No iron can pierce the heart with such force

Journal entry

2011-01-28T13:42:00.000-08:00

[No date]

I’ve lost track of the time. It seems like weeks have passed but the airship has docked. Passengers have disembarked.

I was almost discovered! I’ve been mostly staying in the hold, hidden behind the large transport boxes. If I hadn’t been close by the stairs, I might not have reacted in time.

It was so careless of me. I was stretching and enjoying crackers I had found. I heard the captain and another voice, Watson, I think I have heard him called. The hold door opened and I could see legs descending the steps. Crumbs flying, I crouched down. Did I leave any signs of my presence? No time to check.

Surely he heard the pounding of my heart, but the normal ship noises must have masked me.

Stowaway!

2010-07-04T08:23:00.001-07:00

Time has passed. The newness and the excitement of taking action have long been replaced by boredom and hunger. Danger is still my constant companion. I wait, I watch. I can hear but I am powerless to act.

Poor Minnie. I don't know how to help her since I have neither a gun nor a boat to escape. Lady Copperhead is too clever.

What is it about this voyage? What is going on? What do they plan to do upon arrival? What are they searching for?

So many questions, but as a journalist (may I call myself that?), I try to keep an open mind and consider all possibilities.

I am hungry. Dirty. Tired of lurking in shadows.

My plans -- part three

2010-03-31T13:16:00.000-07:00

I did it; a part of me is still in shock, but my hero, the intrepid reporter Nelly Bly would sneer to know that I mourn the loss of my feminine identity.

My hand brushes over my close cropped hair. I can now move with unaccustomed freedom in boy's clothing. It takes a few moments for me to recognize my reflected image in glass storefronts.

I can do this. I must get on that airship and a disguise is the best way.

Well, a disguise and not getting discovered, that is.

I will impress my editor, gain recognition and respect, and report to the world about the Golden Prim.

The voices in the library mentioned a meeting place and time so I made plans to get there before everyone arrived. Hiding behind shipping boxes, I found the right time to scurry aboard.

The captain of the airship is a female! Rather intimidating female. I must not be discovered. Below, in the hold, I hide behind more boxes and wait.

I must get on that airship -- part two

2010-03-31T12:52:00.000-07:00

In my excitement, I stepped back onto a creaking board. Did anyone in the director's office hear me? I froze. The light from the hole darkened for a few minutes as someone walked? stood? by that part of the wall, but I did not see any one looking in.

After a few minutes, the meeting must have broken up because I could now hear voices behind me beyond the closet door. A few must have remained behind in the director's office. I crept forward and resumed my listening post.

They were talking about details of the expedition, where and when.

As I waited for everyone to leave, it struck me that as a young female, I would never be permitted on such an airship. Never.

But a boy could hide more easily. No skirts to hamper movement. Not fair, but boys have much more freedom in society.

The trouble is, I would have to look like a boy. Nelly Bly wouldn't hesitate, and neither shall I.

What is going on?? -- part one

2010-03-31T12:17:00.000-07:00

[These next few entries are notes transcribed from an odd assortment of crumpled pages. ]

My editor somehow learned of my complaints and I was called into her office where I was resoundingly reminded of my lack of reporting experience. She's right; good stories won't just fall into my lap. I left her office chastened but with a renewed determination to ferret out a mystery.

I think I may have discovered a mystery. And at the library, no less.

One afternoon I was in the stacks doing background research on a possible story when I could hear faint voices on the other side of the wall. I followed the voices to the director's door.

That was strange; it was not a regularly scheduled library meeting. In fact, the director typically is not in his offices that time of day.

I tried to hear what was going on, but afraid I would be discovered outside the door so I looked for another, better spot to hear what was going on. Probably a boring budget meeting, but my curiosity was piqued.

I simply had to hear what was being said. Looking around, I saw a closet. No one observed me as I entered the closet and shut the door quietly behind me.

The voices were louder, but I still couldn't quite make out what was being said. Making my way past a few brooms and buckets . . . ugh, why are cleaning closets always so dirty and cobwebby . . . I was in luck! There was a small knothole and I peered through it.

From my limited vantage point, I could see an elegant female in purple, a handsome gent, some scholarly types, and the most interesting man with tatoos on his face. Sir JJ had his back to me (for which I was grateful. That man is far too observant.) There might have been others in the room.

Judging from the voices, people were upset and didn't all seem to know each other. Sir JJ must have had a book in front of him because I could hear him turn pages and he read from it.

