As the people stepped up to Colin, they each flicked something on their lapels. A closer study revealed that they were gears on red ribbons, like the one Nat wore. Colin also wore one on the breast of his frayed morning coat, but his gear was much larger and his ribbon much wider. When all the passengers had boarded, Colin turned to address the man tinkering with the gauges. “Have you got Bessie all stoked up, Alec?”

“One minute more, Colin. Look out for some competition.”

Colin returned his attention to me. “And now, if you will step aboard my humble conveyance, we will take you on a journey you won’t soon forget.”

“How much is the fare?” I asked.

“Today we’re offering a complimentary demonstration run. It’s an experimental project. We’re engineering students at the university.”

I hesitated. I needed reliable transportation, not an experiment. “That’s very kind of you—” I began, but Nat grabbed my arm.

“Go on, Verity. Trust me. Bessie’ll get you there.”

“I assure you, it’s quite safe,” Colin added. “All the explosions happened in the lab. We’ve had no trouble with the full-size model.”

The idea of explosions wasn’t very reassuring, but I didn’t know how else I would make it to my interview on time, and I had to get this job. “Very well, then,” I said as firmly as I could manage, in spite of my misgivings. “I accept your kind offer of transportation.”

He grinned, sweeping his hat off his head and giving me a gallant bow. “Welcome aboard, Verity. And be prepared to make history.”

In Which I Land Amongst Mechanics

IN WHICH I LAND AMONGST MECHANICS

Colin seated me at the front of the bus, next to a girl about my age. “This is Verity,” he said to her. “Look after her.” To me, he added, “This is my sister, Lizzie. Pinch her if she gives you any trouble.”

“Ignore him, I always do,” she said with an air of much-tested patience. She shared her brother’s bright hair, freckles, and lanky build. A notebook rested on her knee, and she held a pencil. Another pencil was stuck behind her ear.

Most of the other passengers on the crowded bus were young men, and the few women were not at all what my mother would have considered proper ladies. They wore the wildest clothing, a mix of pieces that seemed as though they’d dug them from a rag pile with their eyes closed and then dressed in the dark. The men mixed formal wear with working attire, and some of the women wore their elaborately decorated corsets outside their blouses. A few of them wore skirts that fell well above their ankles. There was one woman near the back of the bus who looked out of place in the dull black of a widow in deepest mourning, with a black veil obscuring her face.