What Do You Do in the Lab? (2)
Squeeeeak.
"Huff... huff... huff."
The work is going slower than I thought.
"Hmm, I'd love something harder for the blade, but I suppose that's asking too much?"
"I've spoken to the master smiths about it, but it won't be easy."
The blades keep snapping and crumbling to nothing. We must have gone through dozens of them just carving this one piece. With no better materials around, there's nothing to do but push through with sheer effort.
"Why on earth did you build the warehouse way out in a place like this!"
"Excuse me? How is that MY fault? Our ancestors chose to settle here, that's why! And! Why does your speech keep getting shorter and shorter!"
Hmm. I am quite a bit older than him, but I can't exactly come out and say that. Ahem...
"My apologies. Ahem."
"No, no, forgive me. You must be frustrated too."
Well, now that I know the trick of it, I suppose he'll manage the next one on his own.
"Shall you rest a moment? Then I'll turn the wheel again."
"Ugh... my back... my poor back..."
That's twice my body width, old man. Quit the theatrics.
"Well then. I suppose I should head home."
"Ah! No! No, stay! Heheh."
I do feel a bit sorry for the old fellow. He toiled away all alone with nary a friend, and now that he finally has a colleague, he's pouring his whole heart into it. Whatever it is he finds so delightful, he's giggling away as he spins the wheel again.
Squeeeak.
The lathe wheel turns today as well.
Shwwwing—
"Oh! There's nowhere left for the blade to catch! It's finished!"
"Really! Ahahaha!"
The piston and cylinder were so large that we spent a whole week doing nothing but shaping iron.
"Heheheh, let's put it together!"
Hm? If you assemble it like that, it'll be loose as anything?
"AAAGH! No! It doesn't fit! What have you done!"
See? If something's wrong, the old man's the one to blame, since I was the one straining and carving all the metal. Not that he'd know that.
"Heh heh heh."
"What!"
"Don't we have one more piece?"
"What?"
What else — the ring I told him to make along with the rest, of course.
"Ah! The ring!"
"We fit the ring in during assembly, you see?"
"Ah! Then even if it wears down later, we'd only need to swap out the ring! Brilliant!"
Exactly! Even if something breaks, the main body stays intact — you just replace the part!
"Nnngh! Gnnngh!"
Squeak, squeak.
Hm? What is he doing?
"This thing is far too tight, don't you think?"
Truly remarkable, forcing it in like that without a drop of lubricant.
"Shouldn't we oil it? So it slides smoothly?"
"Gah! Of course! Wait right here!"
His house is right next to the warehouse, so he dashes off in a flash. Busy, busy man.
Plip, plip.
He does drizzle oil over it — but is that... sesame oil? Is there really nothing else lying around that could serve as lubricant?
"Sesame oil? Really?"
"It's all I had at home!"
Come to think of it, calling anything "oil" around here basically means soybean, olive, or sesame — pick one of three. Still, having toasty nuttiness wafting out of a machine is a peculiar feeling.
Thump, thump.
Screeech, screeech.
"Oh! It moves far more smoothly now! Wonderful!"
"Now let's assemble the rest."
Good grief. Can anything really be that wonderful? He hasn't stopped laughing the whole time he's putting it together.
"Ahahaha! Let's give it a try!"
He must be enjoying himself. He did use his head, though. He made two steam inlets, one on each side, so the cover can be swapped back and forth between them.
Bubble, bubble.
Hm, so he's not slow-witted after all — he even rigged a pump to feed water in so it won't backflow.
Squeeeak, squeeeak.
"Oh? It's really moving?"
"Oh! Will it keep going continuously?"
Hm? Continuity was your concern? Sounds more like you'd never once seen it turn at all.
Chug, chug.
"Goodness? The wheel is turning!"
What — why are YOU the one surprised?
"Well, it does turn, at least."
It barely manages to spin, honestly. I'd wager a man cranking it by hand puts out more power.
"..."
"Why are you crying?"
Is it really that moving?
"Damn it all! Five hundred years of work, and it's worse than turning it by hand! Waaah!"
Oh. So that's what this is about.
"Keep refining it. It's lacking now, but if you make it faster, Haneul-nim might grant you a clan name."
"You think it could come to that?"
"Of course. Think of how much human labor it would spare."
