Lurona city [southern shores of Fuminao Legacy Kingdom], local time [1794.01.25]

After Zeph presented them with the blueprints, they started working immediately. It took a while, but none of them wanted to waste time anymore.

While Ghrughah was working on the electric engine, P’pfel started assembling his station. Zeph showed the giant a few methods of producing electricity while explaining the basics – Faraday’s and Lorentz’s laws.

He was, of course, simplifying his descriptions. Electricity was more about electromagnetic fields than ‘moving’ electrons – a topic he never managed to understand entirely, probably because of his not-so-enthusiastic teachers – and he didn’t even bother explaining the model of atoms to enhance the man’s understanding. Instead, he simply described how and why it should work in simple words while presenting the formulae.

The idea of moving particles was quite universal and could be used to describe the electric current. Especially because Ghrughah was already working with Skills touching upon the topic of atoms and their superstructures.

But, as expected, the level of abstraction in the formulae posed a problem even for the aged and experienced blacksmith. It was a good thing, though. The prototype would work despite the giant’s lack of understanding, allowing him to come to his own conclusions and pushing him to create his own models and descriptions. And because of that fact, the System would, most probably, grant him much better rewards. Not to mention, the unique process of adapting the machine to the Mana environment should give him a lot of Universal Points, assuming it was even possible to achieve a stable electric current in the first place.

Zeph allowed himself to disclose all this information because he was sure that people on higher strata already knew about and tested the idea of electricity. Even in Lurona, a primitive electric network existed and was used to send messages in the old-fashioned way – the telegraph’s way. The only difference was, instead of using electricity, they used Mana – a simple enchanted Discharge Spell was enough to make it work. Nonetheless, that meant that he wasn’t overstepping his boundaries. Firstly, he wasn’t introducing an alien technology.

The Exchange entries were the main prize for all achievements in science and technology. Critically important implants, body upgrades, genetic modifications, purchasable General Skills… it was all a part of the Exchange. The System could assign them as rewards to groups and individuals. One’s affiliations, clearly listed in the Interface, dictated the technological level of entries that could be unlocked with a help, but anything more would have to be achieved personally.

And that was the problem, though. When learning from external sources, the System was limiting the Exchange entries that could be unlocked, and crossing those limits had consequences.

For example, if someone wanted to unlock access in the System’s Exchange to, let’s say, a hi-tech mechanical implant along with a specialized General Skill for it, inaccessible in normal circumstances for their affiliated communities, they could try to find and build the prerequisite prototype. However, receiving a blueprint and the knowledge background from an external source wouldn’t be enough to unlock it. The limitation was - the communities affiliated with that individual were technologically inept to create it. Said individual would have to find a teacher who would explain the whole technological branch leading to that prototype, but then it was a guaranteed outcome that this person’s affiliations would change. The same would happen to a teacher visiting a country to spread an impactful technology – their affiliation would shift to that very country.

Without affiliation, a person would lose access to ALL Exchange entries available for people in a community. Moreover, that person would lose the right to donate Exchange entries to those communities. Those limits were shaping the economic landscape of the whole world.

But sometimes, the technological gap was so big that something even worse could happen.

What if someone found a teacher of a scientific field that was way beyond the civilization level of the whole planet?

Things started working differently the higher the stratum was, so it was a plausible assumption – the difference between a high-stratum electric technology and a low-stratum electric technology could be considered two entirely different fields of study. Achieving a status of ‘outside of civilization level’ was quite easy in such a context. For example, recreating a modern electric computer (modified to work in the Mana environment) would definitely cross that line, even if other types of computers were discovered on higher strata.

Not to mention, it really was possible to stumble upon an unachievable knowledge by chance. Many Onjis have lost their believers (donators, more like) along with their civilizations, perishing because of that very fact. Corora was hiding more than met the eye, especially on the higher strata.

The answer to that question was something Zeph knew well. When an individual learned enough advanced knowledge and crossed certain boundaries, they would lose all their affiliations and would be considered an outliner – just like Zeph and the rest of the Terrien. They would lose access to all basic and granted Exchange entries – those available to all citizens of a country, people in a faction, members of an organization, people of a race or species, inherited from their lineage, et cetera. Only two sources of the entries would stay in place: those guaranteed by the System as a base for the planet’s civilization level, and those the individual earned themselves in some way.

