"Alright, let’s get down to it. What’s my base going to look like? Cause I’m not going to do a carbon copy; that would just be plain ass boring." I say sweeping the many iron plates off the table and placing down my notebook spread wide to a design.

I’m going to stick with a hexagonal shape because hexagons are the bestagons, but what should be different?

Let’s start with the ground up: do I still use supports? Going into orbit does have certain advantages. Namely, constantly changing scenery, the ability to use the momentum to launch myself places, and the cool factor of making a fucking spaceship!

But as I think it through, I find that the hassle of building a space program in the astral expanse is too much for me. I would have to figure out the trajectories for orbit with no real control group.

Essentially, I would just guesstimating the whole way through. I shudder imagining the disastrous consequences of launching a base into orbit with faulty math. It would have to be perfect, and perfection is fleeting.

No, it would be best if I stuck with supports, but that’s no reason to go for small. Sweeping my arms out in the small room, after all, I have an infinite supply of metal, and there’s no need for it to go to waste.

But as I adjust the plans for that, the sheer size of my new base dawns on me as I remember a valuable lesson I learned while first attempting to create electricity here. Theoretically infinite does not mean practically infinite. So if I want a grander base than before, I’m going to need some prep work.

I frantically grab some supplies and head out, burning to let my vision become reality.

—

I stand on the stairs next to an open box of steel, raised above the ice covering the planet of meat, holding something quite ridiculous. For you see in my hands is an entire newly made, outfitted with the newest features, automated nail crusher held just a tad awkwardly in my left hand.

The low gravity allows me to carry it here, but it does not allow me to ignore its bulk. Howevor, that doesn’t matter much when you can just throw it over the walls! I yeet the light to my tastes object allowing it to slowly drift to the floor of the steel box.

I wipe my forehead, ridding myself of imaginary sweat, as I envision what needs to be done so that I may forge my empire of steel. I look beneath the platform and see an assortment of scratched iron plates, a litany of buckets, copper wire poking out from everywhere, and piles upon piles of iron dust.

But from the pile, I grab an old one. Namely the prize of my experimentation the self-healing plate.

I place it on the platform, rune side up, and with another hand I grab a crude bucket filled with iron dust, I pat the iron dust into the scratches, and melt the iron dust on top. From there, I pat another layer on top and melt that as well before cooling it down with a small invocation of sadness.

Grunting I pry the new metal plate out of the crude mold I turned my old enchantment into and return with my prize, a stamp made to the dimensions of the original enchantment.

After all, I think while whistling there's no need to leave anything to chance; it’s best to make exact copies when dealing with something as finicky as magic.

"No need to fuck with what works," I say while placing the stamp on the corner.

And with automation, there is no need for human error. I can simply copy all the enchantments with a stamp. Humanity has far outgrown the need for hand-made goods, and with my tech level, I can certainly make a crude factory. I just need to be willing to spend time to save time.

And sadly enough, that means doing some real menial shit. I first create a long, low, hollow table, with one side blocked off and another with a small slit leading to the outside. Then In a steel mold, I pour in molten copper from a little steel bucket, then I quickly cool it with a wiff of sadness. Then, with a crude metal rod in hand, I slapped at the steel mold until a small copper tube around as long as my arm and as wide as my two fingers.

I winced at the ends of the copper tube flaring out into some strange structure, like the fleshy flaps of a chicken's crown. Metal casting is an art, and, well, I’m not an artist yet. So I try again, grabbing more copper wiring and stuffing it into my shitty furnace before melting it with my heat beam at a low blast, being careful to melt the low melting point copper first.

I then stepped hotfoot around the heated iron floors, avoiding the aftermath of my unfocused heat beam, before grabbing the newly melted copper and pouring it again into the mold, waiting a bit for it to settle before chilling it out.

And now, when I pry the tube out, I see it done: a hollow copper tube with a flared piece that sticks out on one side.

Stolen story; please report.

I place it at the very beginning of the line, sighing as I start to get to work.

