The Doomsday Vault (23 page)

. Hey, look—the machine blanks out profanity, too. it all to
! And
your auntie while you're at it. Huh. So much for the saying, “He curses like an airman.”

Right, so
—I guess I'll call her Miss A.—is very pretty, and I like her a lot, Gramps. I wish you were here, because I could really use some advice about her. She's older than I am—twenty-one or twenty-two—but that's not the problem. Or I thought it wasn't. She got
off and left when P. offered her a job at
. I haven't had a chance to talk to her about it, and, well, it makes me sad that she isn't here. We kind of went through a lot together.
, ,
.
—and I just noticed that you're not able to read any of this. What's the point of my talking about this if none of it actually gets down on paper, you stupid
?

That wasn't a curse word, Gramps.

Anyway, she left, and I was upset about it. I didn't know what to do. You don't have the chance to talk to a lot of women on an airship, and I have no idea what to do. Should I run after her or write to her or just leave her alone? If you can write back and tell me, man to man, it would help.

Next, Mr. D. took me upstairs to show me the dormitory where I'd be staying. I have a room to myself! I have a bed, not a hammock, with a mattress, and fresh sheets every week, and a wool blanket. There's a bookshelf for my things, when I get some, and a desk where I can read. It even has a radiator, and I can make the room as warm as I want just by twisting a knob. You'd like this place. I wish you could see it.

Mr. D. gave me a tour. This place is huge, Gramps, and always busy. People are running up and down the halls all the time, and going in and out of
and puzzling out clockworker inventions. The place has huge kitchens to feed everyone and a research library and a conservatory and a lot of other stuff you'd find in a school or college.

After that, Mr. D. took me to a shop because I didn't have any clothes. He said
would pay for it at first and then I could pay them back. We went to his tailor, who owns a big shop and does a lot of work for
. This tall, thin man with a white fringe of hair came out from behind a counter, smiling and nodding like I was royalty, and measured me up, down, and sideways. I almost socked him when he measured one part that Mr. D. said was just my inseam. He—I—ordered shirts, jackets, and trousers. It felt strange. I've never owned so many clothes before. We ordered different kinds of clothes, too—workman's clothes and farmer's clothes and servant's clothes. They're for when I
, which I apparently can't talk about, either. They also had leather outfits like the ones I used to wear on the ship, but they were all black instead of white. Some of the stuff, including the leathers, happened to fit or they were tailored on the spot and I could take them back with me. Actually, Mr. D. told them to deliver it all, and I felt strange about that, too—no one's ever fetched or carried for me before. Mr. D. said I look really good in black, and I couldn't tell if he was kidding or not—all the men at
wear black. Mr. D. gives me a lot of compliments, and I guess I'm not used to that.