To say such an outcome was undesirable for locals would be a vast understatement.

Secondly, Zeph wasn’t exchanging knowledge with an organization or a faction, he was trading with individuals for their services, materials, and knowledge. The less involved he was in the process of developing the technology further, the better for both sides of the deal.

That’s because affiliation was a thing of change for all. To trade Exchange entries was to teach and show all necessary steps to the other party. Trading knowledge was less but still risky, as it was accelerating the rate at which Zeph would gain affiliation. As so, explaining too much would diminish Ghrughah’s and P’pfel’s rewards while working against Zeph.

Maybe in the future, if their Guild managed to transition into an independent faction, he would share everything. An independent faction had the privilege to be apprised separately by the System and other Onjis in regards to their technological level – a group analogy to the individual outliner.

But even then, Zeph’s rights to the bonus entries in the Exchange would be irreversibly revoked. His deal with the System was clear – until he gained an affiliation, he would keep the upgraded access. That was another reason for him to dilute the information. By doing so, he placed the burden of testing things on others. Instead of becoming a source of information for the Guild, he merely traded with individuals. Such an act guaranteed that the System was satisfied, while his Soul wasn’t forming additional links to the people, events, or places. He was even isolating himself from the ‘fame’ that would come alongside new inventions – all he needed was a pair of intermediaries.

Moreover, he couldn’t be blamed by the System for spreading Earth’s knowledge unnecessarily. The entity wanted the society to progress, yes, but the most important part of that process was the development phase, not the final result. By leaving that much space for improvement, he played right along the System’s scheme, so he wasn’t worried about receiving any retribution.

Also, Earth’s physical laws were being stretched out on Corora. Zeph no longer felt like a specialist in his field. He knew the physics quite well. Moreover, he knew how genes, proteins, cells, organs, and anything between and beyond should behave – he was aware of how a living, carbon-based organism should function. But after working with Ghrughah, the reality of his situation crashed hard on him.

Mana was changing the properties of the matter. And without a thorough understanding of how it was doing that, his Earth’s knowledge was merely one piece of a puzzle. A very important piece, nonetheless, yet irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Ghrughah proved to him, time and time again, that experience was more valuable than any theoretical knowledge for his progression.

But today was a rare occasion for his knowledge to shine. He was going to work strictly in a Manaless environment. What Ghrughah and P’pfel would do after that, was all on them.

Zeph decided to build a full-fledged electric motor. The one with coils of copper wire, not too different from a standard engine on Earth. Not only was it simple to make for the metal-manipulating blacksmith, but it also had the best efficiency.

However, he had problems when explaining how and why it should work. Without reverting to more basic phenomena, that he wanted to leave out of this discussion, it seemed impossible.

“I don’t need to understand how it works,” the giant admitted, noticing how he struggled. “Look, moving strong magnetic forces near iron-based armor is a known method of incapacitating the opponent, right?”

Zeph shrugged, he wouldn’t know. Although Kwan’s fight definitely proved that the method was known.

“That is enough of a parallel for me. The energy from Magicules is spent, the effect takes place. A charge builds up, predictable outcome arrives. The only difference is in the form of application.”

“Is that kind of attack used frequently?” he asked, changing the topic slightly. It would be good to be prepared.

“In that way? Mostly as stationary traps.” The blacksmith raised his finger. “Using such effect in a fight is difficult and can only be applied if your opponent isn’t prepared. A simple Discharge enchantment would counteract the attempt if used timely. Not to mention, strong concentrations of Magicules are always displaying some kind of visual effect in the air, giving away your intent. Just like the gray could around Kwan during her Duel,” he continued with his explanation, “It’s the main reason we never used the magnetic forces overmuch. There aren’t many applications to this effect.”

Zeph nodded and the giant leaned over the schematic.

