It wasn’t sailing as Ethan remembered it, but it operated on some of the same principles. The cabin he was seated in evoked something of the Nautilus from Jules Verne, from the intricate whorls designed into the mahogany chair, to the tiny polished brass portholes that looked out into the night.

The ships’ means of locomotion, he had been told, was a metallic sail a million kilometers square that propelled the ship forward. Steering was accomplished by manipulating a magnetic field in some way, and he understood none of it, but all of the comforts of a normal sailing vessel were here.

The other passengers smiled and nodded at him, amused at his wide-eyed wonder.

“How long have you been on this side?” said a pretty face from beneath a hideous Victorian hat adorned with peacock feathers and fluff.

“I’ve only been here for a few days.” Said Ethan. “Does it show that much?”

“It’s alright.” She said. “You’re managing better than most.” The ruby lips curled in a smile and she reached out a lace gloved hand.