WITCHRULE

ISSUE #18 WEIRD

SCIENCE
 CONTENTS
Introductions
A quick hello from both the editor of this
fine magazine and your benevolent ruler
Campaigns for the next year
Sin
City…………………………………………2
YT gives us a quick rundown of his game
in that most noir of locations, Basin City
Unhallowed
Metropolis………………………………...4
A quick taste of the gaslight, steam punk
horror that is Unhallowed Metropolis, run
by my good self
Reborn……………………………………5
Supernatural craziness abounds in Fifty’s
game set in an alternate near future Hong
Kong. A homebrew system in a game
called ‘Reborn’
Savage
Worlds…………………………………….7
Andrew Sparks panits a dire future
indeed in his Savage World’s sci-fi. A
world without coffee!
Call of
Cthulhu……………………………………8
Call of Cthulhu in the roaring twenties!
Something tells me that finding a
speakeasy and a glass of gin will be the
least of your worries in Martin’s game
Gaming resources
The Portation
device……………………………………...9
1
A wonderful device to be dropped into
any science fiction game around the time
of the Victorians from YT
Mad Scientist’s
Essentials……………………………….11
Some actual science now from Ant, but
with a gaming twists; devices that should
be in any mad scientist’s laboratory
complete with photographs
Put this in your time
machine………………………………….13
Don’t think of it as just a gaming
resource, thank Fifty for giving you this
wonderful bit of information if you ever
find yourself temporally stranded
Fiction
Not so Virtual
Reality……………………………………14
The best way ever to live the strange and
usual life of an elf, as long as that elf is
OK taking your job in tech support,
brought to us by Andy Sparks.
Just another
Day………………………………………..16
Geordie Andy gives everyone a taste of
the life of a Parapsychologist on the
mean streets of Neo Victorian London.
Something funny.
The new Christian Science
Textbook………………………………..19
I just hope you all take it in good humour
From your friendly (mad-scientist) editor
Welcome once more to another thrilling
instalment of our very own, self-produced society
magazine Witchrule. This time we have taken a
weird science look at the gaming world with more
than one article this time actually on the subject
matter.
This issue also has a few adverts for the games
that will be run by the society for the university
term and I advise you all to take a good look
through them to figure out what you would like to
play. The names of the game masters will also be
included, so when you turn up for the first night’s
drinking and the first few weeks of trial gaming,
feel free to ask them any questions about the
games before you make your final
decision.
With that in mind I would like to
welcome those amongst you who
are reading your first issue of
Witchrule. This magazine only
exists due to the hard work of our
society members who write the
1
articles and send in filler material. We usually run
two issues a year, one for fresher’s fayre and the
other for the student nationals. This year there
may also be two mini issues that will be put
together to keep the slavering hounds of readers at
bay, so be prepared for me to bug you all over the
course of the year for submissions.
Shorty
A message from your president. Or
whatever it he wants to be called
now.
Hello. It’s (yet) another year of us all being alive.
Apologies to those of you who are dead. Well,
your families. Anyway, yes. I am your president-
by-default. Actually, that has a certain ring to it.
Yes, I would like to be known as President-By-
Default. With the capitals. That or ‘arse-hole’.
Right. So most of you are aware that I’m useless,
almost to the point of qualifying for the Special
Olympics, so all I have to say is:
If you try and make things easy for ME this year, I
shall try and make things more
beneficial/manageable/convenient/profitable for
you (delete as appropriate).
But seriously, if any of y’all have problems with
any o’ dat shizzle, then just hasten to mention it to
me (or anyone else who could be of
potential help. I can’t stress that
enough).
So! There we have it. Go away.
Nate.
Welcome to Sin City, pal. Get yourself a beer and sit down.

Let me tell you a little bit about this place and the guys and gals who live here.

First of all, everyone owns a gun - yep, everyone. If you don’t have one now, get one... or get back on the
train to Phoenix.

You got to be near the top of your game to survive in Sin City; life is cheap; a savage struggle from day to
day. The only way for most folk is down - and out - so don’t expect to be around long enough to learn
much of anything new.

By all means act like a hard-ass mother, throw your weight around and
get involved in all sorts of shit. But take my advice; when it really
matters and the chips are down, do the right thing and you’ll get due
respect and appreciation. You’ll know when your time comes; if you
don’t, it’s likely nothing will matter to you any more anyway.

Make sure your affairs are all in order. Life expectancy around here is
pretty lousy, even for high-fliers like you guys. Don’t get too attached to
anyone either - for the same reason.

There are some people you should be

aware of, some you should avoid,
others might be useful associates.
Surround yourself with people you
can reasonably trust… then watch
‘em - real close.

The social structure in this town is sort of hourglass-shaped; lots at the

top, even more at the bottom and only a few in the middle.

The prefab Projects are where the vast majority of folks live. A huge
sprawling mass of run-down multi-storey apartment blocks. Cheap
rooms are always becoming vacant down there.

You can always get a drink here in Kadie’s Club Pecos. Safest place in
the City since Marv and Dwight and some other righteous hard-cases
frequent it. You get the added attraction of Nancy too; you can look,
but don’t touch. That’s a free piece of advice.

Come in here rather than Murphy’s Bar - that place is home to a nest
of scum, assassins and general murderous bastards.
2
Definitely don’t get on the wrong side of the Rourke Family. They run the City; fingers in all sorts of pies;
crime, politics, the church, everything. Well, they don’t quite run everything. The Old Town is damn near
free of their influence.

Speaking of which, the Old Town, what a place. Wall-to-wall whores. Run by the twins Goldie and
Wendy. Completely off-limits to official police business, though they do frequent the place in their free
time. If you mess up in the Old Town, you’ll get a visit from Miho, and you don’t want that.

Sacred Oaks is where the rich and famous live. They have everything they
need up there in the mountains - including their own private security force.
You gotta have money, and lots of it, to live - and stay living - up there.
Most of the Rourkes have estates in Sacred Oaks, as does tha industrialist
Damien Lord, Police Commissioner Liebowitz, Don Giacco Magliozzi
and Ernest Wallenquist.

