The Forever Pilot is an anachronism, and the world he inhabits an antiquated playground of smoky chimneys, airships, fog, and rain. It is a world that continues where our Edwardian era ended.

The Forever Pilot looks like a cross between a fencer, a cavalryman and a straightjacketed lunatic. For transport, he relies on the most up-to-date thing, a Norton Skyranger jet-bike. For weapons, however, The Pilot has to rely on good old-fashioned fists, a revolver and sabre and of course his quite considerable intelligence.

In behaviour, he is a gentleman with impeccable manners and a dashing, witty demeanour. And when it comes to a fight, he always prefers to ask questions first and punch noses second.

On The Pilot's alternative Earth, the streets are cobbled and secretive beneath the soft glow of gas lamps. Horse-drawn cabs still ply their trade, whilst jet-cars and jet-vans roar and rumble overhead. Communication is by wireless, telegraph, and televisor. Cinema is important but wastes no time with the undignified act of talking. Aeroplanes and automobiles don’t exist, whilst airships, steam trains, and steam-ships do.

In The Forever Pilot’s universe, there has never been a true world war, only a great number of minor skirmishes. Meanwhile, Imperial Russia has risen to be the most powerful nation on Earth, and what we know as the U.S.A. has never existed. Instead, the continent of America is divided up into a mass of tiny, independent countries, uneasily rubbing shoulders with the territory owned by the great colonial powers.

The Pilot moves through this world like a shadow cast on a sunlit wall, mysterious, elusive, remaining forever just out of reach. A clearly outlined thing, with a pitchy, indefinite heart.