“I am still skeptical, though. Building a stable source of energy without Magicules... Magnets working outside Mana environment… Where is the energy coming from? If what you are saying is true, they are constantly attracting metals?”

Zeph grimaced.

Indeed, without a proper explanation, it would seem like the magnetic forces could produce work without energy being spent.

“It’s… a little complicated…” he started, trying to shift the direction of the discussion.

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Ghrughah’s serious face immediately put him in his place, though.

He sighed deeply. “Look, I don’t know the details. Magnets form fields around themselves. Not dissimilar to what gravity does,” he pointed down. “You asked about energy? So, tell me, what is the source of the force gluing us to the land? Well, the simple answer is easy. There is no energy spent. The whole system is losing energy if you are closer to the center of mass of this planet. As so, the force is produced – like an air-filled container in the water would float up, it’s the same but in the opposite direction. The more convoluted answer tries to describe the space as something physical – you are merely a marble falling into a fold in a fabric of space. Imagine an elastic fabric spread horizontally. You, with your mass at the corner, and the planet with its mass at the center. The indent would naturally make you fall in the direction of the center of all mass,” he started vaguely hinting at possible explanations without stating any concrete solution.

The giant nodded; his eyes curious.

“You can imagine a magnetic field similarly. Something is pulling, something is pushing. Maybe that’s just another manifestation of curving of the reality? Maybe those are forces of a different kind. But one thing is sure,” he raised his index finger, “you should consider what you observe, not what you deduct. Don’t ever allow yourself to rewrite ‘reality’ with what you think ‘is probable’ or ‘should happen’! There is a force, therefore, there is a phenomenon.” He used an old Rui, once again. “Even if we define what a field is, all our observations are relative to what the real phenomenon does. If there was no gravity, merely a drop in potential….” He gestured at the notes on the table. “We wouldn’t know. Worse, we need experiments attacking directly the thesis if we want to prove it. The more alternatives are proven wrong, the more this theory stands true.”

Thankfully, the giant understood.

“Field…” he tasted the word, leaning against the backrest of his oversized chair. “I am still skeptical. But I can work with that… Only, that doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

Zeph had to agree. As much as he would like to tell him otherwise, the ‘fields’ were the source of energy to some degree. Potential energy, to be more exact. It would be fine if they were a constant, like the gravity. But creating a new magnetic source was another topic entirely – they just needed to put a ferromagnet in a strong magnetic field to produce something semi-permanent and the whole theory took a hit to the head. Thus, he could understand why the blacksmith was confused. Even on Earth, the calculations weren’t clear if the work necessary to order the atoms inside of a material was enough to explain the change in potential energy a magnet was causing. And then, there were magnets that behaved like a permanent source of magnetism because they formed a correct internal structure by themselves. How could he explain that?

At least, that was the limit of his comprehension of the topic. Most probably, a real physicist could explain the discrepancy. Maybe stating the ‘truths’ of entropy, maybe citing the Field Theory, perhaps even showing glaring holes in his ‘understanding’. But Zeph wasn’t a physicist.

He was a bioengineer. He may have some knowledge about electromagnetism, but he was ways away from any physicists or even biophysicists. He did prepare quite a bit of literature on the topic before moving through the Fissure to Corora, but that knowledge was yet to be digested by him. And it was quite basic, really – Maxwell’s equations and their applications were around the most complex topics he remembered.

In all his years mastering different fields of study, he never found a reason to learn more about electricity. As so, he wasn’t proficient with it. And now, when it mattered most, he started regretting his past decisions.

Thankfully, Ghrughah didn’t seem overly interested. Even the simplified equations were straining his brain.

