Grantville Gazette 46

Bartley's Man, Episode One

June 30, 1631

Johan was hung over again and that was good. For Johan, going into battle with a hangover was almost as good as going into battle a little drunk. It distracted him from what he had to do. He shifted his pike just a little. He was in the second rank of pikes and happy enough to be there. It was respectable, but not as dangerous as the front rank. They were marching forward and he was busy enough just keeping his feet moving and his head from falling off that he didn't have time to worry about putting his pike through someone or having someone put theirs through him. So he barely noticed the difference in the sounds. The Germans, at least the group in front of him, fired one ragged volley and turned and ran. Just as well. He probably wasn't up to much of a fight. Then Johan was bumped. The man beside him had been hit. Karl was a punk kid and arrogant besides, but damn! They were in the second rank, near the middle, and Karl had still been hit in the side, hard enough to knock him into Johan.

Things went downhill from there. An army, even part of Tilly's army, could only take so much, and this one was being cut to pieces from so far away that they couldn't fight back. It took a while, but it started to crumble. Then it broke. All of a sudden, everyone was running and Johan was running with them. But not very far. He was too hungover and, well, just too damned old to run as far as he would have needed to go.

After a few minutes, and on the other side of the baggage train, he stopped. Huffing and puffing, Johan waited for the cavalry to catch him. His hands were already up when they got there.

July 7, 1631

Johan Kipper looked at the Singer sewing machine in total confusion. It wasn't that Johan was stupid, or even ignorant. It was simply that his world wasn't filled with devices of this complexity. There were a few, but not many, and Johan had never seen one. What made the sewing machine worse than the telephones or the lights was that it looked like he should be able to understand it.

Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to remain in his state of confusion. Instead, Brent Partow, one of young Master David's friends, saw his look and-as boys were wont to do-began to explain. Which would have been a great deal more helpful if the lad had spoken a comprehensible tongue. His English had the weirdest accent that Johan had ever heard. Just like the rest of the up-timers, and it just got worse as the lad got into the details of the inner workings of the sewing machine. It wasn't the twang that bothered Johan. He had heard variations like that often enough. It was the technical words.

"It would seem a very complex piece of equipment," Johan offered. "It would probably take a long time to make. Perhaps something simpler?"

"We could, I guess. But it would be more likely to be copied," young Master David said, but Johan was an old soldier and an old bargainer, and he heard the lack of full confidence in David's voice. "Besides," David continued in a firmer voice, "the sewing machine is what we agreed on."

So it wasn't the best choice, just the one they could agree on. That was more than interesting. "Well, it looks very complicated to me."

"Looks are deceiving," Brent said. "It's not lots of different parts, so much as lots of the same few parts."

His twin brother, Trent, snorted at that. And Frau Higgins said, "Never mind. What we're going to need you to do is help us talk to the local merchants and craftsmen so that we can have the parts made without telling them how to make the whole thing."

Johan walked his rounds about the storage lots and thought about the up-timers and the children and their project. He liked them, liked them a lot. They were kind to an old soldier who didn't deserve it and they made him feel at home. Johan had grown almost to manhood in Amsterdam, watching the best merchants and craftsmen on earth go about their business. He knew that while the up-timers had great wealth, that wealth would be used up soon or late, unless they used it to build more. He understood that. He looked over at the chain link fence and shook his head. Like building a castle wall out of gold: you have to worry as much about someone stealing the fence as you do about them getting what's inside of it.

Over the past several weeks he had been acting as interpreter for the kids as they went about their business and he had managed to keep the local merchants from robbing them blind.

And he, Johan Kipper, would keep protecting them. Always. Johan wasn't quite sure why he felt that way. He finally had a home, a place, and hope. Things he had given up on years ago. He wouldn't give that up, not for anything. His place was with young Master Bartley, who would listen to him and learn from him the way the world worked. And with young Master Donny, who needed his protection. He looked around his home again. Chain link fences and steel containers full of goods, but only a limited supply, no matter how large it might seem.

"All right, Herr Kipper," Doctor Sims said. "Let's have a look. Open wide."

Johan opened his mouth and the doctor looked around in there for a few minutes, then had him sit up.

"Here's the situation. You have a couple of cavities in the teeth you have left, but I don't have any partial plates that would fit your remaining teeth. What I can do is pull those last few and set you up with a full set. I have a couple of full sets that can be adjusted to fit you. I don't like pulling healthy teeth and if I had access to the equipment and supplies needed to make partial plates, that's what I would recommend. But I don't."

Johan didn't have to think about it long. He hated to lose the last of his teeth, but he knew they would be going anyway. He agreed.

Slowly, Johan Kipper was getting used to the up-timers, and at the same time he was coming to realize that he didn't agree with them about how the world worked. He liked what they thought, but to him David would always be young Master David. Mrs. Higgins, whatever she insisted on being called, was always going to be the mistress of the clan, as noble in his eyes as any queen in Christendom. It was very nice that the up-timers thought down-timers their equals, but it wasn't true, not really.

For the next couple of years, Johan Kipper adjusted to life among the up-timers. He learned about post traumatic stress disorder and realized that probably over half the people in Tilly's army had had it to one degree or another. It was, in fact, so common that it wasn't thought of as a disease at all. It was just the way soldiers were. After all these years, treating it was going to take a long time, but even the treatment he got helped a lot. He still had the nightmares and sometimes the flashbacks, but they were controllable. He was much less of a danger to himself and others. At the same time, the effect of the talk therapy and the group had made him probably more effectively dangerous than he had been in years. He could still fight, but now it was when he decided to, not just whenever something set him off.

Financially, he was much better off. The Higgins-Bartley clan were overly generous. So generous that it made him uncomfortable. And it turned out that young Master David had a real knack for the world of business. That knack had been honed by merchants and crafts masters from two centuries, and by Johan himself trying to teach the boy about how to bargain. Johan swore the best up-time bargainer was a novice compared to anyone down-time. But it didn't matter. Up-timers could produce so much, so very much, that they could lose their shirt on every deal and still end up the winner. It had taken the down-timers who didn't live in Grantville a long time to realize just how productive the combination of man and machine really was. In fact, most of the world-even most of the Germanies-still didn't realize. So Johan bargained to keep David and Frau Higgins from being too taken advantage of. He was fairly successful at that, except when it came to himself. They simply would not hear when he carefully explained that they didn't need to give him stock or bonuses.

