Grantville Gazette, Volume 66 Read online

  Table of Contents

  The Story So Far… By Walt Boyes

  1632 Minicon at Fencon XIII by Walt Boyes

  Hair Club 250 by Terry Howard

  An Army of Scarecrows by Eric S. Brown and A.G. Carpenter

  Transplanted Seed by Nick Lorance

  The Ghosts of the Blauschloss by Margo Ryor

  Engines of Change: A Few Kroner More by Karen C. Evans and Kevin H. Evans

  Stolen Reputations by Anne Keener

  The Tower of Babel by Iver Cooper

  Becket’s Blood by Terry Howard

  Les Futuriens, Parts III and IV by Virginia DeMarce

  About the Faces on the Cutting Room Floor, Number Four: Books Within the Book by Charles E. Gannon

  1636: Marine Radio in the Mediterranean by Jack Carroll

  Notes from The Buffer Zone: The Past is Another Country by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  This Issue’s Cover – 66 by Garrett W. Vance

  Grantville Gazette, Volume 66

  Editor-in-Chief ~ Walt Boyes

  Managing Editor ~ Bjorn Hasseler

  Grantville Gazette, Volume 66

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this magazine are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Grantville Gazette

  A 1632, Inc. Publication

  Grantville Gazette

  P. O. Box 7488

  Moore, OK 73153-1488

  Grantville Gazette, Volume 66, 1 july 2016

  Table of Contents:

  Read Me First:

  The Story So Far… by Walt Boyes

  1632 Minicon at Fencon XIII by Walt Boyes

  Fiction:

  Hair Club 250 by Terry Howard

  An Army of Scarecrows by Eric S. Brown and A. G. Carpenter

  Transplanted Seed by Nick Lorance

  The Ghosts of the Blauschloss by Margo Ryor

  Engines of Change: A Few Kroner More by Kevin H. Evans and Karen C. Evans

  Stolen Reputations by Anne Keener

  The Tower of Babel by Iver Cooper

  Becket’s Blood by Terry Howard

  Continuing Serials:

  Les Futuriens, Parts III and IV by Virginia DeMarce

  Nonfiction:

  About the Faces on the Cutting Room Floor, Number Four: Boos Within the Book by Charles E. Gannon

  1636: Marine Radio in the Mediterranean by Jack Carroll

  Columns:

  Notes from The Buffer Zone: The Past is Another Country by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  This Issue's Cover—66 by Garrett W. Vance

  The Story So Far… By Walt Boyes

  “What’s in a name…?” In the new universe created by the cosmic accident that sent the West Virginia town of Grantville back in time and across continents to Europe in 1631, Terry Howard’s first offering in this issue is “HAIR Club 250.” What happens when the Club 250 closes, and is remade as a hair salon… and in “Becket’s Blood,” Terry shows us a brave man who courts martyrdom in the England of Charles I.

  Grantville’s existence has had many effects, both large and small. In “The Ghosts of the Blauschloss,” Margo Ryor involves her young girl detective writing circle in a case of murder, for real. While a new writer, Anne Keener, gives us a story about the Elsevier printing house, both Original Time Line and New Time Line, called “Stolen Reputations.”

  Nick Lorance gives us the prequel to his stories of Sergeant Whatsisname in “Transplanted Seed.”

  Meanwhile, Iver Cooper gives us a look at what a universal language might be like, in “The Tower of Babel.”

  Kevin and Karen Evans give us another chapter in their continuing saga, “Engines of Change.” This chapter is called, “For a Few Kroner More.” Why the big engine factory doesn’t close after all.

  Eric S. Brown and a new collaborator, Anna G. Carpenter, continue the story of the Grantville Monster Society in “An Army of Scarecrows.”

  Virginia DeMarce gives us a look at the inside of the court of Burgundy, and the ubiquitous Rohans in “Les Futuriens, Part Two.” And Charles E. Gannon continues his behind-the-scenes look at what didn’t make it into the book in “Papal Stakes: Faces from the Cutting Room Floor, Part 4.”

