He admired the men’s attention to detail. The Japanese workers copied his designs down to the last detail, even put a pencil smudge on one of the wheels. Albert tried to stay enthused but inside he could not shake the hollow feeling. The spark that ignited inspiration was not there. His design, though flawless, appeared dead. When Izumi came to him the first night, he rebuffed her but after several visits, gave in. Even their pleasure did not erase his sadness.

Trapped in a foreign country and required to perform at the emperor’s command, at night he sat outside and stared up at the stars. A month had passed since stepping off the steam ship. With no correspondence from the outside world, his future appeared bleak. He quit shaving. His beard and hair grew long. The foreign food tasted bland and unappetizing, so his clothes hung loosely on him.

Albert sat at his workbench and drew circles on the paper. The door to his workshop banged open.

“So, this is where you are hiding.” A filthy Harris strode in. His clothes were streaked with oil and smelled. His beard was longer than Albert’s. Greasy hair was tied back with a string near the top of his head.

“You’re not dead!” Albert swirled around and almost fell off the stool.

“Nope. Got kidnapped and taken to some backwater province to work on a machine so old, it should be destroyed and put out of its misery. Rumor has it that Emperor Meiji’s pet engineer, Dr. Timmons was not eating or sleeping. Saw a chance to escape and worked my way back here.” He stared at his friend with worried eyes.

“Thought I was stuck here with no one to talk to. Guards kept me away from the Brits. Izumi was my only contact. Concerned you were dead.” His sentences came out in bursts.

“Well, I’m not dead, but you look it. Let’s get back to our rooms, bathe, and eat. We can sit out under the stars, and I will tell you about my adventures. Also, you must tell me about the demonstration. That piece of information filtered down to where I was stuck.”

After the servants shaved and helped bathe him, with a meal in his stomach, enough to feed two people and a strong cup of coffee, Albert felt more alert.

They sat on a bench under the stars, away from listening ears. Harris gave him the details of his last four weeks.

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You know when it started. The emperor had me forcibly escorted to the train station. This shiny new engine sat immobile on the tracks. I wondered, what needed to be fixed on this beauty? I swung up into the engineer’s cabin and studied the setup.

Two Brits followed me up, and as one poked a wrench at me, the other demanded, “Get out! You don’t belong here.”

After an intense discussion that involved dodging fists and a swinging wretch, I located a pipe and joined in. Those engineers were wimps. They panicked and ran when I fought back.

Albert, the train engine was a dream come true. I’ve never seen such an advanced Stephenson Design. The parts must have been shipped by boat and put together here. The gauges in the cab were brand new and shiny. It looked like the engineers spent their time polishing them.

I decided to check everything out before turning it on. There must be a reason for it sitting idle, almost as if waiting for me. I ran my hands along the horizontal cylinders underneath the boiler. They felt smooth, no rough joints. When checking the flue tubes, something did not feel right. I disconnected the tubes and then reinstalled them. The joints were tighter and more secure.

An elderly Japanese man poked his head in the engine cab. “You know what you’re doing?”

“Yes.”

“One of those Brit engineers?”

“No. American.”

“The others are scratching their heads with frustration. Doesn’t seem to be working right.”

“Emperor Meiji sent me here with instructions to ‘fix it’. I made some adjustments. Want to help me fire it up?”

The man knew steam engines, too. He got the fire started, checked for water in the tank, and nodded. “Ready.”

I studied the gauges for steam pressure and water. When everything looked right, my hand jerked the cord. As the train whistle sounded, the Brit engineers ran toward the cars behind us and jumped on while the engine chugged forward.

I ran her easy, did not want to stress the new engine, but we still made good time to the next water stop. The engineers climbed over the tinderbox and dropped into the cab.

One of them asked, “What did you do?”

“Flues weren’t seated right. Reinstalled them.”

“How did you know all this?”

“During the winter season not much to do on the farm. Worked on a train. Mostly shoving in logs and filling the water tank. But I understand machines. This one needed a small adjustment.”

Two days out, we arrived at a train depot on the edge of a city. I got off to walk around and get something to eat. We had lived off the old man’s provisions and that ran out the night before. When I said, “food,” he pointed me to the open stands selling vegetables and some kind of cooked meat.

What happened next took me by surprise. A smiling girl approached me. I held my hands out to say, “No,” and from behind a knife jabbed me between the shoulder blades. Still smiling, the girl wrapped a cord around my wrists and pulled it tight.

“Make noise, you die,” her soft voice warned me.

Harris stopped his story and glanced over at Albert. “Time to go in. I’ll finish my adventures tomorrow. You need to sleep. I noticed Izumi moved in. She can help you. Try not to drink her tea, though.”

“She made the servants throw out the coffee beans. Said it was bad for me.”

“Well, they decided to wait and ask me. That’s why there was coffee tonight. Get some rest.”