August 5, 1633

Johan Kipper sat in the cafeteria in the high school, going over reports from OPM. He was on the board of the mutual fund and there was quite a lot of paperwork involved. Still, in many ways it wasn't all that different from when he had first come to work for Mrs. Higgins. He was still haggler-in-chief for Master David's business projects. Johan grinned at the thought, showing a very nice smile. Dentures, of course, paid for by Mrs. Higgins not long after he had gone to work for the family. He would have been able to pay for his own now, if you could still buy the up-time artificial resin-based dentures at all.

There was gray in his hair but there was still more brown than white and he wasn't going bald. He was clean-shaven, clean in general, and well-dressed. He was still no prize by up-timer standards, but was a well-enough-formed man of the short and stocky sort. He still had the pock marks that were fairly common in the seventeenth century, but had virtually disappeared from the twentieth.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" said a voice in up-timer English.

Johan looked up to see a woman in a hair net and apron, holding a great pot of knockwurst and sauerkraut, apparently today's lunch main course. All of which lead him to believe that she was a down-timer lunchroom servant, but the language shouted up-timer. So did the clear, rosy complexion. Even after two years, the discontinuity made Johan a little uncomfortable, though he knew perfectly well that it shouldn't. She put the big tray in the steam table and gave Johan a look of increasing suspicion.

"I am doing paperwork," Johan said.

"I could see that. Why are you doing it in the high school lunchroom?"

"I'm waiting for Master David," Johan said, fully aware that he was making a hash of the whole mess.

Darlene Myers wished she had asked one of the other cafeteria workers about the man before she approached him, but he had just been sitting there, in mostly down-timer style clothing-rich down-timer clothing, if she was any judge. And she had thought about all the stories from up-time about predators frequenting schools, and assumed down-time had had the same sort. And he looked sort of creepy, or at least he had at first glance. Now she was more than a little lost. Who was this Master David? Was there some down-time noble going to the high school? She realized that there must be. She hadn't thought about it, but she had just gotten this job a few days ago. Through a friend who thought she was crazy to take it.

"Who is this Master David?" she asked. "Is he a student here?"

"Master David Bartley," the man said, with what sounded to Darlene like considerable pride in his voice. Now that sounded like an up-timer, not a down-timer. Though. .No. She remembered the Higgins Sewing Machine Company and OPM. David Bartley was one of the up-timer kids who had started getting rich after the Ring of Fire. Apparently, David had gone native in a big way, servants and the whole deal. What Darlene wanted to do was send this servant off with a bee in his ear about the rights of man and give this David Bartley a good talking to on the same subject. The problem was, she didn't actually know anything about the situation. So she gave the man a warning look and a humpf and retreated back to the kitchen to gather more intelligence.

"Who is that guy in the serving room?" Darlene asked. "He says he is waiting for Master David Bartley, no less."

Gretel Hoffmann looked over at the calendar. "I bet it's the HSMC board meeting. Johan Kipper is on the board, you know. Even after the Schmidt takeover, he stayed on the board along, with Delia Higgins and Mr. Marcantonio."

Which didn't answer Darlene's question at all.

"What?"

Gretel, an old Grantville hand and a great gossip, gave Darlene a condescending look. About half the kitchen staff here was convinced she was an idiot, otherwise what was she doing serving meals to teenagers when her up-timer knowledge was so valuable. Gretel, after questioning her, just figured she was crazy.

"Well, it's like this. David Bartley is the real head of OPM and is one of the biggest stockholders in HSMC. Johan Kipper is his man. He represents David Bartley in board meetings and the like, because David Bartley is too young to sit on the board of a corporation by your up-timer law."

It really wasn't the sort of discussion that Darlene had expected from the kitchen staff of a high school lunchroom, but she hadn't thought about what the changes the down-time world had brought to Grantville would mean.

"How many of our students are millionaires?" Darlene wondered aloud.

"Oh, lots," Gretel said and started going through the names.

"Never mind," Darlene interrupted the list. "Why does Herr Kipper-at least, I assume it's Herr Kipper out there-call David Bartley 'Master David'? Hasn't anyone mentioned to him that we don't have slavery in Grantville?"

For a minute Gretel just looked at her like she was strange. Then she said, "He is just a little old-fashioned. Johan Kipper came to them as a former soldier, a beggar, hoping for work, and now he is rich." Gretel clucked her tongue at such undeserved good fortune. "Some people are just born lucky."

All this left Darlene confused, but very intrigued. She picked up another tray for the steam table and headed out to check out the guy. He wasn't a great looking specimen, short and stocky and with the leftovers from the worst case of acne she had ever imagined. No, she realized. Johan Kipper had survived smallpox. He was as tough as he looked, apparently. "Is the board meeting of Higgins Sewing Machine Company coming up?" she asked, mostly because it was all she could think of to open the conversation with.

He looked up. "Yes. How did you. ."

"Gretel. She knows everything about everyone. At least she claims to. Why does that mean you need to be here?"

"Because Young Master David needs to know what will be decided at the board meeting. Herr Schmidt is arguing again to increase the sales price."

"Why? Have costs gone up?"

"No. They have gone down. But we sell a sewing machine and, often as not, the buyer turns around and resells it the next day for a considerable profit."

"And Herr Schmidt figures you might as well make the extra profit."

"Yes."

"So, why not?" Darlene asked. "I mean, I can understand why you guys might want to be generous, but if the generosity isn't getting to the people who are the end-users, why not make the extra profit?"

Johan looked at her in confusion for a moment. "End-user? Oh, I get it! Very clever. Sometimes it takes me a minute to understand up-timer expressions. Young Master David is concerned that if we price the units too high, we are likely to force someone else to go into competition. Herr Schmidt insists that they will anyway, as soon as they can figure out how. He wants to guard our proprietary information more strongly." Johan grinned, an open, friendly expression, with just a touch of impishness. "A couple of weeks ago, he was threatening to lock the Partow twins out of the factory if they kept giving away secrets."