There are other places around too which have their uses: The Tar Pits
Amusement Park, Central Train Station, The Docks, The Rourke Farm,
and plenty more I’ll let you discover for yourselves.

A few criminal fraternities you might want to avoid - or work for… your
choice. The Rourke’s, Wallenquist’s organization, the Magliozzi family…
and I heard rumors the Tongs and White Slavers are moving into the area
too.

Oh yeah, and don’t forget the Cops. These days

they look and act more like SWAT teams.
Liebowitz is in charge, but he’s as corrupt as they
come. Good, honest Cops are a dying breed these
days. And don’t get on the wrong side of
Detective “Iron Jack Rafferty - a war hero with
a mean-streak a mile wide; a real nasty piece of
work, but he does his job well enough.

Probably forgotten a few other people and places,

but I’m sure you can manage to find stuff out
without treading on too many toes. That’s
assuming you’re sticking around for a while yet.

Well, if I don’t see you again, good luck to you.

Me? I’m Detective John Hartigan. Yep, I’m a

Cop - for my sins. But don’t you worry about me
cramping your style, I aint gonna be around for
much longer…

3
First, the posters turned up in the worst rookeries of the east end, and desperate men and
women read the words in the failing, flickering lights of the barely functioning Tesla array,
in dire need of repair. Looking at their world of sunken eyed child-whores, and criminals who
would stab you for your worn out boots quicker than talk to you, some made up their mind to
see how dangerous the job was, even though it claimed to be of huge risk to life and limb.

As the fog lifted, and daylight started to creep over the nicer
areas of London, others saw the posters. It promised high reward
for a long period of employment and it would take those involved
away from this dirty city and its horrors, into the countryside away
from the plague and the blight that had been bringing the dead back
to life since the time of the first Victoria. Some amongst them saw
the chance to make money to improve their lot in life and get some
air into their lungs without breathing it through the full face
respirators that were essential within the metropolis.

Word eventually made its way to the higher echelons of London

society, to effete nobles and true blooded aristocrats bored with
a life of social predation and endless parties. The promise of
danger was more the promise of excitement to these people; a way
to breathe life back into their ennui filled existence. Maybe a way to
remove themselves from the scandal that was sure to follow from
their latest activities with the up and coming ranks of nobility and
gentry who would do anything to find acceptance with those who
were born to a higher station in society than themselves.

From any of these lives,

and countless others,
people came from over the
greatest city in what was
left of the empire. They
met with middle men in the worst dens of sin, and
coffee lounges that had princes as customers and
eventually they found out his name; Lord Walter De
La Poer. Details of the job trickled in even slower; a
country house surrounded by the living dead animate
hoards, brought there by the sounds of suffering
from beyond the grave of the restless spirits that
haunted the country manor and the surrounding
mining village.

Out of all the brave, foolhardy and reckless men &

women, who would pass muster? Who would be
called upon to meet with De La Poer get the final
answers that could take them beyond the mighty
walls of London to the wastelands beyond, To a
place they have never heard of, a stop off in the
middle of nowhere named Hobb’s landing.

4
The year was 4720 ...or at least it is was the Chinese counted
them.
Yi-you - the 39th year of the 78th cycle since they started reckoning
such things, “…and Year of the Tiger as well! A lucky year for
those brave and quick to act!” Hui Lin had told him
before they set out earlier that evening.
重
Jake wasn’t so sure, as far as he was concerned it
was January the 1st 2022, and a Saturday night, and
this year by a strange coincidence of the stars the
Chinese new- year was going to be on Monday
instead of a couple of weeks after the Western one,
生
so pretty much everyone in New Hong Kong was
using it as an excuse to have a major party lasting
the whole weekend!
“fucking Satuuurday night man” Jake complained
quietly at Hui Lin’s back, “I should be down at Joe
Bananas trying to get laid by some AV wannabe, not breaking into
the fucking vaults of a Sanatorium! ”
“Quiet!” hissed Hui Lin, not looking up from the phone in his hand
or the thin wire leading from it to the card stuck in the door lock.
“I’ve told you before, this is a Hospital as well as a Sanatorium,
and we are here to find out once and for all just what Bioserve are
trying so hard to hide. And the fact that it is Saturday night and
the middle of the biggest party this city has seen for many years is
precisely why we have come now …there done!”
The door lock winked from red to green and with a slight hiss of
the seal clicked open. Hui Lin stepped to one side, and with a quick
glance up at the motionless security camera Jake stepped forward to
push it open fully.
“I hope your right about that software re-running last night’s
footage for the guards” Jake muttered as he stepped forward into
the room with his taser leading the way.
It was dark in there, and cold. Jake could feel the warmth being
sucked from his skin as he moved forward. The room was big, he
could tell that much in the dim glow from the corridor lights, and
full of bulky looking equipment with little lights twinkling on their
displays, reminding him of the new year’s illuminations festooning
the streets outside. “You worry too much” Hui Lin stated from
behind him, as he flicked a switch and with a snap the lights in the
room sprung on.
5
Now revealed in the harsh glare of the florescent lights the room
was indeed big, huge in fact. Long steel tables stood in neat rows
down the centre of the space and white sided trolleys holding
computers or weird looking scientific paraphernalia were scattered all
around. Against each of the long side walls curved
steel cabinets with glass fronted doors were stood,
next to each a complicated series of wires and tubes
fed into the wall mounted medical style machines.
There the resemblance to anything Jake recognised
as ‘Science’ ended. The walls and floor were covered
in complicated looking zhèngtǐzì characters and
weird diagrams, and a large brass gong was
suspended by heavy chains from the ceiling half way
along the room. Several wrought Iron braziers stood
along each side of the chamber at the foot of each
was a small black lacquered wooden chest.
“Holy Shit!” Jake exclaimed looking round “what the
fuck is going on here?” he half turned to look at Hui Lin who was
poking at the strange looking Shenist ceremonial robes hung
alongside the white lab coats on pegs just inside the door.
Hui Lin glanced up at Jake “Onmyōdō ....to ward against Guǐ.” he
answered sharply “...perfectly safe for you. Now quickly see if you
can find any documents or data discs”.
With a nod Jake moved into the room, “..Guǐ, you mean like as in
ghosts?” he asked as he carefully
stepped round a delicate looking
table holding a set of surgical
instruments and three Chinese
coins sat on a folded black
cloth. “I know you guys are hot
for Feng shui and all... I mean,
were underneath a forty floor
skyscraper with a big hole
punched right through the
middle to ‘let-the-bad-out’ for
gods sake... but this man, this is
just too fucking whack!”.
“Onmyōdō has little to do with
Feng shui , now just shut up and keep looking!” hissed Hui Lin as
he moved down the opposite line of tables, though Jake couldn’t
help notice him muttering and occasionally making little sidesteps
and funny hops. “...It is a Japanese occult art, imported from China
originally, that is loosely based on Taoism and Wu Xin, it has
particular excellence in dealing with Guǐ, especially if one is not a
Taoist priest or Buddhist monk...”.