Meanwhile, the alchemist kept working. P’pfel knew of about a dozen light-sensitive materials, but he would have to check if they worked with the X-ray light properly. The first, and most important test would happen only after they put together a working X-ray tube and electric engine.

~~~

After they sorted out the details, Zeph was left alone for a few hours.

He could visit the district occupied by the Gibbons, but he decided against it. Tomorrow, he should receive his overcoat, there was no need to waste time.

Instead, he decided to start with the first tests on Gru’s ‘egg’.

Firstly, he gathered and secured all other Manasolids available. It took him a while, but with Kwan’s permission, he wasn’t met with any opposition. He didn’t bother writing down their characteristics – that was a job for P’pfel. He managed to gather 8, none identical but all based on mercury.

Next, he booked up a compression chamber. The Ambient Mana density required to keep Gru’s Manasolid stable wasn’t that high for him, so he had no problems with setting up a temporary, basic research station inside.

After waiting for half an hour to make sure everything was evenly saturated with Mana, he opened three compression boxes and took out Manasolids that were stable in this environment. Two borrowed and the one belonging to Gru.

To measure their density, he prepared a graduated cylinder half-filled with water, a small reversed ladle with holes, and an old-fashioned but very precise weighing scale incorporating a long arm for precision measurements. Despite the simplistic build, it could measure with extreme precision of 0.01 gram – enough for Zeph to see even small differences.

He drew a line on the ladle’s handle to mark how deep to go, and was ready to proceed.

After checking the volume of the ladle itself, he used it to submerge each Manasolid. Then, he read the measurements and quickly calculated the volume of displaced water. He repeated that 10 times for each ‘pebble’ to make sure no mistake was made and to calculate the overall measurement uncertainty.

Next, he weighted them on the scale, repeating it 10 times for each, before finally calculating their density and compounded uncertainty of the measurement.

As expected, the densities were very small – between 2 to 5 times that of the air, or around 0.002 to 0.006 grams per cubic centimeter. That posed a problem. The measurements’ accuracy was horrendous – the uncertainty was oscillating between 0.001 to 0.002 grams per cubic centimeter. If the Manasolids didn’t have 10 or more cubic centimeters in volume, he wouldn’t be able to tell them apart with any certainty!

Zeph sighed. “I need better equipment!”

Leaving the room, he returned to Ghrughah’s workshop.

His intrusion wasn’t met with enthusiasm, but the giant didn’t need much time to help him fix the issues, so he agreed to help.

Using a very strong alloy, he created a replacement for the ladle – a thin, rigid wire ending with a sparse sieve. He also lent him a big scale that had a precision of 0.005 grams.

Seizing the opportunity, he also asked for a big funnel made of light-absorbing material that could be closed at the wider end by a mirror. He explained that he wanted to construct a light-emitting Spell inside and cut off the excess light to have a beam at the exit.

Grumbling, the giant complained about inefficient ideas, but quickly got to work.

Then, Zeph asked P’pfel for ideas for a photometer that could differentiate between different colors of light. The photoreactive substances were good and all, but Zeph simply couldn’t imagine how to measure the amount of light they would receive.

The solution wasn’t straightforward or precise. P’pfel could prepare canvasses covered in the chemicals in exactly the same measure. After exposing them to light, Zeph would have to put them in a container filled with a preserving compound. Then, he would have to compare the images manually to see the difference.

The more Zeph was listening, the more he wanted to laugh. And so, photography was invented! He mused internally.

Although, it wasn’t to be. He would have only 5 to 10 minutes to compare the canvases after removing them from the preserving chemicals. After drying, the photoreactive substance would deteriorate quickly.

An hour later, he started to move his new equipment to the compression chamber. P’pfel promised to produce more canvases after gathering more materials. The collectors, as Zeph preferred to call them, were small, maybe 15 by 15 centimeters frames. Each was enclosed in a simple metallic container. P’pfel managed to produce a hundred from the materials at hand – ten series for ten different wavelengths.

Seeing how much those would cost them, Zeph decided to limit himself to three repeats for each Manasolid. It would be a bare minimum for assuring repeatability and measurement uncertainty. Although, he wouldn’t be able to calculate the latter at all.

Instead, he decided to call down a few people with exceptional color perception to assist him when assessing the canvases.

