#the railway dragon

[the-indie-owl]

I think I just somehow recently found an Interesting Platonic Trope here.

[eric9794]

New drawings from the last days of September

[picopepin]

Might it be safe now for dragons?

[maxwellscorner]

ℭ𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔣 𝔈𝔫𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔢

Finally made a piece showing my High Fantasy version of a locomotive, the drawf mine hard worker and old faithful Chico 🖤

I wanted to give him a mixture of the first designs of trains in a raw metal look with bronze detailing to create something almost functional with a whimsical touch, as if he just came from a DnD creature handbook

He's completely automonomous and only depends on his dwarf co-workers to refil his tender, he works in coal mines and isn't used to the outside world, has seen very few other engines during his life and has a lovely grumpy personality. He has taught the other mine engines how to work and is always keeping an eye on everything, even helping the younger humanoid workers as much as he can

[quintushazard]

Couldn't resist doing another Train Dragon!

This train is quite iconic apparently so I wouldn't be surprised if someone already did one based off of this but still :> I had to do this or I'd have shrivelled away.

[szepkerekkocka]

@muszeresz @sztupy

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Cartoons like this monsterfying locomotives seemed quite common in this period, probably because they were such a terrifyingly new thing that the ramifications of their existence were literally unthinkable.

Eighteen-Forties Friday: The Railway Dragon

An illustration by George Cruikshank in The Table Book, 1845 (The British Museum). The commentary in Richard A. Vogler's book Graphic Works of George Cruikshank adds that the accompanying text signed by Angus B. Reach and titled "The Natural History of the Panic" details "the way this monster has destroyed Englishmen by gobbling up their money."

Conveniently, another book from 1845 addresses the crises driven by financial speculation in railroads: The Railway Panic: Hints to Railroad Speculators, Together with the Influence Railroads Will Have Upon Society, Together with the Laws on the Subject, by Henry Wilson (Google Books). Although Wilson denounces "modern schemers" and speculation, he's very pro-railroad, and he even thinks that railway travel will break down class barriers:

In former times, each class of persons had their modes of travelling. There was for the rich, the post chaise; for the country gentleman, the mail; for the tradesman, the stage coach; and for the poor, the waggon; a man's respectability was established by the mode in which he travelled. The difference between railway and stage coach travelling is nearly all the difference between civilization and barbarism. The railways will, ultimately, reverse the picture; and the rich will be brought in contact and converse with the poor, sympathies are engendered between the various classes, and the manners of the higher class descend to the lower.

Karl Marx evidently thought something similar in 1848, according to William Scheuerman in The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2023 Edition): "Despite their ills as instruments of capitalist exploitation, Marx argued, new technologies that increased possibilities for human interaction across borders ultimately represented a progressive force in history."

It was Scheuerman's article on globalization that made me reflect on "the compression of territoriality," as he puts it, with new modes of travel making the world seem more accessible and smaller in the 1840s.

Writing in 1839, an English journalist commented on the implications of rail travel by anxiously postulating that as distance was “annihilated, the surface of our country would, as it were, shrivel in size until it became not much bigger than one immense city” (Harvey 1996, 242). A few years later, Heinrich Heine, the émigré German-Jewish poet, captured this same experience when he noted: “space is killed by the railways. I feel as if the mountains and forests of all countries were advancing on Paris. Even now, I can smell the German linden trees; the North Sea’s breakers are rolling against my door” (Schivelbusch 1978, 34)

Or maybe just a train monster in your kitchen

[gachacatt]

A rad dude I designed for a project! How is he running on the tracks like that...

[houseboatisland]

Operation Nestled Dragon

Even before the passage of its iconic Transport Act 1947, the first Attlee ministry had been laying the groundwork for what we would today call a strategic steam reserve. Operation Nestled Dragon, which went into effect as early as December 1945, called for “at least 4,000” steam locomotives to be stored and kept in constant readiness in the event of “any cataclysm which could strain supply.” This was a somewhat arbitrary number; the LMS alone had 8,000 locomotives on the eve of Nationalization. It was believed that a majority of the country’s engines would survive attack during a wartime scenario, the most likely reason to activate the reserve at the time. 4,000 engines kept as a backup to unscathed stock was deemed sufficient. (It has to be said there were no strategic reserves of coaches or trucks, whether planned or even merely discussed!)

These engines and the necessary facilities would be dispersed as needed throughout the country. Bigger towns would have more engines and more MPDs (motive power depots) allocated to them, London having the most. The number of engines kept in a single “strategic MPD” was always limited to 20. In this way, an attack such as an aerial bombardment would be less likely to take out a population center’s entire locomotive stud at once.

To “activate” the reserve, the Minister of Transport was required to approach the Prime Minister and his Cabinet, and a vote be held on the matter.

