Today I looked at a giant picture of my own eye and it was scary

I went to the optometrist's office today to get a floater in my eye checked out. During the process, I had to look at a close-up picture of the inside of my own eye. 

I can never understand how surgeons and other people who work with flesh and blood do what they do. And it's even weirder when I'm the one looking at my own internal organs. Like, the three places you don't want to see close up are the inside of your ear, the inside of your nose, and the back of your eye. They all make one feel especially strange when looked upon. 

This is a peculiar feeling, and that's about all I have to say about it. 

On to one of the questions I've always had. I've done finicky work with small parts (instrument repair) and at least once per overhaul I would make a rather serious mistake. Breaking a spring, adding a dent, losing a screw. How do surgeons deal with mistakes like these? Do they just not happen because of experience? Or do surgeons just have hands that are adept enough to fix all of their mistakes before they spiral out of control? 

I could google it but I'm not certain I'll find an answer. 

Also, how do surgeons practice? I would think that operating on a live patient would be too dangerous to let a beginning surgeon do. So, how do they gain experience? Cadavers? How many cadavers does it take to make a competent surgeon?

Anyways, these are the questions that I want answered. Maybe you can find out the solution for me. 

Chewing your Intellectual Cud: my thoughts about how some people know more than others.

Almost every moment that I am not concentrated on something external, I am concentrated on something internal. Every minute or so when I am not utilizing my brain power to do something, I am thinking about a random fact, thought, or insight that needs processing in some form or another. I call this action "intellectual cud chewing."

Cows actually regurgitate half-digested food into their mouths which makes it easier to digest in their many stomachs. I liken my method of thinking and learning to this action because it's almost identical--only, in my case, I am metaphorically chewing information. 

An example: whenever I read a non-fiction book (or a thought-provoking fiction book), I pick pieces of information that I picked up raw and digest them through several days of mental cud chewing. I make connections, remind myself of big technical words, and think about what the things I learned meant in the greater context of my entire knowledge base. 

I do not have insight into the heads of anyone other than myself. What I want to know is: how many other people do this? And to what extent? Is it as widespread as I hope it is?

Sometimes, the best synthesis of ideas comes when you are slightly bored. You take little tidbits of interesting information and smash them together like you're running an idea-based particle collider. Some of my best insights have come through this method. 

See, most of the time, when I spout off some tidbit of information about a subject in conversation, I have, at some point in the past, chewed that idea. It could have been months or even years ago. I am constantly renewing the spring of ideas that I contemplate. 

It takes work to produce insight--and most of that work is a habitual mental motion that takes place almost constantly, like a background process on my PC. 

Anyways, my question is: does anyone else chew their intellectual cud? If so, how often? 

I'd like to know the answer.

The Alchemist Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Wait, if Miliapolis was watching Mythbusters and such in his realm, does that mean I can connect to the internet if I tried?

This thought ran through my head constantly during the time it took to set up production in the warehouse district. Though I still had lots of ideas left in storage that I could execute alone, there were many things that I didn’t know enough about to be able to create in this world. For example: steam engines and the Bessemer process. Those both would require years of research if I didn’t have access to my world’s knowledge.

I decided to pay a visit to the church to see if I could contact my patron. I took a day off in the late fall to do this. The trees around the city were dropping their leaves and the cold front had just arrived over the city. I was wrapped in a coat, pulled tight to keep out the chill.

I arrived at the cathedral just after the third afternoon bell. Pushing my way through the large oak doors, I found myself again in the luxurious chamber.

Fey Grimes approached me from the altar. “Child, you have returned,” he said. “What do you desire?”

“I want to contact the Lord of Darkness,” I said.

Fey Grimes looked a bit pale. “Are you aware?” he said.

“Um, I don’t think so,” I said.

Fey Grimes frowned. “The séance procedure is dangerous. Many have died trying to contact their god in this way.”

“I need to,” I said. “I’m willing to risk it.”

I need a connection to my world’s internet.

Fey Grimes nodded and turned around. “Follow me. Since you are a special case, I will be performing this ritual to you free of charge.”

I followed Fey Grimes into a small chamber at the end of an empty hallway. The chamber featured a large stone alter at its center, and books lining the shelves along the walls.

A bin of coal sat at the bottom of the altar. Fey Grimes took a piece of coal and held it out to me.

I took it. “What do you want me to do with this?” I said.

“Consume it,” said Fey Grimes.

I took the coal and popped it into my mouth.

Whup.

I stood before Miliapolis, God of Darkness. The transition was quick enough to give me mental whiplash.

Miliapolis was playing Super Mario 64 on an N64. He paused the game and turned to me.

“You want to be able to connect to the internet, right?” he said.

I nodded. “As expected of a god. I don’t even have to tell you.”

Meliapolis sighed. He snapped his fingers and a non-branded smartphone popped into my hands. “It’s about time I rewarded you for your hard work, anyways,” he said. “You’ll be on Read Only. You won’t be able to access the phone for any reason other than to research.”

I turned the phone on. It appeared to be running a clone of Android.

“What about the battery?” I asked.

“It’s powered by your own latent energy,” said Meliapolis. He picked his teeth with a toothpick. “Don’t worry about how it works.” He flicked the toothpick away and returned to his game.

A sound like the ripping of plastic played. I popped back into existence in front of Fey Grimes. I held the same smartphone in my hands.

Fey Grimes seemed to jump out of his shoes. “Oh, oh my,” he said. He shivered. “I was not expecting such a strong backlash.”

I turned away. “I got what I came here for,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Of course, of course,” said Fey Grimes. His eyes turned to what I was holding. “You were granted an artifact?”

“Um, yeah, if you want to call it that,” I said. I put the phone in my pocket. “I get to keep it, right?”

Fey Grimes looked a bit scared. “I’ve never seen it happen before,” he said. “I suppose you get to keep it. Do you know what it does?”

“It’s an information transference device,” I said. “Is there anything else I need to take care of?”

“That’s it,” said Fey Grimes. “That’s everything. Please take care and put in a word with the Lord of Darkness for us.”

I nodded. “I’ll do as much as possible,” I said.

If they knew the Lord of Darkness was the kind of person to play video games and watch Netflix, what would they think?

I chuckled to myself as I left the cathedral. It was time to return to work.

During the week after the demonstration, we had fitted out a warehouse next to the city wall with assembly lines and production facilities. We put up a notice on the city billboard asking for workers. Anyone could join, no matter their qualifications. It was menial factory labor, after all.

We had about two hundred applicants, and we only needed seventy. It took some effort to slim the number down, and it felt bad, but I had to do what I took to run an efficient company.

Next we needed engineers and managers and HR reps.

I hired three engineers from the Royal Society directly, even though Moray had connections all throughout. We needed some smart minds to dedicate towards making my company work. I also hired two merchants to work with middle management, including support staff for each. I also put Rachel in charge of Human Resources and contract management.

The company was set to run without me. I could now perform my favorite job—putting new ideas into practice.

Two weeks after the demonstration, we received a huge order for painkillers of the type that I had given the red-haired official. With the amount they were ordering an entire war effort could be supported.

They’re going to freak when they see penicillin, I thought.

Operation “Lightning rod” was a success. Normally, about once every two months a building would burn down due to lightning. Once rods were installed, that went down to zero.

Though we would have to wait years for the effects to really show themselves.

My next project was to create a working steam engine. A parallel project was to create abundant steel by making the Bessemer process widespread.

I studied up on the process for a week using my smartphone and then gave a presentation to the engineering division of the Royal Society. Within two weeks a new metalworks was up and running. It took some ironing out of difficulties, and a lot of smart people, but eventually the price of steel was slashed in half.

I could, of course, just create steel with my alchemy power, but I didn’t want to create a supply chain that relied on one lynchpin—that being myself.

Speaking of which, the oil and plastic production was another industry that I had to, in this case, create from scratch. I looked up the easiest way to extract oil from oil fields using the tech I had and sold the design to a firm of merchants. They bought the oil field outside the city from me and set up two rigs, each of which produced about a hundred barrels a day. Not much by the standards of my world, but it was a start.

The actual conversion from oil to its derivatives was performed by chemister mages. Cracking oil with technology was a little bit too complicated to manage with this world’s tech. Thankfully, even a weak chemister mage could crack oil at a reasonable pace and turn it into plastic.

In what felt like no time, the Guardians’ incursion was ready to start. Our soldiers were equipped with Fiber Steel armor and had one musket per five soldiers. We also brough with us thirty cannons.

The demon king’s influence could be seen from the walls of Brownfield. The entire atmosphere to the east was consumed by clouds of darkness.

If the evidence of the demon king is so obvious, why does no one care? I asked myself, many times.

