"Herr Griesser? Herr Unsinn?" Meinhard asked.
"Ja."
"I'm Watchman Meinhard. Some citizens found a lot of blood in an alley, and they were afraid someone had been murdered."
"Ha! Not quite murdered, although Unsinn here stabbed me when he fell."
"Sorry," Unsinn muttered.
Griesser laughed. "He fell face-first into my tray of horseradish, too. Busted his nose and spilled the horseradish everywhere. Sorry, Unsinn, but I've had enough beer and das weed that it's funny now."
Unsinn had clearly had enough, too. He giggled. "I slipped in the blood."
Meinhard nodded. "We know. But where did the blood come from?"
The waitress came over with a platter of fowl and a pungent sauce.
"Some fool butchered some chickens in the alley. I saw some feathers."
Meinhard and Georg just looked at each other. Georg shook his head.
Neustatter clapped him on the shoulder. "This was good work, Georg. You could have a future in investigation." He turned. "And Huber? You wouldn't be on the CoC sanitation committee would you?"
"Ja. I've got work to do. Fraulein Krollin, I'd like to speak with you about quarterstaff lessons."
She nodded.
"Neustatter, I'll give you a decent fight next time." The Committeeman left.
"That explains everything," Meinhard said.
"Chicken with horseradish sauce?" Eric Hudson asked.
"Well, except that."
"That's easy," the waitress said over her shoulder as she passed by with a tray full of food. "The cook is determined to master the up-time turkey and dressing by the next kirmess. But he's not there yet."
****
Dr. Phil for President
Kerryn Offord
January 1634, Grantville
Phillip "Lips" Kastenmayer stood despondently in front of the window, gazing at the unobtainable fashions on display. The mannequin that most drew his attention was dressed in T-shirt, leather jacket, blue jeans, and black leather boots-just like the hero in the movie he'd just seen. There was no price displayed, but then there wouldn't be, because those clothes were authentic up-time fashions, and if you had to ask, you couldn't afford them.
He stepped back so he could see his reflection in the window. Anything less like what was on display was hard to imagine. He was dressed in the uniform Mama believed suitable for the student son of a Lutheran pastor. It was drab, uninspiring, but long-lasting. So long-lasting that he expected to still be wearing them when he graduated from university.
He thrust his thumbs through his belt-how much he'd love to be able to thrust them into the pockets of his own pair of jeans or leather jacket-but that was just a dream. Papa could barely afford to send him and his brothers to university, let alone splash out on expensive up-time fashions. With a final sad glance at the fashions in the window, he set off on the five mile walk home.
May, 1635, the rectory, St. Martin's in the Field, South of Rudolstadt
Lips was happy that his sister was getting married, but he wasn't happy that he had to dress up just because she was getting married.
"Stand still," Salome Piscatora, his mama, demanded as she tried to straighten his collar.
Lips did as he was told while Mama dusted down his freshly starched collar-he could already feel it starting to itch. Then he felt her pulling a brush through his hair. Eventually he was tidy enough, and she sent him off to stand in a corner with his younger brother.
"What's the guy Dina's marrying like?" He asked Ernst, who'd at least met the man Dina was marrying.
Ernst shrugged. "He's old, and he's got the weirdest taste in clothes, but Dina seems happy."
That didn't sound good. Lips knew the man had agreed to board him and his brothers while they attended university in Jena, but it did sort of sound like Dina was selling herself to support the family.
"Here he comes now."
Lips followed Ernst's gaze, and just about died of shock. He'd been given the impression that Dina's betrothed was an employee at HDG Laboratories. "What did you say he did in Jena?"
"Papa said he's in charge of training and supervising the laborants." Ernst grinned. "Papa's hoping Dina might encourage Phillip to seek promotion from his wealthy relative."
"Yeah, right," Lips muttered as he watched the man approach.
"Phillip, this is my son Phillip, although we usually call him Lips," Ludwig Kastenmayer said.
Lips hastily put out his hand to shake the one being offered. "A pleasure to meet you, Phillip."