Strategic MPDs could be crude or elaborate. By design they were severed from the nearest railway, so that no tracks were visible for any overcurious trespasser, potential spies or reconnaissance aircraft to follow. Every MPD had to be able to have these missing rails laid back in “within or under three hours” if called upon. Often, abandoned mines and tunnels were used and their insides fitted out. These ‘naturally-occurring’ locations were codenamed “dragon’s lairs.” Other times a location had to be built from scratch; these artificial MPDs were codenamed “rabbitholes.” Always was there emphasis on keeping the MPDs dry, ventilated and fireproof. Each MPD needed a turntable, a reliable water supply, coal bunkers, storage space for rails, sleepers, a small number of spare parts, adequate headroom and an overhead crane for heavy repairs like boiler swaps, and of course bunks for crews should the reserve be activated and they be based there. Otherwise bunkrooms were vacant, although men on duty for maintenance of stock and depots did find use for them during their shifts.

There was little methodology in place for which engine classes were preferred for the reserve. Great Western engines were less favored as they were built to run on high-quality South Welsh coal, and it was assumed the quality of coal sourced during a crisis would be poor. In any event however, some still “found their way in.” In general however, Eastern, Midland and ex-WD locos formed the majority of the workforce. Every engine belonging to the various military railways such as that at Longmoor were considered part of the reserve too, so it could be said that several pieces of the reserve’s stock were out in the open all along. Also joining their ranks as they came about were BR Standard classes, some built specifically for the reserve. These had neither BR nor serial numbers, being built “off the books.”

At first, engines reserved were simply stored and maintained in the livery they wore at the time of their “reassignment.” As time went on, (and their maintainers became bored,) a semi-official livery of black with white and navy blue stripes was settled upon and applied, one engine at a time. Quickly a crest for the Strategic Reserve was designed by one anonymous artistic crewman, and the reserve’s motto agreed: “Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit,” a superstitious British phrase.

Attlee and Churchill were both said to have toured a strategic MPD at least once. “Here we are in the belly of the beast. You lot have done some splendid work; Britain thanks you,” Attlee had said on his visit. “Men will do anything to play trains away from the wife without interrogation,” Churchill remarked on his, perhaps half in jest.

Thus was the system. As steam on the public or “civilian” British Railways was phased out, further freshly withdrawn engines were added to the reserve stocklist. Much speculation was made as to why coal bunkers and hoppers and water towers continued to be maintained even as the steam engines finally vanished from the national network in August 1968. This was explained away as infrastructure left in place for railtours by preserved engines, and in hindsight must have sounded ridiculous.

As generations of enginemen retired, they had to pass on their skills to the fresh blood. The years then went by without significant cause for alarm. The closest the reserve came to being activated was at the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis in late October 1962; declassified materials confirm that as many as half of the reserve was in full steam awaiting the call, and track gangs were ready and waiting to lay in rails. The crisis ebbed of course, and by the second week of November, the number of engines idle was back to “Normal.”

Margaret Thatcher’s Government planned to shut the program down, but this was averted… just. John Major however couldn’t be dissuaded. Privatization was in full swing, and the Soviet Union had dissolved itself. The reserve suddenly seemed very redundant, (but per its own 1945 definition, not completely,) and the winding down of it all began. On the 1st of December 1998, some 53 years after the beginning of Operation Nestled Dragon, all 4,855 locomotives and their associated depots and crews were demobilized by the Blair ministry and most of the reserve’s documentation declassified. Everything became public knowledge, including the engines themselves, quite literally overnight.

At once, the locos and their facilities were up for auction. Dozens of Strategic MPDs were made into living museums demonstrating how the reserve worked. Many of the engines belonged to classes otherwise thought extinct, such as the LNER Thompson L1s and the LMS Garratts, and here were surviving specimens being pulled out of the metaphorical wardrobe like nothing. The British preservation scene was in a matter of hours awash in perfectly functional engines no one expected to still exist, which coupled together in a line were longer than most if not all of the railways themselves! Several also were sold abroad to the United States and Canada.

The public couldn’t be blamed for this all being such a shock. They hadn’t been prepared.

Their predecessors however certainly were.

[paranatellonta]

Train Delay

It was never a good time for a train delay. After a busy day in the city, I didn’t have anywhere to be except home for a late dinner and an unmoving night on the sofa. But I was too exhausted to cope with any deviations from that plan, so I groaned when the train stopped just before one of the stations on the way. A red light, I assumed, until I looked out the window and froze in my seat. The wires of the overhead line swung dangerously back and forth, still intact, yet caught in such a terrible gust of wind that the question didn’t seem to be if they’d break, but when.