Darlene was finding this a very interesting conversation. She had been so busy the last couple of years, grieving for her husband and her son, Johnny, both left up-time, and trying to help reinvent electrical power generation over at the power plant, that she hadn't had much time to consider what was happening in the rest of Grantville. But she was more interested in what this man thought. "What do you think?"

"About the Partow twins?"

"No. About raising the price."

"I think Herr Schmidt is right about someone starting to build sewing machines as soon as they can, but I don't see any way of stopping them from learning how to do it. Too much is public record."

"So should you raise the price?"

Johan stopped and clearly gave Darlene's question some thought. "I think Herr Schmidt is right about the price."

"Are you going to tell David that?"

"Yes."

Then Gretel came out of the kitchen and Darlene had to go back to work.

Johan was distracted all during the lunch meeting with David and the rest of the Sewing Circle. They talked about the price hike and Johan did argue that they might as well increase the price. Sarah and David were opposed. In Sarah's case, because she was starting to feel it was a bit immoral to overcharge like that. David, because he wanted the competition to wait as long as they could manage, in order to get Higgins established as the name in sewing machines. The twins didn't care.

Finally, David gave in and Sarah, pouting, was outvoted.

David noticed that every time the door to the kitchen opened, Johan would look over at it. The third time Johan looked over he kept looking, and David followed his gaze to a plump woman who looked to be about David's mom's age. Which, it seemed to David, a good enough age for a guy Johan's age to look at. David was amused, but let it pass for now. He wished Johan luck.

Darlene went back out to the lunchroom to start clearing out the steam table. She was pretty engrossed on pulling the hot pans out without burning herself.

"Can I help you with that?" a voice asked and she jerked up.

"Oh! Ah, no. That's all right. It's my job, after all. How did your meeting go?"

"Well enough. The Sewing Circle will not oppose Herr Schmidt's price increase."

That was interesting. When this man decided something like that, he could persuade the kids.

"So, how often do you have these meetings?" Darlene asked. Maybe she'd cook something special for him and those kids.

"Every few weeks, or every month. It depends on how the businesses are going. HSMC, once a month, but OPM requires more meetings. And the others, well, it depends on if they need Master David's guidance."

"That means you'll be back, then?" Darlene hoped so. This was the first time in over two years that she'd seen someone who interested her as this man did.

"I'll be back, yes."

"Who does Johan keep looking at in the lunch meetings?" Sarah Wendell asked a month later. "And why is he coming to school so often?"

"Her name is Darlene Myers. I asked one of the cafeteria workers. Her husband and son, and her house, were left up-time. She worked in the power plant," David said.

"What is someone with that sort of knowledge doing on a serving line?" Sarah asked.

"I don't know and it bothers me. Especially if Johan is interested in her." David considered. "I think I should have her checked out. Which is inconvenient as all gitout, because guess who I would normally have check her out."

"Johan. Yes, probably not a good idea this time," Sarah said. "I'll ask around."

"Thanks. I'll have Leonhard look into it from the down-timer side."

"Do you realize how silly we sound? A couple of kids looking into the background of someone Johan Kipper is interested in."

David nodded agreement, but he didn't agree, not really. He wished he'd been able to do it with some of the jerks his mom had dated up-time, and Johan was rich now. Also, in David's opinion, Johan tended to look at up-timers through rose-colored glasses.

Judy the Younger's report on Darlene Myers was pretty detailed. Born 1967, married, one child. Both left up-time, worked in the power plant and kept working there after the Ring of Fire because they needed her. But she hadn't talked to anyone about her problems; she had just worked and worked. She had trained down-timers to do her job, then quit. Which struck Judy as pretty crazy. The other stuff that Judy had learned from Darlene's brother, Allen, was that she had had a very hard time dealing with the loss of Jack and little Johnny, her up-time family, but wouldn't talk about it.

Sarah sort of agreed with Judy's assessment, but thought that Darlene's self-treatment might be the right thing for her. Just be around people, not heavy equipment, for a while.

Leonhard told David that the down-timers she worked with found her pleasant, if a bit reserved. They had been surprised when she quit at the power plant and went to work at the elementary school. They were more surprised when she said that working with all the younger children was too much. It reminded her of her lost son. So she had transferred to the high school.

"So she was hit pretty hard by the Ring of Fire," David said. It wasn't an uncommon story. The Ring of Fire had hit a lot of people hard, and sometimes the ones that it hit hardest were least willing to talk about it.

Darlene found herself talking about Jack to Johan and he told her things about his life as a boy in the Netherlands, and later as a mercenary. Somehow, they had become each other's friendly ear. So Darlene was shocked and very upset when Johan told her that he was going off to Amsterdam.

"Amsterdam? Amsterdam is under siege, and the Netherlands are a war zone. Why did that idiot David have to go and buy a bunch of guilders, anyway?"

"Master David had his reasons," Johan insisted irritatingly, but wouldn't tell her the reasons. Darlene found Johan's devotion to the kid endearing, irritating, infuriating, insane, and a little creepy-all at once. She knew why Johan felt that way; he had told her about how David treated him and how Delia Higgins had given him a share in the sewing machine company, and how David included him in OPM and the other deals he made. She knew that they had made him rich, but the way he doted on David was just wrong. And now the idiot boy was dragging him off to Amsterdam in the middle of a war. Johan had seen enough war to last a dozen lifetimes. And he didn't need to see any more, in Darlene's opinion. Not that she had any call to complain. They were barely dating yet.

"I have a letter for you, Ms. Myers," Trent Partow said.

"For me?"

"Yep. It's from Johan. It came in the pouch."

"What pouch?"

"The mission to Amsterdam is quasi-official. It doesn't exactly have diplomatic status, but they got the Cardinal-Infante's permission and the permission of the government before they left, so they have their own sealed pouches for private correspondence back here to Grantville."

"You mean Johan is like some sort of diplomat?"

"Sort of." Trent shrugged. "Brent and I are inventors. David's a mogul. Sarah's an economist. It's the Ring of Fire."

"And I am serving in a high school lunchroom."

"I know, ma'am, and, honestly, that seems a little weird. Especially considering how much you know about electronics."

