Two weeks after Canada Day
Dear Mother and Father,
You will be pleased to know that I did make it back to the tavern where the important folks gather, but Mr. Baron was not present this last time. I did meet some very interesting individuals, however, and in the process became further educated about the Steamlands.
First of all, I was greeted early on by an intelligent opossum. I mean this in the same sense that I would say "an intelligent human". He was, as it were, a professor at a university and was highly educated in the field of literature and linguistics. That surprised me quite a bit, as I had never before seen a non-human with the same or greater intelligence as a human! I learned from my own mistake that individuals such as this Professor are not to be called animals. (What an embarrassing mistake to have made!) Instead, they are referred to as "Tinies", and indeed the opossum was very tiny compared to human beings, as I suppose most opossums are. He was also finely dressed. (It makes one a bit self-conscious to see small furry beings better dressed than oneself! But perhaps before long I will have cast off my racism entirely and made peace with that.) I don't think you have ever met a Tinyperson before, have you? I wonder how many of these people there are.
I also wonder if there is any possibility of inducing him to educate me. Father, you always wished I might enroll in the Miskatonic University someday--or whatever Boston or some other place has to offer--but heaven knows I'm hardly qualified for it. I know that for the sake of my development and future, I must at some point inquire as to where he teaches and how I might get into it. Perhaps we shall find that my getting lost in the Steamlands was Providence, like in the story of Joseph, and I shall be more educated and productive as a result! Of course, that all depends on my own interaction with my circumstances, in which I have considerably less faith.
There was another stranger here as well, perhaps less "strange" to my background than the Professor, but I believe I learned an equally valuable lesson from her presence.
Allow me to describe this lady's appearance. She was wearing a uniform that might have belonged to a militia of some sort, complete with a very formal-looking hat. Her ears were pointed like an elf's in a storybook. She had long hair, tied loosely back if I remember correctly, which was vivid purple and white. Her skin was light purple, and her eyes were purple in the iris but black where a human's eyes are white. I'm almost certain she had pointy clawlike fingernails. I must say I was a trifle more nervous than usual, although the friends I had already made were perfectly comfortable around her. When she saw me she smiled. I am not exaggerating when I say she had very, very, very sharp teeth--more than anything I can think of for comparison. (I also do not mean just the canines, like vampires have in illustrations.) But everyone else trusted her. In fact, they seemed to already know here very well. I don't know what she was. I don't remember any stories about people like her, either from books for from the merchant sailors next door. No one else speaks like her; she sounds German or Dutch, so perhaps she is a long way from home and the neighbors never encountered anyone like her even in the Steamlands. I would like to say that I was on my best behavior, but to be perfectly honest, I could barely think. (I probably behaved, as no one scolded me.) This mysterious soldier woman was only there a brief time, and then she left to go find something to eat. I must confess that I was relieved beyond words when this happened, not because she was a nuisance in any way, but because she had gone away completely of her own free will to eat something other than us! That has to be a good sign. Just because she looked frightening did not mean she intended any harm. Perhaps in the Steamlands there is little or no correlation between appearance and danger. Or perhaps she only looks like that as nature's technique to keep away real predators. And perhaps, there is also some importance in the detail of "dangerous to whom": Porridge, as you recall, was a grave threat to mice, squirrels, chipmunks, birds, bats, and anything else smaller than herself, but was perfectly docile around us.
If I see her again, or someone else like her, I will have to remember not act like a paranoid bunny, or at least only as much like a paranoid bunny as I do toward everyone else.
Actually, I should work on not acting like a paranoid bunny toward anyone. It would greatly improve my life in many aspects.
I can scarcely remember what else happened.
I learned that Miss Nacht, whom I met the first time, writes her own poems to recite, and yet speaks English as a second language. (Her first language is French. I wonder if she is from France, or if I am somewhere near Quebec?) Why is a non-native speaker better the language than I am? I can really see why I have disappointed you each so much over the years.
I also learned that Mr. Baron is having a birthday celebration next week. I asked if there would be a parade, but they said that he prefers more private, dignified affairs. Thus, everyone who knows him is going to come and read him splendid poems. How in the world would I get a poem worthy of a world leader? If anything brings out the paranoid bunny in me, it is tasks like that. If I tried to compose a poem, it would likely turn out as well as my infamous effort to fix that silly broken locomotive seven years ago; and where would I go to find one written by someone else? I think I shall spend the rest of the week in a haze of anxiety. (Please note that that is not a deliberate plan, but rather an unfortunate prediction.) I know that isn't what either of you would want. Father, I know you are going to want me to impress Mr. Baron and any other leaders present, and Mother, you are going to expect me to mingle and find a husband. All I can promise is that I will try. I don't wish to disappoint you or my new friends.
Love always,
Shaqad
Postscript: Mrs. Lowey said I could stay in this tavern as long as I liked. I don't believe she meant overnight, but I don't believe she'll notice if I sleep here, either. She also said I "did well" with regard to tonight's social interaction. I suppose she's one of those people who lie to make others feel better, but I can hardly judge such a pleasant and well-meaning individual for that kind of behavior.