****
"Joseph, have you met Dina's betrothed?" Lips asked when he ran his older brother to ground, in the library, reading some boring law text.
"He seems a good enough man. No interest in the law, of course."
"But don't you know who he is?"
"Papa told you who he is, or weren't you listening, as usual?"
"You don't understand. Dina is marrying Dr. Gribbleflotz."
"Oh, does Phillip have a doctorate? Do you know where from?"
Lips stared at his brother. How could he not understand? "Joseph, Dina's betrothed is the Dr. Gribbleflotz. He doesn't just work at HDG Laboratories. He is HDG Laboratories." The stunned look on his brother's face told Lips that he'd finally made his point.
"The Dr. Gribbleflotz is marrying our Dina?" Joseph managed to splutter.
"Not only is she marrying Dr. Gribbleflotz, but nobody in the family seems to know who he is."
"Uncle Arnold vouches for him," Joseph said.
"Well, that's someone who knows who Dina's marrying."
"Why would someone as rich as Dr. Gribbleflotz want to marry Dina?"
That question stumped Lips. It wasn't that Dina was ugly, or stupid, or even too old. It was the fact that everyone knew money married money. It certainly didn't marry the dowerless daughter of a poor pastor. "You don't suppose he fell in love with Dina?"
"Dina's very . . ." Joseph screwed up his nose and shrugged.
Lips felt exactly the same. Dina was a great sister, but what did she have to attract the attention of a wealthy man like Dr. Gribbleflotz?
Lips remained doubtful about his sister's marrying Dr. Gribbleflotz right up to the minute, soon after the exchange of vows, when she launched herself into her husband's arms. There was a sparkle in her eyes he hadn't seen for years, and she was glowing. Her new husband looked just as happy.
October, Jena
"Lips, you have to save me," Dina implored.
Lips shot out of his chair and rushed over to his sister. "What's the matter?"
"Someone's given Phillip books on bringing up babies."
Lips whistled. That could be serious. "Has he said anything?"
"Not yet, but you know what Phillip's like, and I don't want him making a project out of my babies."
"Babies?" Lips knew Dina was pregnant, but that seemed to suggest more than one.
Dina smiled and ran a hand over her belly. "Yes, Dr. Shipley says I'm carrying twins. She let me listen to their heartbeats."
Lips ignored the dreamy look on his sister's face and concentrated on dealing with her problem. "What is it you want me to do?"
"I need you to approach Phillip and pretend an interest in alchemy. Maybe teaching you what he knows will stop him concentrating on me and the babies." She slumped. "Why did he have to pick now to decide that there was something wrong with the pyramid power thing?"
Lips hugged his sister. He'd always been interested in the new science, and now, instead of sneaking into the laboratories and seminars, he could do it openly, firm in the knowledge that Dina would support him if Mama and Papa asked questions.
November, Jena
Lips stared at the poster of a young woman wearing nothing but strategically placed whipped cream, and wondered, how did they do it? It was definitely a photograph. He'd seen several, including photographs from Dina and Phillip's wedding, so he knew what cameras could do. Except that the poster was in color, and realistic color at that.
He went in search of the gatekeeper to up-time knowledge.
He found him in his office, with Frau Mittelhausen, Frau Beier, and Dina. "Oh, I'm sorry," Lips said as he hastily backed out of the room.
"What is it, Lips," Dina asked.
"I just wanted to ask Phillip something, but it can wait."
"We aren't doing anything important, just reviewing the new advertising campaign for Sal Vin Betula."
Lips struggled to stop the grin that statement elicited from turning into a smirk. It had been Phillip's Sal Vin Betula, better known in the market as Dr. Gribbleflotz' Little Blue Pills of Happiness, that had got him into selling revitalizing fluid. Some up-timer had mistaken his blue aspirin pills for some up-time sex drug. "Maybe you should try something like Paxton's poster."
"What poster would that be?" Phillip asked.
"Are you talking about the poster of the female wearing nothing but revitalizing cream?" Frau Mittelhausen asked.