Hui Lins monologue was cut short as Jake suddenly cried out from
the other side of the room “Shit! there’s someone alive inside this
one!”.

“What? Let me have a look!” responded Hui Lin as he hurried

quickly across the room to where Jake was stood in front of one of
the glass-doored steel cupboards.
Lights were flashing urgently on the machine mounted on the wall
next to it and through the condensation fogged glass Hui Lin could
just make out what did appear to be an adult man. There was a
sudden hiss of steam from the cupboard door and it clicked forward
a fraction. Moments later up and down both sides of the room the
hiss-click noise was repeated from each of the other cupboards.
“Gah! What did you do!?” yelled Hui Lin over the rising crescendo
of escaping steam.
“Nothing!” Jake shouted, then looked a little sheepish. “...well I may
have lent by accident on that green button there...” he said
pointing at a large knob marked with a strange Hanzi ideogram.
The cupboard door in front of him was suddenly pushed fully open
and a naked man with wires and tubes trailing from all over his
body slumped forward onto the floor with a groan.
Somewhere in the distance the woo-woo of an alarm started, with a
groan Jake exclaimed
“Fucking worst Saturday night ...EVER!”
To Be Continued...
Eastern and Western cultures fuse in New Hong Kong, a
city brimming with a palpable energy second to none. Both
the old and new collide here daily. Towering skyscrapers
employ legions of executives, and a network of air-
conditioned passageways links this aerial metropolis. But
below, at street level, old Hong Kong thrives, with the
bustling commerce of cart vendors, and when darkness
falls, the night markets, bars and clubs.
重生 ( chóngshēng. lit. Reborn ) is a game set in the very
near future of this alternate Hong Kong. One where the
supernatural is very real and restless spirits, hungry ghosts
and vampires stalk the night vying with mortal agencies,
and the demons of Hell try to manipulate the Celestial
bureaucracy for their own ends.
Players will take the role of reborn humans (or similar),
touched by the supernatural to some greater or lesser
degree.
Politics, investigation, horror, and a bit of kung-fu action will
all be on the cards (hopefully) as characters try to find their
new place in New Hong Kong’s melting pot of Cutting-edge
science meets Taoist magic and Occidental occultism.
The rules system will be a home-brew take on D6 system
with a bit of whatever supernatural rules take my fancy!

6
Excerpt from Smithkin, B. and Hepworth, J. (2045) A brief history of Green Thursday,
London, Wiley:

"Nobody knows the true origins of Green Thursday, but a

number of contributing factors are easily identified. The
advances of science, leading to a decreased mortality rate is
often quoted as the most likely candidate, but others claim
it may have been something more sinister. That the great
European culinary laboratories may have bought out the
world's farmland for "development" purposes, ensuring a
complete monopoly on the world's food industry.

Some even direct their accusations at GastroTech Industries,

shortly before being sued into an oily smear on the
tarmac..."

The year is 2057. Things haven't changed much, people live

and die, are unappreciated in their jobs and still enjoy the
same sort of lifestyle that we do now with one small change.
In 2033, the sale of a small pig farm in Idaho marked the corporate purchase of the last working farm in existence.
Remaining stockpiles quickly depleted, leaving mankind with no sources of natural food. Thankfully, with knowledge
of genetic engineering at an all time high, substitutes have been made. They're vitamin enriched, low in fat, low in
calorie and they all, without exception, taste of cardboard.

GastroTech industries,
the world leader in
culinary science, has
recently released a
statement. They're
looking for product
testing candidates for
NeoBean, a synthetic
coffee substitute. Cash on arrival, free food and a month's supply of
the product is promised, provided there are no ill effects.

So, are you in the mood for a quick brew?

7
 The roaring 20’s.
Prohibition, jazz,
movies & dance, every
day is a new adventure.
America recovers from
the Great War, with
people looking for a
bright future. Times
are indeed fast & loose.
Meanwhile dark &
malevolent forces
plot. Acts of
unspeakable horror
begin to surface. Does a supreme evil
preside over these dreadful events?

With your wits, luck & an array of skills, you will have to face your darkest fears, as you experience:

Horror
Madness
Terror
Fright

Dare you enter the world of H.P. Lovecraft & challenge the agents of evil? Will you be able to
survive? Join us & find out the secrets of The Call of Cthulhu.

8
The Portation Device

Introduction:
The following device featured prominently in my previous Savage Worlds “Victoriana” campaign -
with mixed success and variable acclaim.
Professor Poole - an American inventor - has created a “Portation Device” which teleports its user
instantaneously from one location to another.
The longitude and latitude of the destination must be known. The device will automatically position
the device at a pre-determined height above solid ground (this value may be adjusted to suit the
vehicle to which the device is attached.)
Locations are currently limited to Earthly coordinates.

What It Looks Like:

The main component of the device comprises a 12 foot long brass tube, fluted at each end.
Smaller tubes and wires run around the tube in clockwise and counter clockwise directions.
About 4 feet from the rear is located the Berner, the power converter and the control panel.
The power converter draws its recharge energy from a series of solid state batteries lined in series
around the main tube. These can be recharged by attaching to a fly-wheel of some kind; for example,
the drive-shaft of an early 1900’s automobile or something a bit more fancy.
The control panel has three dials (one for each axis coordinate of the destination) and two levers
(charge and activation). A bell sounds when charge-up is complete; this normally takes from 5 to 10
seconds.

