Log: Artie & Milo
Who: Artie and Milo
When: Monday evening
Where:Science classroom
What: steampunk geeking and attitudes
Milo had found a new friend into steampunk! He had Steampunk Magazine spread out on the table in one of the club rooms. He glanced at the clock, wondering if his text message to Artie had been presumptuous. He stated a time and location and then the capitalized word SCIENCE!
Arriving at the stated time and place, Artie was not entirely sure what to expect. He thought that steampunk was cool and the costume he had worn for the Roses and Thorne masquerade had definitely been steampunk-esque, but he was not so into it that he had costumes or anything. That involved money he did not have. “Hi,” he said, coming through the door and coasting to a stop.
Milo looked up, already thinking up ideas for a project with his new friend. When the boy in the wheelchair rolled in his eyes went wide. “You complete me.”
Turning to glance over his shoulder, Artie checked to make sure there was no one behind him. There wasn’t. “Uh...okay?” How was he supposed to reply to that other than declaring his straightness, which right now, he was still not quite sure was being flirted with.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted a legit reason?” He moved toward Artie, circling around him in awe. “Full upper body strength perfect.” He circled a second time.
Blinking, Artie leaned back in his chair, moving to look at Milo as Milo looked at him. It was rather disorienting and disturbing to be stared at quite this way. Sure, Artie was used to being stared at, but it was usually more covertly and not quite like he was a piece of meat or something. “Complete sentences, please,” he requested, “I am not your lab rat.”
“Crap.” Milo came back to the front, a small sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. He extended out his hand. “Milo. Geek and socially awkward. Sorry.”
“Artie,” he took Milo’s hand in his own gloved one and shook hands. “Geek and uh...wheelchair user? Now, why were you looking at me like that? Don’t tell me you’re some sort of fetishist.” He had read about those on the internet. They weirded him out.
“There’s a fetish for wheelchairs?” Milo’s forehead gained a single wrinkle right over his nose. “No. I’ve seen research on how to make a steampunk wheelchair. I just never had a legitimate excuse to pursue the epic that is that idea further.”
“There’s a fetish for everything,” Artie assured him. The internet was for porn. “Ah. That makes more sense. But...why would you want to do that? Do you even have the first clue about wheelchairs that aren’t steampunked out?” Artie bet he didn’t. He did grip the pushrims of his wheels a little tighter.
“Not about push chairs. I looked into the motors that power electric wheelchairs for a robotics summer project I took. They’re incredibly powerful and safe to work with.” Milo kept his hands off of the chair, but he had to hold one wrist with his other hand behind his back.
Perhaps surprisingly, Artie had no idea about motorized chairs. He had never had one or used one. It made sense though that they were both powerful and safe. “Okay, well, first lesson. It’s custom. That means everything is sized to fit me. From the height and tilt of the seat, to the cushion. It’s all prescription. Understand?” that meant don’t mess with it.
Milo rocked a little on his feet. The idea that it was custom just made him want to take it apart and see how it all worked that much more. It was unique which meant the tech was unique. “It wouldn’t work for this idea anyway. I can pull up the images on my laptop.” He turned to do just that, since he needed to do something with his hands.
Oh, good. Artie breathed a slight sigh of relief, relaxing. He had been defensive, thinking that this guy was going to try to tinker with his chair. He did not like that idea at all. First, Connor had wanted to take him off roading the other day and hadn’t taken no for an answer, and now this. Thankfully, Milo seemed more reasonable, if a little more geekish. “Sure,” he agreed, going to join him and look.
Milo pulled up a youtube video of a demonstration of a man who built a Professor Xavier steampunk wheelchair starting with the frame of a 150 year old rocking chair. “I could build you that.”
That was a pretty cool video and a damn cool chair if only for the sound effects. “But I don’t want a chair like that,” Artie protested. First of all, it was electric and he didn’t want or need something like that. Second, it wouldn’t be as comfortable as his own or as functional for long term use. “And I couldn’t get one anyways. Like I said, they’re prescription. And mine calls for a manual chair, not an electric one.”
“This isn’t made with a standard chair. You order the motor and wheels and build up from there. I’m sure I could find a way to make it with a push chair.” He looked at Artie, hoping he could find some way to convince the other boy. He never thought he would have even the opportunity to try out that kind of project.
Artie had doubts. A lot of them. It was easy to make a chair that looked pretty and didn’t fall apart and all that, but it wasn’t so easy to make a chair that he could actually use. “No,” he finally decided, shaking his head. “I mean, if you want to build a chair and stuff, that’s fine, I can help or whatever. But it’d be yours. This one is mine and that’s it. I’m not fiddling with it or anything,” and he wasn’t replacing it! His parents would have his hide for that! It just wasn’t worth all the risk or money.
