2034
For Pioneer’s fiftieth anniversary in 1984, the museum had special commemorative postal covers made like the ones his railway post office would issue for his milestone events when he was still in service. For his hundredth anniversary, since he was now indoors and visitors could tour his train again, they went a step further: they had set up a stamping machine in his RPO so visitors could make their own souvenir letter cover. They would slide their envelop into the machine and pull the lever and it would stamp a new 100th Anniversary illustration on it.
His letter covers were always Pioneer’s favorite of all the celebrations surrounding his accomplishments. They were humble but accessible and in a day and age when mail was mostly sent through the post for fun, it reminded people that they could still use that service. The museum did have to station someone in his RPO to keep the envelopes from being strewn everywhere so the stamping machine wasn’t yet decided to be a permanent installation, but Pioneer hoped that it would be.
One evening, after the RPO had been tidied up, the docent on duty prepared to take dictation on Pioneer’s next letter to Pilot.
“Would you like to send it in one of your new letter covers?” they offered. “I bet he’d like to have one.”
“I don’t want to seem conceited,” Pioneer hemmed. Truthfully, he did want to send one though.
“It’s been fifty years,” his docent laughed. “If he hasn’t thought that yet, he’s not going to think that now.”
“Pilot’s not a train enthusiast,” Pioneer hawwed. “Engines don’t collect letter covers.”
“But aren’t you going to tell him about them in your letter? Surely he’d like to actually see one.”
Pioneer still wasn’t convinced. “They don’t do things like this at his museum. I don’t want to look like I’m showing off.”
The docent huffed.
“What if I just send it in one whether you say to or not,” they said. “Then when he writes back and says how great he thinks it is, you can act annoyed that I took the liberty.”
Owing to his particularly customer-facing service life, Pioneer knew when he was being Handled. After seventy years in the museum’s care though, he also knew when he was being indulged. He could say outright that he didn’t want a cover sent along and this docent would respect that. He was, however, being offered the option to blame any apparent bragging on this docent instead. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with lying about such a pre-arranged plot to Pilot, but it was a Burlington sort of scheme. It gave him a feeling of nostalgia, the way the letter covers themselves did.
And really, it wasn’t lying if he really didn’t have a choice either way, was it?
“Well, if you’re going to do it no matter what I say…” Pioneer conceded, “Will you make sure it’s lined up straight on the envelope? And not smudged at all?”
“We’ll stamp a few and let you pick the one you like best.”