No one is sure exactly how it is that Trophime Bigot found Dr. Phillipe Gribbleflotz, nor how in the world he convinced him to model for " A Doctor Examining Urine", but there you are. We keep telling you, the world is an odd place.
Cover Story
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Assistant Editor's Preface
Wow! Who knew? Way back in 1999, when people started writing fan fiction for 1632, who'd have thought it would grow like this? This is our tenth volume—and the fifth in 2006. And there's no lack of material for the next volume, either.
Featured Stories
This is only a selection of the stories in this issue. There are lots more!
To see additional stories click on a department in the menu to the left
On The Matter of D'Artagnan
"Charlton Heston or Tim Curry?" mused Cardinal Richelieu.
A Filthy Story
Daniel Pedersson cursed, and swung the entrenching tool again. It went splat instead of crack, again, and he cursed some more.
Star Crossed
Yoo hoo! Manuel!" When Emmanuel Onofrio heard Verlinda Fritz yoohooing down the hall, his mind yelled, "Run!" He was looking forward to a quiet, restful lunch in the teacher's lounge. Keeping the rowdy kids in line so the others could learn seemed to get harder year by year and week by week. He gritted his teeth. "Santo Luigi Gonzaga protect me from pestilence."
NCIS: Lies, Truths and Consequences
In the charming vernacular of his time, the admiral was ready to have kittens. The tension in his office was thick enough to cut with a dagger and if I'd had my druthers, I wouldn't be here in spite of my supposedly princely salary. But then, I suspect that neither would any of the rest of the people in the office. Most especially, the quietly sobbing young woman sitting in front of his desk.
Twenty-eight Men
The cold wind cut through to the very core of the men as they walked to the entrance of the mine. It was dark, well before dawn, in the dead time of the night. The cold was complete, a January cold, dry, harsh and sharp. Soon they would be down in the dark and warmth of the mine.
The Salon
Ah . . ." The sound of a throat clearing drew Heather's attention away from the paperwork on her desk at Trommler Records. "Hey, Jacob. What's up?" "It is Thursday, Heather. I wanted to leave about three so I can attend the salon."
The Launcher
"Will this spot work?" "Looks high enough." A few steps toward the edge of the cliff let Peter gaze down toward the ever—but slowly—growing lake below. The lake, cut out of the fast-flowing River Aare, had been intended to slow the river down as it passed the city and allow for new dockyards to be built, as well as to give the city access to the river rock needed for its explosive growth.
Fiddling Stranger
Dolf was the first in his farming village to notice the stranger. Not that strangers walking or riding past on their way to or from Aschersleben were unusual. He was ten, old enough to have finished his formal schooling, or so his father said. "Got your letters and your ciphering, lad. That's all any farmer needs. Knowing more won't help till the fields or harvest the crops."
Grand Tour
My name is Mister Thomas Hobbes. If you are one of the Americans from the future, you know me as a political philosopher, the praised and reviled author of Leviathan. If you are a fellow down-timer, in this Year of Our Lord 1633, then you probably don't know me yet at all. Unless you have read my translation of Thucydides.
None So Blind
The slap knocked Willi sprawling, eyes watering with pain. He had to bite his lip hard to keep from crying out. "Five nothings!" Willi felt Uncle's hand grab the back of his rags and haul him up. The hand shook him so hard he felt like a pea rattling in a cup. "You spend all day on the streets and all you bring me are three pins and two worthless quartered Halle coins!"
The Prepared Mind
When Amy Kubiak walked into the biology classroom, Lori Fleming had her head on her desk. Amy smiled. Pete Farmer had been a good biology teacher when Amy had had him in high school. But now that she was working to become a teacher herself, she knew that she would have had trouble if Pete was her colleague.
Little Angel
Maria Helena Kolb slowly searched the line of trees. Somewhere, hidden in the shadows, she was sure Benji Matheny was hiding in ambush. Time to send in the cannon fodder. "Daisy, Regina, when I give you the word, I want you to run around that tree over there and, if you find Benji, throw your snow balls at him." Maria Helena smiled at the younger girls. "Do you understand?"
Franconia! Part 1
No, no, no, no, no, no, n-o-o-o-o." Amber Higham threw both of her hands up in the air. The class came to a stop. "This unit worked last year. It worked like a charm. Why isn't it working this year?" She glared at her students. "So, tell me!
The Doctor Phil Chronicles: Doctor Phil's Family
Phillip took the next letter from his inbox. It was marked personal, and checking the back, he could see it was from his American friend, Jonathan Fortney. He broke the seal and started reading. He had to smile. Jonathan could be quite droll. The suggestion that his new wife might want to spend all his money on fine jewelry was clearly a joke.
Butterflies in the Kremlin, Part 3: Boris, Natasha . . . But Where's Bullwinkle
Bernie was going nuts. He had been at the dacha for a while now, and was frustrated. He had run headlong into a massive wall of ignorance and arrogance. Mostly, but not entirely, his own.
Crude Penicillin: Potential and Limitations
The Age of Disinfection began with the work of Pasteur and Lister in the 1860s and 1870s. While this initial work focused on external disinfection, doctors and scientists were soon looking for ways to use substances for "internal disinfection," that is, to rid the human body of disease-causing organisms. Unfortunately, these initial efforts were limited.
Herd Immunity
Imagining life in a small town in Germany in the 1630s is difficult for the average twenty-first century dweller. Picture awaking from an interrupted night's sleep, courtesy of the local swine brawling in the alley below your bedroom window. Extracting yourself carefully from between the siblings sharing the bed with you, you arise and count your bedbug bites.
All Roads Lead. . . .
A seventeenth-century visitor might well think that all roads lead to Grantville, not Rome, because down-time roads pale by comparison. "Captain Gars," riding on Route 250, noted its "perfect flatness," and considered it to be "the finest road he had ever seen in his life." (1632, Chap. 57). Rebecca Abrabanel likewise was amazed by the "incredible perfection" of the first up-time road she saw (1632, Chap. 5).
The Feast
Guildmaster B in a fair-sized northern European town is giving a party to celebrate his second son's engagement to the daughter of another guildmaster. Come and let me show you what's going on.