Darlene had no idea what to say to that. But, thankfully, Trent didn't push it. He just gave her the letter and a wave then went on his way.

It was later that afternoon when she finally got a chance to sit down and read the letter. Johan Kipper's handwriting was better than she expected, but the down-time education system, without even typewriters, was very much about good penmanship.

Dearest Darlene,

I may be overstepping my place with that greeting and if it gives offense I apologize most profoundly. But I miss you even more than I thought I would and the shield of paper the letter provides give me courage to say what I have wanted to say since I met you. So:

My dearest Darlene,

We arrived in Amsterdam yesterday and have yet to meet the Cardinal-Infante. But I did get to see the estate where I was born, since it is outside the city proper. It has brought back memories. Some good, but more bad. We were not well treated, though not so harshly as in some places. But I remember my sister who was, she insisted, in love with the burgher's son. Never mind. The pain of those days is old, and both my sister and her child are dust. And the burgher's son, as well. Which is a good thing, else I would be tempted to foolishness.

I always resented the way they treated us, but assumed that was because they weren't real nobles just burghers with a lot of money. Then I met real nobles in the army and they were no better. It wasn't till the Ring of Fire that I found people who seemed to me worthy of loyalty. I know that you find the way I feel about young Master David and the rest confusing, but coming back here has brought it into focus. David is what the burgher and his family should have been, but weren't. We are here not just to make money, but to save the guilder and so save the Netherlands and perhaps the rest of Europe. It's worth doing and I am pleased to be a part of it.

I also will be glad to get back to Grantville. I find that I miss our conversations. I miss your insightful questions and your friendly smile. I know the loss of your family cut you deep and being here again reminds me of how deep and slow to heal such a loss can be. I understand your need to be around people but find myself wishing that you could find a position that lets you be around people, but still lets you use more of your skills.

The letter went on to talk about how he felt about her and the world.

A couple of days later Darlene gave Trent Partow a letter to go into the pouch for Johan and asked, "Has Johan mentioned my working in the cafeteria?"

"No. Why?" Trent asked.

"Because he said pretty much the same thing you did in his letter."

"About what?"

"About why am I working in the cafeteria when I ought to be working in electronics."

Trent shrugged a very teenage shrug, and said, "It's a pretty obvious question."

"It is if you know I worked in the power plant, but why would you know that if Johan wasn't talking to you?"

"Oh." Trent looked rather embarrassed. "David had you checked out. Because, well, Johan is rich now and that means a lot down-time."

It meant a lot up-time too, Darlene knew. Not to everyone but to a lot of people. She'd read enough stories before the Ring of Fire to know that pre-nups were pretty standard among the rich and famous. Still, the whole notion that she might be a gold digger was more than a little offensive. Especially because, well, she had noticed that Johan was rich and it had had an effect. Along with the realization that he thought of her as someone who he could discuss matters of importance with, it made him seem more attractive and less threatening. She didn't figure he would have her out at the stream pounding his dirty clothes on rocks.

"I'm not sure how I would react if Johan had checked me out. But David Bartley? What the fuck business was it of his?" Darlene didn't usually curse, and especially not in front of kids, even teenagers. But suddenly she was really pissed off.

It was clear that Trent Partow didn't have a good answer to that, from his embarrassed look more than his silence. She humphed and gave him the letter anyway.

Trent thanked her and left, but that wasn't the end of it. An hour later, Brent Partow showed up. Brent looked like Trent but moved differently. He was more open and casual, less studied. "David did it because he's Johan's friend and he cares. It wasn't an insult to you, because before he checked you out, we didn't know who you were. Even if you had been a gold digger-and every single one of us has had experience with gold diggers since HSMC went public back in '31 and especially since OPM-David wouldn't have tried to buy you off or treat you like Sabrina in the movie. He would have let Johan know and decide for himself." He grinned engagingly. "I should know. That's what he's done when one of my friends turns out to be after my money. Which happens more than you might think, Ms. Myers."

"Well, it's still insulting. And it's still none of his business," Darlene said, in spite of the fact that she saw Brent's point. "And if he wanted to know something, he should have had the guts to ask me to my face."

"Maybe. All right. In that case, I have a question to ask you to your face. What are you doing slopping the high schoolers when you could be teaching down-timers how to build electrical components and gauges? Do you have any idea how important electricity is to the world?"

"Well. . you know. . the thing is. ." Darlene stopped.

Brent just waited.

"Well. ." Darlene hadn't thought about it from the point of view of the rest of the world. "I just. . I was so tired. And sick. Just sick of everything. All I could think about was Jack and Johnny. . And I didn't quit till I had trained up replacements."

Brent nodded. That had apparently been in the briefing they had gotten. "I'm sorry about your family," he said. "I was comparatively lucky. I had a lot of friends that were left up-time, but most of my family was here. I know it was worse for people who lost family. I think you ought to talk to someone about it. It's not just the opportunities for yourself that are getting lost. It's what you can do for the world, as well. Look, Ms. Myers, I know a bunch of people think of David as some sort of Scrooge or maybe J.P. Morgan or something, but the truth is that he, all of us, do this stuff because it's important. Not because it makes us rich. That's just a byproduct."

"Not a bad byproduct," Darlene said.

"I'm not complaining, true. Back up-time, I'd never have been this kind of rich. But, more importantly, I'd never have been able to build the things I've built. The washing machine has made life easier for hundreds of people-heck, probably thousands of people. The generator packages we're working on-and that's something you could help with-why, those are going to improve even more lives. And improve them more."

Darlene was intrigued in spite of herself. "What sort of generator packages?"

Brent snorted. "That's the trouble. You can't just build a generator, or a toaster, or a light bulb. The toaster and the light bulb need the generator and the generator isn't a lot of use without the toaster or the light bulb, or something to power. And then there's the question of getting the mechanical motion to run the generator."

Darlene started nodding, because this was basically what she'd been doing at the power plant, or at least part of it. "So how are you working it out?"

"Not as well as we'd like. It takes a lot of fiddling. We can't build a standard system, like the sewing machine or the washing machine. We have to fit each one to the use it's to be put to. And that makes it more expensive. We need to standardize as many of the components as we can, so they can fit into a customized system. We've been doing that one component at a time, as we develop them. Then selling them off to other companies to mass produce."

