The Prelapsarian Exhibition
"F.F. Gebrandt CORDIALLY INVITES All Londoners to participate in the Raising & Assemblage of a New Museum of Prelapsarian History & accompanying Exhibition..."[1]
The Prelapsarian Exhibition was a significant event of the second year of 1899. London collaborated to establish the Museum of Prelapsarian History — with some twists and turns along the way.
For The Edification Of The Public[edit | edit source]
"The main purpose of the Museum is to display the past – unvarnished and undistorted by myth and fancy."[2]
Two years after her failed bid for Lord Mayor of London, F. F. Gebrandt purchased an abandoned estate in Veilgarden[3] and announced in the Unexpurgated London Gazette that she would be transforming it into the Museum of Prelapsarian History, an establishment that was originally one of her campaign promises.[4] After an immense renovation project,[3][5] securing funding from investors,[6] dissuading any unwanted bureaucratic intervention with a bit of bribery,[7][8][9] and manufacturing tokens that guests could redeem for museum merchandise,[10] Gebrandt planned the opening ceremony for her collection of exhibits.

Each of the Museum's wings was devoted to a specific subject. The Palaeontology Wing (also called the Natural History Wing) sought to counteract the "misinformation and charlatanry" spread by the thriving Bone Market;[11] every specimen Gebrandt accepted was examined and catalogued in the museum's Osteology Lab.[12] The Natural Sciences Wing showcased recent breakthroughs in chemistry and physics; it initially had a special focus on Neathy optics — the phenomena of light that could exist only in darkness[13] — but these exhibits were later separated into a small Inorganic Sciences Wing.[14] However, the crown jewel of the museum was its Archaeology Wing — informally the Egyptology Wing, as the Masters allowed Gebrandt to display Second City artifacts, but not to directly call it as such.[15] It aimed to present history free from myth and distortion, and was prepared to accept thousands of artifacts from previous Fallen Cities.[16] Lastly, there was F.F. Gebrandt’s Hall of Recent History, a marketplace for donated items that still held interest despite not being strictly prelapsarian.[17]
Night At The Museum[edit | edit source]
"Something in the air feels wrong. You sneeze. The smell of salt water – true salt water, something not seen in the Neath – lingers in your nostrils. But it's joined by others: Aniseed. Pollen. Rhubarb. Tobacco. Memories from the Surface come to mind. Then the pain starts."[18]
Upon its completion, the Museum of Prelapsarian History was opened to great fanfare. His Amused Lordship, delighted to finally host a celebration after the cancellation of his centenary Revel to End All Revels, organized a grand festival on the museum grounds, even repurchasing many of the wines he had previously sold off.[19]

Something strange was afoot, however; sharp-eyed workers noticed the addition of sphinxstone into the Museum's renovations,[20] which appeared to play a crucial role in the maintenance of an unspecified "device."[21] As the crowds streamed in for the opening presentation, the Empress and her retinue paid an abrupt visit to the Egyptology Wing, where the sphinxstone had been kept.[22] Gebrandt explained to the audience that on the Empress' orders, she had used the time-absorbing properties of this stone as the catalyst for something approximating a time machine.[23] And then the demonstration began.
It should come as no surprise to anyone familiar with the Empress that she had asked Gebrandt to make a machine that would summon an apparition of her dear Prince Consort.[24] However, he appeared visibly distressed, and begged the Empress to cease her meddling.[25] Gebrandt informed the Empress that she would have only a short while with the past-Consort before the machine overloaded; once it did, the Empress prevented Gebrandt from switching it off.[26]
As Gebrandt's device continued running until it collapsed, it essentially ruptured space-time, causing headaches and nausea in those present...[27][28] and causing shreds of the Second City to manifest across London,[29] including an invasion of animated stone constructs called ushabtiu (singular: ushabti). While the novelty of the ushabtiu drew in enterprising merchants,[30] they proved more troublesome than anticipated when they turned out to be, well, alive: they vandalized property, played pranks, and generally caused havoc.[31]

Angry Londoners quickly traced the catastrophe back to the Museum, and a mob assembled, demanding answers.[32] Gebrandt soothed the crowd, and a public discussion determined the root cause of the problem.[33] The ushabtiu contained the bodies of Second City citizens who had transported their minds to Parabola; the citizens' bodies harbored a deep resentment that animated their funerary statues, but the parties responsible for their suffering were long gone, so they turned on Londoners.[34] Gebrandt soon came up with a solution: tricking the ushabtiu into entering Parabola physically.[35]
With the help of citizens,[36] Gebrandt manufactured vast quantities of a specially formulated perfume[37] and built a machine to disperse the mist around London.[38] The scent lured the ushabtiu into an enormous mirror inside the Egyptology Wing; as the last of them marched into Parabola,[39] Gebrandt shattered the mirror, trapping them.[40] Mercifully for Londoners' senses, a rare rainfall soon washed away the perfume, leaving the city to rest on its laurels.[41] Only a few ushabti remained in the city afterward, and the Department of Menace Eradication has taken on the duty of hunting down the last of them.[42]
References[edit | edit source]
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