Up in the dizzy heights of Steampunk-Shrunk Towers, things were getting somewhat overcrowded. We pride ourselves of being able to upcycle and repurpose just about anything that comes our way, but there are limits.
“We’ve repainted and upholstered all these odd dining chairs,” explained Jeremiah, but to be honest, nobody is going to want to buy them. Everyone wants chairs in sets of four, preferably with a table.”
“I know just what you mean,” replied Charles. “My problem is all these not-quite-working clockwork mechanisms. Take this one, for example. It purrs along beautifully, but the rubber bellows has perished, so there’s no sound. We can’t make a silent songbird automaton, but it’s too good to throw out.”
Young Jasper, Jeremiah’s son, was listening intently. He started to stroll round the clockwork machine.
“Excuse me, Mister Charles, Sir, but don’t you and Mister Henry make time machines?”
“Yes, Jasper, indeed we do,” Charles smiled.
“And what do they need to make them work?”
Charles laughed. “Perhaps a bit technical for a young nipper like yourself, but basically a valve and piston to build up a huge amount of pressure and a temporal modulator to control the time travel.”
“So if you took out the bird whistle and used its piston in a cylinder to build up the pressure, could you maybe use the arm that should move the bird to do the time modulation?” the boy enquired.
Charles’ jaw dropped open and he stared in amazement at the child.
“‘Cos I’m thinking Mrs S has those working watch faces kicking around somewhere – the ones that wouldn’t fit in our grandfather clocks, and we could let you have one of our spare chairs. Oh, and I’ve been working on a camera that’s controlled by a foot pedal. I was going to use it to take what I call ‘selfies’, but I’m sure it could be adapted to fit a time machine, so that the time traveller could provide proof of the places visited… Um…have I said something wrong?”
The boy blushed crimson, as he noticed that quite a crowd had gathered and all were staring at him with the most curious expression.
Charles took a deep breath. “No, Jasper, you have done nothing wrong. Indeed, you have just had the most stupendous idea. What a remarkable boy you are! Would you care to help Henry and I to build the prototype, if your father can spare you, of course?”
Now it was Jeremiah’s turn to blush, as his heart swelled with pride. “I’d be happy to release my son from his work with me for a while, Charles. He’s a remarkable lad and I’m sure he’ll learn a great deal from you.”
“And vice versa,” muttered Henry, Charles’ brother and co-inventor.
And so the work began. Henry tinkered, Charles created the elegant canopy and young Jasper buzzed around making wise suggestions and helping to attach the parts. Even Henry just stood and scratched his head when the boy suggested installing a plasma screen above the motor, so that the traveller could see the view from the back-facing camera.
“Where do you get your ideas from, young Jasper?” he asked. “Are you sure you haven’t been time-travelling yourself and visiting the future?”
“Don’t know, Sir,” the boy shrugged. “They just sort of pop into my head somehow. Shall I fetch you the plasma screen I was working on last week? It should fit nicely inside Mister Charles’ canopy there.”
Eventually the machine was finished. Henry took his place on the velvet-upholstered chair and turned the brass key. The piston began to pump, while the clock swung around on its steel arm. Cams and cogs whirred cheerfully.
“There’s room for a little ‘un by my feet, if you can spare him, Coggleford,” Henry called to Jeremiah.
Jasper looked longingly at his father, but the man shook his head. “Not today, my friend. There are some things even Jasper is too young for yet awhile. One day, though.”
“Soon,” muttered Jasper, hopefully. Then, “Safe journey Mister Henry, Sir. And please take lots of photographs for me.”
“Certainly will, young man,” grinned Henry, as he reached across and started the clock.
The Clockwork Time Machine, with working clockwork motor and quartz clock is for sale at http://www.etsy.com/uk/shop/SteampunkDollsHouse. Click here or on one of the photos to go to the listing.
Why, she has just entered my workspace once again and remarked – quite harshly, I felt – on the quantity of litter strewn across the floor. Does she expect that every design will result in a successful invention? Applying for patents is a most costly and time-consuming process, so I restrict it to only the most promising designs.
Nonetheless, I feel I am making great progress, notwithstanding my perplexing situation. The Swanopede (patents pending) which I am currently working on is of such ingenuity and obvious charm that it will almost certainly bring me the fame and fortune I so earnestly seek.
There are still pieces of rust and the contraptions need to be handled with care, but a precious few have been tested and are for sale in the 
Oh, there will be those who purchase the book and then complain that its print is too small to read. So as is our custom, we will reproduce the text here in its entirety.
It was, not surprisingly, young Molly who found the book first. She’d read her way through everything in the Steampunk-Shrunk library – even the Suffragette newspapers – and had been on the lookout for something new.
“Good lord!” Barnaby Balsover exclaimed, “There’s a chap there having his shoes polished by a clockwork automaton! Quite remarkable!”
When Algernon returned from a successful raid on a troublesome bunch of sky pirates who had been terrorising the airways above Penge, he was met by a mass of pleading faces.
After several months, Algernon Cholmondeley, Lord Admiral of the High Fleet, was finally re-united with his dear wife Josephine. He had been captured by Sky Pirates before he could take his friends on the planned trip to Brasston. Josephine was so relieved to see him again. But they had been communicating by means of the steam telegraph while he was captive.
Our latest sales venture is hiring a glass cabinet in a beautiful craft emporium in the Somerset town of Street.
So, with suitcases and packing boxes still unopened, I hunted through my 12th scale furniture stash and – I could hardly believe my luck – found an identical sized desk. It was brown, rather than black and, unlike its predecessor, it still had some drawers. Over the following days I studied the photos and worked to reproduce the dowsing pendulum, the tiny pack of cards, the candle, dream divination book, aged scrolls, tray of crystals and fortune telling boards.
It was nearing completion, when another message from the customer arrived. “It’s here!” she said. “I haven’t even opened it yet, but it was delivered today!”
First I had to repaint the face of my chosen figure. I managed to find a chap with suitably high cheekbones who worked rather well, once his bland smile and vacant staring eyes had been removed and replaced. Scraps of black and gold silk and 
Junk jewellery is my favourite resource – those bags of single earrings, broken bracelets and knackered necklaces sold for a few pounds by enterprising charity shops. I found a bracelet panel that worked as a breastplate, once I’d aged it a bit. A lone earring and a couple of shell charms went well on the helmet. Leather and foam scraps, a piece of drinking straw coated in copper tape and one of those 
The perfect display space was a little bamboo box I’d found in The Works a few weeks back. In homage to the museum display, I mounted the helmet on a dowelling stand. A bead and yet another junk earring, shaped like a mask, completed this to make a kind of mannequin head and my tiny warrior now crouches (almost) menacingly beside it.
Steampunk - Shrunk! 