On a day close to winter, when the chill was biting through my cloak, Claude gathered the incursion forces outside the walls of Brownfield. Even though I knew the number was paltry compared to the forces of the demon king, it still looked impressive. And a bit stupid. The fiber steel had been colored bright red with blue lacing.

Since this wasn’t a battle where camouflage mattered, I was okay with this cacophonous color scheme. It reminded me a bit of the movies of the American Revolutionary War.

The army set off at Claude’s signal. We marched, in a column half a kilometer long, down the road straight towards the Demon King’s domain.

We met our first adversaries about ten kilometers out from the city.

A forward raiding party had devastated a small village. Our army surrounded it and smoked them out—only about a hundred orcs and one mountain troll.

Blood flowed, mostly from monsters. The clash of battle was epic even at this scale. My fiber steel armor did its job admirably. Each crack of a musket reminded me of how hard I had worked for this.

The orcs were massacred in under half an hour. It was too late for the villagers. We searched the whole town and found five people who had managed to hide somewhere and stay alive.

The rest of the people were buried in graves not far from the village border. The orcs were burned in a pile that sent a plume of horrible smoke into the sky.

Claude personally buried a man whom she had known for years. Her face did not show any hint of emotion, but I could tell that she was roiling inside. She knelt beside his grave for a long time, as the rest of the army secured the surrounding area.

Itrim put his hand on Claude’s shoulder. “Commander,” he said. “You’re needed.”

Claude stood up. “As always.” She turned away from the grave.

I climbed onto a rooftop and watched the army from above. The clouds were minimal, floating past with the breeze, which was cold enough to force me to wrap my cloak tighter.

Blasé climbed up to the rooftop and approached me.

“Thanks to you, casualties were minimal,” she said. She sat down next to me. “But that probably won’t console Claude.”

“Who was the person she lost?” I asked.

Blasé shook her head. “Just a longtime friend,” she said. “You can ask Claude if you want to know more.”

“I don’t think I’ll be comfortable doing that,” I said.

Blasé shrugged. “I probably wouldn’t be either.” She picked up a small roof nail and spun it around her fingers. “We’re going to encounter a lot of death on this trail,” she said. “You have to be prepared.”

“Most people aren’t familiar with this kind of death in my world,” I said. “My world is very peaceful.”

“Then you’re one of the lucky ones,” said Blasé. “This kind of tragedy happens in any world, regardless of their technological development.”

“I guess, yeah,” I said. I supported my chin with my hands. “If I can make it just a little bit better,” I said, “I’ll believe that I came here for a reason.”

“You have made it better,” said Blasé. “The soldiers are all raving about how amazing your armor is, not to mention the cannons and muskets.”

“I don’t feel that way,” I said. “I’m just facilitating more conflict.”

Blasé seemed to think for a minute. “Think of it this way,” she said. “The conflict was already going to happen. As harsh as this may sound, people were going to die anyways. And while your gunpowder weapons have probably killed thousands by now, your armor has saved tens of thousands.”

“I don’t think it comes down to numbers,” I said. “It’s just the feeling I have. I want this world to experience the technology that was common in my world. Antibiotics, painkillers, and trashy romance novels.”

“You’ll get there,” said Blasé. “But first you have to establish yourself. Then you’ll get the resources you need to make this world a better place.”

“Thanks, Blasé,” I said. “I’ll remember that.”

And so the incursion continued.

The Alchemist Chapter 17

Chapter 17

We were down to the wire. The first afternoon bell chime had rung almost an hour ago, and we had yet to perfect the musket’s construction. One positive of my alchemy power was my ability to rapidly prototype, but even with that we were running close.

We finished just as the second bell rang and dragged our cannon out to the street, where a team of two horses was waiting to transport it.

We rode on a cart behind the cannon, following it to the parade ground. A number of high-ranking army officials were waiting in a line at the parade ground’s edge. The one who looked the most important stepped forward.

“We will now proceed to view the demonstration by the Shop of Wonders,” said the official.

We uncovered the cannon. The officials began murmuring amongst themselves. It felt as if electricity were hanging in the air.

Note to self: persuade people to install lightning rods.

After loading the cannon, I stood bedside it with a lit torch. “This is going to be loud!” I said.

I lit the fuse. The time spent waiting for it to burn felt like an eternity.

The cannon went off with a ferocious boom. Acrid smoke filled the air. The wall on the other side of the parade ground exploded into shrapnel.

“Oops,” I said. “We should have set up a better target.”

“Well, we certainly impressed them,” said Moray.

The officials, to a man, were stunned speechless. Of course they would be. They just witnessed a technology with the power to totally overhaul the traditional method of warfare. I had no doubt, either, that I would be showing them machine guns in ten years time.

Next, we uncovered the musket.

“Please pay attention,” said Moray, as he handed me the musket.

I loaded it with our gunpowder and inserted a bullet. I aimed at an archery target.

The musket cracked and a hole appeared in the target. Almost perfect—a stroke of luck.

The officials were stunned silent, not even speaking amongst themselves.

The highest ranking official stepped forwards. “Please,” he said, “Tell me where you learned the principles behind the construction of these devices.”

I shook my head. “That’s a secret, and the Crown has backed its secrecy.”

The official looked distraught.

“If you want to know, go talk to the bureau of information.”

The official wiped sweat off of his head. “How many of these can you make in a month?”

I looked at Rachel. “Fifty?” I said. “Maybe sixty?”

Rachel nodded. “If we hire enough help, yes,” she said.

The official bowed. “Then we shall make that request of you.”

“I have an order to fulfill for the Guardians and their incursion first,” I said. “So your order will have to wait.”

The official wrung his hands. “We need weapons like this now.”

“Rachel?” I said.

“Right,” said Rachel. “I’ll get to negotiating.” She grabbed the official by the shoulder and brought him into a building bedside the parade ground. The other officials stood silently.

I glanced at Moray. He appeared to be satisfied, and his lips were curled up a bit.

“I never thought we’d get to this point,” he said. “Your crazy ideas never end.”

The officials lining the parade ground seemed to come to an agreement and approached the cannon and musket.

“Do you mind if we try to use these weapons?” said an official with bright red hair.

“I’ll show you how,” I said. I set up the cannon with powder, fuse, and ball, and then gave the tar torch to the official.

The official aimed the cannon, lit the fuse, and demolished a field of straw dummies. Pieces of hay fluttered down around us.

Another official picked up the musket after Moray had loaded and primed it. The official fired the musket and, in his surprise at the loud noise, dropped it on his foot. He began cursing and hopping around on one leg. Blood trickled out of his shoe.

Moray chuckled. “These people still have a lot to learn.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” I said, pointing to the official’s foot.

“Not unless it gets infected,” said Moray. “Besides, these are hardened warriors. A little scrape won’t hurt them.”

“Okay …” I said. After we finish the cannon order, I thought, I need to start culturing penicillin. For myself as well as everyone.

“Are you okay?” I asked, to the official who had hurt his foot.

“I’m fine,” he said, still cringing a bit.

Painkillers too, I said. I paused. “Do you know where I can find some poppy flowers?”

Moray pointed to a small patch of grass next to the parade ground. “They’re everywhere,” he said.

Well, that was convenient, I thought. I went over and picked a couple of poppies. I was looking for opiates.

I had not tried messing with organic chemistry yet. Somehow, I knew exactly which compound to extract from the flower to produce painkillers. It was the one that felt a bit fuzzy when mixed up with the hundreds of other compounds inside the flower.

I extracted about a gram of opiate material and went over to the officer.

“Here, eat this,” I said. I handed him the pill-like ball of opiate material.

The officer looked at it weird. “That’s poppy milk, ay?”

“Just take it,” I said.

The officer took it and ate it. He paused. “I feel a bit better,” he said.

“That’s the placebo effect,” I said. “The actual painkilling effect will kick in in half an hour.’

The officer tilted his head. “Well then. I thank ye, even if nothing truly does happen.” He saluted, and then limped over to where the other officers were examining the cannon.

“One thing about cannons,” said Moray, “Is that they’re heavy.”

“We still managed to drag it through town with just the two of us,” I said. That’s how we had transported it after firing in the middle of the night. It had been tough, but we made it.

“Sure,” said Moray. “But your alchemy power extends to more than just manipulation.”

Truly, I didn’t understand the depths of my own power. I hadn’t really thought about digging deep to see what my limits were. I was too busy working on cool inventions.

Rachel emerged from the parade ground building with a grin on her face.

“We have two months to produce seventy cannon and two hundred muskets,” she said.

“I think we can manage that,” I said. “We’ll have to fulfill Claude’s order first, though.”

Rachel nodded. “We’ll hire more people.”