How It Works:
When the charge-up lever is engaged, a deep thrumming
noise begins and rapidly increases in pitch until inaudible
to humans. (One side effect is that any canines in the
vicinity are driven to annoyance and will engage in
rapturous barking until the device is activated.)
Simultaneously, an undulating field of strangely metallic
energy billows from the front end of the tube and quickly flows out and back – eventually wrapping
back upon itself as it enters the rear end of the tube. It forms an impenetrable egg-shaped envelope of
about 18 foot long and 12 foot at its widest diameter.
Those within the energy field can see out, but those outside cannot see in. The field also treats items
it partly engulfs in different ways. Living organisms are mostly drawn within the field, while inanimate
objects are pushed out.
This can be somewhat amusing at times; on one occasion the Professor was showered in woodworm
as the roof timbers of his barn were forced into the air.
9
The occupants can also see many fluorescent green lines. These are “Ley-Lines”, the mystical
supernatural highways of energies that play over the earth. Emerging from the front of the tube is a
single red line. This is the line upon which the occupants of the field will travel to their destination.
The lines are not straight but follow strange patters and curves as they disappear into the misty
distance. Visibility is about 100 yards at most. As the dials are moved, the red line snaps to different
green lines.
When the second lever is activated, there is a pause of perhaps two seconds then the journey begins
and ends in literally no time at all.
Those observers at the departure point would hear a “Whup” noise and see an egg-shaped
depression in the earth, and any previously contacted constructions will collapse into the vacated
space.
Observers at the arrival point will hear a “Bang” noise and anything within the area now occupied by
the energy field will be hurled away violently in all directions. The concussion zone is about the size
of the Savage Worlds Large Blast Template. Anyone failing an Agility check at -4 will fall to the
ground. Damage will result from a botched roll.

Other Equipment:
There are numerous metal tubes and wooden chests containing
maps and measuring equipment which can be uses to help a
traveller calculate destination positions.

The Portable Homer:

The Professor has a personal homing teleporter which brings the
device back to his current location. This device is in a satchel. It
must be wound up to recharge it using a cranking handle. An
encased bulb lights up when it is sufficiently charged. The homer
can then be activated by depressing a red button.

The Berner:
This is the heart of the weird science.
Invented by Doctor Hans Gunthar Berne in 1805, the Berner uses an item of spiritual power,
immersed in a specially prepared alchemical mixture (which must include the blood of the creator),
and encased in a lead box.
The Berner is attached to the power supply and the tube by means of wires, cables, tubes and other
scientific paraphernalia.
The exact details of how to create a Berner are guarded by “the Order of Berne” - a secret
multinational organization. Members of the Order are strictly regulated, but occasionally non-
members learn of the existence of such strange devices.
By Ian “YT” White
June 2010

10
Equipment for a Mad So, aside from the various dials and
bubbling bottles, here is a quick look at
Scientists Lab some of the staples of the aspiring mad
scientist.

We have all seen them, the Mad

Scientists Lab, from various Name: Tesla Coil
Frankenstein’s Labs, the works of HG
Wells and so on. But the prototype was
probably set in the seminal film by Fritz
Lang in 1927, namely Metropolis in the
form of Rotwang, the evil genius whose
machines gave life to the dystopian city
of the title.

Rotwang's laboratory influenced many

subsequent movie sets with its
electrical arcs, bubbling apparatus, and What does it do?
bizarrely complicated arrays of dials
and controls. Portrayed by actor The staple of many a mad scientists lab,
Rudolf Klein-Rogge, Rotwang himself is and many computer games, the Tesla Coil
the prototypically conflicted mad quite simple is a transformer – taking a
scientist; though he is master of almost high-energy electrical power source
mystical scientific power, he remains and converting it to a high voltage, high
slave to his own desires for power and frequency alternating current. It is
revenge. Rotwang's appearance was also often called a lightening
also influential - the character's shock simulator.
of flyaway hair, wild-eyed demeanor, and
his quasi-fascist laboratory garb have It was invented by Nikola Tesla in 1891.
all been adopted as shorthand for the
mad scientist "look". Even his
mechanical right hand has become a Name: Jacob’s Ladder
mark of twisted scientific power,
echoed notably in Stanley Kubrick's Dr.
Strangelove.

What Does it Do?

