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Steamfunk comedy session : Zeke and Lady Luxury's night of chaos

Dominic Sedrani

27 Jun 2025 — 2 min read

(A dim-lit parlor in New Babylon, where gaslamps flicker with violet-hued alchemical flames. The air hums with the whir of automatons serving absinthe-laced sparkwine. Zeke, a rogue tinker with a steam-powered arm, lounges on a velvet chaise beside Lady Luxury, a sharp-tongued aristocrat with a penchant for trouble. On stage, a brass-bound mechanical comedian clanks through its routine.)

BRASS COMEDIAN (whirring, voicebox crackling): "Ah, 2025… remember that? When folks mainlined stimulants like coal to a furnace, screaming ‘THE END IS NIGH’ while their eyes melted from glow-screen hypnosis? And the funniest bit? They used to clutch pearls over ‘violent vid-reels’ corrupting youth—meanwhile, they were the ones with a head full of murder and a ledger full of victims!"

(The crowd—a mix of rogue scholars, opium-dazed poets, and scarred mercenaries—chuckles uneasily. A drunk airship captain spills his drink, muttering, "Ain’t that the damn truth.")

LADY LUXURY (sipping sparkwine, smirking): "Darling, I do believe that rustbucket just described my third husband."

ZEKE (grinning, adjusting his goggles): "Nah, your third husband was at least honest about bein’ a bastard. These new-age types? They’d gaslight the devil into thinkin’ he invented sin."

(The Brass Comedic continues, gears grinding.)

BRASS COMEDIAN: "They called it ‘imposter syndrome’—nah, mate. Some folks just wake up and choose carnage. It’s not a complex, it’s a career path! And the best part? They built whole empires on passin’ the blame down the line like a bad penny. The Ponzi Scheme of the Damned!"

(A automaton waiter drops a tray. Zeke snorts.)

ZEKE: "Sounds like the Guild of Merchant Lords."

LADY LUXURY (arching a brow): "Or my dear departed mother’s tea parties."

(The comedian’s finale: a jerky pantomime of a sheep, a drum, and a snake being hurled off a clocktower. It screeches:)

BRASS COMEDIAN: "BAAAAH-DUM-TSSSS!"

(Silence. Then—chaos. A brawl erupts between two philosophers debating whether the joke was "too deep" or "not deep enough." Zeke grabs Luxury’s hand as a champagne flute sails past their heads.)

ZEKE (yelling over the din): "We livin’ in the punchline or what?!"

LADY LUXURY (laughing, pulling him toward the exit): "Always have been, darling. Now run—before the metaphor catches up!"

(They vanish into the smokey alley, where a steam-horse carriage awaits, its furnace glowing like the eyes of the future they’re racing toward—or away from. Hard to tell.)

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