You will be pleased to know that I did make it back to the tavern where the important folks gather, but Mr. Baron was not present this last time. I did meet some very interesting individuals, however, and in the process became further educated about the Steamlands.
First of all, I was greeted early on by an intelligent opossum. I mean this in the same sense that I would say "an intelligent human". He was, as it were, a professor at a university and was highly educated in the field of literature and linguistics. That surprised me quite a bit, as I had never before seen a non-human with the same or greater intelligence as a human! I learned from my own mistake that individuals such as this Professor are not to be called animals. (What an embarrassing mistake to have made!) Instead, they are referred to as "Tinies", and indeed the opossum was very tiny compared to human beings, as I suppose most opossums are. He was also finely dressed. (It makes one a bit self-conscious to see small furry beings better dressed than oneself! But perhaps before long I will have cast off my racism entirely and made peace with that.) I don't think you have ever met a Tinyperson before, have you? I wonder how many of these people there are.
I also wonder if there is any possibility of inducing him to educate me. Father, you always wished I might enroll in the Miskatonic University someday--or whatever Boston or some other place has to offer--but heaven knows I'm hardly qualified for it. I know that for the sake of my development and future, I must at some point inquire as to where he teaches and how I might get into it. Perhaps we shall find that my getting lost in the Steamlands was Providence, like in the story of Joseph, and I shall be more educated and productive as a result! Of course, that all depends on my own interaction with my circumstances, in which I have considerably less faith.
There was another stranger here as well, perhaps less "strange" to my background than the Professor, but I believe I learned an equally valuable lesson from her presence.
Allow me to describe this lady's appearance. She was wearing a uniform that might have belonged to a militia of some sort, complete with a very formal-looking hat. Her ears were pointed like an elf's in a storybook. She had long hair, tied loosely back if I remember correctly, which was vivid purple and white. Her skin was light purple, and her eyes were purple in the iris but black where a human's eyes are white. I'm almost certain she had pointy clawlike fingernails. I must say I was a trifle more nervous than usual, although the friends I had already made were perfectly comfortable around her. When she saw me she smiled. I am not exaggerating when I say she had very, very, very sharp teeth--more than anything I can think of for comparison. (I also do not mean just the canines, like vampires have in illustrations.) But everyone else trusted her. In fact, they seemed to already know here very well. I don't know what she was. I don't remember any stories about people like her, either from books for from the merchant sailors next door. No one else speaks like her; she sounds German or Dutch, so perhaps she is a long way from home and the neighbors never encountered anyone like her even in the Steamlands. I would like to say that I was on my best behavior, but to be perfectly honest, I could barely think. (I probably behaved, as no one scolded me.) This mysterious soldier woman was only there a brief time, and then she left to go find something to eat. I must confess that I was relieved beyond words when this happened, not because she was a nuisance in any way, but because she had gone away completely of her own free will to eat something other than us! That has to be a good sign. Just because she looked frightening did not mean she intended any harm. Perhaps in the Steamlands there is little or no correlation between appearance and danger. Or perhaps she only looks like that as nature's technique to keep away real predators. And perhaps, there is also some importance in the detail of "dangerous to whom": Porridge, as you recall, was a grave threat to mice, squirrels, chipmunks, birds, bats, and anything else smaller than herself, but was perfectly docile around us.
If I see her again, or someone else like her, I will have to remember not act like a paranoid bunny, or at least only as much like a paranoid bunny as I do toward everyone else.
Actually, I should work on not acting like a paranoid bunny toward anyone. It would greatly improve my life in many aspects.
I can scarcely remember what else happened.
I learned that Miss Nacht, whom I met the first time, writes her own poems to recite, and yet speaks English as a second language. (Her first language is French. I wonder if she is from France, or if I am somewhere near Quebec?) Why is a non-native speaker better the language than I am? I can really see why I have disappointed you each so much over the years.
I also learned that Mr. Baron is having a birthday celebration next week. I asked if there would be a parade, but they said that he prefers more private, dignified affairs. Thus, everyone who knows him is going to come and read him splendid poems. How in the world would I get a poem worthy of a world leader? If anything brings out the paranoid bunny in me, it is tasks like that. If I tried to compose a poem, it would likely turn out as well as my infamous effort to fix that silly broken locomotive seven years ago; and where would I go to find one written by someone else? I think I shall spend the rest of the week in a haze of anxiety. (Please note that that is not a deliberate plan, but rather an unfortunate prediction.) I know that isn't what either of you would want. Father, I know you are going to want me to impress Mr. Baron and any other leaders present, and Mother, you are going to expect me to mingle and find a husband. All I can promise is that I will try. I don't wish to disappoint you or my new friends.
Love always,
Shaqad
Postscript: Mrs. Lowey said I could stay in this tavern as long as I liked. I don't believe she meant overnight, but I don't believe she'll notice if I sleep here, either. She also said I "did well" with regard to tonight's social interaction. I suppose she's one of those people who lie to make others feel better, but I can hardly judge such a pleasant and well-meaning individual for that kind of behavior.
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