over there!" 
It was Jeeves.

-=fig. 326: jeeves in the snow=-

Jeeves, a robot, had been caught in the disastrous de-coloring of Legopolis, which was caused by the villainous Count Villiam Von TipRău, scourge of Transylvania.  Strangely, a loss of color affects robots more deeply than it does humans.  Color is tied almost directly to the soul, and humans, soulless as they may seem, can recover at any time.  Their recover may be assisted by a beautiful kite, or a certain type of fatty food, but Robots, with no desire to eat and no appreciation for beauty, only have as much soul as you put into the construction.  And once that's gone, that's it. In humans a lack of color is paralyzing, in robots, it's worse.  Oh they may function, but not nearly as as well as they did.  The individual pieces may work, but it would only be a machine.  "Oh dear," Said Dr. Smith "This is bad.  Where's my suitcase?" Dr. Smith pulled over his suitcase, it's a briefcase, really.  A small brown leather affair, with metal fittings, and a matching leather handle.   It was a bit worse for wear but wouldn't look out of place in the hand of the business man off to work. Dr. Smith latched it open.  "James help me put Jeeves in here."  Morton look on in awe, "It'll never fit in there!" He said, "The robot's got to be about three times as big as that tiny little suitcase!"  Dr. Smith held the small suitcase steady while Capt. Brown negotiated the robot in.  It was starting to look like Morton was right, and that Jeeves was, in fact, too big.  But that changed when Dr. Smith said:  "James, push a little harder, I think we've nearly got it."  Capt. Brown Pushed, and Jeeves was sucked into the Suitcase with a noise that can only be described as "SHLOOP!"  Dr. Smith turned to capt. Brown, "James, you take first watch, Dad & I are going in the trunk."  "What!?" Said Morton. Capt. Brown saluted.  "Relax Dad, I put in a ladder." They walked to the Trunk, Dr. Smith opened the trunk and pressed a red button, causing the seat to grind away, revealing a hole. "Alright Dad, what I want you to do is climb down the ladder, walk straight across the platform, don't go to the sides, and climb up the other ladder, can you do that?"  Morton nodded. "Good, it's gonna be pitch black, so be sure to walk straight across." Morton nodded, and climbed down. It was in fact, pitch black at the bottom of the ladder, there were strange noises to the left, and gurglings to the right. Morton walked straight across and at the other side was another ladder, with a lantern attached to a rung, five feet up.  This ladder was more slimy than the other one, but at least it was better lit.  The the top of the ladder was a hatch, Morton pushed it open and light streamed in, blinding him momentarily.  When he regained his sight, morton stepped out, onto a solid tiled catwalk. "What is this place?" He said.

Join us next week for our next exciting episode!

Episode 47: Hatshrooms
Same Time, Same Blog.
Tuesday 8:10 AM, right here on Save the croissants.com

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•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

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Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

New Organizational Features

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:     I Have just finished adding links to all the archived episodes of The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith, now you can read it all the way from Episode #1, In The Beginning. to Episode #45 Zachary Morton Smith!  The link is down near the bottom.

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Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 45: Zachary Morton Smith

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith, This weeks episode:

Episode 45: Zachary Morton Smith

Last Week as you recall, Dr. Zachary Smith had made a shocking discovery… 

"My father's here somewhere!" 

Dr. Smith's father was a patent clerk who had one day had a brilliant idea, The Digger No. 5!  A monster of a machine, built to harvest the miles of oil and natural resources beneath The Grand City Of Legopolis, home of hundreds.  But before he could test it the team he was working with was called away on an important mission, to gather information on a growing threat to The Grand City Of Legopolis, The Northern Villains.   If you believed the propaganda, The Northern Villains were the worst thing to happen to The Grand City Of Legopolis since processed cheese.   To counter such dissent among the people, the illustrious Captain James Brown, Mayor of The Grand City Of Legopolis, sent a crack team completely untrained into the wilds of the Frozen North,  This 'crack team' was the set of mechanics that were assigned to Dr. Smith's father to assist him in the construction of The Digger No. 5! This 'crack team' took up the moniker: the Secret Northern Observers and Watchers, S.N.O.W.  for short.  Completely untrained and frankly, unprepared they set off, with no plan other than to look good going, to reassure the populace that the illustrious Captain James Brown, Mayor of
The Grand City Of Legopolis had everything under control.  That was many years ago.  But luckily, whilst hot on the trail of Dr. Smith's robotic Butler, Jeeves, Dr. Smith, Capt. Brown and the L.C.R.P.  came across a chapter, a remnant, a remnant of a chapter, of S.N.O.W.  and were welcomed into their secret underground base.   Or should I say Undersnow?