While waiting for the equipment to saturate in the higher Mana density of the chamber, Zeph started preparing new glassware for the volume measurement. It wouldn’t be as precise as using an asymmetric U-tube with two fluids of different densities, but he would have to order the glass tube first. The initial measurements and calculations would take more time than it was worth it, either way. Instead, he decided to use an ‘overflow can’ – a wide beaker with a spout to remove the excess water into another container.

He filled the overflow can, allowing the excess to drip away. Then, he submerged his new holding tool down to the mark to displace the excess volume of water. After emptying and drying the catch beaker, he set it under the spout again and started his first measure.

The water in the catch beaker should represent the exact volume of the Manasolid, down to a waterdrop. That excess water was then poured into a much thinner and higher graduated cylinder, allowing him to measure the volume of water almost an order of magnitude more precisely.

He, of course, repeated the process 10 times for all three Manasolids. He also made sure to not displace even a drop of water – it was the major limiting factor of this method of measurement.

This time, the results were obvious. Gru’s Manasolid was almost two times denser than the other two – around 0.0063 grams per cubic centimeter instead of their 0.0026 and 0.0031.

“Now we are talking,” he murmured, looking at the results and uncertainties.

Glancing back at the photometric equipment, he frowned. “Changing the chamber’s settings and waiting for the Mana density to stabilize is taking too long. Let’s finish all the measurements for this batch first.”

Determined, he started to work on the second experiment.

The setting was simple: a funnel placed 2 centimeters from the center of a Manasolid – the thickness of the item measured with a precision of around 0.2 millimeters – and a collector placed 4 centimeters behind the Manasolid.

He made sure that the grapplers and frames weren’t moving and that the whole system was sable, then he walked to the control panel near the entrance of the room and disabled the lights.

Of course, because the room was illuminated with luminescent fluid instead of lamps, he had to wait a good five minutes for the residue to be flushed away in the translucent pipes. The system was somewhat slow-reacting, but this rendition at least was somewhat automated. Normally, he would have to remove the luminescent lamps manually, so there was some progress.

After the room was engulfed in total darkness, he constructed the Partially Self-Sustaining Lesser Light Spell, setting the wavelength at a deep violet. Then, he moved to the setup and removed the front cover of the collector. Crouching down, he observed it for a minute to make sure that it wasn’t reacting to the current illumination.

Not seeing any changes, he nodded and moved to the funnel.

Constructing another Light Spell inside of it, he set the wavelength to a deep red.

After activation, the Spell lasted for less than a second.

To achieve somewhat consistent results, he measured the Mana spent instead of the time of exposure. He was much better at determining how much Mana he was using than measuring other factors, after all.

His hope was that even if the efficiency of transforming Mana into light had different factors for different wavelengths, he would be able to notice that correlation by comparing the control group – the collectors illuminated by a light from the funnel’s end not occluded by any Manasolid. After all, what mattered the most wasn’t the light intensity, but the energy received overall. At least, that’s what P’pfel had said for exposure times less than two seconds.

Taking into account the limited number of collectors, he was going to use only one ‘canvas’ as a control. That should be enough to see a correlation, but taking into account how they were going to ‘measure’ the differences… he really didn’t need more data.

Measuring by eye… What is this? An early 19th century? He lamented inside. Not like I have any idea to improve it, though…

He made three ‘shots’ of each Manasolid for each wavelength, which left him with exactly one control for each wavelength. A hundred collectors were consumed in no time and then submerged in the chemical bath. Of course, he was illuminating the chamber with a light that wasn’t interacting with the collectors – P’pfel’s instructions worked without a hitch despite his doubts.

Sighing heavily after finishing the manual labor, he cursed this world for the lack of computers and automation.

Analyzing the results would have to wait until he gathered a team of ‘experts’, but his initial observations weren’t lost on him. Gru’s ‘egg’ definitely returned much dimmer results. It was just a question of confirming it and normalizing the scale. They would have to take into account the tightness of the ‘crystals’, their density, and the spread of the light beam, so he wasn’t sure if he was right.

Calculating this one will be a nightmare… he thought while writing everything down in his note.

Meanwhile, he had to change the chamber’s settings to test other Manasolids.

“Good results, but not really informative,” he grumbled under his nose while putting the three Manasolids into their compression boxes. “Something’s up with Gru’s creation, for sure. I really hope that the X-ray will hint at something more, though. Even knowing it’s different, the ‘egg theory’ is merely a superstition at this point…”