"What sort of components?"

"Well, the toaster I mentioned and an electric space heater. Small electric motors to power things like down-time-made food processors. But we also have to make fuses and switches so that the little electrical systems we put in houses and factories don't burn out because too much is plugged into them or too little. We are working on better lead-acid batteries. Well, a village just outside the Ring of Fire is doing those, but we are having to buy them by the rack. Which makes the systems more expensive, but we have to have something to balance the output of the generators."

"Have you tried gyroscopes?" Darlene couldn't help asking. She knew that up-time and down-time the power plant had used great big gyroscopes to balance power requirements with generation and keep the system from blowing.

"Now see," Brent said with an impish grin, "that's why you're needed. Your understanding of this stuff. It's not stuff that down-timers can't learn and I know you taught it to down-timers before you quit the power plant. But there are always more down-timers to learn it. And more ways to apply it. Have you considered a job at one of the research firms. . like, say, TwinloPark?"

"You're trying to recruit me?"

"Sure. Why not?"

"I thought you thought I was a gold digger."

"Nope. We wanted to find out if you were a gold digger. There is a difference. And while we were looking, we found out you have knowledge we need."

"Are you sure that this isn't a way to buy me off?"

"Absolutely not!" Brent said with such overdone offended dignity that Darlene knew he was joking.

Darlene didn't accept the job offer. Not then. She liked cooking and she had learned that she liked cooking for large numbers. She didn't want to go back to a job in a lab, spending her time assembling parts and soldering itty-bitty wires.

Johan Kipper got Darlene's first letter with considerable pleasure. She hadn't objected to his heading. Instead, hers had echoed it. My dearest Johan!

Meanwhile there were products to buy, arrangements to be made. The craftsmen in Amsterdam were starved for work and the negotiations were going well. More importantly, Don Fernando's army was in real need of things like cheap sewing, clothes washing, and all sorts of other things that an army needed to keep in good repair, and Johan Kipper, as David Bartley's man, had just the sort of stuff they needed and couldn't get, or at least was a lot more expensive when done by hand than when done by machine.

The second letter from Darlene arrived within a few days of their getting permission to enter Amsterdam. Darlene wasn't pleased to learn that Young Master David had checked her out. For that matter, Johan's first reaction wasn't one of unalloyed joy. But considering how many gold diggers he had discovered going after one of his charges-even little Master Donny, Master David's younger brother. . His second reaction was to wonder what David had found.

"Not all that much," Master David said when confronted. "She seems to be one of the ones who had real problems out of the Ring of Fire. Her husband and son were left up-time and she didn't get help with that grief. She just buckled down and did her job. But, by a few months ago, she was a burnout case at the power plant and quit to go to work in the school cafeteria, but the little kids at the elementary school were too much like her little boy. So she switched over to the high school. She had some pull to get the job, I think. There were dozens of down-timers who were actually better qualified to work in a large kitchen."

"Darlene likes to cook, she said," Johan pointed out.

"Sure, and apparently she does a decent job. But someone who was the chief cook for a down-time school or mine or whatever, where they had to feed lots of people had more of the sort of experience needed for working on a school lunch line. Even if they would need lessons on the up-time equipment. Besides, she does know about electrical instruments." David shook his head. "Never mind. It's not that big a deal. It just seems to me that she is wasting her talents and training."

Johan wasn't sure that he didn't agree with that, but it was Darlene's choice, not Master David's.

While David, Herr Wendel, Prince Lichtenstein and the rest were talking with the high and the mighty, Johan Kipper talked with the craftsmen of Amsterdam. "What is this project you have in mind for my shop, Herr Kipper?"

"Spinning thread."

"We already spin thread, Herr Kipper. Are you going to show us how to spin it into gold?" the man asked, grinning. "Normally, I would be thrilled with such an endeavor But just at the moment I would like to see a way of spinning thread into ham hocks or sides of beef."

"Granted, and I wish I could teach you that. No, actually I'm here for what I want you to figure out and teach us. We need more thread-wool, hemp, cotton, even silk. With the sewing machines, it takes much less time to make clothing so more people are buying clothes and the price of fabric goes up. But the weavers can't make more fabric without more thread to weave. We have two shops working on the problem back in Grantville and one in Magdeburg, and those aren't the only ones. The first people to figure a way to spin more thread faster are going to get rich. So we have several projects, trading information back and forth. All with an agreement to share information with each other."

"What does this have to do with me and my ladies, my spinsters?" Herr Kikkert asked. "We already make a lot of thread. Not that we have anyone with the money to buy it right now. The weavers have warehouses full of cloth and no money to buy thread to make more."

Johan knew that Kikkert was exaggerating. The bouncy little man hopped about the room like the frog he was named for. But the siege hadn't been in place all that long. There hadn't been time for the weavers still in Amsterdam to fill up their warehouses or even run out of money. Though they would run out of money sooner than they would fill up the warehouses. But Johan had a cure for that. "You need something to work on, something that will provide employment for you and your spinsters. And who knows more about spinning than spinsters?"

Johan pulled up his briefcase, a down-time made one which Johan thought was better quality than the few real up-time ones that had come back in the Ring of Fire. It was also much less expensive than the real up-time made ones, but it very much looked like an up-time made briefcase, especially with the little combination lock built in. He moved the numbers to the appropriate postings and snapped the briefcase latch open. All theater, there wasn't really anything all that secret in the case. He pulled out a file. "Up-time they had great factories that made hundreds of miles of thread in a few hours, operated by only a few workers."

While Johan had been opening his case, the spinsters had gathered around. Now one spoke up. "That would put us out of work. Now I know why the Spaniard let you through. It was to destroy our spirits by killing our futures. I'm going to report you to the Committees of Correspondence."

Johan smiled at the woman with his even, white, false teeth and said, "Say hello to Gretchen for me, but don't worry about your jobs. There will be better ones coming. Working in a garment factory with a sewing machine is probably a step up from spinning. And there are other up-timer jobs, assembly line jobs. There is work in Thuringia now, more work than there are people to do it." Johan didn't think he was exaggerating too much, but he knew that if the spinning machines were produced, some of these women would be left out in the cold by the new machines. But Johan had, in forty years as a soldier, killed people for causes much less worthwhile.