-=fig. 320: sir we have a job for you=-

"Sir?  We have a job for you." said Dr. Smith to the Blue leader, whose name happened to be Frank.  "The name's Frank, Mr. Doctor Smith, at yer service."  Dr. Smith had long ago given up on trying to correct people who had somehow gotten it into their heads that his first name was 'Doctor'.
Which wasn't to say it didn't bother him. 
"Very good …Frank."  For Dr. Smith, using a person's first name is like calling them 'friend' or, god forbid, 'buddy'. neither of which are titles that he bestows easily.  To illustrate the point, Capt. Brown is Dr. Smith's only friend.  Not out of design, but more that Capt. Brown is the only person Dr. Smith has known long enough.  Long enough being most of his life. "…Frank. I'm sorry, I can't concentrate. what is your last name?"  Frank was affronted, "Well, it's Stathopoulos, but I thought we were all friends here–" "We're not.  Mr. Stathopoulos, I need you to tell me where Mr. Zachary Smith is, but you probably know him as 'Morton'." Frank started to look worried, "About yea high?  Perfectly Round glasses?  Hat like yours? I seem to remember that he always wore this…black Bow-Tie?" "You use the past tense.  Where is he?"   Frank squirmed.  "Gone, I'm afraid.  The Northern Villains took him."  Dr. Smith, who you'd expect to be the picture of fury, was unnaturally calm.  Always a worrying state, in anyone.   He started to chuckle softly.  Capt. Brown stepped in, "Don't worry about him frank, he's just gone past furious and is now coming out the other side.  Frank, I'm going to need you to tell me where Morton is before Zachary here comes around, because when he does you will be dead."  Frank took a quick, furtive glance at Dr. Smith, who was staring into the middle distance and chuckling softly.  "All right!  I'll tell you everything!  Just don't let him kill me!"  "I'll do the best I can Frank."  "Morton was abducted on a routine mission to the outer rim of our secured territory.  We had secured the land for The Grand City Of Legopolis, in the hopes that when you did come Capt. Brown you could start a new colony here, and we wouldn't be out here by ourselves.  All alone…" He was snapped out of his reverie by a sudden blow to the top of his head. "Right. Morton.  Well, we were out on that mission, just him and me, when The Northern Villains swooped!  Swooped!  Out of nowhere!  They had a cannon!  And Rifles!  Luckily I managed to get  The Digger No. 5!  Underground in a hurry,  but when I looked back to see how Morton was doing, he was gone."  "Thank you for your information."  "It's alright!  Just Don't let Zachary kill me!"  "Don't let him hear you call him Zachary, and you should be fine.  Thanks for the help." Capt. Brown gave Frank a friendly pat on the back, well, Capt. Brown thought it was friendly, at least.   From Franks perspective he was, quite suddenly, face down in the snow.  "Did you get all that Zachary?"  "Yes.  I have a plan." 
-=-
"Mr. Stathopoulo, I need you to take Capt. Brown and myself up to the surface, the spot where My Father was taken"  "Your father being who?" " Mr. Zachary Smith. Yea high?  Morton?"
-=-
The digger rumbled over the frozen land going at top speed, 

