Location - Outer Mongolia
Object - Black umbrella
Genre - Steam punk
Herding the
iron yak.
I am worried, very
worried. The Winter is passing into Spring and the snows are melting fast. There
wasn’t much snow up here this year. This means there will not be much melt
water and so there will be a shortage of grazing for my yaks and horses. If my
yaks don’t have enough grazing, their milk will dry up and eventually they will
die. That means we will eat them but what will we live on when that meat is
gone? We will also die and our bones will join the others bleaching up here in
the harsh sun and thin air.
I leave my wife Zaya and children Genghis and little Khulan in
our yurt, which I have set up in the best grazing area I can find. I take my
best horse, Sodbileg, and set off on the long trip to the city, Ulaanbaatar. It
is hell on earth for me. Everything is cold and hard, with concrete and people
everywhere. There are very few animals so it takes me some time to find someone
to buy my horse at a good price.
It also takes me a long time to find the job centre. The clerk
looks at me and sniggered. ‘We don’t get much call for yak herders here,’ he
says.
‘My name is Genghis and at least I can herd more than a desk,’
I say. ‘How much milk does it give you a day and can you kill and eat it if you
need to?’ There are a few chuckles behind me in the queue. I have made some
friends but on the wrong side of the counter.
‘My name is Genghis too. Why don’t you go and ask if they want
any engine drivers down at the locomotive depot?’ suggests my desk jockey
friend. ‘You could fit it with a harness and stop and milk it now and again.’
The queue erupts with laughter again but not with me this time.
‘If you are Genghis Two, I am Genghis One,’ I retort, as I
leave and go to try and find the loco depot. One of my new friends, from the
queue, Genghis, stops me and asks if I know what I am doing.
‘No, but I am desperate, I need to get a job to earn some money
to buy food for my family.’
‘OK, come with me then, I am an engine driver, I’ll introduce
you to a guy I know, called Ghengis. He’ll give you a job if he thinks you will
be good at it.
As we walked through the streets of Ulaanbaatar, my new found
friend explained what had been happening.
‘The Chinese have been
investing heavily in Mongolia and have laid a railway track from Ulaanbaatar to
Lhasa, a distance of about 2,400 kilometeres. To achieve a 50% saving on steel required
for the track and because not many trees grow around here to provide the timber
for the sleepers, they used the monorail, gyro stabilised system, that was
invented by Louis Brennan in the early part of the twentieth century and further
developed by Andrew Cadwith in Derby, England in the twenty first. The big
benefit of this system, apart from the steel saving of course, is that the
train will automatically bank to the inside of a curve so that passengers don’t
notice any bends. This happens because of the laws of gyroscopic precession
that you will, of course, be fully aware of.
There was also a problem with supplying coal and water for the
engine across the high plains of Mongolia so it was decided to not use a steam
engine but the fusion reactor system recently
fully deveoped and proven at the JET laboratories in Culham, England. This
drives a generator to provide power to the electric motors fitted to each of
the wheels. These are also, of course, used for regenerative braking.
This design would therefore provide smooth, fast transport
across the distance between the two capital cities. It requires no fuel or
water en route and it provides a comfortable ride because of the automatic
tilting on bends. A great advance on the old Pendolino system.
Everybody was happy, including the Chinese investors as the
capital cost had been minimised. The system was built over the last ten years,
using migrant Mongolian labour who set up works camps along the line as it
progressed across the plain.
It was opened with a lot of publicity to show that the Chinese
led the world in massive engineering projects and in being a benign and
developing influence on their empire – sorry, ‘colleague states’.
Then the problems started.
You will know that the high plains of Mongolia overlie iron-rich
rocks. The grass that grows on the ferruginous soils is therefore high in iron
and so the grazing yaks take in iron with the grass they feed on. Your
knowledge of biochemistry will tell you, of course, that the iron will be
chelated in the chitin of the hooves as magnetite. This results in the yaks all
having magnetic hooves. This has not been a problem for many years, the yak
herders just used them as compasses which resulted in the myth that yak herders
never get lost.
During the spring and autumn migrations to and from the mountain
summer pastures, the yak herds have to cross the newly laid mono rails and some
became stuck fast to the rail by their magnetic hooves.
The trains were very fast and did not have time to stop and
remove the yaks from the line so just crashed into them. You remember the old
rhythmic noise you used to hear on trains before the days of continuously
welded rails – the ‘clickety clack’ as the wheels rolled over the joints? This
has now changed to ‘yackety yak’ as the train ploughs through the unfortunate
animals. The yak herders claimed compensation of course. They had to validate
their claim by handing in the yak hooves so there was soon a thriving black yak
market in Ulaanbaatar for yak hooves. The Chinese had no use for the hooves so
they slung them in a skip at the back of the government office, once a claim
had been processed. Genghis, who had the contract for emptying skips – ‘Chinese
takeaway’, as he was known around the town, was soon a very rich man. It is
estimated that some hooves had been through the system more than fifty times
before the Chinese government officials clicked on to the scam.
The sun was very hot on the high plains so a sun shade had to
be retro fitted to the passenger cars on the train. It only covered part of the
train so was called a penumbrella.
With their fusion power source and super cooled electric motors
on each wheeel, the trains were extremely fast. They managed to get up to a fairly
constant cruising speed of 500 kph. This is admittedly some 70kph slower than
the French AGV record but it still caused the same problems in the tunnels
under the moutain ranges. The train acts like a piston in a cylinder and so
produces a shock wave which runs ahead of the train at the speed of sound and
produces a double sonic boom as it leaves the tunnel. Comedians in the small
towns near the tunnel exits started timing their jokes such that a punch line
would be followed by a ‘boom, boom’ from the advancing train.
After investing in such a grand project there was no money left
so the Project Manager, Liam Genghis, decided to not build platforms at the very
few stations across the high plains so, for health and safety reasons, the
driver has to make an announcement at each stop, ‘Please mind the steppe’.
Here we are at the locomotive depot. I’ll leave you to it now
as I need to get back to the job centre to see if there are any better paying
jobs at the airport they are starting to build in a couple of weeks time.
Good luck and safe driving!’
‘Thanks, Genghis, maybe see you on the train I’m driving.’
I walk into the depot,
stop at the reception desk and asked to see Genghis.
‘Whom shall I say wants to see him?’ asks the receptionist.
‘Tell him that my name is Genghis and that a friend of his, Genghis,
sent me,’
He picks up the ‘phone on
the desk.
‘Hello Genghis, it’s Genghis here on the front desk. A yak
herder called Genghis has come to see you, he says a friend of yours, callled Genghis,
sent him to see if you have any loco driving jobs.’
‘OK, thanks Genghis, send him in, we do need someone as Genghis
has just handed his notice in. Could you delete him from the employee
spreadsheet please?’
‘OK. Err drat and double drat,’ said Genghis. ‘I selected ‘Genghis’
and I have just sacked 97.5% of our
employees.’
‘Never happened to me when I was herding yaks,’ says I.
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