I turned to Moray. “Do you think you can help us with the production process?” I said. “I could use someone smart to help implement a certain kind of manufacturing.”

“Manufacturing?” said Moray. “Do tell me.”

“I’ll explain on the way back,” I said.

As we rode back to the shop in a carriage, I explained the details of the assembly line and factory production to Moray.

“If what I’m imagining is correct,” said Moray, “This will greatly increase the speed at which we can create things.”

“It’s called the assembly line,” I said. “Trust me, it works. You can make things very cheaply.” I turned to Rachel, who was also in the carriage. “Can you secure us a large warehouse in the city?”

“Of course,” said Rachel. “The recent recession has opened up a lot of space in the warehouse district.”

“We’re going to have to do a lot of work,” I said, to Rachel and Moray. “First off, we have to design our products using easily built interchangeable parts. Then we have to build an actual assembly line.” I pointed to Moray. “Do you think you can put together an interchangeable part recipe for muskets by next week?”

“Of course,” said Moray. “I’ll draw on the help of the entire Royal Society for this.”

I turned to Rachel. “Do you think you can take care of the printing business while we’re working on this order?”

“My schedule isn’t completely full yet,” she said. “So I’ll offer whatever help I can. But yes. I can handle it.”

Our carriage came to a stop right outside my shop. I dismounted, along with Moray and Rachel, and we entered.

Rachel grabbed her telepathic communications device and started calling various owners of warehouses. I stood with Moray around a table explaining the intricacies of the assembly line that I hadn’t covered in the cart.

“So you’re saying that we don’t have to train each individual worker on the whole set?” said Moray.

“Exactly,” I said. “This eliminates the need for skilled craftsman. Anyone can work on an assembly line, no matter how stupid or uneducated.”

“Children would be perfect for—”

I slammed my fist on the table. “No kids. Never. Child labor is never going to happen under my watch.”

Moray looked a bit confused, and then nodded sagely. “I respect that. I apologize for making the suggestion.”

“While we’re at this,” I said, “I have two things to work on as side projects.”

“Explain,” said Moray.

“Lightning rods and antibiotics,” I said. “Have you ever seen someone die of an infection? Or how about a house burn down due to a lightning strike?”

“Both,” said Moray. “The gods punish those who build too high.”

“I’m going to have to teach you about what lightning is, exactly, but trust me on this one.” I began sketching. “Lightning strikes the tallest object in its range. Thus, if you add a rod about the height of a man that runs from the roof to thee ground, the lightning will strike the rod and be channeled into the ground.”

“Will it work?” said Moray. “It feels a bit flimsy as a solution to this problem.”

“Do it,” I said. “Get lightning rods installed on all buildings above two stories tall.” I then picked up a small glass petri dish I had created before on a whim. “Next. Penicillin.”

“Peni … What?” said Moray.

“Antibiotics,” I said. “There are ways to kill the tiny germs that cause some diseases with purified fungal extract.”

“I have an extensive knowledge of fungi, but I do not know of any fungus that can cure an infection.”

“Bread mold,” I said. “When you culture it in a petri dish, it produces a compound called penicillin. We can refine that into basic antibiotics.” I took the petri dish and added a reduction of gelatin in it, as well as some moldy bread I had lying around. I placed the dish on a counter.

“I’ll show you exactly how powerful antibiotics can be,” I said. “If we produce it this way, a normal chemister can extract the substance.”

Moray picked up the petri dish. “This?” he said.

“That,” I said.

Moray put the dish back down.

“Okay,” I said, taking another piece of paper. “This is how our factory is going to be laid out. We’ll have casting facilities here, machining facilities here, and a main assembly line here.”

“How many people do we need to hire?” Moray said.

“You do the calculations,” I said. “We’re also going to have to start thinking of overhead. Managers, human resources, accountants.”

“Human … What?” said Moray.

“Human resources. They’re the people who deal with our employees.”

Moray rubbed his temples. “This is all a bit to take in,” he said.

“Oh, there more,” I said. “Much more.”

The Alchemist Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I landed with Hypo next to my shop. Rachel was standing at the door, shieling her face from the sun.

“You’re back!” he said.

“Can you go grab Moray, from the Royal Society?” I said.

“Sure, but why?” said Rachel. “I thought you were gone on the incursion.”

“I promised that I would put together a cannon by the time they marched,” I said.

“Cannon?” said Rachel. “Wait, never mind. All your ideas are good. Just tell me what to do.” She paused. “I’ll go grab Moray.” She turned and began jogging down the street.

I leapt off Hypo and entered the shop. In the months in which I had been working on the fiber steel armor, I had collected a large amount of raw materials in a chamber underneath the shop.

I grabbed iron and cast it into the form of a cannon. It wasn’t the actual cannon that mattered; that was easy. What was hard would be the gunpowder. I knew it was comprised of sulfur and saltpeter, but its exact composition was a mystery to me. This is why I needed Moray’s help.

By the time Moray made it to the shop with Rachel, I had the physical cannon made. Now it was time to do research about gunpowder.

“So, do you understand what the point of this machine is?” I said, pointing to the cannon.

“I can’t fathom it,” said Moray. “It’s a tube made of cast iron. Are you going to ram things with it?”

“Remember what I told you about the first law of motion?” I said.

“All forces have an equal and opposite reaction …” Moray seemed to be clicking his mind cogs. “Ah, I see. If enough force is applied to a projectile, it will fly out at extreme speeds.” His eyebrows went up. “This is a catapult.”

“No,” I said. “A cannon.”

“But …” said Moray. “How are you going to generate enough force to throw the projectile?”

“Have you ever seen anything explode?” I asked.

“Explode …” said Moray. “I’m not familiar with that word. Not in the way you’re using it.”

Hm, I thought. I guess people living in a medieval world haven’t seen an explosion before.

“Oh, man,” I said. “You’re in for a treat. This is all about chemistry! Do you remember what I talked about with exothermic reactions?”

“A reaction that produces heat …” Moray grinned. “You’re telling me that there are reactions fast enough to produce enough heat and energy to propel an iron ball?”

“Yep,” I said. “And I know its components. Saltpeter and sulfur. Further than that, we’re just going to have to experiment.”

“We could use magic,” said Moray.

“The amount of energy required to propel a projectile like this would probably drain all the energy from a normal mage’s body,” I said. “Remember what I told you about conservation of energy?”

“I do,” said Moray. “If a small object goes fast, it has as much energy as a large object going slow.” He paused. “I see. In order to propel an iron ball at speeds required to break down castle walls, you would need more energy than is inside the human body.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Get me some saltpeter and sulfur. We’re going to figure this out.” I paused. “The substance is called ‘gunpowder.’”

“A substance that explodes, propelling a projectile,” said Moray. “Brilliant.”

“I didn’t figure that out,” I said. “It’s ancient technology in my world.”

Moray chuckled. “I love learning about your world.” He made a motion, hitting his fist into his palm. “I can get any chemicals you need from the chemisters’ guild.”

“Do that,” I said. “I don’t know if I can find the ingredients on my own using my power. It’s too complex.”

Moray left the shop. Rachel leaned against the wall. “On another adventure, are we?” she said. Her lips were curled slightly up.

“I hope to continue working with you,” I said.

“Of course,” said Rachel. “This is where all the money is.” She grinned. “You know I’m only in it for the cash.”

I nodded. “Of course you are.”

I had taught her how to fist bump before. We bumped fists.

This was my chance to change the world in ways that I hadn’t before. I wasn’t ready to make the printing press technology public. But introducing cannons hundreds of years before they would be invented naturally would change the landscape of combat in ways I probably couldn’t foresee.

“We’re going to have to be careful,” I said. “Military technology can be dangerous to know about.”

“It would be best to get the King on our side,” said Rachel. “Your ideas are too big to be handled by us anymore. You’re changing the world, and people will start to notice you if you continue to do it.”

“I’d rather stay back than be in the spotlight,” I said. “Can you handle this? Just present this technology but don’t mention me.”

“I know your tendencies,” said Rachel. “And I’ll do as you ask. I’ll negotiate with the Crown while you figure out how the cannon will work with the Royal Society.” She clapped her hands together. “Let’s get started.”

It took ten minutes for Moray to return with Canary and Jones. “I’ve talked with the chemisters’ guild,” said Moray. “They’re going to deliver a number of different chemicals tonight.”

Rachel stood up from where she had been working on the cannon’s chassis. “I’ll be going now,” she said. “I’ll be back by tomorrow. Hopefully, at that point, we’ll have the protection of the crown.”

Moray knelt beside the cannon. “I now know what you’re making,” he said. “Will you accept my help?”

“Of course,” I said.

“I’ll drop all my current projects,” said Moray. “This fascinates me like nothing has in a long time.”