A shudder went through the train. In spite of my fear, I noticed the sky: it had turned deep purple, orange, and yellow, with only a single row of low clouds, and even those seemed to be rushing away from this place. Another shudder, and a shadow fell. The shadow of a mighty, pointed wing—and as a giant dragon flew just above the treetops not so far from the train, its gold-and-purple scales continued to reflect the light into the most beautiful sunset I had ever seen.

Perhaps this view was worth the delay.

—

[Image description: Photo of a stunning sunset above the black outline of some houses, trees, and street lanterns. Orange sunrays burst through a low line of clouds into the deep blue, almost purple, of the sky above. The black outline of the railway’s overhead lines is at the front of the picture.]

—

Adding a little announcement: the Kickstarter for The Neurodiversiverse: Alien Encounters will launch soon—this is an anthology of sci-fi short stories, poetry, and art, in which a short story by Paranatellonta writer Minerva Cerridwen will be published! Click “notify” on this page to learn more. Thank you!

[corneille-moisie]

its not a cat, but i mean...

[thethirteenthseraph]

Absolutely they would! I’m a worldbuilder, and my setting is industrial-era fantasy. Fossil fuels and electricity are thrown out for raw magical power! Since mass production has been around for a few decades, dwarves have DEFINITELY made folding chairs lol

people are cowards about fantasy settings and not including some things in em. I get the aversion to not wanting too modern of tech, however dwarves would invent and fucking love metal folding chairs

[wizisbored]

No upper limit you say…?

🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁🎁

woe 20 wips upon ye

And besides, there’s no evidence she owns a dragon herself, so if she did try anything some sparking and flapping should be enough to freak her out. Lydia watches as she turns to her head to the side, and then another figure appears at the window. And again, they observe. Just a thoroughly normal pair of humans, as far as Lydia can tell. Her attention is wandering away again before long.

///

A stick shifts, sending up a spray of sparks as it collapses. How long does it take plants to grow those sticks, she wonders? It’s gotta be a long time. A whole long time growing and one night in flames.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” the boss offers.

“Yeah. Pretty.”

///

Lydia tilts her head back, doing her best to take advantage of the little gap between the fabric and her nose, but it’s not much more than a sliver of light. The demon nudges her elbow, prompting her to stand. She gladly hauls herself back onto her feet.

Being led blind is still terrifying. She tries to move carefully, in no way trusting the demons’ lead, but that just gets her hit.

///

She charges at the dog, who evades her with an infuriating air of joyful whimsy, tail wagging as he bounces away.

“You can’t run forever! I swear, if you’ve made a hole in that mitten I’ll make a new one out of your ears!”

He stops and bows at her again, and when she attempts to snatch the mitten from him he scrambles backwards. Not to be deterred though she lunges after him and grabs at him again, and this time snags the thumb.

///

“Well, it is at two-thirty at night, and this is why. There’s some valuable cultural knowledge for you. Now can you put me down, please?”

Dangling from his claws, lacking that fancy dress, the kit looks even smaller and more childlike than she did in daylight. “You’ve got a whole lot of attitude for such a tiny kitten,” he informs her.

///

 a moment they just sit side by side on the edge of the bed, and then Lydia lays back with a sigh.

“It all just really sucks, doesn’t it?” she mumbles.

“A bit, yeah,” Skye agrees.

///

“We should have known, really,” Beetlejuice says as he paces the room. “With a name like Beetlejuice. Should have expected it was me.”

“Your name is Beetlejuice because you’re shit at pronouncing stars,” Lydia can’t help but remind him.“Yeah, but like- what if it was fate, or something?"

///

It takes some persuasion for her limbs to unfold themselves out of her hiding place, but it’s never felt so good to stretch her wings. With shaking fingers she strips off her sodden outer layers, wrings them out as best she can, and stuffs them back into her bag. Maybe they’re ruined, but maybe they’ll dry out and be fine. The blanket, though, she decides to abandon. It’s filthy, and as much as she tries to squeeze out the rainwater it’s still far heavier than it used to be.

///

“Oh, no way. ‘Cause I feel like, if I start claiming things, it stops being real street art in some way? Like, I know some people would just hate it ‘cause they hate me but there’s also quite a few people who would say ‘oh this vandalism is okay because it’s by Nimona, I like this vandalism,’ and that’s just gonna cheapen it. Like, claiming it cheapens it because it gives it a defence. Takes some of the bite off it, you know?”

///

“Chuck, I’ve got her covered. She’ll be fine.”

“I’m just concerned about her sense of balance. I know she’s been getting better, but if she falls-”

“I’m not gonna let her get hurt.”

///

Thrown in along with him are the three possessions of his that are apparently worth taking; an old hat, an old pulling harness, and the old back-bracing corset that goes with it.

“I was right about hauling something, then?”

“Less yapping,” the guard grumbles, taking his seat beside the driver.

