CHAPTER 8 – FASTER, FASTER, FASTER

Dagmon Zhukovsky had been Chief Engineer of the Zippy Blimp works for seven years and never had she been this frustrated. “These drawings are garbage,” she growled. “Garbage! This wiring path won’t work. The inertial navigation wires will burn this close to the new boilers. Damn.” She pounded her fist hard on the drafting table. A coffee cup jumped, the cholesterol creamer fell over oozing sickly yellow powder over the drawings and a dozen yellow number 1 pencils fell to the floor and began rolling for the safety of the four exits on the second floor. Daggy grabbed the little blue porcelain bell with the dancing lambs and little Ms. Peep delicately drawn on its rim before it fell on the floor. What were the Navy Board and its screwball architects up to, she wondered? Forgetting that she had been the best Naval Architect the Blue Ocean Navy before she was recruited by Dr. Zippy to take over the blimp works. Admiral Plumblossom had let her go, because the blimp works was a mess and the Admiral knew that in the coming storm the Navy needed a new blimp design. An advanced design with reciprocating double boilers, a rigid structure to withstand vicious storms and lightening, and speed. Yes speed, lots of speed and faster than anything in the skies of Second Life. Zhukovsky knew how important this work was, and that the new design was needed pronto. There was talk of international crisis and whispers of war and rebellion. To insure that Daggy’s motivation remained intact she was not discharged from the Navy, but instead transferred to a special unit. A unit so secret that even Daggy did not know its name.

‘Hey Daggy have you seen my protractor?” called out Tek from across the white brightly lit design room.

“Try looking on your drafting table,” replied Daggy with increased frustration clear in her voice.

“Oh, thanks,” said Tek. “It was there all the time. Sorry.”

Tek Cronan, the best advanced boiler designer Daggy had ever seen, had been working with Daggy since she joined the firm. Tek came straight from the State Reform School for the Mechanically Inclined and Almost Functional. He had the highest marks in spatial relations ever recorded by the school, but as for his personal hygiene and remembering where he put his left hand, he was completely lost. The shrinks had a name for it, but Daggy could not remember what it was. Daggy didn’t put up with crap or sloth from anyone. She was known as a slave driver, a brilliant slave driver, but a slave driver just the same. On her birthdays the staff always purchased a cake with a cat-o-nine tails drawn into the creamy frosting. Only Tek thought it was a joke. Daggy and the rest of the crew knew better. Then again, Tek was the only person Daggy would tolerate when he fell asleep under his drafting table, or lost his lunch bag, or needed a linden for the porti-potty on the ground floor. He was that valuable to Daggy and the Navy. So valuable in fact, that the guards were instructed to follow him if the left the massive Fort Balatro where the Zippy Blimp works were located. However Tek never left, he was always here. Daggy had arranged a hot plate, little fridge, and an old mattress borrowed from the great Architect Arcadia Asylum. Daggy arranged these things in a large engine crate on the first floor and had made if off limits. It was Tek’s home. That is if he could find it. Getting Tek to the first floor for anything other than testing, fixing, or installing boilers was impossible. Somehow if a boiler needed help Tek could be found there, but if you asked Tek to go downstairs and get an eraser he would be lost for hours.

Daggy returned her attention to the hopeless drawings delivered to the Blimp works that morning. This is never going to work. Never! Yet the Second Sea Lord was always pushing and pushing. Constantly moving up the schedule. Daggy had worked miracles, the satisfaction of a miracle was short lived as the Navy submitted change after change after change. At first the ship was to be 300 meters, then 325, and now 400. No one had ever built a ship that large before. Then the boilers, true wonders of technology and advanced lost wax casting, were rated at 30 mules, then they wanted 34 mules, and now a 60 mule team boiler was demanded. And Tek had responded with a brilliant new design. But the design was flatter than the old design, and the heat from the new boilers would destroy the old wiring system.

Daggy reached for a bottle of green liquid labeled “Headache Syrup”. Everyone knew it wasn’t for headaches and it had sat on Daggys Drafting table for his entire tenure at Zippys. Daggy stared at the unopened seal, and wondered if it was time to give up. But she knew it was not and she put the bottle back and returned to the drawing. “Now let’s see…” she mumbled to herself, “if I just move this spar 32 centimeters this way, no… then the engine stanchion will be too far aft. Well I can move these deck plates …”

Tek approached Daggys desk and put down a little cup of water from the water cooler and two Tylenol. Tek can be so thoughtful thought, Daggy, as the cone of water fell across the drawing washing away the ink and making it unreadable. No matter, though Daggy they were worthless anyway. Daggy knew that the cheap bastards at the Navy Board were using a buggy and way down level version of Maya so all the plans he got were useful only for the loo or lining the litter box of Ariel the factory avatar cat.