“We did make a golem together,” I said. “Let’s get to it.” I took several pouches of chemicals and spread them out on a wooden table.

“Saltpeter,” I said. “Nitrogen. Phosphorus.” I mixed the three together, and then lit it with a flint and steel.

There was a puff, a spark, and I was blinded for a moment. The room smelled like gunpowder.

“That was easy,” I said. “But I don’t think it’s enough.”

Moray measured out another batch of chemicals. “Try this.”

We spent the rest of the night trying out different combinations of flammable chemicals to see what would create the biggest spark. By the time morning came around we weren’t any closer to figuring out gunpowder. Sure, we had stuff that burned quickly, but nothing powerful enough to propel a cannonball.

Moray consulted with some of his chemister friends, and by the second night we had a working prototype. We dragged the cannon to an isolated point in an empty lot near the city’s edge. We packed it with powder and a cannonball and lit the fuse.

The cannon went off with a huge Whump, demolishing an abandoned well two hundred meters away. Dogs began barking for blocks around. Windows lit up and people looked out their balconies.

“We need to get out of here!” I said. We dragged the cannon back to the shop and covered it under a blanket.

“We should have planned that better,” I said. “We’re totally getting in trouble.”

Someone knocked on the door. I opened it to reveal Rachel. She had an annoyed expression on her face.

“I knew you guys were up to no good,” she said. She sighed. “I’ve got the protection of the crown. They’ve given us use of the city’s parade ground under condition that we contract with them to produce cannons. We’re also going to receive armed guards. Our project has been elevated to the level of a military secret.”

Two soldiers in fiber steel armor were standing by the door’s outside face, holding pikes.

“Ugh,” I said. “Well, it’s better than being involved in some sort of scandal or intrigue.”

“We can’t count that out,” said Rachel. “Your exploits are being spread far and wide. We should probably hire some guards of our own.”

Moray looked between Rachel and I. “I agree with her,” he said. He knelt down beside the cannon. “But can you believe it? This thing actually works!” He tapped it with his palm. “It’s heavy, though.”

Rachel walked in a circle around the cannon. “It’s starting to look good.”

I shrugged. “There are cooler things in my world.” I paused. “Now let’s try making some muskets.”

“Let me guess,” said Moray. “Those are portable cannons that can fit in your hand?”

“Exactly,” I said. “Muskets are basic firearms that are slow to reload but effective if used in volleys.”

“And let me guess,” said Moray. “Ancient technology?”

“At least five hundred years old,” I said.

Moray nodded once. “All right. Let’s get to work.”

Rachel took out a note from her pouch. “The crown prince wants to see our weapon in action tomorrow by the second afternoon bell.”

“Well then,” said Moray. He turned to me. “Do you think this cannon is done enough to demonstrate?”

“I do,” I said.

“And if it fails?” said Rachel.

“It won’t,” I said. “We can afford to work on building a musket in the meantime.”

Moray, Rachel and I doubled down on the work. We fine-tuned the cannon, and then began work on a reliable musket. It was dangerous work, and halfway through I convinced everyone to start wearing eye protection.

Just in time to see a prototype musket explode during testing.

Moray took a shard of metal out of his eyeglasses and examined it. “Damn,” he said. “I get why you wanted us to wear these now.”

Rachel chuckled. “Markus knows more than we can ever understand,” she said. She took a piece of shrapnel out of her shoulder. “Ouch,” she said.

“Is it deep?” I asked.

“No, it’s fine,” said Rachel.

“About me knowing stuff,” I said. “Do you really believe that I know that much?”

Rachel shook her head. “Don’t kid yourself. I know you don’t believe you’re special, but you’ve changed this world in ways we couldn’t have imagined. Just take credit for it and move on.”

“Um, thanks,” I said.

“You are a little bit dense,” said Moray, knocking me on the head.

“Ow,” I said, rubbing my scalp.

We spent the rest of the night, into the morning, perfecting the first musket prototype. We also figured out a way to mix chemicals in a manner that a simple magician could repeat. Since we had a bit of time before the second afternoon bell, I decided to take a nap.

As soon as my eyes closed, a breath of warm air brought me back to the chamber where the god of darkness resided. He was sitting in a corner, watching TV on a 2000’s style set. He spoke without looking at me.

“I do enjoy Mythbusters,” he said, his eyes glued to the TV. “Your world is so charming. All this technology and yet the amount of misery is still the same.”

“Have you played any video games?” I asked.

“Halo, Borderlands, and of course Grand Theft Auto,” said Miliapolis. He still kept his eyes on the TV.

“I thought there was a chasm between my world and this one,” I said.

Miliapolis shrugged. He turned to look at me for the first time. “It’s time that you leveled up your game,” he said. “You have been affecting things on a local level for the past two months. Now you will affect things on a much larger scale. Prepare yourself.” He cracked open a pack of Doritos and ate one. “Mph, these are good,” he said. Then he put the bag down. “Many powerful eyes will turn your way. Just make certain that you don’t fall prey to those that hunt you.” He snapped his fingers. “Toolio.”

I woke up in my bed, sweating, breathing heavy.

Oh my, I thought. This is going to get difficult.

The Alchemist Chapter 15

Chapter 15

“So the material I’m going to make is called Kevlar,” I said. “It’s a trade secret in my world, and besides I’m not educated enough to know how it works yet.”

Rachel nodded, taking notes on a piece of paper.

“So, what this material is made of are thousands of interlocking fibers, each with a tensile strength ten times that of cotton. If you make the fabric thick enough, it can stop a blade without much effort.” I paused. “But we’re going to have to figure out the specifics ourselves.”

“We have two months,” said Rachel. “If we allot one month for research and development, we can have one month to actually deliver the goods.”

“How much are we getting paid?” I asked.

“One hundred cris per suit,” said Rachel, “Totaling two hundred thousand cris.”

So, we’ve become part of the military industrial complex, I thought. Well, money is money. And we’re making armor, not weapons.

The next month would be dedicated to working out exactly how Kevlar was created.

During the month, we doubled down. Most of my day was spent prototyping. Sometimes I went fishing with Itrim, and sometimes Claude had a small order for me to fill.

Every Thunksday, I gave an hour long lecture at the Royal Society, usually about things that people in my world learned in middle and high school. The periodic table, chemistry, a little bit of trigonometry. All of it was revelatory to the members and scientists. They were all much smarter than I was and picked it up fast. I also learned the basics of magic with Moray.

And then, a little less than a month after we started the prototyping process, we had a material that was comparable to Kevlar in almost every way. Rachel hired a dozen weaver mages and a dozen earth mages to work on creating the actual product. I was still the one who had to extract the oil and make the plastic, but they could take the ingots I made and turn it into my Kevlar facsimile. I decided to call the material “fiber-steel,” a non-assuming brand name in a world that had no real brands—yet.

Then we went into production. We encountered bottlenecks and problems, all of which went into the process of running a business on a tight schedule.

The day came when it was time for the royal army to pick up the armor. The last two months had passed in a blur.

A high-ranking officer entered the shop. Rachel greeted him.

“Sir Rawley,” she said. “Your order of armor is complete.” She showed him into the back room where we were storing the armor.

When Sri Rawley saw the armor, he looked both surprised and disappointed.

“This is but fabric!” he said, picking up a chest plate. “I know this plastic material is light, but this is too light! I do not see how this could protect my soldiers in the field!”

Rachel took a breastplate and put it on, pulling it over her head. She pointed to Sir Rawley’s sword.

“Stab me,” she said.

“But,” said Sir Rawley.

“Do it,” said Rachel.

Sir Rawley took out his sword, reluctantly, and then stabbed Rachel in the chest. Rachel let out a breath of air.

“Oof!” she said.

Sir Rawley withdrew his sword. “I am truly sorry, my lady …” He paused, looking at the shining clean blade of his sword. “What in the name of …” He looked at Rachel. “There’s no blood!”

“The weapon didn’t go through,” said Rachel. She took off the breastplate and showed it to Sir Rawley. “See?” she said. “No hole.”

“Wonder of wonders!” said Sir Rawley. “Yes, these will give our crusading troops an enormous advantage in combat!” He paused. “We’ll take them all. Your payment will be transferred to you through the royal bank.” He turned away, and then turned back. “I would like to take one of these with me for my personal use.”

“Go ahead,” said Rachel. She led Sir Rawley into the back room for fitting.

I sat down on a crate, grinning. The previous two months’ work had been fruitful. Now a bunch of medieval crusaders were going to go into combat with Kevlar armor. Such an anachronism!

But it was all towards my main goal: video games. Since I had at least several hundred years to work with, and since I had connections with a lot of smart and talented people, I knew that I could do this.