“I won’t fiddle with your chair. Promise.” Milo pushed his glasses up. “Sorry, how about we just look at some other things that can be made. I brought magazines.”
Nodding, he accepted the words at face value. He would hold Milo to that too. Too many people (two) had wanted to stuff with or to his chair recently and that was uncool. It was still two too many. “That’s a good idea,” Artie agreed, turning to look at where the magazine’s are. “You go to convention’s and stuff?”
“Every year. There’s San Diego Comic Con which I go to. I also end up at a few newer conventions like Steam Con in Seattle if I get the time. Last year someone had built a fully functioning steam punked cash register, someone steamed out their blue tooth headset.” Milo pulled up his personal picture files from his trip.
“Dude,” those pictures were awesome! “I’ve been to Dragon*Con, but that’s it,” it was in Atlanta. Every year his dad took him. It was their sort of bonding time, though mostly it involved Artie trying to buy stuff in the dealers rooms that his father thought was weird or strange (though he was allowed a few things) and dragging him to various seminars or to meet different actors from the TV shows. Plus people watching. People watching and the parade was a must. “It’s more general sci-fi, but there is a steam punk track. I’ve been to a panel or two, but it’s really hard to focus on just one thing when there is just so much stuff, you know?”
“It’s huge. Visually steampunk is stunning. I love looking under the skin and breaking it all down to see how they made it. But that’s me anyway.”
Artie nodded, “They have this whole science and technology track that’s really awesome. Just about what’s on the horizon in terms of technology and breakthrough’s, what is and isn’t possible in scifi, all sorts of stuff. And building robots. I like that stuff. I wanted to go to the panel on dead bodies, but they wouldn’t let me. I mean, my dad was really against it, but then you had to be 18 and well...” he shrugged. He was 14 and looked 12. There was no way at 12 he could have ever pretended to be 18. “I didn’t get to go this year, because it was Labor Day weekend and I was here.”
“I have quite a few subscriptions that I get news like that from. Comic con had some fascinating information on the technology in Ironman. They had a engineer and physicist advising the film and in the scene where he builds his secondary heart some of the equipment was real functioning particle acceleration equipment. ”
“Sounds badass,” Artie agreed, impressed. He was a lot calmed and less defensive now. “I want to go to Comic Con so bad, but it’s in California,” and therefore it might as well have been in Japan for all the good it did him. “It’s way too expensive.”
That wasn’t a common comment. AWM was a school of the over rich and pampered. “Scholarship student?”
Artie nodded. “Yeah. My dad’s a pastor in Atlanta,” and not one of the rich kind with a mega-church that the city was known for either. “I’ve actually never been on a plane. Well...yet. I am for Thanksgiving.” He was a little scared, but not too much. Mostly, he worried about going through security.
“Very cool that you’re here man. Don’t worry about the cost of some of this steampunk stuff. I just like someone to play with this with me. Hey give me your dorm room number. I’ve got a bunch of the engineering and wired mags I’m done with.”
“I’m in 108,” Artie replied, “It’s hard to miss me. First floor, last room near the doors. No roommate either,” because otherwise the rooms were too small for his chair. “So...okay. Listen. Wheelchairs aren’t cheap. A chair like mine is custom fit in terms of size, width, the seat tilt, everything. It’s just like a prescription for medicine. This is my first adult-sized chair and it has to last me through high school. I don’t get another until I’m 19, okay? And it costs nearly $5,000, which...that’s a lot of money. We have insurance, but still. So that’s why you can’t mess with it, okay? I just got it this past summer.”
Milo listened attentively to his explanation. He was still interested, or thinking about it at least. “How about a dress chair? Like a suit for a wedding. Special occasions, one that’s steamed out. The base on the one I showed you was an old style rocking chair frame. That can reduce my costs. Don’t worry about the cost alright? I have a fund from my parents just for my projects. Dad sees it as an investment toward my creativity in engineering.”
That...was an idea. One Artie had never thought of, “I got red...” he protested feebly. He had been dead set on a red wheelchair this time. Thankfully, red had been a colour included in the cost and wasn’t an extra like some colours were. “Um. Maybe? But still, it’d have to be adjusted properly, you know?” His chair wasn’t as specific as it could be, but he had seen the forms. They were crazy long and detailed. Seat angles and inches from the ground and all sorts of things. “But okay.”
“Cool!” Milo’s usual small barely there smile pulled up on both sides. “Awesome. If you know the places and sites I can go to learn more then I can work on it. You are going to be styling. ”
“I can look,” Artie agreed. “I know there are some, I just have to find them. So anyways....” he pulled a magazine close to check it out.
