Joseph Maximillian Dobson

Joseph Maximillian Dobson, known as Max to his friends was somewhat of an oddball at the Felcharny Courier, where he worked as a special delivery postman. Unlike most of his coworkers, Max could actually read. A gift imparted upon him from his uncle in New York, who insisted on educating him properly. However, jobs were few and far between, and when Joseph learned about Falcharny, he learned also about their literacy requirements. If you could do more than read a few common words here and there, you were not hired.

Apparently Felcharny clients wanted their packages delivered without the risk of the courier opening it. By chance if the courier did open it, the contents would mean little to them. Max never looked into the letters, as his interest was still focused on the smoked filled lounges and the loose women that worked there. With nothing suitable for him, the courier job was perfect. He traveled, listened and saw the world. It was the end of the decade, Christmas of 1919. The biggest courier job of Max’s career landed on his lap.

The owner, Mr. Felcharny informed him that he was to take the trains to California, hitch a ride on the merchant ship Orient Bound and dock in China. Max accepted and began his uneventful journey to China. By the time the Orient Bound arrived in dock, the Volstead Act had been ratified, utterly destroying one of Max’s hobbies. The trip to China was definitely a welcome turn of events at this point. Next thing you know, women would get the right to vote, and what a world that would be then. No drinking, and women trying to choose who would run the country.

The Orient Bound was a rickety old ship, but sailed the seas smoothly and without interference from international sea going vessels. What seems like an eternity later, the Banner of the Chinese Republic could be seen snapping in the wind as the ship anchored close to Bohai Bay, the rest of the way was by row boat. Sedimentation levels were too high to risk bringing in the Orient Bound.

China was magnificent, but Max had little time to immerse himself. His instructions were to travel southeast to Henan and meat up with an emissary of somebody named Zhu De. Shortly after arrival, Max met his contact and guide, Zhang Zhongjing. Zhang was heaven sent, as Max spoke no Chinese and his native guide slipped him through foreign checkpoints with ease. Zhang easily held conversations in languages not Chinese, and not any that Max had ever heard of either. Meanwhile, a history lesson of immense magnitude began during their travels and Zhang could have kept Max listening forever.

Before Max knew it, they were in Henan, making their way through alleyways and quietly moving towards the courier job. After a night of negotiations, Max was brought to a simple building and inside was a desk with a scroll on it. Behind the desk was a screen, and behind the screen the Felcharny client, whom Zhang had previously explained did not want to be seen by filthy foreigners. Max could care less, his job was to get the package and return to Germany, and deliver the package to Herr Schaltz.

After negotiations were finished and the appropriate paperwork was produced, signed and Max’s identity was confirmed, the scroll went into his side pack. When he turned to leave, Zhang stepped in front of him and put up a hand. He apologized for what was about to happen, and that’s when the pain set in. Blackness followed.

Max is now in London, England, the scroll is gone. But black marks streak across his torso and limbs. He remembers little about his journey back, nightmarish demons haunt his dreams and all he knows is that he has an overwhelming desire to find Jeffery Bellowes. Not only can Max not drink now that he’s back, but woman can now vote. Things could not get worse.