“Aw, but it’s gonna be a long ride, maybe, I dunno. You don’t have time for a little chat?”

///

Lydia only just hears the sound of the car pulling into the driveway. She shuts her eyes, taking a deep breath. There’s a long five minutes of nothing loud enough to hear through her headphones, and then just as expected there’s a curt rapping on the door.

“Lydia? It’s your dad, can you open the door please?”

She turns the music up.

///

Delia gives Jane a tentative pat on the shoulder, and then goes to continue on past her. The ghost makes no attempt to move out of the way. And knowing by now that it’s rude to just walk right through a ghost, Delia finds herself awkwardly sidling around the girl on the stairs. Jane watches her with no discernable expression. And then she continues carefully making her way up, one step at a time.

///

He smiles, quickly taking the mat across from her so he can extend a hand to shake. “It’s great to meet you, Nimona.”

Nimona doesn’t move her crossed arms. She watches as his expression falters slightly, and then he pulls his hand back. The matron doesn’t comment this time, but she does send Nimona an incredibly unimpressed look.

///

She stiffens when he worms his hands under her arms, but doesn’t protest as he picks her up, letting him hold her at his side, supported with an extra arm. Exhaustion wins out over pride, and her head rests against his shoulder. He wordlessly carries her to the kitchen. They remain just as wordless as he opens the fridge and gets to making something or other. Lydia doesn’t register what it is.

///

Nimona plants her hand on the glass, hauling herself to her feet. Her legs don’t hold her up the way she means them to. They’re supposed to be sturdy. Sure, she’s bouncy and fidgety but just try to push her over when she’s not having it and she’s like a rock. She made herself sturdy.

///

“Can we leave him in the car?” Lydia asks as they step out onto the street. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Otho makes a face like she’d just asked if she could toss a sewer rat onto his backseat. “He is not staying unsupervised in the Prius.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you could hear him.”

///

“Oh, that’s great to hear! To tell you the truth, we had a bit of a scrapbooking phase a few years ago. Most of those had just been gathering dust up here since then.”

Lydia glances around the cluttered attic again. “So is that a trend, or-?”

///

He doesn’t believe that for a second, of course, but if this book is really as useful as Beetlejuice claims it to be then he can’t afford to turn it down. He loves Lydia in a way he’s woefully unequipped to describe, but that doesn’t make him in any way prepared to raise a medium.

“Well, thank you then, in that case.”

“Anytime, Chucky. You know who to call.”

And with that, Charles is alone in his office again.

///

But still, the conversation quickly melts into Adult Small Talk, and Lydia inevitably finds her attention drawn back to Nimona. She’s bouncing her leg, looking about as bored with all this as Lydia is. They catch eyes, and Nimona sticks her tongue out. Lydia scrunches her nose in response. Nimona escalates by sticking two fingers in her mouth to stretch her lips.

[westeroswisdom]

Targaryenheimer? 😎🔥

This unexpected link between Westeros and World War II comes to us from the official making-of book, Unleashing Oppenheimer: Inside Christopher Nolan's Explosive Atomic-Age Thriller (now on sale from Insight Editions), written by Jada Yuan. For the scenes where J. Robert Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) and General Leslie Groves (Matt Damon) travel the country, recruiting scientists for the top-secret Manhattan Project, executive producer Thomas Hayslip worked out a deal with Skyway Rail, a New Mexico-based company co-founded by Martin. 

^^^ That should be Sky Railway – not Skyway Rail. But the link to the company is correct.

George R.R. Martin does live in New Mexico where his railroad is located. And Los Alamos, site of the Manhattan Project, is just 34 miles/55 km by road from Santa Fe where we find GRRM and the depot of his rail line. So there are solid connections.

The agreement allowed Nolan & Co. to temporarily commandeer a track and two train cars ("painted with murals of wolves and dragons," of course) that regularly run between the cities of Lamy and Santa Fe. "The producer also found two vintage Pullman cars in Santa Fe for the sequence — a dining car and another with a lounge area and a sleeper compartment," writes Yuan. "Both just needed a little work to make them period-correct. The production team would also add a flat car and another 'dragon car' to the mix to carry crew, equipment, and background actors. Nolan would shoot interiors for two cross-country sequences — Santa Fe to Boston, and Princeton to Santa Fe — aboard the Pullman cars, while a trip from Berkeley to D.C. would be shot in one of Martin’s 'dragon cars.' In order to film exteriors, Nolan would place a camera at the back of the Pullman cars facing forward toward the engine, thereby focusing only on the period correct part of the train. If any of the engine’s dragon murals were visible on camera, they’d be edited out in postproduction."

Dragons were the weapons of mass destruction of GoT and HotD. So a "dragon car" being used in Oppenheimer sounds right.