He mentioned something called the "Golden Prim" and that seemed to surprise everyone. The elegant lady is some kind of heiress, I think, to the Golden Prim. She appeared upset. People were shouting. There's a book by a Professor Scott.

Try as I might, I couldn't quite get what all was going on, but I did learn something important: there will be an expedition to get the Golden Prim. I MUST find out more.

Something Curious

2010-02-01T11:18:00.001-08:00

How long will I be considered a cub reporter? How much longer must I get the metaphorical pats on the head by seasoned reporters here at the Primgraph?

I want to be taken seriously. Nelly Bly in America is taken seriously, and her style of journalism is making the powers that be to sit up and watch themselves.

I know there must be something going on at the library, but I can't quite find out what. Sir J.J. Drinkwater is so mysterious. I've seen unsavory types sitting at library tables or walking around the stacks. They are not after the latest novel by Trollope or Dickens, I am certain.

There's a woman who comes around on occasion who has an air of danger about her. I admit to the pages of this journal only that she scares me. I have heard she is called Lady something, but she does not appear to be a member of the aristocracy. Who is she?

Late one night I went back to the library because I'd forgotten my notebooks, and I heard strange noises -- doors being closed, footsteps, and moving about -- down in the basement where no one generally goes. What is going on? I started to go downstairs when I was met by Sir J.J. who brushed right past me.

Why would the director of the library be in the basement late at night? Who else was there with him?

What is going on? I must find out.

Bored and Restless

2009-10-27T13:20:00.000-07:00

Besides that mysterious woman who stole a book a while back, not much has happened. I am afraid I will never be promoted to full reporter status at the Primgraph if I don't uncover something. What would my hero, Nelly Bly do? Why, she'd find a story. She'd report on mistreated workers, injustices in the library, whatever miscarriage of justice she found.

Sir JJ does not make it easy for aspiring cub reporters. He is unfailingly polite and fair to everyone. The library is progressively fair, and if there's a miscarriage of justice around the Caledon library, I haven't seen it.

Rather dull around here. I want excitement and adventure.

Sir JJ does have that air of mystery about him though. I bet he is hiding something. Something more interesting than new system of library fines or reshelving books. I hereby resolve to watch his movements more carefully.

A Stranger in the Stacks

2009-10-16T18:46:00.000-07:00

I run my finger along the spines of the books as I idly walk through the stacks at the library. Turning a corner, I see a flash of a dark skirt at the other end of the room.

Who could that be? I thought I was alone on this floor. The librarian is in his office, and the staff generally stays on the ground floor where patrons tend to roost.

I stop and try to slow my breathing, straining to catch any sound. There! There it is, a squeak of leather, as from a shoe. On tip toe and moving quietly, I move toward the sound. A visitor up here is so rare as to be a novelty. Could it be an Oxford University student? No, students use their own library. What could she be doing up here?

The idea of someone actually looking for a book never once occurred to me. No, it's for another reason. Perhaps it has to do with all of those close door meetings Mr. Drinkwater has been having recently. Perhaps it has to do with. . . I see her and stop suddenly.

She's dark haired, beautiful, and confident. Whatever could she be doing in this library? She's pulled a book from the shelves and doesn't notice me. I move quickly so I can watch her from another row. After a while, she closes the book, drops it into a skirt pocket, and turns and scans the stacks. My breath freezes in my body. Please, please, please don't see me, I quietly beg. Something in her behavior says she is not to be trifled with.

Slowly, the mysterious woman walks to the staircase and descends. As my breathing returns to normal, I realize that I never once considered greeting her. She is a dangerous person. What was she looking for?

What is going on in this library?

Newspaper Work is Not All Glamour

2009-10-07T09:10:00.000-07:00

Do NOT tell my family, who were against me seeking a job in the first place, but being a reporter isn't always glitz and fancy offices. Reporting involves research, timing, and plain hard work.

I have been flat out gobsmacked at the amount of work I have had to do. I am learning much by watching the veteran reporters. They have been most generous with advice and sharing insider secrets.

I am assigned to cover the library, but there has to be more happening there than starting a new system of library fines. I am certain with luck, I can uncover something big. I am determined to impress the Primgraph Editrix and the veteran reporters.

Wandering around the stacks, peeking into offices is what a good investigative reporter would do. Excuse me while I return to the Whitehorn.