With the purchase of the two thousand suits of armor, I was now a rich man. I could invest in many things.

I decided my next goal was to scale up production of the printing press. We needed an outlet for the production—newspapers and dime novels.

For that, we needed to create an education program that would teach people to read.

With my fortune, I knew what I would do. I would create a free school to teach people how to read. The next step in my inexorable march towards video games.

I approached Rachel with my idea.

“You’re not a noble,” she said, frowning. “So your influence is limited. Money isn’t the only thing.”

“Can I, like, buy a noble title?” I asked.

Rachel tilted her head. “Buy?” she said.

Ah, I got it. I was too used to the social mobility allowed by my world’s governmental system. This world was still feudal.

So I had to figure out how to negotiate to open a school. Then I could get people hooked on dime novels and newspapers.

A day later Claude came by and ruined any plans I had for opening a school for the foreseeable future.

“The Guardians are on the move,” she said. “Our incursion is beginning. The Demon King has been active and we can’t wait any longer.”

“Do you really need me?” I asked.

“Your powers are critical to our strategy,” said Claude. “Just having someone who can manipulate the elements will save countless lives on the battlefield.”

“What happened to the two thousand pieces of fiber steel I sent to the Royal Army?” I asked.

“They’ve all been shipped to Tucan,” said Claude. “That’s where the sixth crusade is going on.”

“I have ten suits left,” I said. “We’ll add that to our incursion arsenal.” I turned to Rachel, who was also in the room. “Can you take care of the shop while I’m gone?”

Rachel saluted. “Of course,” she said.

“Use the payment from the royal army to upgrade and create more printing presses. I’m trusting you. Also, you can sell as much fiber steel armor as you want.”

Rachel smiled, nodding. “Of course.”

I turned to Claude. “Did you bring Hypo?” I said.

“I did,” said Claude. She turned around. “I’ll send Tanna over here to pick up the extra equipment as soon as possible.”

We left the building, climbed onto the waiting Hypo, and took off.

After leaving the city limits, Claude turned to me. “I hear you’ve become a rich man!” she said.

“I have!” I said. “How has the starsilver mine worked since I last asked?”

“As always, we’re making a lot of money,” said Claude. “Boomstack is growing rapidly.”

Boomstack was the name for the boom town that had built up around the starsilver lode. It was a half and half mixture of human settlers and elvish natives. Both sides had, surprisingly, managed to coexist for these past few months. Though there were overflows of racial dislike, there hadn’t been any major incidents yet.

We landed at the volcano base after an hour long flight.

“Where’s the army?” I asked. I hadn’t seen head nor tail of it while flying over the landscape.

“Blasé is bringing it,” said Claude. “About two thousand people have volunteered for this mission. Clothing, feeding, and transporting them is going to be hard, but with the money we made from the starsilver lode I think we can manage.”

“How big are the armies of the Demon Lord?” I asked.

Claude was silent for a long while. “We estimate thirty thousand,” she said.

“And you’re going at him with two thousand?” I said. “Why don’t the governments of humanity band together to defeat him?”

“They’re too occupied with the holy war,” said Claude.

“Against who?” I said.

I really need to get up to speed with this place’s history, I thought.

“The Tasmanians,” said Claude. “They are followers of the sixth goddess, the one who was cast from the pentatheon.”

“Yeah, yeah, religious schisms and all that,” I said. I sighed. “Look. I think that fighting an actual evil demon lord is more important for killing people who think a bit differently than you do.”

“Tell that to the nobles and priests,” said Claude. She sighed. “I believe that too. The Demon King is a much more pertinent threat to our survival than mere heathens.”

“I was brough there to fight him,” I said. “I just remembered that. So I’m on your side all the way.” I paused. “When is the incursion happening?”

“A week from now,” said Claude.

“By then, I’ll have our army equipped with a weapon that could change the tides completely,” I said.

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” said Claude. “If you can manage to create a weapon like you’re promising, I’ll pay you whatever you ask.”

“I don’t want money,” I said. “I want connections and assistance. Take me back to the shop and I’ll have you furnished with cannons by the end of the week.”

“Okay,” said Claude. She called Hypo with a whistle.

Hypo landed next to me with a soft whump. He purred.

“I’ll be back to pick you up in eight days,” said Claude. “Go, and good luck.”

The Alchemist Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Fey Grimes inclined his head. “Every son or daughter of darkness signifies a coming storm,” he said. “Only once every two generations do we see one.”

“All I did was blow coal dust,” I said.

“Not just dust!” said Fey Grimes. “Truth. You blew truth from the five elements.”

“I don’t see how this turns me into someone important,” I said.

Fey Grimes turned away from me. “Go. We of the pentachurch cannot interfere with the mission of Meliapolis, God of Darkness. You must forge your own path to your destination.” He paused. “If you do ever need assistance, the church will provide to the best of their ability. Now go.”

“Just like that?” I said.

Fey Grimes looked a bit pale. “We cannot interfere,” he said. “Or we risk being cursed with plague and blindness.”

Was Meliapolis really that much of a bad guy? I thought.

I decided to do as the priest suggested and left the confirmation chamber. Fey Grimes followed at a distance. Moray and the other scientists were waiting for me.

“That’s the fastest confirmation I’ve ever seen,” said Moray, upon my appearance.

Fey Grimes bowed. “Take care of this young one,” he said, to Moray. “While he may be biding his time now, he will most likely change our world in many ways.”

Moray bowed back to Fey Grimes. “Thank you, Fey,” he said. “I’ll be taking care of him for a while.”

The bells rang. Our competition was in an hour. We needed to get back to the dugout.

We traveled back through the city streets until we made it to the stadium. After entering, we retrieved our golem and got it ready for battle.

Our next match was against the architect mage guild.

“These guys have been in the top four every competition for thirteen years, and have won five,” said Moray. “We’re in for a tough fight.”

The golems entered the field. The architect’s golem was a solid cube with no protrusions.

“What’s their strategy?” I said.

I knew it instantly when the thing moved. It accelerated wickedly fast, barreling towards our golem.

“It’s got a core of gold,” said Moray. “But they’ve mitigated gold’s structural deficiencies with steel plate.”

I understood. With a core of gold, the golem was probably very dense. At the speed it was traveling, it could take out our golem in one smashing hit.

Our golem dodged with an inch to spare.

“Stay close!” I said. “That will give it less space to accelerate when it comes at us!”

“On it,” said Jones. Our golem drew a circle around the cube golem. The cube golem tried to accelerate and hit us. Without enough space to gather speed, it merely pushed our golem back a couple of feet.

As the golems collided, Canary swung with the chainsaw and rent a huge gap in the cube golem’s side.

The cube golem turned to face its ramming head towards us.

“We need to immobilize it!” said Moray. “Then we can hack it to pieces with our chainsaw.”

“If we drill into its shell and get the drill embedded,” I said, “We can stick to it.”

“Roger that,” said Jones. We backed against a wall.

The cube golem sped towards us. At the last split second, we unveiled our drill and the cube golem impaled itself on it. Canary revved up the drill and we were embedded.

With our chainsaw arm we tore at the cube golem’s armor. After a shower of sparks, our golem reached the gold core.

“TKO!” said the announcer.

A “technical knockout” happened when the control core of a golem was sufficiently damaged.

We had won. I held up my hand. “High five!” I said.

Moray tilted his head. “High?” he said.

“Just slap my palm with yours!” I said.

Moray, with a tentative motion, placed his hand against mine.

“Good enough,” I said.

 Canary and Jones looked at each other in confusion. I grinned at them and shrugged.

“When’s the finals?” I asked. “And who are we against?”

“We’re against the pure magic guild,” said Moray. “Another frequent champion.”

“What makes pure magic different?” I asked.

“It doesn’t go through any one element,” said Moray. “It’s a very versatile school of magic.” He paused. “Honestly, I don’t think we’ll be able to beat them. All of the wins so far have been flukes.”

“But we tried,” I said. “And even if they were all flukes, with the rate they’re happening at, we can hope for one more.”

“That isn’t a very scientific way to view things,” said Moray.

“I know statistics too,” I said. “And this is called the Gambler’s Fallacy. But I don’t care! I’m too pumped to give up.” I grinned. “And we have a bet to win.”

“Thanks,” said Moray. He turned to Canary and Jones. “We have half a bell chime,” he said. “Let’s retrieve the golem and fix what we can.”

We pulled the golem from the field and gave it the basic maintenance needed to keep it running for the championship match.

Then the finals began. Our golem was matched up against a tiny little beetle about the size of a baseball.

“Um,” I said. “Are they being serious?”

Moray looked visibly concerned. “They made it to the finals, after all,” he said. “We can’t underestimate them.”