"That's the one," Lips said. "Phillip, do you know how they did it?"
"Did what?"
"You haven't seen the poster?"
Phillip shook his head.
"Well, it’s a color poster, but it's not block color like most posters are. The color is so realistic; it's like a photograph out of an up-time book."
"That certainly bears looking at. Where is this poster?"
"In the front window of Vorkeuffer's," Lips said, naming a local store that had been nothing much more than a common grocery store four years ago, and was now the largest general store in Jena, all on the back of selling the products of HDG Laboratories.
Phillip pushed back his chair. "If you will all excuse me, I must have a look at this poster Lips is so excited about."
"I'm coming too," Dina insisted, as she too pushed back her chair.
December 1635, Prague, capital of Bohemia
"I was invited in to record the king's aura yesterday," Zacharias Held told his colleague. Well, more bragged, really, but serving the king was surely something to brag about.
Johann Dent whistled. "How did you manage that?"
"Talent, Johann, pure talent."
Johann snorted. "More likely you found out who to pay. So, is the king as ill as we hear?"
Zacharias nodded. "I think he's in a very bad way, but that dragon guarding him refused to let me take a Kirlian image of his head. How does she expect me to know how to rebalance his aura if I can't see it properly?"
"So you only got a hand?"
"And just the left one at that."
"You can't tell much from the weaker hand. Didn't you explain?"
"In front of the king? With his dragon glaring at me? Of course I didn't." Zacharias pulled out a Kirlian photograph and passed it over to Johann. "Have a look at that. I think he definitely needs an aluminum bracelet to balance the aura, but it also needs a red gemstone in a number three cut."
"Oh, dear. You do have a problem."
Zacharias ignored the smug smile on Johann's face. He was merely jealous that he hadn't been invited to examine the king. However, Johann did have a point. Both of them knew, from Aural Balance 101, that you didn't mix aluminum metal with gems containing aluminum.
"You can't use glass for the king."
"No," Zacharias agreed. One didn't use glass for the king, not even if you were adding gold to it to make a lovely ruby red.
"And rubies are just aluminum oxide, after all. Spinels and tourmaline are out, too. But what about a carbuncle?"
"No. All red garnets have aluminum in the B location, all the ones with something else are green or black."
"Then I guess you need see if Roth's can suggest anything," Johann said.
HDG Laboratories, Jena
Lips helped his brother-in-law set up his latest creation-a three-color camera-obscura. Not that Phillip was laying claim to the idea for the machine. That had been someone at Schmucker and Schwentzel, in Rudolstadt. After seeing the poster for Paxton's Revitalizing Cream, Phillip had been as interested as Lips in learning how it was done. And Lips had learned just how powerful his brother-in-law was, although to be fair, Phillip didn't seem to be aware of his power.
No sooner had Phillip asked Paxton's how the poster had been produced, than he'd been directed to Schmucker and Schwentzel. The fact that Paxton's Revitalizing Cream was riding on the coattails of Phillip's revitalizing fluid probably had something to do with the friendly response to his inquiries.
The printers hadn't been as obeisant when Phillip and Lips turned up to ask questions, but they'd been more than willing to describe their technique-maybe the fact the film and photographic chemicals they were using all came from one of the HDG facilities had something to do with it. Not that Lips was feeling cynical.
The visit had seen the commissioning of a smaller version of Schmucker and Schwentzel's camera. The camera for Phillip had been treated as a rush job, and been delivered just yesterday. Lips, again not feeling particularly cynical, wondered how much Phillip was going to be charged, because none of the people they dealt with that day had mentioned anything as common as price. He made a mental note to ask Frau Mittelhausen how much everything had cost.
"It would be so much easier if we had color film," Lips said. Certainly Phillip's black and white camera was nowhere near as finicky to set up.
"It would, but there have been difficulties replicating the Autochrome process."
The Autochrome process used starch grains dyed in red, green and blue, randomly distributed over a photosensitive emulsion. Or at least that's what the instructions in the eleventh edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica said. "Do you know what is wrong?"
