Greetings ones and all.
The name is Shamus McKinnon, please to make your acquaintance. I was born in Appalachia to Irish settlers in the year of 1853. I am here for reasons that allude this tired old remedy doctor.
I recall 'twas a darkened August night. Long past the glow of twilight when I set a spell a ways outside of Gallup, NM. My horses were parched and drained of their spirit, and I too required replemishment of my vitality and vigor. And far be it for me to consume my own concoction of water, molasses, and opium. I must remain with my wits about me.
As I rest in my carriage I sensed an awful stirring beneath my feet. Ripples and pulses were accompanied by harmonic tones in now electrically charged air. I remember mulling the ideaa of the brilliant up and coming scientist. Alas, no coil to be seen. It was at that particular moment all the shiny bits and trinkets of plenty shot strait up towards a brilliantly blinding light.
That is my trouble. For the next split moment found me in daylight. The horses and carriage that had accompanied me the night prior had vanished to the aether. Replacing them 50 yards yonder were rolling bullets of tremendous velocity. The trail had transformed itself into a guarded track labeled by the badge designation 40.
I have since grown to conjure I am 126 years removed from proper dating. The World I cherished is no more. The miracle potions are commodities tendered at general stores of enormous proportion.
Your world has peculiarities my mind struggles to fathom.
Best Regards,
Dr. Shamus McKinnon