[i]It was a nice morning in Selina[/i] mused a silent woman, who sat quietly in a rocking chair on the front porch of the church. The local pastor had dragged the chair out there for the woman a few days ago, saying the fresh air would help with her long term recovery. She could not complain, the liked sitting out there on quiet mornings, reading and watching the town begin it's day. 

She knew, technically, that she should still be inside, helping the other monastery workers with their morning chores. She had awoken early to begin her chores, and rushed through them after breakfast, so she could have some time to watch the town before the day began. Certainly not the best course of action, but she meant no disrespect for the people who housed and fed her. She just did things that were...different...sometimes what she is convinced is the best choice is not always so. 

Leaned up against the porch railing is a small chalk board, with a few stubby pieces of chalk accompanying it. Written on the cork textured back of the board is a note from the local pastor, Father O’Flanagan, who took care of the woman on occasion. It reads, in fancy swirling text, 

[i]My name is Aveline, I cannot speak very well, please be patient. If I am lost and confused please escort me to Father O’Flanagan, in Selina, Kansas. 
[/i]

On her lap sat a slightly wrinkled and yellowed binding of parchment. A newspaper, although Father O’Flanagan insisted it was actually called a magazine. Printed across the top, slightly faded. [i]Scientific American - July - 1878[/i]. She had received the magazine earlier that week, when a courier from Dodge visited the church with her expected books. The magazine was a surprise, a gift from someone who had heard about her injury, someone who was curious about her. And while, at first, this upset her, she decided that, regardless, the magazine was a gift. A gift that baffled her. The magazine was printed all the way in Boston. It felt like it traveled the world until it finally came to her hands. 

So...yes, it was an older printing. But a gift was still a gift, and knowledge was still knowledge no matter how old. Currently Aveline was completely absorbed into an article about a man from California, which also felt like worlds away, who had been hired to do an experiment using photography. 

He took a series of photographs of a horse in motion, proving that when a horse was in full gallop all four of its feet were off the ground at the same time. And while the new horse knowledge was interesting, and gave her the urge to watch the passing coaches, she was more amazed by the photographs. Apparently there was a device, a zoopraxiscope, that would flash all the images in order giving the appearance that the pictures were moving. Aveline could hardly imagine such a device, and would have to settle for quickly looking from one image to the other. 

She could not wait to tell, or [i]show[/i], Father O’Flanagan the article. She just hoped he found it as fascinating as she did. The woman frowned, musing silently about how upset the man had been at breakfast. Or at least how upset he seemed. He had done all he could for the ailing miner, they both had, but Father O’Flanagan had a right to be upset. 

Hopefully he wouldn't be upset catching her rushing through her morning chores to read.