—

I kneel on the floor, hammering the thin metal into shape as I create another steam engine. Thankfully easy enough after creating the first, it’s just a big tub of water that you heat up to spin a fan that you alter with gears. And the gears are the really annoying bit. Thankfully, I had the old molds lying around, even if I had to dust em off,and scrub off the ant gunk.

PLus I don’t have to make that fancy ass mechanism to push shit around; it’s a spinning thing being told to spin things. As long as you’re spinning it right, it works out well enough.

I grunt as I install the gears, my curly hair usually flowing free and held back as I mess with the guts of the machines. Because, well, I don’t want to survive an entire temple trying to murder me only for me to kick the bucket to a goddamn steam engine, like a gilded age child laborer.

I step back and examine the mechanism, making sure that nothing is too broken to function, before firing up the Hot Hands technique. Quickly getting the machine to a boil, we soon see the gears start to first quickly spin and then slowly push larger gears until it slowly moves with great power.

Letting go of the technique I strap a string made of scavenged and braided rubber into the final spinning outcrop of metal before dragging over the loop to the very last pin on the assembly line. Adjusting all the little caught up pins and dragging them to the right side of the flared output.

Before stepping back up to the machine and starting it up. I hear the water in the tub hiss and spit, as the steam pushes the fan inside the machine, quickly spinning a rod with little bits sticking out, before hitting, another gear, and another, as I hear a series of clicks as the entire system comes together.

It starts out quick and light, but slowly turns slow and heavy, until I see the braid of shoddy rubber ripped from wires start to turn. And one after another, all the pins start to spin with deceptive strength belying their ponderous pace. Then the rubber tarp placed on the pins starts to roll around, and I see the spirit of an assembly line in place.

But it’s just what’s necessary so that I don’t have to move shit for this stuff to actually be useful; I’m going to need to get this going. I grunt, rolling my shoulders, as I walk to the nail crusher—the first step to actually, goddamn it, doing something!

With an iron nail, I meld it to the floor, and where the iron dust was once gathered by a magnet, I replace it with a funnel. I then quickly make a 1m^2X10cm-deep hexagonal tray and place it below the funnel so that as nails are crushed, they fall into this tray as dust. Then, with a bit of molten metal, I attach the tray to the rubber covering of the assembly line. And then another, and another, each spaced a bit over a meter apart.

And as they start to move straight, they will head toward a snug fit. I solidly attach a thin steel plate so that when the conveyor belt starts moving, it will smoothly slice away any extra iron dust. Like cutting off the tops of a measuring cup while baking.

With that done, I attach a long pole from one of the crisscrossing rods that form my ceiling to another slab, something quite familiar to me nowadays. An enchantment, no matter how ridiculous that sounds.

And inscribed on that slab is Melt-Metal-Target/Nearest=1j, a fairly simple, if annoying, enchantment that melts the nearest source of metal that isn’t itself in around 1 meter. The measurement isn’t perfect considering it is Jwarahausian, but it’s good enough.

As long as I have anything in terms of distance. I shudder at the ridiculous places that plate melted when it didn’t have a limiter. It melted my base for some fucking reason, and it was nearly miles apart. There wasn’t a wave of heat or anything; the wall closest to me just collapsed into molten steel.

But shuddering aside, I need to get on to the next step. But while I get ready for the next second, I realize something while holding the stamp of the enchantment in my hands, how the hell am I going to stamp the plates when I only have one nail crusher?

My mind starts to run in circles before it stops as I remember I do have a second machine, it just so happens to be on my old base, outside these walls, covered in ant junk, and broken for good measure.

Sighing I stare at the walls as I think about my own stupidity. Sadly, when I was installing the walls, I didn’t think, "Hey, Tara, you’re going to need to bring in big ass machines, and maybe take them out. No, I need big, dramatic, thick walls that are a pain to melt away" Ugh.

I scratch my arms before dragging them backward, and then slowly crushing the anger into a tiny point. With my ridiculously hot pinprick-sized heat beam, I slowly drill through the thick steel walls I foolishly installed. Eventually kicking them down and onto the ice.

