Knowledge is Power (4)
The lanterns in the laboratory never went out, not for 24 hours a day.
"Ughhh... My lord... please..."
Serina slumped over the desk, letting out a zombie-like groan. Dark circles hung under her eyes all the way down to her chin.
"Chemical formula... molecular structure... nitroglycerin..."
Even her sleep-talking was laced with chemical terms. Grody, sitting beside her, wasn't in much better shape.
"The rifling's all mangled... gotta re-cut it..."
He swiped at the empty air, miming turning an invisible lathe.
"Hang in there. The harder you two work, the more our territory advances."
I gave their shoulders a couple of reassuring pats.
"Demon... you're a real demon..."
"Just kill me already... why'd I have to meet you of all people...?"
"Finish the generator, and I'll probably let you rest?"
Grinning with satisfaction, I brewed them each a strong cup of coffee and left the lab.
Right next door was the second laboratory, home to ten apprentice researchers learning under Grody and Serina.
Normally, if the masters had turned into zombies, the apprentices would be slacking off too. But...
"Hey! Move! That's not it!"
"No, mixing them is right!"
"Bullshit! The durability's trash!"
Shouts and arguments echoed all the way down the hall.
I peeked through the slightly ajar door at the chaos inside. The workbenches were littered with bottles of every liquid imaginable: vinegar, saltwater, garlic juice, even water steeped from poisonous herbs.
Apprentice researcher Beric peered into a Leeuwenhoek microscope with bloodshot eyes.
"Damn it, these things won't die?"
Beric ruffled his hair in frustration.
"What about saltwater?"
His colleague flipped through the logbook and asked.
"They shriveled up, but only for a bit. Pour water back on, and some twitch back to life. Persistent bastards."
"Vinegar?"
"Kills 'em... but too slow. Look, a few are still swimming. Pour that on a wound, and the patient'll die from the sting before the germs do."
Beric sighed and wiped the sample from under the lens. They'd succeeded in confirming the existence of the microorganisms I'd introduced. But they were stuck in place for days now, unable to find an effective way to kill the tiny monsters.
"Argh, my head. Isn't there something reliable? Something that melts them on contact."
"Sulfuric acid?"
"Dude, that'd melt a person's arm. You trying to make a torture tool, not medicine?"
Beric waved his hand irritably and grabbed a bottle of clear liquid left for cleaning tools. It was high-concentration ethanol he'd distilled during chemistry class.
"Screw it, I dunno. Use this to clean the lens and head home."
In a fit of pique, Beric sucked up a pipette full of alcohol. His hand slipped, and a drop fell onto the unprepared sample.
"Ah, crap! What a waste of sample!"
Grimacing, Beric absentmindedly peered into the microscope. His hand froze in mid-air as he reached to clean the lens.
"...Huh?"
"What? Lens broke?"
"No, shut up and look."
Beric pressed his eye to the lens, holding his breath. The little monsters that had been wriggling wildly moments ago had frozen solid the instant the alcohol droplet touched them. Their cell walls burst, turning them completely white and lifeless.
"Guys... check this out."
"What?"
"They're all dead. Total wipeout on contact!"
"What? That alcohol?"
His colleagues crowded around the microscope.
"Holy shit... for real? No movement at all."
"Worlds apart from saltwater or vinegar. Instant death on touch."
Beric's eyes sparkled with excitement.
"This is it... For wounds you can't boil, just pour this strong booze on 'em!"
"But dude, you drink this and get wasted. Safe for wounds?"
"Better than poison herbs! At least it won't melt flesh like sulfuric acid! Sting? Grit your teeth and bear it!"
Without any answers or hints from me, they'd pieced it together themselves through countless failures, frustrations, and a lucky accident. Great scientific discoveries often start with "Huh, why's it doing that?" weren't they? These guys were prying open the door to modern medicine with their own hands.
The workbench on the opposite side was even noisier. Clang! Clang! The sound of hammering metal never stopped.
"Argh, damn it! Crumpled again!"