  Jack Carroll shares a non-fiction piece, “1636: Marine Radio in the Mediterranean.”

  In her column, “Notes from the Buffer Zone,” Kristine Katherine Rusch talks about the past being very far past. “The Past Is Another Country” looks at the field of genre science fiction writing and how it has radically changed.

  The Grantville Gazette is looking for younger writers who want to try their hand at some alternate history science fiction. So get your kids and young friends to give it a shot. We are also looking for stories about ordinary young people, up-timers and down-timers alike, who find themselves reacting to the changes Grantville has made in the world. If you have any questions, email me or Bjorn Hasseler for more information.

  1632 Minicon at Fencon XIII by Walt Boyes

  The yearly gathering of the 1632 clans is getting closer! Whether you’re interested in tech, or politics, or religion, or costuming, or sociology, it’s time to come together and enjoy the 1632 Universe. The Minicon this year will be co-located with Fencon XIII (www.fencon.org). The dates are September 23rd through the 25th, in the Westin DFW in Irving, Texas.

  Authors attending the Minicon include Eric Flint, Walter Hunt, Charles E. Gannon, Virginia DeMarce, David Carrico, Iver Cooper, Walt Boyes, Joy Ward, Kevin and Karen Evans, Bjorn Hasseler, and many more.

  We have some great panels this year.

  As always, we present the weirdest tech around. Rick Boatright, Walt Boyes, and Kevin Evans talk about the strange trips technology is taking in the 1632 Universe.

  Writing for 1632: Walt Boyes, Joy Ward, David Carrico, and Bjorn Hasseler teach a short master class in writing for the Grantville Gazette—a professional SFWA venue paying professional rates.

  Virginia DeMarce will present her Sexuality in the 17th Century panel

  David Carrico will show and tell how music is likely to change in the 1632 Universe.

  Dance master Iver Cooper will talk about how dance will evolve in the 1632 Universe.

  We will be introducing the New Improved Eric Flint’s Ring of Fire Press with new titles and new authors.

  Of course we will be Snerking the Plots.

  And in the evening, we will have a 1632-style chocolate tasting with a 1632 trivia contest, so bring your taste buds and your memory!

  We will also offer a prize for the best 1632-inspired costume at Snerking the Plots, so get your seventeenth-century duds on and shine!

  Bring your books for autographs, bring yourselves for fun in the 1632 Universe!

  And we are already hard at work on the 2017 Minicon, which will be co-located with Balticon 51 in Baltimore over Memorial Day Weekend. This is a Four Day con, and the 1632 Minicon will be offering FOUR WHOLE DAYS OF PROGRAMMING, JUST FOR YOU!!!

  Hair Club 250 by Terry Howard

  Early Fall 1635

  "Ken, when are you going to put up a new sign?" Kim Beasley asked her husband.

  "I ain't," he said, reaching across the breakfast table for the butter. "That sign's been there all these years. It does a good job. We don't need a new sign."

  "But all you did was add the word 'hair' to the old Club 250 sign."

  "So? You didn't barely have a sign at all at the house, and it's hangin' on the door." The little sign read 'Kim's Hair Salon,' and it now hung where the sign reading "No Dogs and No Krauts" once hung. Which was good, because over half of her clients were down-timers.

  "That was a residential neighborh
ood. I barely got away with running a salon out of the front room. I couldn't have but the one chair and one full-time employee or two part-time employees because of where it was. They wouldn't let me put up much of a sign. This is a commercial location, and I want a new sign. Or at least you need to repaint the old one. It needs to read 'Kim's Hair Salon' so people can find it."

  "Nope. Ain't going to do it. They can find Hair Club 250 just fine."

  "But it lacks class," Kim objected.

  Ken tried to swallow a snicker and almost succeeded.

  Kim started to throw her coffee cup at him and stopped since it was still half-full and coffee was expensive. Instead, she threw a biscuit at him.

  It was an old discussion. Ken had long maintained that since this was Grantville and the salon was in the front room of the house, trying to be classy was just putting on airs.