When: Monday evening
Where:Science classroom
What: steampunk geeking and attitudes
Milo had found a new friend into steampunk! He had Steampunk Magazine spread out on the table in one of the club rooms. He glanced at the clock, wondering if his text message to Artie had been presumptuous. He stated a time and location and then the capitalized word SCIENCE!
Arriving at the stated time and place, Artie was not entirely sure what to expect. He thought that steampunk was cool and the costume he had worn for the Roses and Thorne masquerade had definitely been steampunk-esque, but he was not so into it that he had costumes or anything. That involved money he did not have. “Hi,” he said, coming through the door and coasting to a stop.
Milo looked up, already thinking up ideas for a project with his new friend. When the boy in the wheelchair rolled in his eyes went wide. “You complete me.”
Turning to glance over his shoulder, Artie checked to make sure there was no one behind him. There wasn’t. “Uh...okay?” How was he supposed to reply to that other than declaring his straightness, which right now, he was still not quite sure was being flirted with.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted a legit reason?” He moved toward Artie, circling around him in awe. “Full upper body strength perfect.” He circled a second time.
Blinking, Artie leaned back in his chair, moving to look at Milo as Milo looked at him. It was rather disorienting and disturbing to be stared at quite this way. Sure, Artie was used to being stared at, but it was usually more covertly and not quite like he was a piece of meat or something. “Complete sentences, please,” he requested, “I am not your lab rat.”
“Crap.” Milo came back to the front, a small sheepish smile tugging at his mouth. He extended out his hand. “Milo. Geek and socially awkward. Sorry.”
“Artie,” he took Milo’s hand in his own gloved one and shook hands. “Geek and uh...wheelchair user? Now, why were you looking at me like that? Don’t tell me you’re some sort of fetishist.” He had read about those on the internet. They weirded him out.
“There’s a fetish for wheelchairs?” Milo’s forehead gained a single wrinkle right over his nose. “No. I’ve seen research on how to make a steampunk wheelchair. I just never had a legitimate excuse to pursue the epic that is that idea further.”
“There’s a fetish for everything,” Artie assured him. The internet was for porn. “Ah. That makes more sense. But...why would you want to do that? Do you even have the first clue about wheelchairs that aren’t steampunked out?” Artie bet he didn’t. He did grip the pushrims of his wheels a little tighter.
“Not about push chairs. I looked into the motors that power electric wheelchairs for a robotics summer project I took. They’re incredibly powerful and safe to work with.” Milo kept his hands off of the chair, but he had to hold one wrist with his other hand behind his back.
Perhaps surprisingly, Artie had no idea about motorized chairs. He had never had one or used one. It made sense though that they were both powerful and safe. “Okay, well, first lesson. It’s custom. That means everything is sized to fit me. From the height and tilt of the seat, to the cushion. It’s all prescription. Understand?” that meant don’t mess with it.
Milo rocked a little on his feet. The idea that it was custom just made him want to take it apart and see how it all worked that much more. It was unique which meant the tech was unique. “It wouldn’t work for this idea anyway. I can pull up the images on my laptop.” He turned to do just that, since he needed to do something with his hands.
Oh, good. Artie breathed a slight sigh of relief, relaxing. He had been defensive, thinking that this guy was going to try to tinker with his chair. He did not like that idea at all. First, Connor had wanted to take him off roading the other day and hadn’t taken no for an answer, and now this. Thankfully, Milo seemed more reasonable, if a little more geekish. “Sure,” he agreed, going to join him and look.
Milo pulled up a youtube video of a demonstration of a man who built a Professor Xavier steampunk wheelchair starting with the frame of a 150 year old rocking chair. “I could build you that.”
That was a pretty cool video and a damn cool chair if only for the sound effects. “But I don’t want a chair like that,” Artie protested. First of all, it was electric and he didn’t want or need something like that. Second, it wouldn’t be as comfortable as his own or as functional for long term use. “And I couldn’t get one anyways. Like I said, they’re prescription. And mine calls for a manual chair, not an electric one.”
“This isn’t made with a standard chair. You order the motor and wheels and build up from there. I’m sure I could find a way to make it with a push chair.” He looked at Artie, hoping he could find some way to convince the other boy. He never thought he would have even the opportunity to try out that kind of project.
Artie had doubts. A lot of them. It was easy to make a chair that looked pretty and didn’t fall apart and all that, but it wasn’t so easy to make a chair that he could actually use. “No,” he finally decided, shaking his head. “I mean, if you want to build a chair and stuff, that’s fine, I can help or whatever. But it’d be yours. This one is mine and that’s it. I’m not fiddling with it or anything,” and he wasn’t replacing it! His parents would have his hide for that! It just wasn’t worth all the risk or money.