-=fig. 321: the digger no. 5! top speed:=-

Upwards of 12 miles per hour!  Dr. Smith was examining the craftsman ship of the safety rail, closely, and testing it's sturdiness.  With all his might, he was testing it's sturdiness.  Tightly.  Around him The Digger No. 5!'s  various mechanical parts rattled for all they were worth, spitting grease, and apparently {if the noise is any indicator} trying to kill each other.   It's no wonder The Northern Villains found The Digger No. 5!, It makes more noise than…a noisy thing.   Capt. brown came up behind Dr. Smith without him noticing, which wasn't hard.  "SO WHAT'S THE PLAN, ZACHARY?"  he tried to make himself heard over the din, "THE PLAN?" "YES, THE PLAN.  WHAT IS IT?" Dr. Smith thought for a second, " I WAS THINKING PARIS." Capt. Brown nearly fell off The Digger No. 5!, considering how they'd nearly died in Paris.  Several times. "I DON'T THINK PARIS IS THE PLAN WE NEED."  "NO, YOU'RE RIGHT.  WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MOSCOW?"  Capt. Brown went, I believe the expression is "green around the gills" at the mere thought of Moscow,  there had been a lot of falling.  And alligators. You would never think there were that many alligators in Russia.  "I DON'T THINK MOSCOW'S THE PLAN FOR THIS SITUATION."  " WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST THEN?"  "I LIKED RIO?"  They were both lost in reminisces of Rio De Janeiro in the spring, the warm weather, tropical climate, and the distinct lack of any way the tips of your fingers could freeze off.  "I LIKED RIO TOO, BUT THERE IS NO WAY WE COULD USE IT HERE."  It went on like this for awhile, but they really shouldn't have bothered because at that moment plan Budapest was put into effect, Plan Budapest consisted almost solely of being sneak attacked by the enemy.
 For Dr. Smith the world went dark. 
-=- 
Dr. Smith awoke in a cold, dark room.  The only light came from the far wall, where it came in in bars.  Whenever the light comes in in bars it usually spells one thing, cell.   Dr. Smith had arrived in one piece, relatively unscathed.   But Capt. Brown wasn't nearly so lucky, there were bullet holes in his coat and a long gash down one arm, which was bleeding profusely.  Capt. Brown was quite unfortunately awake, and sitting up.  "Hi Zachary.  My arm hurts.  I'm light headed,  and really tired. AHH! THE PAIN!" Dr. Smith rummaged around in his suitcase, "Ah, here, drink this."  He held out a small, purple vial, which Capt. Brown took in one gulp "ICK! What is this stu––ZZzzz…"  "Military grade anesthetic.  G'night, James."  Dr. Smith then set to work,  He hadn't had any formal medical training but you pick up a few things working with machines, mainly how to re-attach fingers using your wrong hand, the many and various wonders of fishing line, and how to treat third degree electrical burns.  And upholstery.  Upholstery is the key to medicine.  
-=-
When Capt. Brown woke up, {which was much, much later} his first words were: "Zachary?"  "Yes?"  "Why is my arm sewn up in fishing line?"  "Well, fishing line is smoother than regular string, which will make it easier to remove the stitches when the time comes." 
Capt. Brown just kept staring at his arm.  
"Oh."
Was all he said.  "Here, I patched up your coat,  there were quite few holes, my best guess is that either they shot at you, or there's a swarm of moths about here someplace."  The joke was lost on Capt. Brown whose humor seemed to have bled out through his arm.  A sense of humor is something you can't repair with fishing line.  
-=-
Our point of view goes out to the hallway of the cell block, where a change of the guards was happening.   This conversation happened entirely in Russian, but for our purposes it happened in italics.  "Here, I take over for you."   "The end of mine shift is not for another two hours yet."   "But this way, if I take your shift now, you can go home and spend two extra hours torturing poor cat of yours with violin."   "I do enjoy violin.  All right, you take mine shift, but do not let superior know I let you take two extra hour shift."   "Agreed mine comrade!" the old guard walked away, intent on practicing his violin at his cat.  The new guard walked down the hall and very purposefully took up roost outside cell #423, The Cell currently incarcerating Dr. Smith And Capt. Brown. 

-=fig.322: The new guard=-

"Here James, let me talk, I know a little Russian,  Hello mine comrade! release us for glory of communist empire?"   The new guard turned to Dr. Smith and said: "Come now Zachary, I taught you better Russian than that."  "Dad!"  "Hello Son."  "What are you doing here?"  "Rescuing you, of course."

Join us next week for our next exciting episode:

Episode 46: Побег из тюрьмы злодея Северный

{Escape from Northern Villain Jail}

Same time! Same blog. 

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.