They gathered around and went over the drawings and the tricks that had been discovered. Great improvements in carding had already been managed, but spinning was still running into problems. Johan wished Brent or Trent was here to explain the problems or, better yet, Rob Jones, an Englishman who had gone to work for them on the spinning project.

"How was your day?" David asked him, tiredly, that evening.

"It went fairly well. The spinning shop will take on the project and several of the women there seemed to have some interesting ideas. It will be worth a try, and even if we get it first in Grantville or Magdeburg, it will still give us a place in Amsterdam to put the new spinning machines when they are worked out."

David nodded. "We'll need that, whoever gets a working model."

"Besides, it will give them employment." Johan added. "That has to be the hardest part of a siege for the townsfolk. Well, aside from the starving and the dying in the end, that is."

David snorted.

Johan's next letter to Darlene was mostly about the excursions into Amsterdam. The spinning project was only one of the problems being worked on. And OPM had all those Dutch guilders to spend. He added: I understand your being upset about Master David's actions, but I must admit that if the situations were reversed I would have done the same thing. In fact, I have. In so doing, I have discovered both venality and nobility. People who saw David as a meal ticket, and people who had only the noblest of motives. The only way to learn was to look. So I hope you will forgive him and me for the actions that our situation demands.

Then he went back to telling her about the people of Amsterdam and the siege. I have seen sieges from both sides as besieger and besieged, but in both cases I was in the army and had my duty. Mostly the civilians were just sort of there in the background. But this is different. I think it's because of Gretchen Richter and her CoCs. But the people are involved here. Morale is high on both sides. It is interesting to talk to a Spanish sergeant in the morning and a Dutch CoC guarding the walls in the afternoon. Boredom is a sap on morale, but the CoCs have everyone working on maintenance or repairs. And the Spaniards are sure of their commander and eventual victory.

Johan went on to tell Darlene about several of the people he had met, and about their lives and hopes.

Darlene laid down the letter and considered. She was working in the cafeteria still, but starting to feel a bit guilty about it. There were people under siege in Amsterdam and the New US-or, rather the State of Thuringia-Franconia as part of the USE-was caught in a war and she was, as Brent Partow insisted on calling it, slopping the teens. But the truth was, she didn't like fiddling with little bits of wire and she did like cooking. And, oddly enough, she found cooking for large numbers easier than cooking for one or a few. She wouldn't mind consulting a bit about electric parts now and then, but she didn't want to spend her time hand assembling poor copies of up-time gauges. Still. . maybe she ought to start looking around for something she could do that used a little more of the knowledge she had as an up-timer.

A few hours later, a discussion with Trent Partow added weight to something she had gotten from Johan before he had left, and even a little bit from the down-timers she had trained at the power plant.

"It's not the stuff that we know we know, mostly," Trent said. "It's the stuff we know that we don't even realize matters. Imagine having to build an airplane-or a crock pot, for that matter-just from books. Even good books. Not knowing why any of the parts were needed, not knowing what could be left out or what just looked unimportant." He shook his head. "I've tried to turn it around a couple of times. Imagine trying to shoe a horse from directions in a book. A book will tell you how many nails to use, but it probably won't tell you what is going to piss the brute off and have him kick you through the stall door. A lot of the time a down-timer, even-well, especially-a very smart down-timer, will come to me with something that doesn't work when she is sure it should work, and it's because she knows how water flows but not how water in a channel is different from electricity in a circuit. Or something like that."

They talked about the problems that Trent was having with mass producing electrical components. Basic stuff, like switches and dials. "So," Trent said, a few minutes later, "do you want a job?"

"What?"

"Do you want a job helping us develop cheap, efficient ways of mass producing electrical components?"

"No. I want a job cooking," Darlene said. "I wouldn't mind consulting on components now and then as needed, but I want to cook, not fiddle with tiny little parts."

Trent nodded. "I'll see what I can come up with."

Trent considered the middle-aged woman. TwinloPark had its own power, produced by its own generators, and had natural gas from the well in Grantville in a tank on the premises, but people, if they ate at midday, either brought their lunch or went off to an inn in Badenburg, Bechstedt or one of the other little villages for lunch. It wasn't that far even to Badenburg, and they had some transport. But now that he thought about it, it might be a very good idea to have a cafeteria or restaurant or something out at the park. Besides, she knew her stuff, even if she wasn't all that good at doing wiring, according to her old boss at the power plant. Which didn't matter, really. TwinloPark had craftsmen who could make anything out of copper wire. Anything at all. An up-timer kitchen manager with knowledge of electronics to look at the stuff they made and give opinions. . that might be really valuable. Besides, Johan Kipper was sort of part of the family, anyway.

"Like I said, let me look into it," he finally said to Ms. Myers.

"How about a restaurant?" Trent asked Herr Kunze. Josef Kunze was a cousin of Franz Kunze, the chairman of the board of OPM. Josef had been planted on them by Franz Kunze and their mother, to make sure they didn't do anything dangerous. As nannies went, Josef was all right. He was smart enough to know what he didn't know, and was willing to learn from kids. He kept the books for TwinloPark and charged for their time when they got called in to consult. He paid the salaries of the staff and generally ran the place.

"What about a restaurant? Are you asking about a power plant for a restaurant?"

"No. I mean, what about putting a restaurant here at the park."

Kunze was shaking his head. "There are only twenty employees. That's not enough people to make it profitable."

"No, I mean we could provide meals for the employees."

"Why should we? You know we have dozens of applicants. We don't need to offer perks like that."

Kunze, Trent noted, was quite fond of up-time slang. "I disagree. Part of this place, a big part of it, is the culture. We take care of our people here. That's policy, and you know it."

"And we do. We provide medical and injury insurance. We help our employees find lodging and more. Why have you suddenly decided that we need to feed them lunch too? It is only lunch, you're talking about? Or are you planning on feeding them breakfast and dinner as well?"

"I hadn't thought about it, but yes, breakfast and dinner as well, if they want it. If they are here for breakfast before work, you know they are going to start talking about their projects while they eat."