"It is obvious that there is some step, some additional chemical or process missing from the published directions, so we will do what we always do."
"And that is?" Lips asked.
"Revert to basic principles. Take what we know, and try adding things to the known until we discover the unknown."
That didn't fit with the basic principles of chemistry he'd picked up in the few up-time science classes he'd managed to sneak into back in Grantville. Those had suggested a much more theoretical approach. "Does that work?"
"It is how I discovered how to make the Amazing Essence of Fire Tablets the up-time chemists claimed couldn't be made." Phillip pulled the camera's blackout cloth over his head.
Yes, well, Lips knew all about those fire tablets. If you knew what you were doing, and Hans Saltzman, Phillip's trusted personal laborant of nearly five years, certainly did know, you could turn those fire tablets into high explosive. It had been interesting watching Hans make up some of the explosive and then detonate it on a farm outside Jena's walls. For such a small amount of explosive, it had made a very big hole. But it was the first time he'd heard that the up-timers hadn't believed it was possible to make the precursor. Maybe there was something to Phillip's approach to research that was better than the up-timer science.
Phillip reappeared from under the blackout cloth and closed the shutter before opening the slides on the film cassettes. "Everything is ready. If you would like to set the experiment in motion."
Lips took the hint and turned off the lights before initiating the flame test. Moments later the spectral lines were visible on the detector. Phillip opened the shutter, and Lips ensured the flame had a steady supply of prepared loops for the twenty-second exposure.
****
Lips sat beside Phillip as he studied the color image projected onto the screen. The use of colored filters meant that the sets of black and white photographs taken by the three-color camera could be projected onto a screen to form a single color image. On the screen in front of him was a nearly perfect record of the spectral lines produced in the flame test.
"Well, that seems to have worked," Phillip said.
"You sound surprised?"
"Of course I'm surprised. Nothing ever works the first time."
"But Schmucker and Schwentzel's camera worked, so why shouldn't yours?"
Phillip looked up
and shook his head. "The voice of someone who has not yet run into the great Murphy." He looked Lips directly in the eyes. "If anything can go wrong, it will. Remember that, Lips. Remember that."
January 1636, Prague
There was a hubbub of conversation in the meeting room of the Prague chapter of the Society of Aural Investigators, the professional body responsible for maintaining the standards of the profession. Zacharias carried his steaming mug of Tincture of Cacao-the beverage the society had virtually made its own-to the table where Johann was sitting. "Sorry I'm late, but some fool forgot to refill the Wetmore's reservoir, and it ran out of water in the middle of a calculation. I had to refill the reservoir and bleed the whole thing before I could do anything."
"Another reading for the king?" Johann asked.
"Yes." Zacharias was proud of himself. He hadn't come across as overly smug. As Aural Investigator to the king, he was someone-and the increase in business from people who wanted the king's aural investigator to read their aura didn't hurt.
"Did you manage to find yourself a red gemstone for the bracelet?"
"Yes, Roth's had the perfect red gemstone-a Mexican opal. I had them cut and set it in the bracelet."
"Did it work?"
"It was the calculations based on the bracelet that kept me so long." He took out a notebook, opened it to the right page, and passed it to Johann. "Have a look. The king should be highly impressed when I tell him how much closer to the ideal state his aura is."
Johann skimmed over the numbers before handing the notebook back. "Of course, it would be a lot better if you could record the aura in color."
"Of course it would be easier, but nobody is doing color . . ." Zacharias stopped because Johann was shaking his head. "Someone is?"
"If you'd been here earlier you would have heard Zankel reading from the latest issue of the Proceedings of the HDG Laboratories. It has a centerfold of color photographs from one of the doctor's experiments."
"What?" Zacharias was horrified that he'd missed such news. He stood and searched the tables for a copy of the Proceedings. Sighting one, he hastened over and secured a copy. He knew he had the right issue as soon as he opened it. There was a centerfold in high-quality white paper with color images of spectral lines from flame tests. He hastened back to Johann and sat down. "Does he say how he does it?"
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