  Ken caught the biscuit, took a bite out of it, and threw it back. Kim laughed. Ken laughed. The two of them laughed a lot. They were a good fit.

  "I want the sign repainted," she said.

  "Then you do it."

  "I don't have time. Since we moved, I'm swamped. Gals who haven't had their hair done in decades are making appointments. When can you get me that third chair? I can get the all the half-trained help I need. But I've got to have that third chair."

  "Are you sure you're going to need it? It might be just the opening rush."

  When they decided to move the salon out of the house and into the bar building they commissioned a new hydraulic lift chair (the works used to be a car jack that got reworked), and now she needed—or at least wanted—a third one.

  "I got the clients to fill it. If I don't take care of them, I'll lose 'em. The opening rush will pay for it even if I don't need it. But if I have it, I think I can keep it busy."

  Kim picked up the biscuit her husband had taken a bite out of. It had bounced off her chest and landed on her plate. She bit off and chewed the corner edge now covered in egg yolk and then put butter on the rest while she chewed what was in her mouth. "Get me another chair and have the tinker make up another copper rinse sink. And, yes, you can go ahead and tell me I told you so. That leather hose and the spray nozzle the tinker made up works just fine."

  "Are you going to want another drying station?" Ken asked, leaning forward to grab another one of the still-warm, light flaky biscuits off the plate in the middle of the table. Ken, who was a good cook, made good biscuits, which was a good thing, because as soon as the shop had opened up in the old bar building, business had boomed and Kim didn't have time to cook or clean house.

  "Yes, please," Kim replied.

  Ken nodded. "I'll see to it." When the electric heating element went out in '32 Ken had a gas heater and a blower made up. When they set up in the bar he had a tinker make a hood for it and he plumbed the divided heat run. Now it was running two dryer bonnets and looked like it could handle a third one.

  "But I do want a new sign."

  "Then hire it done. I ain't changing it."

  Kim sighed. She knew the tone of voice. If she wanted the sign painted she would have to see to it.

  Later that day

  "Leota, do you know who they got to paint the sign for the hotel?" Kim asked. Leota's head was over the rinse sink. Kim had just finished touching up the dark roots of Leota's bleach-blonde hair. Leota was a night manager or something at the Willard. So she might know.

  "Yeah, but why?"

  "'Cause I want the sign repainted and my ornery husband says he won't do it."

  "Kim, for the second time in his life he's right. Don't change it."

  "The second time?" Kim asked.

  "Hey, he married you, didn't he? Do you know how many women are coming in just to see what the inside of Club 250 looks like? Honey, after all those years, we won. Don't go taking that away by changing things."

  "You really think it matters?" Kim asked.

  Mary Katherine, who always came early for her appointment because she liked to hang out and gossip, was sitting at one of the tables left at the front of the building for an over-large waiting area, spoke up and intruded on the conversation.

  "Of course it matters, Kim. If things ever slow down, you need to provide transportation to the old folks home. They got someone who comes in, but the ladies would like to get out and now you're barrier-free." At the house, you had to climb the front steps and some people couldn't. "They'd love to see the insides of Club 250. When I went for my regular visit after word got out that you was moving, it's all they talked about. When I go back next week, they'll notice the new hair-do, and they're all going to ask me about what it's like in here."

  "Well, if they want to see it, they'd better hurry before we start redecorating."

  "Young lady, don't you dare. You'll destroy the charm of the place," Mary said.

  "What? And spoil our victory? Every time I look in the mirror behind what used to be the bar, I snicker," Leota added. The salon chairs were set up so they could spin around and take a look in the old mirrors over the sinks where the back bar used to be.

  Over the course of the day, whenever Kim mentioned the remodeling plans, she got variations on the same theme.

  "You do and I ain't never comin' back."

  "No. I like seeing what it looked like."

  "That would be a shame."

