premise: early spring, 1923. Edward has become listless, past losing faith in rocketry’s analogy for alchemy as a means for him to get home to the other side of the Gate. This feeling of disconnect has even begun to seep into his relationship with Alfons, which has naturally developed into something beyond friendship (but which neither of them dare to formally define). Sensing Edward’s lack of inspiration for flight, Alfons aims to enliven his spirits with a surprise: a hot air balloon ride.
written for the Equivalent Exchange Anthology and featured in digital extension project 2 (sfw ship pieces)! pre-orders end on October 3rd, 2021: order your copy here! (see below the cut for image descriptions and citations)
notes: for it wouldn't be me if there weren't any!
A. "ad astra per" is "to the stars through/by..." but I won't finish it here, for it's a spoiler, as it were.
B. yes, this is a ship 'fic (an AIRship 'fic, ha ha ha--) but it's rather PG. it is also terribly sentimental.
C. I learned SO much about ballooning for this.
image text - story excerpts:
1. “It’s not a kidnapping—you consented,” Alfons answers from behind the map that he’s unfolded and positioned mere centimeters in front of his nose. [...] The sky is only just beginning to lighten in the distance, outlining the very edges of the hills. Whether they’ll reach their mystery destination before the sun climbs over the precipice remains to be seen. It’s an unfair game, however: only one party in this race knows the coordinates of the finish line—well, two, if one counts both Alfons and the sun.
2. “If you’re taking me to see the sunrise,” Edward grumbles, ignoring a paradoxical, somewhat mortifying twinge of pleasure at that previously unanticipated possibility, “then I’m going to tell you there were easier ways to do this. Like—what’s that church off Marienplatz? Not the Frauenkirche; the tower. Old Peter. Might be a thousand goddamn steps, but I swear—”
“It’s not that,” Alfons chuckles, though he winces at the idea of climbing the stairs and reflexively presses a hand to his chest.
[...] Edward needs a moment to parse all of this visual information into something that makes sense—and all the while Alfons is nearly doubled over laughing, shaking with delight as though he’s lost his mind, and rushing to get his words out first:
“Do you see? It’s—”
“A balloon!”
3. [ Edward’s surprised ] at the peculiar feeling of going upward, as though in a lift, but feeling so exposed; at the ground getting smaller and smaller beneath them and the horizon growing wider, spreading out into the vast expanse of sky. At once he feels incredibly human and like some sort of god of his own, at the mercy of a spike of raw, unexpected fear teetering on the edge of wonder. Maybe this is what Alfons feels when he imagines space flight—terror and exhilaration.
4. They fall into silence, Edward and Alfons shoulder to shoulder as they watch the red orb of the sun give them chase and climb higher, its pinks spreading out into the blues and running into oranges. Now that they’ve stabilized, Edward finds it laughable that he was so frightened—what an idiot, letting an unfamiliar sensation get the best of his brain! He loosens his grip on the basket’s edge and even chances a glance downward. Fog swirls around the checkered land, decking the yellow fields, dirt patches waiting for sprouts, and verdant stretches of fledgling crops alike. Alfons nudges him to get his attention, and Edward follows his outstretched hand to the dramatic outline of the Alps in the farthest distance, towering over the humble hills and flatland leading up to them. Edward isn’t often given to such sentimentality, but somehow it strikes him as incredible now: the power of the earth that moves to form these mountains, and—though it’s not possible here—the amazing ingenuity of the brain that can draw from these elements and move nature itself with alchemy.
image description and sources - visuals:
1. A map of Augsburg and the western outskirts (source)
2. A serendipitous ad for the August Riedinger Balloon Factory in Augsburg, found by accident at the back of the English translation of the Pocket Book of Aeronautics (source)
3. Excerpt of the title page of "Eine Ballonfahrt" - 1896 sheet music. I learned that "aeronautical love songs" is an entire genre from the turn of the century. (source)
4. Another map of Augsburg and its southern outskirts (source)
5. Paul Klee, "the Balloon," 1927; during his Bauhaus years. (source)
premise: 1921. Edward Elric has only been in Munich for a month when his father Hohenheim disappears… leaving Edward with only instructions to find his own housing. Strapped for cash and still meandering in mind and spirit, he resigns himself to an irregular schedule by renting a flat as a day tenant. At the same time, Alfons Heiderich moves from Augsburg to Munich and rents the same flat as the night tenant, a holdover until he can find longer-term housing when he returns from Romania. In this liminal time frame, without meeting each other in person, the two young men learn about each other like true scientists — through observation and hypothesis.
written for the Equivalent Exchange Anthology and featured in print project 1! pre-orders end on October 3rd, 2021: order your copy here! (see below the cut for image descriptions and citations)
notes:
A. in projective geometry, two parallel lines intersect at the line at infinity (also called the 'ideal line') - ha, ha
B. I borrowed the premise of this story from my favorite live-action series, Babylon Berlin
C. this was very fun to write and I look forward to sharing the story!
D. the timespan of the images in this preview post is somewhat wide; I hope you'll accept this!
image text - story excerpts:
1. Alfons’s dream is to design a machine that will travel into space. For now—good luck, he wishes, as he drops the envelopes into the post box and then taps the brim of his cap in greeting [...] —he hopes that one of these will make its way back to him with positive news.