Our golem began circling the beetle with slow, deliberate motions.

The beetle golem expanded with a frock like a peacock. A blast of wind moved like a spear and impaled our golem, sending the drill arm flying.

“It’s a concentrator!” said Moray.

The beetle’s frock retracted back into its body, and it darted backwards.

Our golem began circling the beetle again.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” I asked.

Moray shook his head.

“Concentrate, concentrate …” said Jones.

The frock popped back up and a spear, this time made of fire, shot at our golem.

It missed our leg by half an inch, leaving a searing scar.

“I think I’ve figured it out,” I said. “They’re bluffing. The concentrator takes time to recharge. Just run at them!”

“Gotcha,” said Jones. He revved up our golems walking gears and sprinted towards the beetle.

The beetle’s frock expanded one more time and fired a blast of water. Our golem lost half of its leg. Stumbling, it crashed to the ground near the beetle.

“Crawl towards them!” I yelled. “Cut the frock off!”

Our golem began to wiggle towards the beetle. The two golems entered a scrum. As the beetle tried to escape, we attempted to line up the chainsaw arm.

The chainsaw bit into the beetle’s carapace and tore off two legs.

“Finish them!” I yelled.

Our golem suplexed the beetle with a powerful motion and the bug was silent. After a couple of shudders, it broke down.

Two seconds later, our golem lost contact.

I could see the judges at the bench discussing with each other.

“Did we win?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” said Moray. “It looked close.”

“I think we made it,” said Jones. “I lost contact after the magicians, I know it.”

The judges continued to discuss. Then the announcer stood up. “The win goes to the pure magicians’ guild!”

Jones, Canary, and Moray were dumbstruck.

“We won that!” yelled Jones. “I know we did!” He stood up and looked as if he was going to rush into the field. Moray held him back.

“Calm,” said Moray.

Though, he looked as though he could calm a bit himself.

“Can we contest the ruling?” I asked.

Moray’s grip on the railing of the dugout was making his knuckles white. “We can,” he said, “But there’s never been an overturned ruling in the finals before.”

“I know we won, though,” I said. “They lost connection before we did.”

Moray took his hands off of the dugout railing and rubbed his temples. “In any other case, I would be fine having lost. But when we were that close!”

Even the crowd seemed to not be happy about the ruling. There wasn’t nearly as much commotion as after the other wins we had.

“I’m going to go to the judges and contest the loss,” I said, walking towards the exit.

Jones held me back. “Don’t,” he said. “You’ve helped us enough. I’ll be the one to contest the ruling.”

Moray and Canary nodded their heads.

If only they had replay footage that they could consult, I thought. But that was a long way away.

Jones went up to the judges, and I could see him speaking with them.

The magicians’ guild on the other side of the ring were looking smug. I wanted to punch them in their nasty faces. They lost and they knew it.

Jones came back, fuming. “They said that all decisions are final,” he said. “They can’t overturn the ruling even if they wanted to.”

The mood in the dugout was palpable. Everyone looked at me.

“Well,” said Moray, “We did the best that we could. Let’s just go home. We have a lot of things to take care of.” He seemed to be in a little bit of a better mood. “One of these days we’ll upend the whole order of things with your help, Markus.”

“I’ll try my best,” I said.

We retrieved the broken husk of our golem and brought it back to the workshop. Once there, Moray and Canary began to disassemble it.

“This plastic of yours worked wonders,” said Moray, taking out the drill arm’s PVC core. He flicked it. “We should be able to do things with this that weren’t possible before.” He sighed.

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “It couldn’t win us the game.” I paused. “So Reginald is getting the dog?”

Moray shrugged. “I suppose so, yes,” he said. “But that won’t stop me from visiting him.”

The mood in the workshop was still under the weather.

Ah, oh no, I thought. Rachel probably lost a lot of money by betting on us. I stood up. “So, is it okay if I visit my shop?” I said.

“Of course,” said Moray. “You have no reason to be here anymore. I’ll contact you sometime soon so that you can keep teaching us with your extensive knowledge.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I said. “I’m just a little bit above average compared to the people in my world.”

Moray turned the PVC core underneath the light from the window. “I don’t think any normal person would be able to create this from tar, even if you had knowledge and the magic to work it with.”

“Um, thanks,” I said. I bowed. “I’ll be back.” I left the workshop and returned to the shop.

Rachel greeted me when I walked in. “Sorry about your loss,” she said.

She didn’t appear to be that distressed. “Sorry about your bet,” I said. “We did the best we could.”

Rachel shrugged. “I hedged my bets,” she said. “So I didn’t lose as much as I could have.” She put her arms on her hips. “And we have the ability to make much, much more money than we lost. Our shop has just received an order for two thousand plastic suits of armor to outfit the royal army.”

“Wait, what?” I said. “You made armor out of plastic?”

Rachel tilted her head. “Why are you surprised?” she said. “Didn’t they use plastic like this in your world?”

“No,” I said. “It was used as a cheap, disposable material that was easy to make and light.” I paused. “Can I see one of these plastic suits of armor?”

Rachel looked a bit sheepish. “Um, that’s not exactly possible,” she said. “We don’t have a way to make anything yet.”

I sighed.

Rachel held up her hands. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said. “I banked on the fact that you had some sort of knowledge about this stuff and could pull it out of nowhere like you’ve been doing so far.”

I felt a bit better. “So you haven’t tried to do anything without me,” I said.

“We’ve tried,” said Rachel, “But we haven’t gotten anywhere.”

“Okay,” I said. “Stop trying to use injection molding to create armor.”

“Is there another method?” I said.

“Yes,” I said. “Composite fibers.”

“Fiber?” said Rachel. “How can you make armor tough enough with just fiber?”

“You’d be surprised,” I said. “They do, in fact, make armor out of plastic fibers in my world.”

Rachel looked visibly relieved. “Thank god. I thought you wouldn’t be able to come up with a solution. We have two months to deliver the materials and I was worried that wouldn’t be enough time.”

“Great,” I said. I took an ingot of plastic off the shelf. “First,” I said, “We turn this into fibers.” I manipulated the ingot to produce a long line of thin fibers, which I then rolled into a yarn-like ball.

“Then you combine them,” I said. I stitched, using my alchemy power, a fabric made of the fibers. “While I’m not exactly certain what specific chemistry the armor of my world is, I know the basics. And with two months to experiment we can make something worthy of the royal army.” I showed the fabric to Rachel.

She took it. “It’s light,” she said. “So this will stop a blade?”

“When it’s working right, yes,” I said.

Rachel took a knife and tried to cut it. The knife was stopped four times, and the fifth time it tore.

“And if we improve upon this,” said Rachel, “We can fulfill the order?”

“Exactly,” I said. “Once we get the formula down, we can hire magicians to do the menial work.”

“On it,” said Rachel. “I already have a contact at the mages’ guild.”

“That’s all we need,” I said. “Let’s get started."

The Alchemist Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The goldbug’s demise was the softness of its primary material. It was easy for our primitive chainsaw to rip through its carapace. If the goldmancers had used a more rigid material, we wouldn’t have been able to slice it in half.

Golden gears flew, scattering across the arena sand.

“And the winners are the Royal Society!” said the announcer.

On to the semifinals. Our next match was that afternoon.

Moray gave me a thumbs-up. “Your idea worked,” he said. “A good proof of concept is always a big event.”

“Do we have time to keep working on the golem?” I asked.

“No,” said Moray. “Once you’re in the semifinals, you aren’t allowed to modify your golem.”

“We have a workable strategy right now,” said Jones. “We don’t particularly need any major upgrades.”

There was a moment of silence. “Well, I’ve seen all I needed to,” said Claude, stepping away from where she had been leaning against the wall. “I’ll catch you guys in the finals.” She left the dugout.

“You’ve got some nice connections,” said Moray. He turned to the golem, which had just been retrieved from the field, knocking it on the head with his palm. “I have high hopes.” He smiled at me. “I’ll treat you guys to dinner tonight,” he said.

“Let’s go to Lotto’s!” said Canary. He got up and dusted off his pants.

“You got it,” said Moray, turning to me. “Have you ever been to Lotto’s before?”

“I just came to this town two weeks ago,” I said. “I haven’t had any time to visit places.”

“We’ll take you around town, then,” said Moray. “There are a lot of interesting things to see.” He paused. “And I’d like to hear more about your world while we’re at it.” Moray patted the golem one last time.

Jones and Canary piloted the golem into a small shed designed for that purpose and locked it up. When they were finished they joined Moray and I at the entrance to the arena.

We walked down a couple of streets and came to a run-down building with a cracked façade. A simple apple was painted above the door.

“You’re going to love this place,” said Moray. “They have the best shripe this side of the Aegean.”

