The Serenity of Routine.
I find myself comfortably engaged in my work here, though my time has been short, the experience has proven rather enjoyable. However, on the other hand...
A sudden, sharp pain pierces through my shoulder.
After a moment of shock from the abrupt shoulder pain, I sit on the bed, attempting to calm my agitated breath. I inspect my shoulder but find no visible gunshot wound. It's peculiar, as if the sensation had been purely emotional.
To distract myself, I reach for a glass of water I had placed nearby for when I woke up. I try to ignore the overwhelming sense of disgust that envelops me. I suppose all the accumulated stress has begun to affect me in some way.
I gaze out the window, but there are still no signs of dawn. My body trembles uncontrollably, as if the experience had been incredibly real. I wonder if these disturbing effects could be attributed to the miasma surrounding me or if I might be losing my sanity.
I decide to sit at my desk and begin summarizing the second arc. Reading and jotting down information helps me focus my thoughts and plan the next steps I must take. Although my body is still trembling, I make an effort to concentrate on the task at hand.
In this narrative arc, the protagonist becomes acquainted with the mansion's residents and often meets his demise at the hands of Rem. I assume that issue is now resolved. As long as I don't stray from the mansion, Rem won't be able to murder me.
The real challenge lies in the second part—the attack of the mabestias. I have no means to prevent it, as I read that it occurred due to the removal of a crystal, leading to the kidnapping of the children.
However, the truth is that it's caused by Meili, the beast tamer. This implies that there is no correct way to prevent it without arousing suspicion. Furthermore, Roswaal is the one responsible for this attack.
I clench my fist tightly. After all, suffering due to a psychopath's actions is far from pleasant. I realize that, for now, I must act in accordance with his wishes to prevent him from taking more drastic measures against me.
However, I see an opportunity in his mistake. If the book doesn't reveal that I already know the story, then I have the upper hand. I will use his money to create things and accumulate power.
Once I have enough influence, I will show him that he has no other option but to follow me. I know that for him, these trials are merely a ploy to make me his pawn. But the one you should truly fear is the one who not only fulfills your expectations but exceeds them, because when that happens, things can take a dangerous turn.
Having completed the summary, I pick up my cellphone and search for plans for a machine, a device that could represent a turning point in our era. The excitement overwhelms me at the prospect of gaining a monopoly on something so pivotal.
However, before I proceed, I realize the need to investigate whether such creations already exist in this world. It would be imprudent to embark on the development of something that has already been invented.
These may seem trivial, but saving these items back then has proven to be the best decision of my life. Perhaps I lack material wealth, but I treasure knowledge and resources of incalculable value.
With a smile on my face, almost forgetting that I've hardly slept at all, I make my way to the shower, prepared to start my day in earnest. There's no one awake, and if Rem so desires, he could eliminate any threat I might pose to him.
I shake my head, dismissing that notion, for in this place, promises carry immense weight.
To be candid, I do not derive pleasure from hot baths, as they tend to plunge me into a deeper lethargy rather than rejuvenate me. I doubt they employ advanced plumbing systems here. I presume a simple lever is employed to release the water, directing it toward the plants or elsewhere.
I continue my investigation, but suddenly, I confront a more pressing issue. How on earth can I activate this shower? At present, I lack the slightest idea of how to make it dispense water. My body is sticky from sweat, and it would be exceedingly uncomfortable to wait for someone else to bathe before I can borrow some water.
I scour the room in search of a solution, and fortunately, in a corner, I spot a wooden bucket containing water. I inspect to ensure the water is not stagnant, and it appears to be in normal condition. "What luck," I think as I touch the water and notice that it's cold, which is perfect for my needs.
Thankfully, in this world, soap exists, something Ram mentioned to me yesterday, filling me with joy. Although it doesn't match the quality of what we are familiar with, its aroma derives from plants and aromatic substances. Obviously, it lacks the same disinfecting properties we had in our time.
Nevertheless, it is undoubtedly a significant advancement. I suppose this is due to the absence of religious dominance here. They are not in as dire a situation as I might have imagined.
I have the impression that, despite living in a medieval era, they possess diverse knowledge compared to our time. Nevertheless, uncertainty continues to consume me, as it is challenging for me to accept that I am in the midst of a story.
