Chapter Text
May 30, 1908
My day started out like it always does. The alarm clock shook me out of my restless sleep, courtesy of another late-night project. Sluggishly, I pull myself up from my cot and reach over to my letter-writing desk turned nightstand to silence the mechanical thing. I blink open my eyes and look upon my room, which is illuminated by the faint blue glow of the morning sun pouring out the windows. Outside I hear the sounds of the city waking up, with loud pops from cars starting along with the increasing footsteps of animals and man. In my one-room house, I see my workbench still cluttered from last night's project, with wires and electrical components strewn about. A short step away was a kitchen, with a coal heater/stove lying unused next to a metal countertop. From here, the living room was just some wooden chairs surrounding a low-laying wooden table, all next to the front door. Wasn't the best place to live in, but it was far more private than the other options.
Groggily, I stood up, and began my day, starting with freshening up in the bathroom. It too was a small affair, having a toilet and small tub crammed next to a sink, but at least it was clean and had functional plumbing. Brushing my teeth, I inspected myself in the mirror. While it could have been the result of too many sleepless nights, the slightly haggard-looking man in the mirror was showing signs of his age. The years in this world have taken their toll, and I was once again reminded of the time I have lost, that I am still losing every day I am here. Shaking off those thoughts, I freshened up and left for the closet. My daily wear was to be a shirt with a light suit jacket and pants. I thought about wearing jeans, but I figured I wouldn't test Mrs.Garcia's patience today. She's been getting more stressed out since her son left to join the military, even if the war in Ishval looks like it's been winding down.
Being more or less ready, I headed outside and into the streets of South City. I passed by shops just getting open, greeting some of the people as I walked. There was the elderly Mr.Miller with his general store, smoking a cigar despite the occasional cough. Some kids were hanging out in an alleyway, including Mrs.Garcia's youngest child, the brown-haired Sarah who was playing around with a familiar cubical puzzle game. Finally, I arrived at the diner, with Mrs.Garcia and several workers setting up the tables. She was a middle-aged woman with brownish-blond hair scrunched up in a bun wearing an apron over a yellow dress. A kind woman, though not willing to tolerate any form of 'hooliganism'. She was a great help getting me settled into the area, and I really can't thank her enough, even if she is a bit fussy over my appearance. She noted my arrival and made a move to hand me a menu before stopping.
"The usual again Nate?" Mrs.Garcia said somewhat curious yet resigned. I nodded and she shook her head. "You really don't want to try my new casserole recipe? I got some spices from Xing that I have been trying out." She said, somewhat hopefully. "Oh no, your usual is more than enough for me," I said, quickly waving off the suggestion. I was admittedly somewhat curious, but I can't tolerate too much spiciness and rather not see Mrs.Garcia's face if things go wrong. I settled into my usual table, accepting a glass of water as I waited for my order. Then the door opened, revealing a man in a mail courier uniform, Mr. Bowman. He was an older pale man, with white hair sprinkled throughout his head of dark hair. He quickly asks for a coffee from a server before sitting down at a table next to mine.
"So Nate, you've been up all night too?" Mr. Bowman said as he noticed my presence. I almost choked on my drink, normally Mr. Bowman was pretty quick and to the point. He is usually not one for small talk. "Yeah, the radio device is really finicky. You have a late night too?" I responded, realizing just what the mailman said. He nodded before sighing. "Yeah, one of my nephews got involved in some questionable activities in the East. I think you know him. The whole family is worried and my sister kept me up all night talking about it. That kid has always been too ambitious, and now he might be facing a tribunal." Mr. Bowman said, muttering into the fresh coffee cup before taking a sip. That was not really surprising. The one time I met the guy, he was swarmy to the point I suspect he was playing it up. Still, it was odd that Mr. Bowman had decided to talk about this, so it must have been something really bad. I was really not sure what to say to him. Fortunately, I was broken out of my internal conundrum when he handed me a wad of letters. "These are yours." He curtly said, before placing down his empty coffee cup and walking out. Before I had a chance to process that, my breakfast arrived and sucked up all of my attention. Can't start any in-depth contemplations on an empty stomach after all.
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Back home, I sorted through the letters. Mostly bills, but two stood out. One was a letter from Husk, which I set aside with the others, as I really don't want to deal with that now. The other was an invitation to a funeral. Specifically, the funeral of one of my greatest fans, Miss Darcy. She was a rare individual. A person who can not only appreciate the 'overly speculative and nonsensical' sci-fi worlds I was crafting when I tried my hand as a magazine writer, but can really understand the concepts I was trying to convey. After a surprise invitation to meet after my first few publications all those years ago, we hit it off. We spent hours talking about space travel, of a worldwide information network, and of worlds beyond this one. She didn't just listen, she questioned the science not to critique it, but to see how it can work. She was by far one of the most knowledgeable individuals I met in this world. It was exhilarating having someone who not only cares but goes as far as to hire me to spread my stories through dedicated books.
But now, she is gone. This wasn't too surprising. Despite her youthful energy when we had our talks, she was still a woman approaching her 90s who had fallen ill in the past several months. I really hoped that this world's magic, that alchemy could have offered ways of saving her. She did have plenty of alchemists on her payroll who did things that would be unimaginable for even people in my old world. Though I suppose that some things can't be helped. Now the only thing I could do was pay my respects, especially when she thoughtfully planned to include a check to pay for travel expenses to her own funeral, set just a week away.
Miss Darcy's estate was practically on the other side of the country from South City, so I need to head out soon to make it. Assuming the train lines and schedules are still working the way I remember them, who knows with the recent military deployments, I should be there in a day or two. Perhaps after the funeral, I could even make some stops in Dublith, or Central. I haven't had much opportunity to explore the capital recently, really curious if there are any developments worth looking into.
Author Note: This is the first time I am posting a story like this, so there might be some teething issues. In regards to the story, I am mixing elements from the 2003 and Brotherhood version of FMA, as well as some original content. It also might take a while to see any canon characters for those who are specifically interested in them.