2. For years, Edward had been in constant motion—they had, he and Al. It’s hard not to slip into a strange inertia without him. [ … ] He sighs and stands, with a creak from Hohenheim’s prototype limbs. The dexterity is awful; it’s no Rockbell work. Alchemists should stick to alchemy, mechanics to mechanics; each to their respective craft.
Then again, even Edward is trying to dabble outside of his usual sciences. Einstein, Oberth, he’ll see who’ll come out for the better—and come out on the other side.
3. [ Edward ] drops inelegantly onto the bed, only to bolt upright, with a hiss of pain, twisting around to find whatever jabbed sharply and unexpectedly into his back.
A book?
Hardcover, looking like it’s traveled its fair share: a collection of fictional stories. Edward leafs through the pages, unimpressed and irritatedly rubbing at the sore spot that H.G. Wells—evidently—dug into his spine with its own. [ … ] Edward’s eyes are drawn to a particular passage, underlined in careful pencil:
‘Face this world. Learn its ways, watch it, be careful of too hasty guesses at its meaning. In the end you will find clues to it all.’
4. Fairy tales? But then Alfons looks further: red, yellow, blue script in Latin that confounds his schoolboy proficiency, save for some—Sulphur, Aqua—inscribed above kettle-shaped glass flasks, which house small colorful spheres or even smaller humanoid figures. He flips the page. A translation in English, which he scans until:
‘Convert the natures of the Elements and thou shalt find what thou seekest.’
He snaps the book shut. Who is the person occupying this same space during the daytime? Is it a historian who sleeps in his bed? Perhaps an artist, a novelist? An occultist? Or a Time Traveler, Alfons chuckles, somewhat sheepish at the absurdity of that last supposition. Think more rationally, like a scientist or an engineer.
image description and sources - visuals:
1. Postcard of Munich, Germany, from 1907, showing the Frauenkirche and Rathaus and the skyline (source)
2. "Flying Machines" excerpt from the English translation of "The Pocket Book of Aeronautics, Hermann Willhelm Ludwig Moedebeck, 1907 (source)
3. A photograph of a prosthetic leg from the 1920s (source)
4. The title page of "The Time Machine," H.G. Wells, first edition (source)
5. Alchemical diagram of a flask containing black liquid and colored spheres; the text is Donum Dei, an Austrian or German alchemical text (image source) & (text source)
I really love reading Kafka’s diaries and I can’t help thinking about how Ed would probably be in a very similar mindset living on the other side of the gate. Just, trying to fulfill the duties of a compassionate human being but also coming home at night and turning to Alfons like “if that guys that lives above us starts playing Rachmaninov concertos while I’m trying to solve an extremely difficult equation one more time I’m gonna lose my fucking mind, I really mean it this time”
"Edward, would you like to take a break? I just got some red wine."
"Why in a sudden? You could have saved it and just get more food. And, aren't those flowers too much?"
These two need some romantic/relaxing moment.
---
This might be weird and looks incomplete but I had the urge to try building Ed's (or theirs) room with the few things I have 😇 lot of stuff are excluded :(
Also the shoes are not official but they are blue and red so why not
@traumbild collected so much info about their apartment they are so precious 🙏 (sorry for suddenly tagging you!
@ CoS fans/historians— I was looking at this cap (for the millionth time in the past fifteen years) and suddenly realized for the first time that in this car, the driver’s side is on the right and not the left.
has this been talked about before? does anyone know why this is the case?
I checked out one of my reference scans that I had handy, and it looks like some of the cars in CoS have steering on the left, but the truck, for example, has steering on the right as well:
does anyone know if this was not standardized in Germany at the time? my cursory research (AKA googling*) seems to state that driving on the right side of the road was well standardized at this time, but I’m having trouble finding something that explicitly states when/how the driving side within vehicles was standardized.
just curious!
*my brief googling was done in german so I have looked only at german-language sources so far. anyone who knows about this can link me info in german or english :-)
just a note that at some point within the last x months I was indeed able to ask a professor about this and it seems that in the early days of automobile manufacturing, the location of steering wheels was in fact not standardized! so they could be on the left, right, or even in the center of the vehicle
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