Writing Portfolio

2009-07-20T09:45:00.000-07:00

Journal entry 3

I have been advised to keep a list of my published work. So far, I have reported on:

One lost cat (found)

The town's fish hatchery

The annual rose show

The artistry of Miss Prudence Peesnape and her lovely china painting

Opening of the History of Textiles Exhibit at one of the local library branches

Review of Miss Elvira Smythe's Mozart concert

I do not think this list could get any more boring. Lost cats, fish, roses, and textiles, oh my! Call out the militia! I had a hard time deciding which female what more silly or lacking in talent: Miss Pru or Miss Elvira. My editor will not take me seriously if I am only allowed to cover these types of events. I must uncover the real events in this town. I must!

Where is the adventure, the danger in this town? Not at a stupid rose show, let me tell you.

The Library

2009-07-14T08:57:00.000-07:00

Journal entry 2

I didn't mean to start the argument tonight.

Really.

Weekday evening meals at the Lockhart house are typically noisy affairs. Dishes being passed, servants running in and out, people gesturing and eating, and multiple conversations taking place all add up to a chaotic state of affairs. Add to that the firm belief held by my family that the louder one talks, the more right he is. The number who sit down to supper varies, depending on which married sibling and their respective family members join us.

My father looked down the table at me as I determinedly looked down and ate as quietly as I could to avoid attention. "Emily, what do you have to say about your actions today?"

The room became quiet as if all the air was suddenly sucked out. This, my family instantly determined, was entertainment not to be missed. Well, it's not as if I have never gotten into trouble before; you'd think they'd be tired of my "adventures."

I pretended not to notice the silence or my parents' stern looks. As I smoothed the napkin on my lap, I took a big gulp of air and kicked my brother's shin for good measure. "It's nothing, Father. It's nothing. It's all a misunderstanding."

I couldn't read his face but decided it was best to provide more details: "At the library today, I decided to go exploring." I began talking rapidly, "Nothing ever happens at the library, everyone knows that. I have to report on something or the Primgraph will reassign me to another area. I've tried to get in to interview the director, but he's too busy."

"Go on," my mother urged.

"So I went exploring. I thought if I could write about parts of the library that patrons typically don't visit, I would impress my editor and get an article published. "

Father nodded, "The library is a huge and old institution in our community. What exactly happened? Get to the point."

I defiantly looked around at my nearest siblings: "Every library has a rare books collection which patrons can view on a restricted basis. Those books are kept under lock and key. Well, I just wanted to see where the rare books are kept. I went through one . . . or two . . . locked doors and up a staircase that looked unused." Despite the trouble I might get in with my family, I became excited as I recalled the day's events: " It was easy, really, to slip past the staff and docents. They really should install new locks on those doors. They were simple to jimmy.

"Oh and there's so much more to explore but I wanted to find the rare books room and I did! It's hidden rather well; it's close to a stairwell and easy to walk right past. The room is huge and filled with all kinds of interesting looking books. If the custodian hadn't walked in and discovered me, no one would ever know I was there."

"Until the article was published, that is. What do you imagine the director would have done once he read your article?"

I stopped and thought: "Oh, perhaps I'd get into a small bit of trouble, but he'd understand. I am sure he'd applaud me for my inventiveness."

My mother politely shook her head: "You would be dismissed. Oh, Emily, what ever are we going to do with you? If you are determined to be a newspaperwoman, you must be careful of your position. Think, young lady, think!"

I did think. I think I will explore the library again. I decided not to share this bit of insight with my family.

A Momentous Decision

2009-07-10T12:03:00.000-07:00

Journal entry one

July 10, 1880

I've decided to keep a journal because my editor told me that the way to improve my writing is to practice often, and this is a safe place for me to practice.

"My editor"

Honest injun! I have a real job. The Primgraph gave me a job, a real job. I am a cub reporter. Someday, I will be a serious reporter -- not like those female reporters who cover only fashion or gardening. I want to be like Margaret Fuller or that new American reporter, Nellie Bly who writes on the plight of working women. Our local paper has printed parts of her articles; I want to write like her someday.

I want to make a change, and newspapers are the fastest way to make change happen. Someday I will uncover intrigue and expose corrupt politicians, I will write about amazing inventions and take exciting adventures.

For now, I have a job and I am an real reporter, assigned to be the library correspondent. It's called a "beat" in newspaper lingo. Some might consider the library boring, and to be honest, I kind of agree. Nothing ever happens at the library. But, important people check out books, don't they? They read magazines at the library. Maybe I can interview someone important.

I am waiting for my opportunity.