It would make more sense if someone came from the future, like the creator. I prefer to believe in that possibility rather than assume that I am trapped within a narrative.
After concluding my bath and donning the uniform, I make my way to the kitchen. The house's design is intriguing: the first floor is for the servants, the second and third floors for the guests, and the fourth floor is reserved for important individuals, such as Roswaal and Emilia.
It is surprisingly similar to the structure of a real building. The basement here is used as a storeroom, so the kitchen is located on the first floor, making the task of cooking more convenient.
On my way to the kitchen, I realize that one of the doors diagonally across from mine begins to open. I had completely forgotten that on that side are the women's quarters. A faint chuckle escapes my lips at the thought that just crossed my mind.
It's ironic that in this country, a woman will govern. It appears that such backward ideas as those we used to have in the past do not exist here, and that is a positive development.
The initial sight that greets my eyes as it emerges from the room is her resplendent hair, an ethereal shade of celestial blue. She emits a delicate yawn as she proceeds outward, still adorned in her nightwear.
Her appearance exudes a charming allure, marked by an untroubled and slightly drowsy countenance. In stark contrast to her customary perception of me, at this very moment, she seems akin to an ordinary individual.
Rem rubs her eyes, while I move cautiously, endeavoring to avoid her detection. I harbor no desire to disrupt her morning routine. However, as if she had caught wind of something disagreeable, Rem's eyes snap open abruptly, revealing an expression of astonishment or perhaps suspicion.
"The miasma!" Acknowledging my defeat, I gaze into Rem's eyes, which are now fully awakened, projecting a cold glare in my direction. I rest my hand at the back of my head, conceding to my misfortune, and offer an awkward smile.
"Good morning, I suppose you're an early riser," I venture.
Rem remains silent, instead, she advances toward me with an ominous aura.
"What brings you awake at this hour?" She inquire.
Rem glares at me with anger, her gaze exuding a constant threat, as if every misplaced word could lead to dire consequences.
"I couldn't sleep, so I decided to bathe and change. Besides, there are still dishes from last night to wash. I'll use this time to attend to them and commence my work."
There is still water in a can that I use yesterday.
I despise having to provide explanations in this manner. I understand her perspective, yes, but the extent of fear her presence instills in me is exasperating. Dealing with these trivial chores is burdensome enough; I don't need to contend with her attitude as well.
Rem stares intently, attempting to unnerve me, but I refuse to yield. Despite feeling apprehensive, I cannot allow myself to be dominated.
"I see, then, it's alright. At least, I notice your early rising for work," Rem remarks as she makes her way toward the bathroom.
I breathe a sigh of relief. I knew she woke up early to wake Ram, but it genuinely caught me off guard.
Here, there are no particular timepieces, but there exists a method to indicate whether it's dawn, dusk, afternoon, or night. Time here mirrors that on Earth, comprising twenty-four hours, which are divided into fractions of the same duration.
The day is split into twelve luminous hours and twelve dark hours, summing up to a total of twenty-four hours in a day.
To guide ourselves, we employ a clairvoyant crystal akin to a timepiece: from noon until six in the evening, it displays the wind element in verdant hues, and for the subsequent six luminous hours, it embodies fire, presented in crimson.
During the initial six dark hours, it embodies water in azure, and in the final six dark hours, it signifies earth in golden tones.
The hues shift with the passing of day and the transition of time, yet it is an undeniably imprecise and intricate affair. After all, what shall I articulate? Shall we rendezvous in a shade of dark green?
Emilia elucidated that there exists no precise manner of expressing an exact hour, hence plans are typically devised around the midpoints and extremities of each shade.
The months, on the other hand, bear semblance to those of our era, with twelve months culminating in a total of 365 days within a year.
All of this prompts me to contemplate the workings of day and night, particularly in light of the presence of seasons, desert regions, and an arctic nation. I presume that what they refer to as the Od Laguna plays a role in this phenomenon. I shall have to consult Beatrice for further insight.
Upon completing the task of dishwashing and kitchen cleaning, I discern that dawn has already broken. It is time to prepare breakfast, yet I am confronted with a predicament: I lack the means to do so.
I survey my surroundings in search of ingredients and come across bread, vegetables, and eggs. In a certain sense, we possess something akin to a refrigerator here, thanks to a crystal capable of maintaining a low temperature.
