Creating an Industrial Empire in 19th Century Parallel World

February 27th, 893. Pittsburgh Train Station. The sun's orange glow bathed the platform as passengers bustled about, ready to embark on their journeys. Among the crowd stood Poul and Sara, their hands clasped together, waiting for their train to Chicago.

It was winter, and a cold breeze swept through the station, causing people to huddle in their coats and scarves. Poul and Sara had bundled up as well, their breaths visible in the chilly air. They were eager to board the train and escape the winter chill.

Finally, the steam locomotive pulled into the station with a loud hiss of steam and a clank of metal. The train attendants opened the doors, and passengers started to board. Poul and Sara quickly found their cabin in the first-class compartment. They settled into their plush seats, grateful for the warmth provided by the well-maintained train car. The journey to Chicago was expected to take twelve hours, so they'll arrive there at six o'clock in the morning, two hours from the actual presentation of the Chicago World's Fair bid.

Moments later, the steam locomotive began its steady journey toward Chicago. During the journey, Poul spent time reviewing his presentation once more. He wanted to ensure that every detail was perfect.

Meanwhile, Sara was just staring at him, feeling lonely.

"Poul…I'm cold," Sara said.

"What do you mean?" Poul asked, his gaze fixed on the papers. "The heater is working perfectly fine."

"I know…but I want to feel warmer," Sara said with a playful pout, trying to grab Poul's attention away from the papers.

Poul finally looked up from his presentation and saw the longing in Sara's eyes. He smiled and reached for her hand, pulling her closer to him.

"Come here, you," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a tight embrace. "Is that better?"

Sara snuggled closer to him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers. "Much better," she replied, letting out a contented sigh. "But there's still a way to make me feel warmer," she alluringly whispered, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Oh," Poul caught on to her playful mood, a grin forming on his lips. "Do you really want us to do that here?"

"I don't know, do-do you?" Sara stammered as she teased, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

"Look, you don't have to force yourself. If you want it, I can give it to you," Poul said with a gentle smile, understanding the mix of emotions Sara was experiencing.

"I hate you…" Sara pouted. "How can you say that with a straight face?"

"I can say it with a straight face because I love you, and I want you to be comfortable and happy," he replied, his thumb gently caressing her cheek.

Sara's playful pout softened, and a warmth spread through her heart.

"You are killing me…"

"Well, I'm going to warm you up later," Poul said.

***

Twelve hours later, at the Chicago railway station. The train conductor ran through the aisles, calling out, "Chicago! We've arrived in Chicago! Please gather your belongings and disembark safely."

Poul and Sara roused from their slumber, having spent the journey dozing off in each other's arms. They exchanged sleepy smiles and got dressed.

As they stepped off the train, the cold winter air of Chicago greeted them, but it didn't bother them as much as it did back in Pittsburgh. Though as they were walking on the platform, Poul noticed something off Sara's gait.

"What's wrong?"

"It's your fault…" Sara blamed. "You were going rough yesterday. Even though I told you to be gentle…"

Poul rubbed the back of his head and chuckled. "But you were asking for it, remember? We'll walk slowly."

As they were dealing with an unexpected problem, a person in a black suit approached Poul.

"Are you Mr. Poul Nielsen?"

Poul and Sara turned their faces to the man.

"Yes that would be me," Poul confirmed. "Who are you?"

"I'm Benjamin Atwood, secretary of William Carleigh, one of the councils that will be looking over to your proposal for the World's Fair.

"Ah, Mr. Atwood, it's a pleasure to meet you," Poul said, extending his hand for a firm handshake.

Benjamin Atwood shook Poul's hand warmly and turned his attention to Sara, offering a polite nod. "And who is this lady?"

"That's my fiance, Sara Olsen," Poul introduced.

"Good day to you ma'am. A pleasure to meet you," Benjamin said.

"Good day, Mr. Atwood," Sara greeted with a warm smile, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

"I have prepared the transportation that would take us to the Fair Association Building," Benjamin Atwood continued. "It's not far from here. Please follow me, and we can proceed with the meeting."

Benjamin escorted the couple to the waiting carriage, and they settled inside. The carriage ride was brief, but the streets of Chicago were bustling with activity as people prepared for their day.

Once they arrived, Benjamin guided them through the grand entrance of the building, leading them to a spacious conference room.

"This is the room where you'll be presenting your bid to the council members. Let me show you the waiting room where you'll be waiting along with other companies who want to light up the fair."

Poul and Sara followed Benjamin into the waiting room, where other representatives from different companies were gathered. There, they saw someone familiar.

"James Russell?" Poul uttered as he noticed James sitting on a table next to his secretary, Sam Insul.

James didn't take long to notice Poul's presence. The moment he did, they were locked in a staring contest.

"As expected I'll see him here," Poul remarked.

He approached Russell's table and extended an arm.

"Mr. Russell, so you will also be the one presenting your own proposal to the council members."

Russell simply glanced at his extended arm and replied. "That is correct, Mr. Nielsen. And I don't intend to shake your hand."

"That's sad," Poul sighed. "Well we are the biggest contenders here, we both know that the council is either going to choose between you and me. For that, good luck."

"Good luck to you too, Mr. Nielsen," he replied curtly, refusing to engage in any further pleasantries. He turned his attention back to his secretary, Sam, and they exchanged a few last-minute words before focusing on their own preparations.

"Let's take a seat, Sara," Poul suggested.