Daniel smiled but shook his head. "I appreciate your offer, Clyde, but it's not just about Barnes as I stated before. This is for the best, I think. I have come to realize just how much the Ring of Fire took away from all of you West Virginians-family, friends, your whole way of living. Sure, you and many like you have flourished, have really made a name and life for yourselves here. But ultimately, I think the Ring of Fire was not for you. It was for us, for down-timers like me, so that we may dream anew, discover new freedoms, avoid the mistakes we once made. I've been given a second chance, Clyde, and I must take it."
Clyde nodded and they shook hands. "I wish you and your family the best of luck, then. I'm sure I'll see you in Magdeburg before the year is out."
Clyde and Daniel stowed the last trunk in the wagon, and Daniel joined Sophia and Benjamin on the wagon's broad seat. The boy was sad as he waved goodbye to Stefan. "Will there be other children for me to play with where we're going, Daddy?" Benjamin asked.
Daniel reached over and ruffled the locks of Benjamin's messy dark hair. "Well, of course!" he said, and guided the horses into the road. "And you will finally have a chance to meet your brother."
Soon, Benjamin and Sofia were chatting animatedly about all the things they would do in their new home-and Daniel, as the horses pulled them along the road out of town, was already imagining new paintings, new styles, new combinations of color and light, even new tools and media. Perhaps there would be a new role for art in the world-art for everyone. Art that could change the world. And Daniel himself would be at the center of it all.
The Things We Do for Love
Bamberg, April 1636
"You look like a bloated corpse," Logan Sebastian muttered at the bag of hot air floating before her, "but an honest corpse."
Logan stood on the closely cropped grass of the Bamberg airfield, shouldering an overstuffed backpack with a lacrosse stick slung to it, a carefully rolled poster clutched in one hand, and her other hand jammed into a pocket of her light coat. "God, you're ugly. But you're not pretentious. I guess I can handle that. You don't pretend to be something you're not."
The engine attached to the motorized "balloon" hummed in an appropriately subdued manner. They didn't whine and complain like those monstrosities all these down-timers, and quite a few up-timers, marveled at.
Had everyone forgotten the F-14 that quickly? Were 747s really just dreams now?
"At least they're not calling this place an aerodrome." Logan shook her head to free her ponytail, which had gotten pinched between her back and her pack. "Okay Logan, you've come this far. So it's time to go all the way. It's either these gas bags pretending to be dirigibles or. . flying lawn mowers pretending to be real airplanes.
"God, I hate the seventeenth century. And it's hating me straight back."
A heavily accented, but largely intelligible, voice interrupted her musings. "Can I help you?"
Logan Sebastian closed her eyes. "It depends." Logan opened her eyes and offered a careful smile. "Are you looking for. . pilots?"
"Well, that is depending on certain things. I am Antonio, Antonio Sorrento. I am the owner, part owner, of this balloon. It is incredible, is it not?"
"I saw you in Grantville."
"I see," Antonio said.
Logan could hear, in the tone of his voice, that he really didn't see. She could tell when adults spoke to her-and when they spoke around her.
"At least you don't call 'em dirigibles. The Goodyear blimp was a dirigible."
"We are working on 'dirigibles.' Yes," Antonio said proudly, "this balloon will, one day, be a true dirigible. We are progressing."
Logan reminded herself to be careful; this man was proud of his toy and would not like her assessment of it-no matter how accurate. She'd have to do something she knew was not among her talents: watch her mouth. "It's too windy up there. See the clouds? You'd have to stay low if you didn't want to fight for every foot of forward distance."
"I would predict that you could reach an attitude of a thousand feet and be productive." He looked up, as if to confirm what Logan had said. "I was just training the ground crew. So what makes you think I am looking for pilots?"
Logan tried not to look at the man as if he were a moron. "Do I look stupid to you? Do you think. ."
Logan closed her eyes and tried to regain her composure.
Antonio tried to reply, "I did not-"
"Of course, you're looking for pilots. I'm certain you don't intend to build one or two balloons, and then squat here on the ground and admire them and clean bird poop off them?"
"No, I most-"
"You're going to need pilots. And most of the airheads in Grantville are going to go running to those. . those flying catastrophes. And until someone can figure out how to make internal combustion engines with a greater thrust-to-weight ratio than a brick, what are they going to do when they run out of VW and lawnmower engines?"
"I could use more of these 'lawn mower' engines. And you understand thrust to. ."
"Understand thrust to weight? Sure. And I understand those, too." She pointed at the tethered balloon. "Why do you think they kicked me out of the Brownies? Those things are as easy as a plastic bag over a campfire. It wasn't my fault the other girls didn't think before they tried it and started that crown fire. None of my plastic bag balloons caught fire and started a forest fire."
"I see. ."
"Adults are always saying that," Logan grumbled.
"Fire is a serious thing with a balloon. One must be careful around the burner."
"Duh. ." Logan clamped her mouth shut. This was not going well.
Time to bring out the big guns. She let go of her grandmother's revolver, which she had been holding in her jacket pocket the whole time, and unrolled the poster.
"See? From the first hot air balloon to a jet fighter. See? I know a lot about flying."
"I can see you have given this much thought but-"
"Do you? I got my first ride in a Piper J3C-65S. It was this Junior Eagles program. I was supposed to go to their academy when I turned twelve." Logan shook her head in frustration. "Well, guess where I was when I turned twelve? Here."
"Maybe this is a passing interest-"
"How can you can say that?" Logan tried to calm herself so she could properly say her favorite quote. "'For once you have tasted flight you will walk around the earth with your eyes turned upwards because there you have been and there you will long to return.' Leonardo DaVinci said that."
"The Ring of Fire changed a great many things-"
"Ever since my first ride, I wanted to fly. I had it all planned out. Dad was going to let me join the Civil Air Patrol in Bridgeport and there was that EaglesAcademy, but then this whole Ring of Fire thing happened."
"Why balloons?"
"See? You don't see." Logan took a deep breath. "Those stupid planes polluting the skies are jokes, wannabes, pretensions. I bet I could fly one based on my stick time with flight simulators. The problem is I would know what they were and I would probably crash the stupid thing because I would forget I wasn't up there in a real airplane but in something Orville wouldn't let Wilbur even sit in, let alone fly."
"Flight simulators?" Antonio frowned. "I have heard of those."
"Dad gave up my computer to the government or I would've been able to show a real flight simulator. I wonder if they dumped the software. I had a patch for a dirigible."
"Yes, computers. . you know Blaise Pascal, do you not?"
Logan couldn't help but glare up at the man. "Yeah. So?"
"He is working on computers, yes?"
"All the time."
"I see. Well. . if, as you say, I am interested in more than these balloons, possibly interested in creating an air courier service-and let us agree that I am in need of more pilots-then I will also need some way to schedule them. I am told that computers can help with scheduling, yes?"