Herr Kunze stopped to consider, and Trent waited for him to finish.

"That would be a benefit. And if we were to provide a restaurant on the premises, breakfast and dinner might partially pay for themselves in extra work while they are eating. It's how this group works. But that doesn't explain why you have developed this sudden interest in having a restaurant in the park."

Trent grinned. "I need it to tempt in an expert on dials and switches. Johan Kipper's up-timer lady friend."

Johan Kipper was a name to conjure with, Trent knew. As David's man, he sat on the boards of OPM and HSMC, plus at least a dozen other companies in which OPM had a controlling interest. He was very high up in the hierarchy of the Ring of Fire industrial community, at least the down-time side of it. Josef Kunze had gotten this job because he was Franz Kunze's cousin. He was competent and, in fact, good at it, but he never would have gotten it without connections. That was how the down-time world worked, and by now Trent was pretty sure that it was how the up-time world had worked too. Josef wasn't going to balk at giving a job to a friend of Johan Kipper.

"I would be happy to provide any friend of Herr Kipper with employment. However, inventing not just a job, but a whole new department-probably with at least a couple of employees-just to give her a job? Even if she is an up-timer?"

"Remember, she is an expert on dials and switches," Trent reminded him.

"So why not hire her as that?"

"Because she doesn't want that job," Trent said. "She likes to cook."

Josef checked out the woman on his own, then approved the plan. He had several reasons. One was the fact that Johan Kipper was not, in any sense, someone he wanted to get on the wrong side of. Kipper could end your career and, if necessary, your life. He was, to many down-timers, the iron fist in David Bartley's silk glove. But another reason was also because they really did need someone with an up-timer's understanding of electronics. As well, a little research had suggested that providing free meals to the employees would make them more productive. Twinlo Park wasn't quite like an up-time research and development facility. As often as not, families were hired as a unit. Husband and wife both came to the shop and worked together. Sometimes it was men and women who were not yet financially secure enough to marry after all the disruptions of the war. They had three couples, masters at their trades and their wives, who had lost their homes and hopes in the war, and now worked at Twinlo Park as a unit. A restaurant on the premises would be of really great benefit, and not nearly that expensive.

"What exactly do you want?" Darlene asked. "Do you want a down-time style tavern, a cafeteria or a real restaurant?"

"I'm not certain, Frau Myers. I have eaten in the Plaza Room in the Higgins and at Marcantonio's Pizza place, as well as some of the other restaurants of Grantville, but, honestly, I don't understand the difference between a tavern and a restaurant all that well."

Darlene remembered eating at a Golden Corral in Morgantown before the Ring of Fire. It was sort of a cross between a cafeteria and a restaurant that called itself a buffet restaurant. And as Darlene thought about it, she figured that would probably be the way to go, especially if she could get a good handle on what the people at Twinlo Park liked. She could have most of the meals pre-made and ready and just put them out. Salads, soups, bread, and a couple of entrees, then if someone wanted something special, they could order it. Yes, that would work. And while she was thinking all this, she realized that she had taken the job. At least in her own mind. Darlene, like most up-timers, was not a good negotiator. She hadn't grown up in a world where all, or even most, prices were negotiable. It left her and most of the up-timers at a real disadvantage in dealing with down-timers who had probably negotiated the price of the first thing they had ever bought and most of the rest of their purchases. On the other hand, she was anything but stupid and she could figure out why she was getting this job. It wasn't because she was an up-timer. It was because she was thought to be Johan Kipper's girlfriend. Darlene let a smile slip out. "I think that a buffet restaurant would be the best plan. I will leave my compensation to you and talk it over with Johan in my next letter."

Josef Kunze swallowed and Darlene felt her smile grow a little bit. Johan was such a nice man. She really didn't understand why he scared people like Josef Kunze so much.

Johan Kipper laughed out loud when he read the part of Darlene's letter describing her negotiating with Herr Kunze. Whom Johan privately thought of as "the little Kunze," even though he was actually larger than Franz. He would show the letter to Franz at the next opportunity. Young Master David, as it happened, was reading of the same general events, but in a letter from Trent Partow, who was discussing the construction the new buffet restaurant, called the TwinloPalace. "It turns out that Darlene can make a mean fried rice and she went with this sort of German oriental style. But the food is from all over. There are baked potatoes and. ." The list of foods was surprisingly varied, and apparently Darlene had hired two support chefs, a baker and someone named Gretel. . Was there any woman in Germany not named Gretel, David wondered. . who made the most delicious soups. And best of all, Trent's letter burbled, someone had finally found pepperoni that almost tasted like real pepperoni, and the color was almost right, so the pepperoni rolls they were making were almost as good as the ones back up-time.

"Your Darlene seems to be fitting right in, Johan," David said with a grin. By now the splitting of the Wisselbank was agreed on and the party was getting ready to head to Antwerp to see to the installation of the radios that would connect the two branches of the bank.

"Trent can't stop talking about the food and patting himself on the back for hiring her."

"I imagine Josef Kunze is still complaining about the expense." Johan smiled back. "Apparently, Darlene threatened him with me."

There was a snort from across the room. "You have taken horrible advantage of my cousin," Franz Kunze said. "But the cost will be coming out of the profits of Twinlo. How much of Twinlo do you own, Johan?"

Johan considered. He had helped the twins set up the park, along with Franz and OPM. OPM owned forty percent, the twins owned forty percent, Johan had gotten three percent for his help, and the rest was spread out among the twin's family. "Not that much, Franz, but I wouldn't be worried about the cost of the. ." Johan looked back at the letter.". . buffet restaurant. It will pay for itself, I think. Especially since Darlene is complaining about not having time to cook because of all the electrical doodads that they make her look at."

"Is it a serious problem?" David asked.

"No. I don't think so. It's hard to tell just from the letter, but I think she actually enjoys it, as long as she doesn't have to do the actual wiring."

"Back to our real business, what about the guilders?" Franz interrupted, bringing the conversation to their purpose. "What are we investing in besides the spinning problem?"

"Well, your interference in the siege hasn't helped," Johan complained. "Now that the craftsmen have access to a market for their goods, they are less interested in whiling away their time on learning to make up-timer products. Not uninterested, but not nearly so desperate for work as they were when we got here."