One apprentice hurled a dented tin can to the floor. It looked like someone had squeezed it in a fist—the sides were grotesquely crumpled inward.
"Thin steel plate can't handle the sterilization cooling! Vacuum forms inside as it cools and crushes it!"
"So make the plate thicker?"
"Too heavy—soldiers can't lug these around! Can't stuff rocks in their packs."
Their dilemma was clear. When a hot sterilized can cooled, the steam inside condensed, creating a vacuum. The external atmospheric pressure crushed the thin can inward. Thicken the steel to resist? Weight and cost became impossible.
While Grody was dying next door, his apprentices wrestled with this engineering puzzle.
Then, one apprentice idly glanced at an accordion in the corner.
"Wait a sec."
He alternated looks between the crumpled can and the bellows' wrinkled leather.
"Look at that. Accordion bellows are thin leather but don't crumple when sucking air."
"Yeah... 'cause of the folds."
"That's it!"
The apprentice's eyes lit up as he rushed to the workbench.
"Flat steel bends under pressure. But add corrugations, and they distribute the force!"
He began hammering ridges into the plain cylindrical can's body.
"Like banding the body with corrugated rings..."
They tested the corrugated can by boiling then ice-water cooling repeatedly.
A moment later—ting! A faint metallic ring, but the can held firm. Despite the intense internal vacuum, the ridges bore the strain, preserving the shape.
"It held! Same thin plate, but vacuum-proof!"
"Insane... genius? Now we can make tough cans from thin steel!"
"And check this—opening the lid's a pain. Perfect for slicing your hand with a knife."
Another apprentice chimed in.
"Pre-score the lid rim deep. Attach a little key to roll it off..."
"Oh... tears open like paper? Even weaklings could do it!"
I stifled a chuckle listening in. Core modern canning tech, born from rural blacksmith brains.
Grodi raised one hell of a disciple. Or is it the student surpassing the master?
"...Hold up."
One apprentice, admiring the corrugated can, tilted his head.
"Guys, this thing's tougher than it looks? Won't dent if I step on it."
"Right? Insane strength."
"So... inversely, could it contain internal bursting pressure too?"
His words halted their hands. The engineers' eyes gleamed dangerously.
"What're you thinking?"
"Honestly, filling this fine steel tube with just meat broth feels... wasteful, no?"
He glanced around, grabbing scraps of explosives, stray nails, and screws from the corner.
"Pack it with gunpowder... fill gaps with these metal bits?"
"You're insane—that's a bomb!"
"Not just any bomb. Dynamite just goes boom, but this..."
He poured nails and screws into an empty can, grinning.
"When it bursts, the shrapnel shreds everything."
His colleagues swallowed hard. Dangerous. But... we gotta make it.
"Lid it up. Fuse in the hole."
"Time the fuse burn! Blows up in our hands, we're toast!"
They cackled, assembling their deadly toy. Tech for food preservation twisted into lethal weaponry in seconds.
Creeping got weird, so I flung the door open and burst in.
"Not bad, all of you."
"M-my lord!"
The heated debaters jumped to their feet. Faces smeared with grease and soot, but their eyes burned bright. Gone were the dull gazes of former serfs or rote apprentices. These were the eyes of those who'd tasted knowledge. Explorers reveling in unraveling the world's secrets.
I inspected their handiwork on the benches: alcohol-sterilized samples, improved cans with openers, and the half-hidden tin grenade.
"Doing all this without my orders, huh."
Beric shuffled nervously.
"S-sorry. Wasted materials on useless stuff..."
"Waste?"
I clapped his shoulder.
"That's research. Excellent results. Alcohol disinfection—spot on."
"R-really? Thank you!"
"You too. Corrugated cans and opener? Refine the blueprints and send to the factory now. And..."
I nodded at the nail-packed tin in the corner.
"That dangerous toy? Bring it to my office when you have time. I'll test its punch."
"M-my lord...!"
"Woooah!"
The lab erupted in cheers that shook the walls. Eisengrad was no longer a cart I pulled alone on a rope. Even if I paused, these guys would rev the engine and roll the wheels themselves.