Quite simply, it is a device invented for

entertainment purposes, and is a staple
of the mad scientists lab, science fairs
and school demonstrations for its
obvious reasons. It is based on the spark
11
gap principle and has some complicated
science behind it to explain how it
works, and the spark gap principle itself
has many, many important applications.
Sadly the Jacobs Ladder is little more
than a toy. But a very dangerous one
since it takes about 30000 volts to
break down 1cm of air gap!
Name: Van de Graaf
Generator
What does it do?
As the name implies it’s a generator
invented by Robert J Van de Graaf in
1929 and uses static electricity (like
rubbing a balloon on your hair) to
generate potentially very high
voltages – upwards of 5Mv (5 million
volts!). More recently experiments
have been able to yield much higher
voltages using them in tandem, and
with much other special equipment and
they have regularly produced
voltages of up to 20Mv.
Its real use however is that the
voltages it produces are very stable,
and when used at such high levels
12
have many implementations in lasers,
nuclear physics, and low impact
electrical generation.
Name: The Faraday Cage
What does it do?
This is a remarkable simple piece of
equipment being little more than a metal
box or cage designed to protect
anything in it, or outside of it, from
electrical currents and interference.
Many demonstrations (including by
Faraday himself in a fundraising effort)
have shown people inside these
apparatus completely protected from
lightening arcs. Indeed a car with its
metal body shell is an ideal place to
shelter from lightening.
The picture above is not of a faraday
cage itself, but some apparatus inside a
cage and is taken from the CERN LINACS
project and is suitably mad scientist to
make us all wonder just what they are
up to over there…
..LET'S SAY YOU'VE GONE BACK IN TIME.
NICE ONE.!  OKAY. WE’RE GOING TO D O N ’T W O R R Y ! …FIRST. WE NEED SOME UNITS. BUT NO BlGGIE.
ASSUME THAT YOU’RE ON EARTH AND CAN THE EXACT SPEED OF LIGHT IN A VACUUM IS
STILL READ THIS… SO FAR. SO GOOD. WITCHRULE HAS THIS ONE 299.792,456 METERS PER SECOND. GOOD TO
BUT HOW CAN YOU BUILD ALL THE
AMENITIES OF TOMORROW WHEN YOU'RE C O V E R E D KNOW. A METER IS DEFINED IN TERMS OF LIGHT
BUT IF YOU CAN'T MEASURE IT ACCURATELY.
STUCK IN THE PAST?... THE LENGTH OF A PENDULUM THAT TAKES ONE SECOND TO
SWING FROM END-TO-END WILL DO THE TRICK. PENDULUMS
FLIGHT: THE WING TOOK A LONG TIME TO FIGURE OUT. TEND TO TAKE THE SAME AMOUNT OF TIME TO SWING
JUST REMEMBER AEROFOILS ARE OBJECTS REGARDLESS OF HOW HIGH YOU START THEM OFF, SO DON’T
SHAPED SUCH THAT AIR MOVING ABOVE THEM PROGRESSES WORRY ABOUT THAT. PRETTY NEAT, RIGHT? GALILEO
FASTER THAN AIR MOVING BENEATH THEM. DISCOVERED THAT. BUT WHATEVER. TAKE THE CREDIT. IF YOU
SLOWER MOVING AIR HAS MORE DON'T HAVE A WATCH. A SECOND IS- ABOUT HOW LONG IT
PRESSURE. SO THERE IS A NET TAKES YOU TO SAY “ONE MISSISSIPPI” AND A GRAM IS PRETTY
UPWARDS FORCE. ATTACH MUCH THE WEIGHT OF ONE CENTIMETRE CUBED OF WATER.
AN AEROFOIL OF
GERMS SPREAD DISEASE. AND THEY CAN
SUFFICIENT SIZE TO A MACHINE CAPABLE OT HEALTH: LIVE BASICALLY ANYWHERE. FIGHT THEM
MOVING ITSELF FORWARD FAST ENOUGH AND IT WILL FLY. YOU WITH HYGIENE AND ANTIBIOTICS WASH TO KEEP YOURSELF
CAN MAKE A PLANE BY ATTACHING TWO AEROFOILS TO A AND THOSE AROUND YOU CLEAN. MEDICAL INSTRUMENTS
CENTRAL BODY. ADD FLAPS AT THE TRAILING EDGE AND YOU SHOULD BE CLEANED IN BOILING WATER. STEAM WORKS ON
CAN CONTROL WHERE IT GOES. THINGS THAT CAN'T BE WASHED. THE BEST
ANTIBIOTIC IS PENICILLIN (THE MOULD PENICILLIUM
HEAT MILK TO JUST BELOW NOTATUM) FOUND ON FOOD. IT'S INCREDIBLY
TECHNOLOGY: ITS BOILING POINT, IT WON’T EFFECTIVE AT STOPPING INFECTION. AND WORKS
CURDLE, AND 99.999% OF THE BUGS IN IT WILL BE KILLED, BY PREVENTING OTHER BACTERIA FROM MAKING
CONGRATULATIONS! YOU JUST INVENTED NEW CELL WALLS AND REPRODUCING. IT'LL USHER IN
PASTEURISATION. A MOVING ELECTRIC FIELD PRODUCES A NEW AGE Of ANTIBIOTICS. TAKE THE CREDIT. IF THE
MAGNETISM, AND VICE VERSA, WRAP COPPER WIRE PENICILLIUM MOULD IS UNKNOWN. LOOK FOR
AROUND AN IRON CORE AND RUN MOULDS ON FOODS THAT, WHEN VIEWED UNDER A
ELECTRICITY THROUGH IT, AND YOU’VE MICROSCOPE. LOOK LIKE CRAZY HANDS ON LONG STALKS.
GOT AN ELECTROMAGNET. DON’T HAVE THERE'S YOUR PENICILLIUM! VIRUSES SPREAD DISEASE. BUT
UNLIKE GERMS. CAN'T REPRODUCE ON THEIR OWN, THEY RELY
ANY ELECTRICITY? PUT A MAGNET ON A
ON HOST CELLS TO REPRODUCE. FIGHT THEM WITH
WATERWHEEL AND PUT YOUR COPPER-
VACCINATION. WHICH ALLOWS THE BODY TO PRODUCE
WRAPPED IRON BESIDE THE WHEEL, AND ANTIBODIES THAT FIGHT A GIVEN VIRUS BEFORE IT EVEN
HEY PRESTO – YOU’RE CONVERTING MECHANICAL SHOWS UP. MAKE A VACCINE BY GROWING A CULTURE AND