"Fine. We're ruining your scam," David said, not sounding particularly sorry. "But what have you invested us in?"

"Shipping," Johan said.

"What?"

"I brought designs for fiberglass production and showed them pictures of fiberglass hulls, down at the shipyards.

"They can't sail their ships out, so there is no market for them just now. Even Don Fernando isn't letting them sail ships in and out of Amsterdam at the moment." Johan, while mostly pleased by the situation they had been able to support here in Amsterdam, found his sense of propriety somewhat outraged by a siege in which the besiegers were buying their boots and uniform tunics from the besieged. It was just not the way a siege should be carried out.

"They are in Antwerp," Sarah Wendell complained to Darlene over a bowl of mutton fried orzo. Which Darlene seasoned as much like beef fried rice as she could, except she added a bit of mint and some honey for sweetness. Mutton fried orzo had turned out to be one of her most popular dishes with the crew at Twinlo Park, and increasingly with people who found a reason to drop in for the food. The TwinloPalace provided buffets for breakfast, lunch and dinner for employees of TwinloPark for free, but anyone could come in, pay ten American dollars and have all they could eat. By now they were serving thirty people at most meals. It was a very fortunate thing that Josef had insisted on a large dining room, even if he had done it so that there would be room for more employees as the research and development center grew.

"I know. I got another letter from Johan. Why them?" Darlene said. She and Sarah had found themselves in a similar circumstance, since Sarah was dating David and Darlene was sort of dating Johan. Sarah was more than a little resentful of David's getting to go when she didn't, and Darlene figured there was trouble on the horizon for the kids, but it wasn't her business. Darlene didn't resent not getting to go to Amsterdam, but she did worry about Johan a lot more than she had expected to when he left.

"I don't know. David insists they are the only ones that the Cardinal-Infante and the Duke of Orange could agree on, but I think they just figured to get all the use out of the up-timers they could manage. The radio towers are expensive, even if they are using an existing building for a lot of the height."

"Sure. But Johan isn't going to be building any radio towers."

"Neither is David," Sarah agreed, then visibly considered. "It's probably HSMC and OPM. I bet the cardinal is looking to get up-time tech for the Spanish Netherlands. He knows that David and Herr Kunze are running OPM. If OPM decides to put, say, a light bulb factory in Antwerp, it won't hurt the cardinal's tax base any."

"It's weird to think of Johan that way," Darlene admitted. "Whenever he talks about himself, it's always not about himself. If you know what I mean."

"I haven't got a clue."

"It's 'young Master David put me on the board of OPM to represent him and the other members of the Sewing Circle.' Or 'and Mrs. Higgins put me in charge of the guard force for the Higgins Hotel.' It's never 'I am on the board of OPM' or 'I am in charge of the guards at the Higgins Hotel and at the Higgins warehouse.' It's even 'young Master Donny listens to me on matters of down-time custom.' Never 'I explained to little Donny that he's not supposed to kiss the girls and make them cry.' "

Now Sarah nodded. "I know. There is a whole range of responses we get, even from the down-timers who like us. We have Gretchen Richter, who has become more up-timer than up-timers on the subject of equal rights for all. Then you have Johan, who can barely manage to give lip service to the notion. He thinks of up-timers as nobles, the real nobles, the ones who behave the way nobles are supposed to. The ones, not to put too fine a point on it, that God put here. At first David tried to argue him out of it. Then he just sort of gave up. Besides, Johan is a heck of a lot more of a father to David than his dad ever was. He figures if that's the way Johan wants to be, then that's the way he can be."

"Pretty convenient for David to have Johan trotting around after him," Darlene said, feeling resentful of Johan's absence and blaming David for it.

"Look, Darlene, I know you're older and wiser than a teenage girl. . but the down-timers have different rules. And Johan Kipper has been learning those rules for fifty years and more. Expecting him to throw them all away in a few days or even a few years. . well, it ain't going to happen. It's not that David asked Johan to act the way he does. It's Johan. And David respects him enough to let him, even when it makes David uncomfortable. And it does. If you want any kind of relationship with Johan, David is part of the package, because Johan has picked David as his lord and that's all there is to it."

The fog was thick enough to walk on and it had been for a good part of their time in Antwerp, but the mission to Amsterdam boarded the packet boat that would take them to Hamburg in generally good spirits.

"I'll be glad to get back home," David Bartley said. "I'm getting awfully behind in my school work."

"We knew that was going to happen from the start, Master David. Though I admit we've spent more time on this than we expected," Johan said. "It was worth it, though, so far as OPM is concerned. We managed to make a good start on several businesses, and with the goods we've bought here and in Amsterdam, we have more than doubled our initial investment in guilders." Johan was grinning happily. That they had bought those guilders with a low interest loan from the Fed didn't bother him at all, and he suspected it didn't bother young Master David either. There would be significant bonuses for both of them when the annual report came out. That was important to Johan because, well, if a man was thinking about getting married it helped if he had the wherewithal to support a family. He would have something to show Darlene, something to prove she was getting more than a serving man. Even if he was young Master David's serving man and happy to be so.

Fletcher Wendell grinned at Johan. "Well, up-time women are just as practical as down-time women, but they like to pretend they are romantics. So you want to go with the whole romantic part first, you know." Then, seeing Johan's face, he added, "Well, maybe not. You take her out to a romantic dinner, kneel on one knee, present her with an engagement ring and ask her to honor you by accepting your proposal of marriage."

By this time Johan was looking a little green and Fletcher was having a grand old time. He kept elaborating on the proposal and adding bells and whistles till Johan caught on that he was being teased. Then Fletcher backtracked a bit. "Remember, I said they like to pretend that they are ruled by romance, not that they truly are. I guess the biggest difference is that it's easier for a woman to say no if she wants to, because she is less dependent on the prospects of the guy than down-time women. For that matter, the guys are less likely to end up asking the girl on the basis of her prospects. I think it's just because we were richer up-time. We could afford to follow our hearts, not that our hearts were always right either.

"Look, just ask her and let her know it's truly what you want, not just what's practical."

To be continued. .