“I won’t fiddle with your chair. Promise.” Milo pushed his glasses up. “Sorry, how about we just look at some other things that can be made. I brought magazines.”
Nodding, he accepted the words at face value. He would hold Milo to that too. Too many people (two) had wanted to stuff with or to his chair recently and that was uncool. It was still two too many. “That’s a good idea,” Artie agreed, turning to look at where the magazine’s are. “You go to convention’s and stuff?”
“Every year. There’s San Diego Comic Con which I go to. I also end up at a few newer conventions like Steam Con in Seattle if I get the time. Last year someone had built a fully functioning steam punked cash register, someone steamed out their blue tooth headset.” Milo pulled up his personal picture files from his trip.
“Dude,” those pictures were awesome! “I’ve been to Dragon*Con, but that’s it,” it was in Atlanta. Every year his dad took him. It was their sort of bonding time, though mostly it involved Artie trying to buy stuff in the dealers rooms that his father thought was weird or strange (though he was allowed a few things) and dragging him to various seminars or to meet different actors from the TV shows. Plus people watching. People watching and the parade was a must. “It’s more general sci-fi, but there is a steam punk track. I’ve been to a panel or two, but it’s really hard to focus on just one thing when there is just so much stuff, you know?”
“It’s huge. Visually steampunk is stunning. I love looking under the skin and breaking it all down to see how they made it. But that’s me anyway.”
Artie nodded, “They have this whole science and technology track that’s really awesome. Just about what’s on the horizon in terms of technology and breakthrough’s, what is and isn’t possible in scifi, all sorts of stuff. And building robots. I like that stuff. I wanted to go to the panel on dead bodies, but they wouldn’t let me. I mean, my dad was really against it, but then you had to be 18 and well...” he shrugged. He was 14 and looked 12. There was no way at 12 he could have ever pretended to be 18. “I didn’t get to go this year, because it was Labor Day weekend and I was here.”
“I have quite a few subscriptions that I get news like that from. Comic con had some fascinating information on the technology in Ironman. They had a engineer and physicist advising the film and in the scene where he builds his secondary heart some of the equipment was real functioning particle acceleration equipment. ”
“Sounds badass,” Artie agreed, impressed. He was a lot calmed and less defensive now. “I want to go to Comic Con so bad, but it’s in California,” and therefore it might as well have been in Japan for all the good it did him. “It’s way too expensive.”
That wasn’t a common comment. AWM was a school of the over rich and pampered. “Scholarship student?”
Artie nodded. “Yeah. My dad’s a pastor in Atlanta,” and not one of the rich kind with a mega-church that the city was known for either. “I’ve actually never been on a plane. Well...yet. I am for Thanksgiving.” He was a little scared, but not too much. Mostly, he worried about going through security.
“Very cool that you’re here man. Don’t worry about the cost of some of this steampunk stuff. I just like someone to play with this with me. Hey give me your dorm room number. I’ve got a bunch of the engineering and wired mags I’m done with.”
“I’m in 108,” Artie replied, “It’s hard to miss me. First floor, last room near the doors. No roommate either,” because otherwise the rooms were too small for his chair. “So...okay. Listen. Wheelchairs aren’t cheap. A chair like mine is custom fit in terms of size, width, the seat tilt, everything. It’s just like a prescription for medicine. This is my first adult-sized chair and it has to last me through high school. I don’t get another until I’m 19, okay? And it costs nearly $5,000, which...that’s a lot of money. We have insurance, but still. So that’s why you can’t mess with it, okay? I just got it this past summer.”
Milo listened attentively to his explanation. He was still interested, or thinking about it at least. “How about a dress chair? Like a suit for a wedding. Special occasions, one that’s steamed out. The base on the one I showed you was an old style rocking chair frame. That can reduce my costs. Don’t worry about the cost alright? I have a fund from my parents just for my projects. Dad sees it as an investment toward my creativity in engineering.”
That...was an idea. One Artie had never thought of, “I got red...” he protested feebly. He had been dead set on a red wheelchair this time. Thankfully, red had been a colour included in the cost and wasn’t an extra like some colours were. “Um. Maybe? But still, it’d have to be adjusted properly, you know?” His chair wasn’t as specific as it could be, but he had seen the forms. They were crazy long and detailed. Seat angles and inches from the ground and all sorts of things. “But okay.”
“Cool!” Milo’s usual small barely there smile pulled up on both sides. “Awesome. If you know the places and sites I can go to learn more then I can work on it. You are going to be styling. ”
“I can look,” Artie agreed. “I know there are some, I just have to find them. So anyways....” he pulled a magazine close to check it out.