ENERGY INTO ELECTRICITY. DON’T HAVE ANY MAGNETS? THEN HEATING IT: THE HEAT WILL KILL THE VIRUS, BUT THEIR
HEAT IRON TO GET A VERY WEAK ONE, LOOK FOR BLACK DEAD SHELLS ARE ENOUGH TO TEACH THE BODY TO FIGHT.
GRAINS IN BEACH SANDS THAT STICK TOGETHER, OR WEAKER STRAINS’ ALSO VACCINATE. NB: YOU'RE PROBABLY
EXAMINE THE SITES OF LIGHTNING STRIKES FOR GOOD FOR MOST DISEASES. BUT OUR GENERATION WAS THE
MAGNETIC LOADSTONES. RUN ELECTRICITY THROUGH FIRST TO GROW UP WITHOUT SMALLPOX (WHICH WILL KILL
TUNGSTEN TO GET THE LIGHT BULB. RUN ELECTRICITY YOU). COWPOX ARE SPOTS FOUND ON COW UDDERS. AND IT'S
BACK AND FORTH ALONG A WIRE WITH ENOUGH POWER CLOSE ENOUGH TO VACCINATE YOU WHILE BEING WEAK
AND YOU’VE INVENTED RADIO. WHEN A RADIO WAVE ENOUGH NOT TO KILL YOU. SPEAKING OF NOT BEING KILLED.
INTERACTS WITH A RECEIVING ANTENNA TE EXACT SAME DIABETES IS CHARACTERIZED BY FREQUENT URINATION.
ELECTRICAL CHARGE CAN BE RECOVERED. INFORMATION EXTREME THIRST OR HUNGER. AND/OR EXTREME WEIGHT
CAN BE ENCODED IN TWO WAYS: IN THE CHARGE OF THE LOSS, WITHOUT TREATMENT IT'S FATAL. BUT INSULIN CAN BE
ELECTRICITY (HIGHER CURRENT PRODUCES A HIGHER EXTRACTED FROM THE PANCREAS OF DOGS AND PIGS BY
AMPLITUDE WAVE) OR IN THE FREQUENCY OF THE TYING A STRING AROUND THE PANCREATIC DUCT. INJECT THIS
EXTRACT AND IT WILL ACT AS A MIRACULOUS TREATMENT.
ELECTRICAL REVERSALS. FM IS MORE RESISTANT TO
FORGET BANTING AND BEST TAKE THE CREDIT.
AMPLITUDE DECAY IN TRANSIT. SEND OUT HIGH
FREQUENCY WAVES AND MEASURE HOW AND WHEN DON'T FORGET THE BASIC
THEY BOUNCE BACK AND YOU’VE INVENTED RADAR. DO CHEMISTRY: BUILDING BLOCKS OF MATTER:
THE SAME WITH SOUND AND OH MAN – SONAR. MOUNT A ATOMS. ATOMS CONSIST OF A NUCLEUS AT THE CORE MADE
MAGNET SO IT CAN MOVE FREELY, AND YOU’VE INVENTED OUT OF NEUTRALLY-CHARGED NEUTRONS AND POSITIVELY-
THE COMPASS. (ARE YOU TAKING THE CREDIT?). POLARIS CHARGED PROTONS, SURROUNDED BY NEGATIVELY CHARGED
IS JUST ABOUT THE BRIGHTEST STAR IN THE SKY (48
TH ELECTRONS. AN ATOM WITH THE SAME NUMBER OF
PLACE) AND IT’S NEAR THE BIG DIPPER. MEASURE ELECTRONS AND PROTONS IS ELECTRICALLY
NEUTRAL, OTHERWISE IT WILL HAVE A POSITIVE OR
HOW HIGH UP IT APPEARS TO BE, AND THAT ANGLE NEGATIVE CHARGE.. THE NUMBER OF PROTONS IN AN
IS YOUR LATITUDE. QUARTS CRYSTALS ARE GREAT: ATOM DETERMINE WHICH ELEMENT IT IS. FOR OUR
RUN SOME CURRENT THROUGH THEM AND THEY’LL PURPOSES THE MOST USEFUL ONES ARE HYDROGEN
CHANGE SHAPE! STOP THE CURRENT AND THEY’LL (H) WITH 1 PROTON, CARBON (C) WITH 6, NITROGEN (N)
RESUME THEIR SHAPE, AND THEY’LL GENERATE WITH 7, AND OXYGEN (O) WITH 8. WATER IS MADE OF
ELECTRICITY WITH A VERY PRECISE FREQUENCY AS THEY HYDROGEN AND OXYGEN: H2O SUPER GLUE IS C5H5NO2. IF
DO. YOU CAN USE THIS TO BUILD PRECISION CLOCKS. YOU’RE A WOMAN AND YOU SWALLOW PROGESTERONE. YOU
NICE . WITH THESE CLOCKS YOU CAN DETERMINE WON’T OVULATE C20H26O2 IS A GOOD SYNTHETIC SUBSTITUTE..
ALUMINIUM USED TO BE MORE VALUABLE THAN GOLD.
LONGITUDE: JUST SET YOUR CLOCK TO LONDON TIME,
EXTRACT IT FROM ROCKS BY DISSOLVING THEM MOLTEN
TAKE THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LONDON NOON AND CRYOLITE AND RUNNING CURRENT THROUGH IT. YOU'LL FIND
LOCAL NOON, AND THAT’S HOW FAR AWAY FROM THE CRYOLITE IN GREENLAND. LATITUDE 61.2 LONGITUDE -48.16
PRIME MERIDIAN YOU ARE. HEY! THAT’S LONGITUDE LOOK FOR GLASSY WHITE CRYSTALS. ATOMS CAN BE SPLIT.
RIGHT THERE.. EASY! P.S. IF YOUR IN WHICH RELEASES A TREMENDOUS AMOUNT OF
1714 AND NEED SOME CASH THE BRITISH SO ANYWAY. ENERGY AND RADIATION. ENERGY CANNOT BE
CREATED OR DESTROYED. JUST CONVERTED.
HAVE A £20,000 PRIZE UP FOR A SIMPLE
HANG THIS UP IN YOUR REMEMBER EINSTEIN: ENERGY IS MASS TIMES THE
WAY TO CALCULATE LONGITUDE. SO
CLAIM IT, I’D SAY YOU’VE EARNED IT!  TIME MACHINE! SPEED OF LIGHT SQUARED, …TAKE THE CREDIT!
13
 NOT SO VIRTUAL REALITY
Dr. Jeremy ("Jay Jay to my friends, young man")
Jenkins was an odd character. Always charming
and energetic, a marvel with children and
beloved by people of all ages, the residents of the
town of Duncannon were glad to have him.
They did, however, find it unsettling that nobody
could ever recall him actually arriving, nor could
they remember him building his magnificent
shop, Jenkins' Imagination Station.
Each and every resident visited that shop daily
and they all came out the
same, eyes full of wonder,
tongues wagging with all
manner of extraordinary tales
and never, ever a penny
poorer than when they
entered. Word soon spread
of this fantastic place, though
not a soul who entered could
recall what they had seen,
done or found within its walls.
Within a day, everyone within
20 miles had heard of it.
Within a week, news had
spread across the country.
Within a month, it was a
