Ingwig calendar, year 931.
The city fell into inky slumber, as a giant Zeppelin Airship moved slowly like a massive whale across the night sky, casting its Cyclopean light downward, observing the sleeping city.
Lorenzo stood at the corner of the street, puffing on a cigarette. The tobacco was mixed with stimulating herbs, keeping his mind crystal clear even in the dead of night, perhaps even a bit excited.
With this faint excitement, he tapped his cane lightly on the ground, rhythmically and briskly according to the cadence in his memory.
He was waiting for someone, and generally, he liked to think while waiting, thinking about anything just to keep his mind occupied.
He raised his head, gazing at the dim streetlight, as his thoughts slowly drifted.
According to the concept of parallel universes, under vast scales, all sorts of unbelievable things can happen, or rather, under this concept, they are destined to happen.
For example, in a certain world, the speed of light can be surpassed, Saturn’s rings are giant donuts, Tesla is a grand wizard of lightning, Hawking is a bronze dragon controlling time, and King Arthur is indeed a girl.
Thus, anything is possible.
Or in a certain modern world, humanity ushered in the first industrial revolution, as the thundering steam engines slowly propelled massive steel constructs, railroads spread across every inhabited inch, liberating productivity, with the economy continually rising, heralding the perfect era with roaring steam.
... Logically, this should be the storyline, yet just like the parallel universe concept, there would always be things beyond reason.
What if... the advent of the electrical age was delayed?
Just like countless assumptions in a story, what if the familiar historical timeline underwent slight changes?
The second industrial revolution ensued after this, but damnably, the world did not usher in the electrical age, akin to Newton lying under the tree, the most pivotal apple in the history of physics about to strike him, yet in an unlucky turn, he rolled over, causing humanity to temporarily lose the universal gravitation formula.
This world is similar; when they realized boiling water could drive all things, this cursed era strayed off the normal historical path.
Electrical technology failed to dominate in this steam torrent, not being utilized on a large scale, existing only in some places, and the higher thermal efficiency internal combustion engine wasn’t discovered by the world.
Larger steam engines were crafted, becoming evermore complex, ultimately becoming the hubs of cities, the hubs of the world.
They grew bloated and large, efficient yet ineffective, yet when those magnificent iron bodies appeared in view, everyone gazed upon them in awe.
Lorenzo lived in such an era, one where reason and madness coexisted.
Steel and steam, mystery and unknown.
The sharp whistle of steam interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced aside, seeing scorching white steam blast from a manhole nearby, condensing into countless water droplets in the cold night breeze, then dispersing as gray-white mist to blanket the entire city.
This is a damned era, and here is a damned city.
The crazies at the Mechanical Institute hollowed out the underground of the city, constructing the largest steam engine in history, even digging kilometric underground channels, diverting the Thames River into that iron furnace, burning day and night to drive the mechanical factories of the entire city.
The complex underground system was their exhaust facility, with thousands of tons of steam purified and recycled daily, billowing up onto the streets, then drizzling down as rain.
Thus, here remained perpetually somber, without sunlight.
He looked at his pocket watch; the time was about right, and at this moment, urgent breaths and running sounds came from the end of the street.
Seems like the person he was waiting for was punctual.
Lorenzo tossed away the cigarette butt, reached inside his heavy coat, and drew out his beloved Winchester.
As with the concept of parallel universes, this damned era also had someone hailed as a great detective... naturally, great detective was a self-professed title. He wasn’t someone renowned, nor a master of deduction, but merely a second-rate detective who enjoyed intimidating suspects with force.
Those who knew him called him this, Lorenzo Holmes. Original content can be found at n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟f͟i͟r͟e͟.net
The footsteps drew closer, right near his ear, and he grinned with excitement.
"Welcome to Old Dunling! My friend!"
The second-rate detective dashed out of the street corner, laughing heartily at the running figure, and in the shadow’s bewildered gaze, he warmly pulled the trigger, the Winchester unleashed a booming roar in the night.
Amidst blazing gunfire, the shadow had no time to react before being shot down, crimson blood seeping into the sewer through the stone cracks.
As the gunfire dissipated, shortly afterwards, rifle-wielding patrolmen surrounded the area, as the Zeppelin Airship’s light illuminated the scene like daylight, but besides the now-cold corpse, nothing else remained.