"Can this thing truly become that fast..."
Inefficient as this steam engine may be, there's simply no comparing it to human muscle.
If he brings back a decently improved model, I really should grant him a surname. This is important technology, after all.
"Wouldn't it become far faster if you channeled the steam currently escaping into the air back into the stove where the fire burns?"
"Gah! You're right!"
And it would raise fuel efficiency too.
"If you mull it over, plenty of ideas will come to you."
"Aren't you going to work on it as well?"
"I ought to be heading back."
"I see..."
Why the long face again? You'll get to do this properly with the young ones soon enough.
"For now, submit your report first. Good things will follow, won't they?"
"It seems far too insignificant for a report."
"Have some confidence. There's been no greater achievement in the past several hundred years."
And this will still count as a monumental accomplishment thousands of years from now, I promise you.
"By the way, what's your name?"
"You're asking only now? Ha-eun."
"Sounds just like a woman's name. Hahaha."
"Do remember to submit that report, won't you?"
"I will! You have my word!"
"Why hasn't he come?"
"Who, Your Holiness?"
"That man, of course."
I told him to write the report right away, and here it is, ten years of dithering later. Honestly...
"What brings you here today?"
"Someone has built a marvelous machine, but he refuses to step forward no matter what. His neighbors have submitted the report in his stead."
"What sort of machine?"
"A machine of power, they say. Light a fire beneath it, and it turns all by itself."
Hm? What was he doing all this time instead of reporting?
"Hm? Why wouldn't he submit the report?"
"He says he has a friend who helped build it, and that he must find him so they can submit it together."
"AHAHAHAHA!"
"Eh?"
Would you look at this honest soul! When I asked his name, I only meant for him to put it on the report! And instead—
This is just too delightful! Such loyalty!
"Enough chatter. Tell him I summoned him myself."
"Yes, Your Holiness."
Plenty of people would ignore a summons from the Chancellor — but no one has ever ignored one from me.
"It is an honor to be in your presence!"
His voice sounds just the same.
"I hear you've built something marvelous?"
"Yes. An engine that turns by itself once a fire is lit."
"Oh! Impressive!"
"However..."
"Is something the matter?"
"It was not my work alone, Your Holiness."
Did this old man commit some crime or other? He hasn't lifted his head once since entering. And here I am, feeling nostalgic for the old days, having gone to the trouble of a disguise—
He's in for a shock. A great, big shock!
"Then is it another man's work?"
"Yes..."
Hm? Weren't you the one whose family labored on this for five hundred years? Another man's work? Honestly, I can't even joke around with him.
"Lift your head!"
"I... I'm ashamed to..."
"..."
"Hm. Hello there, scatterbrain?"
He just blinks and blinks. Surprised, aren't you? Technology has come such a long way that my disguise is flawless.
"..."
Thud — slide.
Hm? That doesn't look like a man of weak constitution to me. Well, while he picks himself up off the floor, shall I think about what to give him?
What surname should it be? I need to think of a name, too. He built a steam engine, so "Steam" as a surname would be absurd... how about "Gi," for machine?
Scratch, scratch.
Hm, few brushstrokes, nice and clean. Do keep at it and see it through to the internal combustion engine someday, won't you?
"Mmm..."
"Why so faint of heart all of a sudden? Quite unbecoming."
"GAH! You! No... Your Holiness Haneul-nim?!"
"I told you plainly to submit the report, didn't I? Why didn't you? I waited ages."
"Sniff... sob... I never dreamed it was you, and I wandered everywhere searching for Ha-eun..."
Oh dear. He must have been quite beside himself. If I said to submit it, why not simply submit it — honestly...
"I understand about your friend, but there's a great deal left to improve, you know?"
"Yes, that's true."
"I shall grant you a clan name, so make this your family's trade for generations to come. Can you manage that?"
Those granted a clan name need never worry about making a living. A kind of pension comes with it, you see. He'll be doing something special, so he ought to devote himself to it entirely.
"Yes! I shall strive to be of the greatest service!"
"What you're undertaking is no mere craft. You'll have to study an enormous amount."
"Gah? Is that so?"
Indeed. An engine is the very essence of mechanical engineering — thermodynamics, fluid dynamics, materials science, all woven together.