global phenomenon.
Time passed, as it likes to do, and one day Dr.
Jenkins simply upped and left. Vanished as soon
as he had arrived, only to appear off of the east
coast of England on an artificial island a week
later. He claimed that the 30 million annual
visitors were too much of a strain for his dear
diminutive town and that he simply had to cater
to a larger clientele ("absolutely nothing
personal, I'm quite sure you understand"). To
celebrate the occasion, each country dispatched
a news crew to interview this baffling man:
"What do I sell my dear?" he said to the closest
reporter, all beaming smiles in his bright orange
waistcoat and top hat. "Why, think of me as a
modern day William Wonka. I sell wishes,
14
dreams and, above all, the most wonderful flights
of fancy you can imagine. The clue's in the name
of the shop, you know. Come, I'll show you the
heart of my little venture."
And show them he did. The hundreds of
representatives from each nation crowded into
what looked like a large warehouse filled with
dull, gunmetal grey seats, each hooked up a
computer of some sort. A black contraption lay
at the heart of the cluster, covered in hundreds
of coloured lights and
humming gently.
"And there you have it, my
friends! This is it, as they
say. The whole kit and
kaboodle, as it were"
"Well yeah," piped up a
reporter with a thick Texan
drawl, "but what'n the hell is
this stuff?"
"Only the finest simulated
virtual reality simulation in
all of creation, sir!"
"The hell are y'all talkin'
about?" The man cried,
"Simulated simulation?"
"Precisely! All in good time, my most honoured
guest! With these machines, anyone can sit for
but a moment and believe that they have
become Valknar, elven ranger or Captain Brett
Booster of the intergalactic empire!"
"Brett Booster?" an African representative
sneered, "You became an overnight sensation
with such little creativity? Show me this reality of
yours. I have seen your station, but not a bit of
imagination."
And show him Dr. Jenkins did. Strapped securely
into his seat, Nyota TV's famed Ayotunde
noticeably stiffened as the helmet touched his
head for but a moment and his face became the
very picture of wonder and excitement. person they replace takes on their life for a time.
Anything, and I mean anything, is possible. Now,
"You!" He cried, his normally deep voice oddly
are there any further questions? Perhaps you'd
high pitched, " You guys are actually the real
like to experience an adventure of your own?"
thing! I mean, solid ground, atmosphere, you're
not even wearing airtight suits! By the Emperor's That evening, his work done and the reporters
teeth, this is better than I could ever have gone, Jenkins closed his shop and sat down in a
imagined..." seat to begin the instantaneous journey he
routinely made across the dimensions to reach
And away he toddled, marveling at the late his home and to converse with his other selves.
August sun.
He arrived in a huge, but comfortable and
"Yeah, so we're impressed" came a Japanese familiar old cottage to be greeted by his exact
voice from the crowd, "but it's like he's a double, save the lime green colour of his
completely different person. Is he... going to stop waistcoat and hat.
being like that any time soon?"
"Hallo my friend. How was your little press
"Of course he will. release?"
It's merely a role
"Marvelous, old
being played, after chum, couldn't
all. Come, let me
have gone better.
explain. See my
So have we any
station is a station interesting clients
in every sense of
wanting to take up
the word.
a ticket with us,
Travelers come
come the
through here both
morrow?"
day and night.
People find games "The high elves of
and simulations to Sha'maral have
be a great relief expressed an
from the stress of their working lives, but what of interest. They wish to spend a month living as
those they wish to become? Does the knight of advertising consultants."
old not wish to visit the future? Does our distant
"High elves?" said Earth's Jenkins with a wicked
successor, such as Mr. Booster just now, not wish
to see how things once were? What I have built, grin, "Don't they have the Glamour?"
ladies and gentlemen of the world," he said, "Yes, they do. They say they'll create a television
directly to the cameras "is a gateway to another ad campaign for our little operation."
world. To countless worlds. Each of which has its
own station, each with its own Dr. Jenkins. The "Mercy me" gasped Jenkins, mopping his brow, "I
stations transfer one individual's consciousness do believe that it may be time to bring over a
to that of another, allow them to be firefighters, larger island..."
Neanderthals, dwarves and sorcerers while the