Shripe, eh? I thought. This world’s cuisine fascinates me.

We entered the restaurant and sat down at a table. A waitress came and took our orders. There was no menu—but that didn’t seem to be a problem for the scientists.

“I’ll have the shripe,” I said, when it was my turn.

The waitress left.

“Tell me more about your world,” said Moray. “I know you’ve said that it’s almost magic.” He paused, scratching his chin. “Tell me about these “computer” things.”

“A computer uses something called a transistor to store information as a series of ones and zeros,” I said.

Moray rubbed his temples. “Ah, back up. What’s this transistor and how does it work?”

I explained transistors, and then the food came. The “shripe” I was promised was like a hybrid between octopus and shrimp, with a crayfish bent. The tentacles were covered in armored shell, and the meal came with little tools to extract it. As I ate, I further explained Babbage, video games, and CAD programs. Every time I mentioned something new, Moray showed more interest.

When we were finished, Moray leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Your world is a marvel,” he said. “I assume, in this world, that you were a very important person?”

“Actually,” I said, “I was not important at all. I was still a student when I was … Reincarnated here.”

“And yet you know all this information?” said Moray. “Only nobles get educated like you do!”

“Education is universal and free, for the most part,” I said. “Most people in my world would know what I do.”

Moray sighed. “All right. Well, since we have some time, let’s take a tour of the city. We can talk about this as we walk.”

We came to a large square with a fountain in the middle. The houses surrounding it were large and luxurious. Well-dressed people went back and forth, between ornate carriages.

“This is the Fountain of Vitality,” said Moray. “It provides an infinite clean source of water, and was where the founder of Brownfield laid his first brick.”

“It’s magic?” I said.

“Yes,” said Moray, “Though we don’t know how it works. The neighborhood around it has never suffered a cholera outbreak.”

“It’s probably what’s called an “artisanal well,”” I said. “Clean water filters through porous rock that removes all impurities.”

Time to break the Broad Street Pump, I thought.

“Is there currently a cholera outbreak in this city?” I said.

“Thankfully, no,” said Moray. “Why? Do you have another idea?”

“I do,” I said. “Cholera is transmitted via dirty water, contaminated with the feces of an infected person. While this won’t fix the sewage problem, I suggest that, during an outbreak, all drinking water be boiled for at least five minutes.”

“I don’t know how that’s supposed to work,” said Moray, “But I trust your ideas. I’ll forward that to the ministry of health as soon as possible.” He paused. “I know you understand the theory of what you just said. Explain.”

I spent five minutes explaining the germ theory of disease.

“So you’re saying,” said Moray, “That there are millions of tiny little animals that produce toxins when they enter our bodies?”

“They’re not animals,” I said. “They’re a completely different form of life. Individual cells. The replicate rapidly, but can be killed by the heat of boiled water.”

Moray looked off into the distance. “If only …” he said.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

Moray shook his head. “It’s nothing. Let’s continue the tour of the town.”

We came to the cathedral next. Its towering steeple dwarfed all the buildings around it. Stained glass windows added a touch of lavishness. At its top was the bell tower that marked time for the whole city.

“Can I go in?” I asked.

“Have you been confirmed?” asked Moray.

“Um, no,” I said. “I don’t even know what kind of religion you guys practice in this world.”

Moray frowned. “We’re going to have to change that. You can’t live in this city unless you are paired with a god.” He walked towards the door. “Follow me. This won’t take long.”

“Do I have to?” I asked.

“Unless you want to get expatriated or, at worst, burnt at the stake, you must be paired,” said Moray.

Well, that sucked. As a Christian in my previous life, I had several qualms about this. Maybe I would get lucky and be paired with the God from my world?

Yeah, fat chance, I thought.

Even though I didn’t want to change my convictions, I was actually pretty scared as to what people would do to me when they learned of my beliefs.

I was in a medieval-style world, after all. Burning at the stake was the least painful of the deaths that could await me if I tried to go public with my beliefs.

I just had to hope that this all worked out.

We entered the cathedral. Five statues were arrayed in the five corners of the pentagonal hall. A priest was praying at the altar in the room’s center.

Moray approached him. “Fey Grimes,” he said. “I have a strange question to ask.”

Fey Grimes stood up and brushed off his robe. “Child?” he said. “Have you come to confess?”

“No,” said Moray. “I’m here to request a confirmation ceremony. My friend here has recently moved to this city from the heartlands and was never confirmed as a citizen.”

Fey Grimes tutted with his tongue. “We can’t have that, now can we?” he said. He began to walk in circles around me. “What do you know of our religion?”

“Uh …” I said.

Help? I thought. Whoever had sent me here had to be a god of some sort. That much was certain. So I could just call on him to help me.

Help!

A bright light descended upon the priest’s staff. He looked at it incredulously.

“Hm, hm,” he said. “This is rare. You have activated the spell sigil with your mere presence. That means that one of the pentatey has already chosen you as their vessel.” He put his staff down. “I will begin the confirmation process immediately.” He turned around. “Only one may follow.”

I followed the priest into a back room that had a tub filled with coal.

The priest picked up the coal. “Do you know of the significance of coal to us?” he said. “Coal represents the five elements combined into one. Earth, it is made of. Wind, it eats. Fire, it creates. Water, it heats. And darkness, it is.” He picked up a piece of coal, placing it gently in my palm. “Blow,” he said.

I blew at the coal and suddenly my mind went blank. I appeared in the same chamber where I had gone after dying in my previous world. The same figure who had given me my alchemy power was sitting on a throne.

“Ah, you have finally been confirmed,” said the figure. He leaned towards me.

“Um,” I said, still disoriented by the quick transition. “Uh …”

“I am your patron deity,” said the figure. “Meliapolis, the god of darkness.”

“Okay?” I said. “What does that mean?”

“It means what you want it to,” he said. “Darkness can be interpreted in any number of ways. Bad, good, big, small, strong, weak. I am the god of all, and yet the god of nothing.” He paused. “I feel that your previous world has left a mark on you regarding gods.” His lip curled up. “Or, should I say, god. God, parentheses, plural? Your realm has a strange fellow running it.” He curled his fingers around the arms of his throne. “However, you are in our realm now. Believe what you will on the inside, but do know that we will not tolerate religious cross-contamination. If you do wish to push this rule, know that you will cause more sadness and suffering than any other decision you can make yourself.”

I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “Can I speak to the god of my world?”

“He doesn’t ‘speak’ in the purest sense of the world,” said Meliapolis. “He takes many forms. He is like a diamond, which shines differently from any perspective, and yet is the same object at all times. A very strange deity indeed.” He shrugged. “If you wanted to talk to him, you could have while you were in that world. Now that you’re here, you can’t go back. A chasm separates our world from yours.”

And then I flickered back to reality.

A puff of coal dust spread out from where I had blown, seemingly half a second after I had been sucked into the vision.

Fey Grimes looked at me with a mixture of fear and awe.

“The darkness,” he said. “It is you.”

“Um, all I saw was coal dust,” I said.

Fey Grimes knelt. “It has been long since an avatar of darkness has been born. This signifies the beginning of a new age.”

Uh, what? I thought.

I didn’t know what was happening. All I knew was that it would be a wild ride.

The Alchemist Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I spent the night turning oil into its derivatives, including plastic but not limited to just that. We ended up with barrels of kerosene, gasoline, and even diesel. With the plastic orders filled for now, I grabbed ten extra dunces and rushed over to the workshop.

Moray and friends hadn’t slept either, from what I saw upon entering. Moray stood up, covered in grease.

“Hey, the triumphant returns!” he said. His eyes went to the bag with the plastic in it. “Is that the plastic?” he said.

“It is,” I said. I handed it to Moray. “Do with it what you want. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Moray took the ingots out of the bag and stacked them up. “This material is remarkably light,” he said. “And it’s … Transparent? No, not the right word. Opaque? I don’t know how to describe this.”

I took a single ingot and formed it into a little crude figure. “In my world this stuff is used for cheap packaging and toys. Not heavy industrial or competitive uses. Composites, on the other hand …” I took a brick of plastic and turned it over in my hand. “I’m going to try to make twenty versions of plastic. I want you to see which ones you think will work the best.”

I changed the composition of the plastic ingot to represent the full spectrum of plastics in my world. From PVC to PET to LDPE, I created as many different kinds as I could remember from my home world.

When I had the products arrayed, Moray took a look.

“This is the most versatile element I’ve ever seen,” he said, picking up a piece of PVC. “Some of these are pliable, some are tough, some are light …”

“And you can make clothes, containers, and even synthetic rubber out of this,” I said.

“This stuff has the power to change the world,” said Moray. “I can’t believe that it’s so cheap where you come from.”

