Sunday, 15 June 2008

Death, Disease and Desperation returns to Babbage

It is with a heavy heart that I write these words. One of the young ladies who had worked at the Muses playhouse in the Babbage Palisade was found brutally murdered not far from my own home. It seems her throat had been slit and her body thrown from the walls. It is sad but uncommonly consistent that murder and crime follows the entertainment trade, especially where an element of sexual interplay may exist as I have more than < the following few lines are crossed through and illegible, an occasional word is decipherable > ...... understand ..... depravity.

In a morbid twist to this horrendous crime it seems that the incompetence of our local constabulary, last endured with the Eliot crimes, has once again been lofted high for all to see, with the body of poor Miss Justice, such irony in her name, apparently vanishing from the mortuary, it having been left unguarded despite any autopsy having been conducted.

The murder occurred a few days ago and I have been somewhat tardy in coming to know of it. For days now I have been lodged in my Vernian Sea office burning the gaslight to its wits end, working upon the problem of the sicknesses that beset my labourers when exposed to this most unforgiving environment. It seems, in fact, fortuitous timing as a mystery plague has fallen upon the city, blamed upon the apparently ill-advised exhibition of some mouldering relic, New Babbage is a shining example of the young modern state, in its drive to be dynamic and creative it has but the most basic of laws seen in other older and, debatabely, wiser states; not least of which is any sense of import restriction or quarantine. No doubt that may change now. News of the plague and the murder came to me via the venerable Cog news journal and as can be seen from the pages glued herewith covering both sorry tales, the aforementioned hand is to be burned publicly. I can think of no better way to spread an airborne disease, lets hope that their plan does not go awry.



It has occurred to me that the apparent isolation of the Vernian Sea would be a fine place for a murderous fiend to lie low during a murder hunt. As such I have taken to walking the tunnel system at random times armed with my trusty sword stick. If the culprit lies here then it would be better for him that I did not find him, his type ... well, suffice to say that I find it hard to not consi
der him as a representation of past evils visited upon me, it will take all my will and faith in justice to stay my hand should that chance arise.



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