15
 Just another Day
My arms burned with the exertion
of pulling myself up the wall,
laden down with my equipment.
Parapsychologists like myself –
those trained in the study and
capture of spirits and other
paranormal phenomenon – were
by and large unused to physical
activity; academics rarely do
their own manual labour, of
course. So it came as no surprise
that it took me a long time to
climb up the forty-foot wall that
separated the bustling streets
of London from the walled-off
district that was sealed off
decades ago. As I managed to pull
myself, huffing and red-faced,
onto the top of the wall, I
thought about what had brought
me here. The area that my
manservant and I were scaling
into had been sealed off due to a
large poltergeist manifesting
there. Back then, the equipment
to capture such a spirit didn't
exist and the City wasn't able to
go about reclaiming the land by
brute force alone. However, a
few days ago, a private
reclamation company had
contacted me, offering a not-so-
insignificant sum of money to
capture the poltergeist and
return it to the company for
exorcism. The sum was enough to
buy all the new equipment now on
mine and Markham's back, and keep
me in a comfortable lifestyle for
some time to come.
Once Markham and I were safely
sat upon the wall, we took a
break while I scouted out our
target. I pulled out my goggles
and gazed over the deserted
district. As I looked around, I saw
what we were looking for; a
large, formless miasma of energy
floating through the streets
about half a mile in. When I
directed Markham, with his
16
mundane binoculars, he
confirmed that he couldn't see
the manifestation; the psionically
charged liquid in the lens of my
goggles allowed me to see the
eldritch energies of the
supernatural, confirming that it
was indeed our poltergeist. As
usual, we remained in our
(relatively) safe position,
watching the movements of the
being as it glided around the area,
seeing if it had a particular haunt
where we could set up our
equipment and capture it.
“Drink, Doctor Mitchell?”
I turned to see Markham holding
out a battered hip flask, well
used and a survivor of many
missions such as this. I gratefully
took the flask and took a quick
swig, immediately being warmed by
the straight whiskey inside and
wincing at the acrid after-taste
that identified it as Slap Whiskey;
fermented and distilled from fat
and protein in vats rather than
the traditional grain; the Plague
that had rendered 90% of the
United Kingdom of Great Britain
uninhabitable - and covered with
the shambling bodies of the
animates that had once made up
the bulk of its citizenry – meant
almost all surviving farmland
was dedicated to feeding the
remaining masses. I passed the
flask back to Markham without
comment; although a well-paid
assistant, he couldn't afford
anything like the five-year-old
bottle of Glen Ord that was
awaiting my successful return.
After about an hour, I was certain
that I had identified a haunt that
the spirit kept moving back to; a
public house about half a mile
from the wall on which we sat.
The building's signage had long
since rotted and discoloured
beyond recognition, but the
poltergeist always floated by the
building every ten minutes or so.
It took Markham and I that long
to climb down the wall and again
to move to the street outside the
building. With the goggles, I
could see the grow of the spirit
disappearing around the corner
about one hundred metres away,
oblivious. Thankfully, the
equipment that I was carrying
took barely a few minutes to set
up. The Capture Chamber was a
domed structure of folding
metal tubes which, when
unfolded from my backpack,
covered an area of around five
metres squared on the pavement.
It took barely a few moments
more to attach the power
transfer unit; allowing the
Chamber to draw its needed
power from the Tesla arrays
dotted around the cities,
providing wireless energy. I
whispered a prayer of thanks to
the Lord for the soul of its
inventor, without the arrays,
capturing a poltergeist like this
would prove extremely difficult.
The waiting was what worried me
the most; waiting for the spirit to
return, hoping that it would
ignore the inert Chamber. I
almost breathed a sigh of relief
as I watched it emerge, a few
streets away, and move back
towards the public house. It
approached almost painfully
slowly, showing no sign of
noticing our presence – safely
ensconced in a nearby alley - or
avoiding our equipment. Just a
second more...almost there...
“NOW!!!”
A split-second after Markham
flicked the switch, the Chamber
flared into life; the iridescent
field snapping into place. The
spirit, floating inside recoiled
inside its cage, making a shrill
sound, which I imagine is what a
17
crystal vibrating at the speed of
sound would sound like. The
thing lurched at the side of the
chamber, which shook with a
metallic clang but held firm. As I
moved to examine our prize,
Markham was rooting through his
oversized backpack, eventually
producing a large cylinder; built
like an old diving helmet, heavy
and thick and already humming
with energy. This was my Alcott
Jar, my most crucial piece of
equipment; a containment vessel,
which would allow us to truly
capture the poltergeist and take
the spirit to be exorcised. As
Markham moved to hook up the
Jar, I heard something else over
the low ringing-keening from the
spirit. Footsteps...lots of
footsteps.
“OI!”
I turned to see a gang emerge
from a side street behind us. All
of them boys, dressed in dirty
clothes that barely constituted
more than rags and wearing
soiled neckerchiefs around their
faces to keep the eternal London
smog from scouring their lungs.
Even through my own respirator,
I thought I could smell the rank
smell of their unwashed bodies.
But there was no denying the
array of knives and broken
bottles held in their hands, or
the rusty revolver one of them
now pointed at my head.
“What do ya think ya'r doing!?”
The youth with the gun yelled, his
thick accent almost
unintelligible through the
rubber of my hood.
“We're parapsychologists! We've
been hired to capture this spirit
and remove it!”
“No, you're bloody well not! That
thing keeps our turf safe, You're
not takin' it!”
I was about to shout back at them
when the youth flinched and
fired, the thunderclap of the
gunpowder clear even through
my respirator hood. I flinched
myself, but didn't feel the hammer
blow of the round hitting me. It
didn't come. I then turned to my
assistant to see a horrible sight.
Markham held the Alcott Jar
precariously in his left hand, his
right clasped around his half-
drawn Westgate Executioner. The
round had caught him in the neck,
tearing out his jugular and
exiting through his spine; he was
already falling to the floor, like
a puppet with its strings cut,
spurting blood in a crimson spray
over the ground in front of him.
But that was not the worst of it,
as the world started slowing, my
body pumping itself full of
adrenaline, I saw the one detail
that I knew would seal the doom
of us all.
That Markham's lifeless body was
falling onto the Chamber's
power unit.
With cold dread freezing my
intestines, I flung myself at the
Chamber, but it was too late. With
a crack, Markham dislodged the
unit and, with a clap louder than
the revolver and the stink of
ozone, the field collapsed. I felt,
rather than saw, the freed
poltergeist's movement over my
diving body. But there was no
mistaking the surprised, then
horribly pained screams of the
boys as the enraged spirit tore
into them. I landed next to
Markham's now-corpse, fumbling
with the only chance I had of
survival, the dislodged unit that
now lay beside me. I felt the hairs
on the back of my hair stand to
attention, the eldritch energy of
the creature now surging
towards me, the only live prey
left. It was all-or-nothing, but I
lunged at the chamber, pressing
the unit back against the metal.
This close, the world flared
white even through my eyelids,
18
and the wretched spirit's call
rang out again, agonised and
angry. I risked a glance up, and
saw my salvation in progress; the
poltergeist had been caught by
the edge of the field; even now,
the energies of the field writhed
over its surface, pulling it into
the centre of the field. I cried
out in joy and defiance at the
fates, even as my manservant's
blood soaked into my trousers.
Focus, Daniel, get the job done. I
prised the Alcott Jar from
Markham's still-warm grip and
connected it to the side of the
Chamber. With a flick of a switch,
the field pulled the poltergeist
into the Jar and sealed it in. With
the danger passed, the adrenaline
began to fade, and the exhaustion
of my frenzied acts finally
caught up with me. I slumped down
to the ground cradling, the jar in
my lap. Just for a moment, only to
gather my strength...
The weight on my shoulders was
my only warning. As I turned, I
felt my shoulder explode in pain
as Markham's lifeless maw
clamped down on my clavicle. My
mind, remembering instinctively
the precious few times I'd dealt
with an animate, automatically
made me draw my derringer and
blow out the top of the thing's
skull in one shot. But the damage
was already done. As the
animate's body flopped away, I saw
the blood welling from the torn
flesh around my shoulder.
Oh God. I was infected.
My mind went through so many
emotions in the instant. Anger,
surprise, fear. Then realisation,
that my fate was now sealed. The
only thing I could do was affect
was if I turned when I died. I
checked my derringer; one bullet
in the chamber.
I put the gun to my temple and
squeezed the -
19