“It’s actually a byword for cheap in my world,” I said. “There’s so much of it in my world that it’s become quite a problem. The oceans are full of it and all the fish are eating it and it’s a huge disaster.”

“We’re going to have to see if we can get regular magic to work in refining it from … Tar? Did I hear that correctly?” said Moray.

“Yes,” I said. “Crude oil is probably the most useful substance on the planet.”

“And you can manipulate any element with your power?” he said. “Anything at all?”

“All one hundred and eighteen elements,” I said. “Though I would have to try a little to create the last ten or so …”

Moray held up his hand. “Save it for a lecture at the society,” he said. “For now, we have a golem to build.” He picked up the PVC pipe that I had formed. “This looks like a good core for the new drill,” he said.

Canary took it from Moray. “Indeed. The properties of this material are almost magic. This will do great.” He began to fit it into the drill in place of the beaten copper core.

We ran up the clock until just fifteen minutes until the time for our match. Rushing out of the workshop, we carried out golem covered in a sheet.

The arena was packed with people, even more than the last match.

Our second bout was against the woodmancer’s guild. Their golem was a massive tree Ent that must have stood at eight feet tall.

“Is that legal?” I said, upon looking up at the monstrous figure.

“The only limits to golem construction are the number of people controlling it,” said Moray. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at the monstrosity. “Since wood is natural and so light, it’s easy for three controllers to handle something big.”

Our golem was the size of a large dog. Its head didn’t even go above the tree golem’s legs.

The crowd was going wild. At this point, I didn’t know how we were going to win.

But we had to try. There was a bet riding on this and, more importantly, I didn’t want to disappoint Moray.

“What are the rules about fire?” I asked. “Can you manipulate it with magic after igniting it?”

“Sure,” said Moray. “Same with water and air. But we don’t have a way to make fire, and we don’t have any pyromancers!”

“Can you cross-class?” I asked.

“A bit,” said Moray. His eyes glinted. “You have something in mind, don’t you?”

“If you can take an ember and turn it into a blaze, then yes,” I said.

Moray grinned. “Go for it.”

“You know how a firebow works, right?” I said.

Moray snapped his fingers. “I know exactly what you’re planning to do. Canary! Get that drill pressed into the legs of the woodmancers’ golem!”  

“On it!” said Canary. He and Jones maneuvered our golem until its drill was in place—a rather easy thing to do considering the clumsiness of the hulking giant.

“Let her rip!” said Moray.

The drill spun up to speed and almost immediately smoke began to appear. Then a little spark popped out—and, in an instant, became a raging flame. We backed our golem away and the woodmancers’ golem was engulfed in red fire. The woodmancers tried to put it out, but no avail. The golem was consumed and collapsed to the ground in a heap.

“The win goes to the Royal Society!” said the announcer.

We were on to the quarter finals. Our next match was two days from now.

We had a lot of work to do. The win against the woodmancers was just a fluke. Our golem needed a new suite of equipment. The drill worked well against smaller enemies, but would be pretty useless against a larger stone golem.

A chainsaw would be nice. However, I wasn’t sure I would be able to build one with the equipment here.

I decided to take it to Moray.

“Hey,” I said. “Do you think you can evaluate a prototype for me?”

“Sure,” said Moray.

I spent the next ten minutes explaining the mechanics of a chainsaw.

Moray rubbed his chin when I was finished. “I think we can make it happen,” he said. “We have two days. If we work as much as possible, we can create this rotating chain saw mechanism before our next match.”

For the next two days we worked almost nonstop. Prototype after prototype fell apart, exploded, or was shredded. An hour in I gave everyone safety glasses—and they were necessary on several occasions.

Two hours before the match we perfected the mechanism. Canary funneled magic into a rotating engine that pulled the chain across the body. The sound was a lot quieter than a mechanical chainsaw, but it still worked.

Moray stepped back, a grin on his face. “This technology can be used for a lot more than churning,” he said. “I know you’re working on special projects of your own, but what about turning this into a business?”

“I’ll help you as much as I can,” I said. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to handle the development of this as well as my printing press.”

“All right,” said Moray. “We can discuss the details when we win this competition.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s be there early. We’re in the top eight and we have to make a good impression.”

Canary and Jones picked up the golem and brough it out of the workshop, putting it on the back of a horse cart by the door. Moray and I climbed aboard and then we headed towards the arena.

Once there we found it was already crowded with spectators. Were they tailgating? Did people in ancient societies do that?

In any case, it looked like they were having a lot of fun.

“How much money is riding on your bet?” I said, to Moray. “I’m curious.”

“It’s not a bet about money,” said Moray. “It’s about a dog.”

“A dog?” I said.

“Reginald and I found a beautiful dog on the streets and adopted it,” said Moray. “Before we knew it, the whole Royal Society was in love with the little guy. Both Reginald and I wanted to keep him in our offices. So we made this bet.”

“What’s his name?” I said.

“Litmus,” said Moray. “He’s the most wonderful pupper this side of heaven.”

I didn’t know how to feel, knowing that it wasn’t about money.

Well, at least it’s probably going to get more fun, I thought.

We went through the contestants’ entrance and set up in our dugout. The seats of the arena were already being filled.

“Does anyone want drinks?” said Moray, standing up and dusting off his hands.

“Sure, I’ll take fruit juice,” I said.

“Milk,” said Canary.

“Tea,” said Jones.

“Great,” said Moray. “I’ll be back.” He left the three of us in the dugout.

“Why haven’t I met Litmus yet?” I asked.

“You haven’t?” said Jones. “Litmus wanders around the Guild Hall during the day. Maybe you just missed him.”

“Well, I’ll have to meet him someday,” I said. “The whole town knows about this bet, right?”

“Moray is famous, after all,” said Jones. “He was the one who brought running water to the city center.”

“What type of magic does Moray command?” I said.

“Elemental,” said Jones. “That means that he can observe the elements. Though his control of them is a little shaky.”

“He was able to create a blaze in the last game,” I said. “How did he do that?”

“I don’t know myself,” said Jones. “You’d have to ask him.” Jones brushed a bit of dirt off of the golem. “Thanks to you, we might actually win this.”

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes until Moray returned with drinks. They came in wooden mugs that were banded with copper.

Moray handed me a mug filled with a strange purple liquid. I drank some of it, and it reminded me of the fruit I ate the first day I was here. It was, for lack of a better term, purple tasting. I finished it in a long draught.

“Hey there!” said a familiar voice.

It was Claude. I stood up and greeted her.

“I heard you were working in a churning team,” said Claude. “I came over to see how you were doing.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

“So what’s this all about?” said Claude, walking around the golem and inspecting it.

“It runs a piece of equipment called a “chain saw”,” said Moray. “A very innovative design put forth by Markus.”

Claude looked at the rough approximation of my world’s chainsaw. “This looks like it will be useful in a number of applications,” she said. She turned to me. “Do you mind if I put in an order for some of these when the churning competition is over?”

“Sure thing,” I said. “Chainsaws are cool, after all.”

Claude leaned against the wall. “Is it okay if I watch from here?” she said.

“Go ahead, Claude-win,” said Moray.

Claude nodded and then crossed her arms.

We spent the next hour and a half fine-tuning our golem. Then it was time to start. We put our golem out in the field and prepared to pilot it.

The enemy team this time was the goldmancers. Their golem gleamed with a shell of solid gold.

“That’s not practical,” said Canary, as the golem walked out onto the field.

Jones whistled. “Leave it to the goldbugs to bring the bling,” he said.

The game started. Our golem rushed towards the enemy, chain saw whirring.

The goldbug swiftly dodged our charge.

“Damn,” said Moray.

“Gold is the optimal metal for precise control,” said Claude, still leaning against the wall. “Of course they would prioritize mobility in their golem.”

“I probably should have suggested a gun,” I said, my fists clenched.

The goldbug skittered—glitteringly—towards us. A gigantic golden hammer popped up out of its carapace.

“Move, move!” yelled Canary.

“I’m trying!” said Jones.

The goldbug was just too agile. Our golem dodged a strike with inches to spare. The sound of the hammer hitting the dirt was like a gong. The whole ground shook.

“Would’ya look at that,” said Moray. “Jones. Take me to the edge of the ring.”

“On it,” said Jones. Our golem sprinted to the nearest corner.

“Now let him at us,” said Moray.

The goldbug rushed us. At the last moment, Moray turned the chainsaw sideways.

The chainsaw sheared the goldbug and cut off its entire right side. Glittering pieces of gold flew everywhere.

“Looks like we’re getting somewhere,” said Moray. “Have at it!”

We bore down on the goldbug, chainsaw running. There was no escape.