  ****

  Kim's daughter Marisa, along with her high school chum Merrie Davidson, stopped in at closing time and sat down at a table to wait. The salon chairs were where the bar used to be. The dryer hoods were off to one end, away from the old kitchen pass-through and door. So that left more than half of the floor space open, and there were tables along the front wall for no other reason than they kept the place from looking empty and it was a cheap waiting area.

  When everyone was gone, Kim sat down at the table and asked, "What's up?"

  "Mom, Simone, is getting married, and Merrie and I want to throw her a shower—well, more of a bachelorette party, really. I don't have room at home. Can I use the salon on a Sunday when you're closed?

  Kim looked thoughtful for a full minute and then replied. "Marisa, I know you…" She glanced at Merrie. ". . . and your friends. I ended up in the principal's office more than once because you two and Simone cut class or skipped school. But you're grownups now. So, yes, you can. But don't embarrass me. The business is doing well, so I don't need any bad publicity. So you make sure no one gets too drunk to walk home. And make sure you clean up after you're done. And you will pay for anything you get out of your father's stockroom. Is that clear?"

  "Thanks, Mom."

  ****

  Out in the street Merrie said, "Okay, you got the place. I'll get Fred Astaire."

  "You sure about that?"

  "Hey, you saw him on the dance floor at the school dances. Shoot. You danced with him."

  "Yeah. He can dance but can he strip?"

  Amanda smirked. "The way that boy moves? After I have him watch my Chippendale tape? Piece of cake."

  "Okay, but will he?"

  "Leave that to me." Merrie smiled a wicked if merry smile, "He'll do it."

  "Hey, what's his real name anyway?"

  "I don't know. Hans something or other.”

  "Shoot, Merrie, every third or fourth Kraut is named Hans. If you don't know his last name how are you going to find him?"

  "Everybody calls him Fred Astaire, I'll find him. Besides, he hangs out with that cartoon group that makes the flip books. So they will know where to find him."

  ****

  "Of course it pays very well." Bobby McDougal told Fred as they leaned up to the bar tossing back the beer the Flying Pig was justifiably famous for.

  "Hey, another round here," Bobby called out to the bartender. "That's a cold bottle for me and another one for Brent, and a room temperature draft for our buddy Fred here." He turned back to the down-timer, "Now like I was sayin', look at what they expect you to do."

  "Hey, it's just a dance."

  "Just a dance? Where
did you get that idea?"

  "Well, that's what Mistress Boyd said."

  "And what else did she say? They aren't talking about a waltz here. Hey, don't take my word for it. Go look it up. It's called droit du seigneur. That's—"

  "I saw Braveheart. I know what that is," Fred objected. "It might have happened in Scotland, but this is Germany."

  "Yeah, well, think about it, why don't you? Do you know just how many of our families came from Scotland to the hills of West Virginia? We don't have nobility. That's why the King of Sweden is addressed as Captain General if he ever comes to Grantville. So since we don't have nobility, the local lord can't perform the rite of the first night. So Marisa Beasley is hiring a male stripper to exercise the rite. They hire a dancer to do the job and make a party out of it."

  "You're putting me on. No one ever heard of that."

  "Yeah, how many bachelorette parties have you heard about? If they have one, they usually keep it quiet for a reason. This is an old pagan thing. The priests and preachers don't approve, but it still happens.”

  "Look," Bobby continued, "you told me she said it was to give the girl a foretaste of things to come."

  "Yes."

  "Well, just what did you think that meant?"

  "Yeah but she gave me these special underpants she had made up called a G-string and—"

  Bobby snickered. "The G stands for god. So since it's kept in a god string it's alright, it don't count since it's a god. Like it didn't count with the Virgin Mary having a baby 'cause it was of the Holy Spirit, so she was still a virgin, right? They expect you to dance to arouse the girl and them take her to the back room and acquaint her with what is going to happen. Haven't you heard any redneck jokes? I know you have. You were there when Brent here told the one about the boy who sent the girl home after the wedding because she was a virgin. You remember? The boy said, 'Shit, Pa, if she ain't good enough for her family she ain't good enough for ours!'