Prequel Story: Part Five
Hey everyone,
This week we delve into Harry’s reply to Norah - he is getting nearer to setting sail, but I will let you read what is going on. And remember, keep an eye out for clues, as you never know what will come in handy.
~Tatiana Delgado, Game Director
From Harry: Providence
September 1, 1933
Dear Norah:
It has always seemed to me that there is something disturbing in this city. I find it hard to explain what it is, but despite how weird this place feels sometimes, I also think it would be the perfect place for a crank like me. I could spend hours in the Providence Athenaeum. It’s a shame that this city has this terrible weather.
The journalist arranged a meeting with the president of The Starry Wisdom Society, a certain Caleb Bowen. These people pretend to be an astronomical society, but I recognize the stench of an occultist circle for miles. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but when I was a child, Everhart Manor was full of mediums, psychics, fortune tellers and all sorts of nut jobs. Mother was into all that supernatural crap for years and held a seance almost weekly. Fortunately, Father put an end to that nonsense when he found out. One of the few good things he did for our family.
I wouldn’t have a problem with these people’s mystic-kook talk (other than the waste of time) if it wasn’t for the fact that they season their supernatural baloney with a nice dose of eugenics and race supremacism. Some of the things that Bowen fella said sounded straight out of a Hitler speech. I find them abhorrent.
They offered to finance the expedition, but of course, I declined. I don't see myself leading the looney crusade for a bunch of nazi sympathizers. I have enough already travelling with Madam Mystery the Journalist and Doctor Jekyll (I still have to decide what kind of freak I am).
The only good thing I got from that meeting was that I acquired a very peculiar piece of equipment. It’s a strange optical machine, made by a scientist named Tillinghast, apparently, for some sort of glasses he intended to market. It didn’t go well, apparently. The guy died (poor as a church mouse, I think) and he never managed to sell his doohickey. Although the machine was broken, it was so dirt-cheap that it piqued my interest. When I return to Englewood, maybe we can mess around with it and see if we can make it work. Sounds like a fun evening plan, right?
Anyway, the journalist doesn’t seem to be too worried about getting funding for the expedition. She says we’ll find a way. I have a hunch with the next meeting that I have tomorrow. So if everything goes as planned, San Francisco should be our next stop before setting sail to the Pacific.
We are really close, Norah! So close...
I love you,
Harry
PS: King to king’s bishop 4. Oh, crap
