The street was strangely quiet. So much so, that we slowed to a walk. It would also keep us from standing out if someone came into sight or looked out a window.

Although with two chainsaws in plain sight, I was pretty sure people would immediately notice them.

Arai's stomach grumbled. "Did we pack anything to eat?"

"No," I replied. That would have required planning.

A nearby window pushed open, and an elderly woman peered out of the high window. She was so short I could barely see her nose. "Out on the street at teatime with nothing to eat? Come join us in our shop."

We hesitated. My throat was getting dry, and I hadn't had any to eat other than a dense biscuit. From the looks of the others, they also realized that we hadn't eaten or drank anything during the last three or four hours.

We didn't even know what kind of currency was needed here. This offer was probably our only chance to rest and regain our strength. If it was a trap, we could run, but I didn't think it was. As short as she had been, she had probably just seen our heads and had no idea how we were dressed.

I cautiously approached the store's open front door and went in. As they entered, Arai and Corvus subtly tucked their chainsaws behind the door and out of sight.

Clocks adorned every single open space on the walls and shelves. There was everything from massive grandfather clocks to miniature pocket watches. Isla paused and pointed to a sign – All clocks are steam-powered, contain a mini reactor, and only need to be refilled with water once a week.

Thousands of clocks – and not a single tick to be heard. Just the barely audible hiss of steam.

"We're in the next room, dearies."

We went to the next room, where several workbenches had objects scattered across them in various states of repair. One table had been cleaned off and had plates of biscuits, toast, jam, and what looked like jerky.

An elderly couple were waiting for us.

"Pull up a chair and join us," the lady said. "Where are your teacups? I have some lovely tea here. Nothing like what's at the gala, but it's warm and freshly steeped."

"Uh," I began, "we lost them on our way here."

"Ah," the man replied sagely. "No wonder you aren't at the gala if you lost your personal teacup. We have some spares. Have a seat, I'll get them. Help yourself to the side dishes."

We all pulled chairs over to the table while he tottered over to a dented brass cabinet. He came back with four mismatched cups. I had a feeling such a thing might be a crime in the upper social circles in this city, although I wasn't about to utter a peep about that. I already had the fashion police after me. Literally.

He passed out the cups as we murmured thanks.

"Nice to see some young teachers around," the lady said as she poured us some tea. "Although I'm a tad bit surprised you aren't at the Gala."

Isla demurely replied, "I may love kids, but the crowds at the Gala are a bit beyond me."

"Ah, yes," she said. "The crowds and all the fancy uppity-ups will be there in their finest outfits."

Isla and I exchanged a surprised look – this was the last thing we had expected to hear.

The old man saw it and chuckled. "Steampunk may be our thing, but it wasn't too many years ago we were on Earth. Buttons, bah! Never used to be part of steampunk culture until we came here! Leather, brass, and steam, if you please – and that was it!"

"Easy, dear. The last time you got carried away, our company fainted."

He grumbled. "They clearly had their corsets on too tight. Although that may have been intentional since their accompanying partners got to catch them. Heard about two young women today with leather tassels cloaks and brass jewelry – and not a single button to be seen! Might be hope for this place yet."

"Um," I began, "What is this about people wearing cloaks with tassels?"

"A few people bringing watches for repair mentioned them. Someplace on the other side of the city, near the hidden tunnels. Apparently a few of the more... susceptible... women fainted when they saw their outfits."

"Are tassels bad?" Corvus asked, before sipping his tea.

I wondered where he had learned to sip tea. Then again, it was on the hot side. Although, that wasn't stopping Arai from gulping it down and pouring a second cup while reaching for the jerky.

"That is like asking if a hammer is bad," the woman replied. "If it is building or repair, then no. If it is being used to harm someone, then yes. In the end, it is just a tool. As long as the tassels don't get caught in the gears and potentially harm someone, then where is the harm in someone wearing more leather?"

"That... actually sounds kind of logical."

The old man harrumphed. "Logical, but I bet you all the gears in the Gala that it will take years and hours of teatime gossip before tassels come into style. Even then, someone is likely to turn it into a rank-flaunting event instead of a joyous celebration of the leather side of steampunk."

I spread some jam on toast and nibbled on it to save myself from having to reply.

The woman found our silence entertaining. "And this is why we avoid big social events. We remember the old ways."

"And the others don't want to hear about it," the old man retorted, putting more bread into a gear-covered toaster.

"Have you ever thought about writing it down for future generations?" Isla asked. "In case someone tries to locate the truth?"

The old man suddenly turned thoughtful. "Now that is an idea. A very good idea. No wonder they made you a teacher. I believe I shall have to do that – record the truth of our past before all of the nonsense somehow crept in."

Arai chewed on a mouthful of jerky, contemplating another piece in his hand. To my surprise, he set the jerky down and reached for a piece of toast instead. He was opting for bread instead of meat? Was he sick? This was the guy who could scarf down three hamburgers at lunch.

Then again, why was there jerky with tea and toast? It might have been a steampunk thing. All that leather had to come from somewhere, after all. Although, this tightly-packed city didn't have room for cattle. Perhaps they were on Mars somewhere.

"Have you heard anything about the new unobtanium stone?" Isla tentatively asked.

"The green one?" the old guy replied. "I have my suspicions about that stone."

"Oh? What kind of suspicions?"

"There are only a handful of those stones in existence. Each is a different color. And they aren't exactly just lying around on the ground. Remote steam machines – that just so happened to be 'donated' from Earth's scientists – went out and came back with a stone? Highly suspicious. No money or trade goods were taken – so, where did the stone come from? Or, let me put it this way, which group is going to be coming for it?"

"Wait," Isla said, sitting up straighter, "you mean someone might have given Brasslantis the machines in hopes of stirring up a war?"

"Oh, yes. And not just war, but the chance to try and get two unobtanium stones for themselves – ours and this new one. I'd halfway expect that scheming Mars terraformer, but his hands are full as he tries to rebuild his wealth – and Brasslantis is part of that money-making plan. Even he isn't foolish enough to jeopardize one of his biggest moneymakers."

"You mean that Luca guy is making money off Brasslantis?" Isla asked.

He snorted. "Of course he is! He didn't get that many numbers in his bank account by being generous, and he did not want to share this planet. Every group of settlers is lining his pocketbook in one fashion or another. Our leather, brass, and machinery are all sold back on Earth, and he takes a bigger percentage than Ebay ever did. Anyone who sells anything pays taxes – and they all go to him. In reality, he's hoping they'll get tired of the taxes and go back to where they came from."

"Now, now dear," the woman interrupted kindly. "You're getting a bit overexcitable with some of your theories again. I think it's time we let our guests get back to preparing their next class while we enjoy our after-tea nap."

"Hmmm... An after-tea nap does sound appealing," he muttered to himself. He looked at us. "Sorry, friends, but we don't have enough chairs for everyone to nap in."

"No worries," I said, getting to my feet. "Your hospitality has been most generous, and we greatly appreciate it."

"It was just a midday tea. Feel free to stop by in the future."

"Thank you once again," Isla said. "We'll let ourselves out."

"Please close the door on your way out. No one will be stirring for the next hours anyway.

"Certainly."

We headed towards the exit, and the guys reclaimed their chainsaws before we left, closing the door behind us.