Oh Flakk! Those idiots were out on a run - Traction Engines, rolling roadblocks, every damn dog in the district went crazy. Every small child fell instantly in Love with them. -- Knitnan
No matter how far science progresses, there are still pockets of obscure weirdos who go old school. It should not be shocking that many of those weirdos are Humans. Some of them crave a fictional past that misses out on all the yucky bits associated with the era in question.
The steam era is always a favourite. There's magic in steam and visible gears, in that even a casual viewer can see how the machine works. As technology increasingly becomes a black mystery box, the yearning for understandable tech rises with it. Then there's the aesthetic of valve tubes' golden light or a nixie tube digital display. They're more comfortable to many.
Even now, when there is much faster, shinier technology, there is still a visual appeal with brass, gears, amber-hued lights, and the odd smokestack. There's a healthy business involving creating aesthetic casings for extant technology. There's an even more healthy business crafting entire vessels with the aesthetic. Just the aesthetic. It's a very bad idea to be burning coal for steam in an enclosed space with limited atmosphere. In the middle of all of this, there is the Consortium of Steam.
They're a loose conglomerate of colonies dedicated entirely to the aesthetic of steam, the preservation of old school technology, and in some, the maintenance of near-miraculous AI's that are almost human[1]. But for the most part, they generally build, maintain, and drive steam-powered machines just for the laughs.
Humans are silly that way.
This is Mechanica Grandis. Most of the available technology has caught up with the modern era in every way but the aesthetic... except for one week of their year. That is Steam Week, in which non-conventional vehicles are not only out in bulk, but also the only advisable vehicle to operate at that time. It's not a very smart move to try operating a vehicle capable of speeds well above fifteen kliks[2] per hour when everything else out there is hard-pressed reaching those speeds.
On the other hand, the roads of Mechanica Grandis are luxuriously wide and the bridges interestingly high because of the reigning affection for the older forms of transportation. That said, there are some very interesting definitions for "non-conventional vehicles" extant within Mechanica Grandis. There's even special transport lanes for them.
Yet the tourist turnout is the highest during Steam Week. That's when all the weirder ones come out. It's not just the traction engines, it's the train engines converted into tanks. It's the vintage automobiles that give credence to the phrase, "horseless carriage", it's the devices that nobody in the Victorian era would have conceived in the worst of their laudinum-tinted nightmares. It's the hemp-fumigated ingenuity with a poppy syrup chaser to the absynthe that washed it down. Perhaps with mouldy rye on the side.
Steam week starts early as assorted maintenance sheds and hangars are opened by the kind of individuals who have been looking forward to this all year. Therefore the first noises are the rattle of locks, doors, and the eager cackle of the enthusiasts. Some start stoking their furnaces. Some start oiling the joints. Some haul their machine out into the open for a last-minute polish.
At this point, the neighbourhood dogs detect the stoking boilers and start going berserk. The ones who have become immune to the noise don't even bother raising an ear, but those aren't the ones that take notice.
A thousand dogs barking at the sound of one dog barking rouse, in turn, the children. They take one look at the calendar and almost explode in glee. Children everywhere share a similar fascination between dinosaurs and steam engines. Steam Week is one of the few times that a child willingly leaves their bed early on a school day.
Especially those who are there to see the weird machines.
The bigger machines and the smaller ones alike build up steam. They start breathing. They start needing their operators at the turnwheels and steering mechanisms. Machines start going pocketta pocketta pocketta...
At the crack of dawn, the commencement of the week begins with the whistles blowing.
At the near unanimous WHOOOT WHOOOT the entire world goes even crazier.
Children cheer. Dogs bark themselves hoarse. People who would much prefer to remain uninvolved try to hide under their bedcloths. Enthusiasts from all over the Alliance rush to get the first footage of whatever is passing by.
Many people vie to get even an instant of the Solar Powered Lobstermobile. It's a fan favourite.
Others want the Rocket Tank. Different folks struggle to get footage of Steaming Jenny or The Queen Victoria. Some spend an entire year's worth of savings to ride on any one of the dirigibles brought out for the occasion.
For a week, it's all completely bonkers, and they actually like it that way.
[1] Science and magic are interchangeable in the general milieu of Steampunk, and also with certain automatons that were kicked out of the AI Alliance for being too human.
[2] Klik - the common nomenclature for one thousand Standard Distance Units. Roughly equivalent to a kilometer.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / khunaspix]
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