Daggy looked down at her rumpled dress whites. It was obvious she was Deep Blue Navy by her choice of clothes, even if security had removed every insignia, label, or hint of the navy. While it pained the Admiral to see Daggy this way during their weekly meetings, she knew that Daggy didn’t have time or the inclination to press, dry-clean, mend, spit polish, or remove Ariel’s black fur balls from her tired old uniforms.

In the distance Daggy heard the faint whiz and repeated thuds of the Semaphore. More changes Daggy thought.

“Incoming” shouted Tek, knowing full well that when the Semaphore went whiz and thud everyone was going to work all night. Tek was excited he loved to work all night. Daggy looked up and the 14 remaining design staff were lining up at the espresso machine. Tek was already there acting as barista. He was the only one who knew how to use the machine because he redesigned it every week. This week he was making super dopy espressos with more than 18,000 pounds of steam pressure. God help us if it blows, thought Daggy, but then again it was Tek’s work so that would never happen. The steam milk however was vaporized at that pressure so cappuccinos were out and espressos were in.

A handsome young marine in dress blues marched across the room and stood at attention before Daggy. He held a briefcase made of cast iron that was shackled to his right wrist. Shackled to his left wrist was another chain that terminated in a very large and old fashioned skeleton key. “Dispatches Mam, from the Second Sea Lord Mam.” he shouted while stomping his feet and raising his hand in a crisp salute. The dispatch box went thud against his chin.

“Sheeshhh,” muttered Daggy under her breath. “No wonder these crypto guys never last more than a week,” she said to no one in particular.

“Sign here Mam,” said the marine handing Daggy a white quill pen now speckled with little red spots. Daggy dipped the pen in Official Secret Disappearing Ink and signed the dispatch log. “Key,” said Daggy. With his left hand the marine handed Daggy the key still chained to his wrist. “Box,” yawned Daggy. The marine laid the box on the slanting drafting table and it began sliding toward the floor only to stop when the chain became taught. By now the marine had assumed what everyone on the staff called the ‘security pose.’ He was almost doubled over with the box chain pulling him down across the table, and the key chain pulling him at a right angle to the table - all the while standing at attention.

In the box Daggy found two Uno Bars, a used Q-Tip, and a large parchment complete with the Second Sea Lords Seal impressed in ceiling wax. The wax was still warm having been affixed to the document only moments before by the crypto shack on the roof. Daggy surreptitiously slipped a rather dead beetle into the dispatch box “This box has been bugged,” shouted Daggy. The marine jumped and turned white. Two other marines came rushing forward, with their muskets drawn. “Hahahahaha.” Daggy burst out laughing and placed the dead beetle into the tunic pocket of one of the musket toting marines. “Procedure and policy,” said Daggy in a stern voice.

“Yes Mam, we will send the bug to MI6 ¾ and I would expect a full report within sixteen weeks, Mam.”

Tek was rolling on the floor laughing and the design crew was trying to keep from laughing.

Now for the part of the dispatch process Daggy enjoyed the most – “Dismissed!” she said and as rapidly as the marines appeared they disappeared.

She took a deep breath and broke the seal on the parchment. Unrolling the parchment she quickly scanned the ornate calligraphy that made the content almost impossible to read. Although the message had been decoded and was written in English, the crypto guys had decided to use a really ancient Florentine hand and had written in yellow ink on the cream colored vellum. It took Daggy almost 10 minuets to decipher the message and the news was bad, really bad.

Daggy took another deep breath. This deep breathing is becoming a habit she thought. Then she reached to the porcelain bell with the little prancing lambs. A tiny tinkle was heard thought the building. It always amazed Daggy that that tiny bell could be so loud in this huge building. Staff came rushing in from all over the massive structure. Fitters, Apron Jacks, seamstresses, Smiths - both Elmer and Oscar the twins, iron mongers, machinists, draftsmen, human calcs, and the three idiot savants, Oleo, Mrs. Cransworth, and Mr. Mr., as well as all the protoplasm needed to run the advanced technologies of Zippy’s Blimp works.

Almost 160 eyeballs looked at Daggy waiting for her to speak. Silence fell across the room. Daggy rose.

“I want all of you to go home right now and get a good nights sleep.” The staff was stunned. They could not believe their ears so Daggy repeated, “I want all of you to go home right now and get a good nights sleep.”

The staff smiled and was about to burst into applause when Daggy spoke the “catch” they all knew must be there.

“And I want all of you here by 0 dark 30. Bring your sleeping bags, cots, and cribs and your tiffins with enough food to last three days. That’s all. Dismissed,” said Daggy.

As the staff rapidly filed out the four exits, Daggy turned to Tek and said, “Its going to be a long night Tek.”

“Yes,” said Tek, “I figured that.”