Along with semiconductors, it was one of the two crowning technologies of my old world.
"Yes. Don't take it lightly. Even giving it everything you have won't be enough."
"I shall devote my very life to it!"
"Just work hard, that's all."
The current engine was built from plain iron, so he'll need to think about insulation too, and precision machining will have to improve as well — how long will all that take?
The smithy was one thing, but everything I've had a hand in really does crawl along at a snail's pace.
Our nation's fashion is truly diverse, and it changes at breakneck speed.
Ever since the young ladies of the Aegean and the young ladies of the Middle East began arriving, it's been a complete free-for-all.
The camps have split in two, and they stage soul-pouring fashion shows at every opportunity.
The current trend is a short jacket with a skirt that falls just above the ankle.
Apparently it isn't cold at all, judging by how they strut about with their midriffs bared to the world.
"Doesn't that get chilly?"
"If you're cold, you just wear a padded layer underneath, or add another coat on top."
Southern Manchuria does swelter in summer, but every other season is brutally cold. And yet plenty of people go about dressed like this. Hardier against the cold than I'd imagined.
"But couldn't you just wear the old-fashioned undergarments?"
"Why ever not? They're so pretty like this!"
Back in the day, we at least wrapped a square of cloth around ourselves and wore it like a tube top. Wearing only that wasn't even embarrassing, I'll have you know!
But now, in the name of frugality or whatever, they've taken to cutting the square in two, threading a cord through the middle — a cord they then extend around to tie behind the back.
"I hate this!"
"You'll wear what you're given!"
This is practically a bra, isn't it!
The bottoms are even worse. It's a T. A literal T!
"I really, truly hate these undergarments even more!"
"Then shall you go out wearing nothing at all?"
"Ugh..."
Have I finally gotten used to it too? Because going out without clothes would be mortifying now...
The real problem, though—
"Why am I the one trying everything on!"
"Then who else would?"
There's a fashion show on, and the model is me! Solo, no less.
There are a good fifty outfits sprawled out before my eyes right now!
"Can't you two just try them on yourselves?"
"Oh my! Would you trample upon the devotion of our master artisans like this!?"
"Ugh..."
Put that way, I have no comeback! I'm the one who told everyone to honor the authority of the artisans — I can't very well be the first to break it...
"Fine. Hand them over!"
"You should have said so from the start. Hmph!"
This is going to make me cry! You little demons!
Rustle, rustle.
Still, the clothes are remarkably easy to get in and out of.
"Isn't this top a bit too short?"
"Is it? Could it be that your chest has grown?"
As if that were possible?
"Are you mocking me?"
"Well, you haven't gotten any taller either. Goodness..."
She's doing this on purpose, isn't she?
"Ugh... I'd rather die than keep aching like this."
I picked these attendants myself. I have no one to blame.
Hm, it is comfortable, but the moment I raise an arm, won't the underside of my chest show?
"I do like this one, but add a drawstring to the hem of the top. A little cinch would make it better."
"Oh? A strategy to make the chest appear even fuller?"
"Haah... no... the moment I lift my arms, the whole undergarment will be on display!"
"Ahh!"
Hm? And this skirt has simple embroidery along the hem, with a long vertical pattern running down the length?
"This one! This skirt is pretty. I'll wear it."
"Oh my~ that's the very latest fashion! What a discerning eye you have!"
Ah. So it's trendy on the streets too?
Hm? The shoes are still leather, I see. Though they've hammered metal studs into the soles now?
Just how much iron do we have lying around?
"Say, do all shoes these days come with metal like this?"
"Oh? Yes. They slip otherwise, so many people get them studded."
"Is iron that plentiful?"
"Hmm, I honestly wouldn't know. That's not my area."
Clack, clack.
The pieces are small, so I expected them to be quiet, but they're louder than I thought.
I'll need to keep a separate pair of stealth-mission shoes on hand, or just go barefoot.
"Hm? What's this? A cord?"
"Ah, that! It's all the rage these days — you wind cords around your wrist, your ankle, your neck. Just like you, Haneul-nim."
"Me?"
What's around my neck is the last-resort single garment, you know. The kind that can't be left behind anywhere, since it's linked to my subspace. Well — in every way imaginable, whatever I do ends up becoming the fashion, doesn't it?