Petroleum (2)
Support for petroleum research had been terminated. How far had they progressed? It might have been a short time, or perhaps years had passed. One thing was certain: all the data they'd accumulated was now utterly useless in an instant.
"How long do you think... they worked on it?"
"I don't know..."
The longer they'd devoted themselves to the research, the greater the sense of loss. Had there been any results? Given that funding had been cut, probably not major breakthroughs. Even so, if years of dedicated effort were rendered pointless in a heartbeat... John Brown imagined how he'd feel in their shoes. It wasn't a pleasant thought.
When he'd first heard about the petroleum distillation research, he'd been thrilled. If they could pair it with engine development, they might even build vehicles like cars and airplanes. And if those technologies advanced further, tanks wouldn't be out of the question.
But the funding had been cut. And the decisive factor? The steam engine.
McCallson's steam engine design had led to the end of petroleum distillation research. Damn it—it had robbed them of cars and the like.
Of course, Brown was the one who'd proposed the steam engine concept in the first place.
Ah.
He bore some responsibility too.
"Can we... go in?"
Luna Karen spoke cautiously. She seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
What reaction would they get facing the people whose funding they'd effectively killed? Even a moment's thought suggested it wouldn't be good.
"We have to."
Still, they had no choice. No matter the response, they needed to persuade them. Somehow, they had to convince them to restart the research.
Tanks and fighters. How can I just stand by?
His past life's military geek instincts were screaming. Get rejected at the door, get cursed to his face—it didn't matter. He had to convince them.
If they still had passion for the research, persuasion wouldn't be hard. But if that fire was gone, how could he sway them?
Truth be told, agonizing in the middle of the hallway was pointless. They'd only know once they met them.
"Let's go in first. We can worry later."
Brown steeled himself, shaking off his doubts.
"...Alright... let's do it!"
"For the tanks and fighters we'll build someday."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Something awesome."
"Oh...?"
Researchers chatted as they walked the corridor. But when one figure approached from the opposite direction, their voices quieted.
"..."
He slipped silently into his lab.
"That guy's complexion looks worse every time."
"Can't blame him. He's been at it for quite a while, right?"
The passing alchemists glanced at the closed door and murmured carefully.
"About eight years... I think?"
"Magitech division's too harsh. Even if they found a replacement, cutting funding like that?"
"Tell me about it. And they were the ones who commissioned it first."
"But honestly, after eight years with no big results..."
"Shh. What if he hears?"
"..."
Unfortunately, the soundproofing wasn't great.
"Whoever those bastards are, if I ever meet them..."
"Leave it."
His assistant fumed, but he held her back.
"They're not wrong."
Eight years of research, started on commission from the magitech division. But no real breakthroughs.
Exhausted assistants left his side, only for new ones to arrive—and soon depart. Only she, his latest assistant, had stuck around for two years.
Essentially, he'd researched alone for six years. Covered in oil, inhaling its acrid fumes, sometimes burning himself.
Countless trial and error. Nothing had been studied before, so he groped in the dark like a pathfinder without landmarks.
He mixed scarce magic stones, drawing glares from colleagues. Nearly burned down the lab once. The oil's stench clouded his mind for months. He waited endlessly for shipments that never came. Through it all, hardship and mockery. Funding dwindled over time.
Still, he persisted. Until he could replace magic stones with petroleum. He'd noted oil quality declining over time and pondered fixes. He wrestled with how to generate power from oil instead. But burning it left sticky residue. Even if he built an engine, without clearing that gunk, it'd fail quickly. So he'd spent years experimenting to eliminate it, mixing endless materials. No luck.
It was oil's inherent nature. So he sought other paths.
What if he could separate the residue? Then the steam engine appeared—ready to produce power immediately. It spread fast as a magic stone alternative. Sadly, that ended oil research support—and his work.
He'd tried funding it himself, but it was woefully insufficient.
"A little more time, and I might've figured it out."
But ending there wasn't enough. Magitech or academia would need to build machines to use it as fuel. Even if he found a way in this funding vacuum, would they care?
"So empty."
He muttered at the ceiling, dazed. No more funds or reason to continue. Eight years, gone to waste.
"Researcher, I don't think those years were wasted. Someone will appreciate your work soon."
"...Thanks for saying that. You're young; other places will take you. If you're interested somewhere, I can recommend—"
He trailed off. Over eight years, even his so-called close contacts had drifted away.
His endorsement wouldn't help much.
By now, Brown and Karen had reached the alchemy lab.
"Whew. Kinda tense."
"Wanna turn back?"
"We came this far; might as well meet them."
As they entered, one researcher approached.
"What brings you here?"
"We heard there were people researching petroleum. Could we meet them?"
"Why...?"
The researcher eyed Brown suspiciously.
"From magitech division?"
"No, Weapons Research Lab."
"Weapons... lab?"
The researcher frowned. Why would the weapons lab care about oil? And hadn't they provided the reason it was canceled?
After a moment's thought.
Whatever, not my problem.
"I'll show you. But don't expect a warm welcome."
She led them down the hall and knocked on a door.
"Um... visitors."
"...Come in."
Having guided them, she left. Brown and Karen hesitated, then opened the door.
"Excuse us."
"Who..."
Inside: a middle-aged man with burn scars on one arm, and a sharp-featured woman.
"First time meeting. John Brown from the Weapons Research Lab."
"Luna Karen."
They introduced themselves, gauging reactions. Not good.
"Why come here...?"
"Hold on, Klein."
He stopped her and continued.
"What brings you?"
"We heard about the petroleum research. I'm interested."
"..."
Interested in their research. From the people who'd killed its funding.
Of course, it wasn't Brown's fault directly. Magitech had lost interest in oil long ago. Funding would've ended soon without him.
Still, resentment toward Brown was inevitable. After a sigh, he spoke.
"Mind if I ask why you're interested in a defunded project?"