Slapping my hands free of imaginary dust, I let go of the heat beam and ran to the old station. Quickly gathering speed before jumping out into the astral expanse. Escaping gravity and the need to walk as I swim over to my old base.

As I float above it, I sigh as I see the crumpled remains of my home all covered in fucking disgusting junk. I swim to the exterior, and find myself in front of the grimy machine. I melted the attachments of the broken nail crusher. And bring it down to meat planet; the gears might all be destroyed, but I have the molds for them.

With great care, considering the momentum, and weight of the broken nail crusher, which is dangerous even in this low gravity, I lower myself to the ground with a strong pull of Wanderlust, granting me flight. Before trudging back to the factory floor.

I walk for a short while before lifting up the broken machine and sliding it through the now open side of the factory. Huffing and puffing as I jump inside my body filled with an indescrible grime and general disdain for existence.

But nonetheless, the work must continue. So I grab the molds of the gears that I used for building both of the steam engines and get to work replacing the gears and cleaning out the gunk inside the thing so that it all operates smoothly before placing it along the assembly line.

With a bit of finagling, I lower it into the floor so that it is at the correct height, before removing the casing that was made to crush nails and attaching the stamp to it. I mangle the heating pipes until they run alongside all the others. Before I gently fall onto the floor tired after dealing with the cranky bastard that was my old boy.

Sadly, my break doesn’t last long enough before I see the remaining work and beg to slowly stand, my knees creaking. I yawn, pulsing myself with an evocation of healing before grabbing a shit ton of powder and making an iron stick on the floor by quickly melting and then quenching the metal.

I then attach the stick to the lattice that is my ceiling and attach a plate to that plate. The enchantment for this piece is new as well. I did try to use my Shiver plate that I made in the golem, but well, the Shiver technique was made to stop things from moving, not make ice, so any and all attempts to use that just made the entire assembly line obviously grind to a halt.

So I used a similar enchantment to the one above; it’s efficient to not think too hard, you know. Bah, what am I thinking? It’s not like I have anyone to give excuses to; I’m not erasing my chores from the list, no one else is here but me. I sigh, my heart dulled by the reminder of how far from any living being I am.

I shake my head, keeping my cool amongst the infused sadness that’s been creeping in today. There are many things in need of quenching, but at least this thing does that for me. I think while slapping the stick that the plate is attached to.

I wince seeing the little stick shiver along with the entire lattice, drawing my hand away as I bring my eyes to the end of the assembly line. I grab the prepared tray, a deep affair cradled in fabric, and place it so that all the line would deposit the product right there.

My eyes dart around the room looking for a problem, a mistake, anything at all, but finding nothing. So I breathe in, I breathe out, and I boil the water and pour the iron nails in.

It starts small, with the simple crackling and thrashing of an iron nail being converted to dust before all the dust falls onto a moving plate, the funnel leaving behind stray bits of iron as the hexagonal trays approach the funnel. The trays quickly fill up as the excess is scraped away by a low hanging plate.

The rubber, steel, and pins clatter and spin as they pull the iron-dust-laden tray to the first enchantment. It quickly lashes out, like a man just waiting to let go of his anger, melting the surface and turning them into skating droplets before they all turn into one puddle.

I wince as I see little bits of molten metal splatter onto the rubber, burning a hole into the surface. Ugh, I’ll have to fix that, I think, as the metal quickly cools into a red-hot hexagonal chunk. Approaching the next station.

Where it is firmly stamped into the surface. The design embosses itself into the plate. The pressure was making it want to flatten, but the tray forced the iron in it to instead go up and around, forcing the design into it.

With a sigh of relief at the accomplishment, I see it approach the next site where it is rapidly cooled into a char black before continuing on, falling off the conveyor built and into the tray filled with cushioning fabric.

And I watch in stark fascination as it happens again and again, the machines just plugging along with minimal interference as they make enough steel to fund a war effort.

My war on this cruel, stupid place that I have fallen into, my refusal to let this be my grave, as I force it to become my home.

And it shall be in the end through my blood, sweat, and steel.