Despite Rem's desire that I refrain from entering the kitchen, I choose to disregard it and contemplate the possibilities at my disposal. By combining these ingredients with the knowledge from my former world, I can achieve remarkable efficiency.
I opt to prepare a salad with tomatoes, lettuce, onions, and cucumbers, to which I add a touch of lemon and, to my surprise, a dash of olive oil. It is evident that Roswaal is affluent, so it is not surprising to find these high-quality ingredients.
My salad is nearly complete, but I lack the protein. I am uncertain if servants can partake in meat, so I decide to slice some bread and fetch three eggs.
However, a predicament arises: I cannot employ fire for cooking. Just at that moment, an angelic figure enters the kitchen. Her gait is graceful, her posture regal, and she exudes an aura of superiority as she regards me.
"Hmm! You must be eager for my presence if you look at me in such a manner," she jests, her pink tresses billowing in the air. She assumes a pose of authority, regarding me as if I were of lower station.
I approach Ram with enthusiasm, even though she regards me with a mocking smile. I am aware that she is eager for me to seek her assistance, given that I demonstrated competence in my duties on the first day. However, my hunger prevails, and I am determined to rectify this situation.
"Oh, madam," I say as I kneel, "Could you do me the immense favor of utilizing your grace and magical prowess to heat a skillet?"
I look at her with resolve, attempting to convey my courtesy. I know Ram's weakness: she relishes being needed, despite her penchant for indolence and disinterest in her duties. Nevertheless, she enjoys it when others request her aid.
Ram gazes at me and snorts with pride.
"Heh! It seems you require the assistance of this lovely maid."
And so, with the promise of a breakfast in progress, my day commences with a touch of excitement and a hint of intrigue in this strange world I have entered.
Ram heads to the stove with determination. The mere touch of the crystal causes it to begin warming, and gradually, it starts to glow, radiating heat onto the metal grill that will hold the pan. It is a mesmerizing spectacle.
Ram's gaze meets mine, and I can see a glimmer of pride in her eyes as she effortlessly continues the banter.
"Thank you, madam. I shall cherish this favor in my heart for eternity."
I rise, grateful to Ram for her assistance. She has also been mediating between Rem and me to ease the atmosphere, and that deserves my heartfelt gratitude.
I prepare the meal for the three of us, hoping they will appreciate the effort I have put into it. Although Rem is familiar with Roswaal and Emilia's taste, I did not want to risk preparing something they might not like. I opted for a simple dish for the three of us.
Despite being told not to cook, I couldn't resist.
The scent of toasted bread, scrambled eggs, and salad fills the kitchen. It is a common dish, nothing out of the ordinary, but the aroma is delightful. Fortunately, Roswaal is wealthy, and his kitchen is stocked with spices and exquisite ingredients.
Ram looks at me eagerly, and I can sense her hunger, although she tries to conceal it.
Upon completion, I meticulously serve a dish for Ram, accompanied by a small cup of milk.
"Here you go, a breakfast brimming with vitality," I offer.
The kitchen boasts a table designated for the servants' meals, so I arrange everything for Ram and Rem to partake in.
Ram catches the scent of the food and appears eager for it, yet she refrains from eating without Rem. She awaits her arrival, and I decide to do the same, although I must confess I am not anticipating her presence.
Finally, Rem appears, and the atmosphere instantly becomes tense. I am apprehensive about her reaction, but I am unwilling to persist in this manner.
"I prepared breakfast, and it turned out quite delectable," I inform her, forcing a smile.
Rem regards me impassively and shifts her attention to the table where the food is laid out. I cannot discern her thoughts, but I assume the mere fact that I have cooked must be displeasing to her.
However, that matters not to me in the least.
Ram urges Rem to take a seat, and she complies. The meal does not look unappetizing at all, at least from my perspective, but Rem's countenance unmistakably displays her distaste. Her gestures, her body language, everything indicates that she would rather go hungry than taste it.
Fortunately, Ram is present.
Ram gazes at Rem and, with her utensils, takes a bite of salad and places it in her mouth. At that moment, I feel the tension in the air dissipate. Initially, Rem attempts resistance, but the delightful aroma of the food begins to entice her.
I cannot help but smile at this small victory. After all, preparing a salad is not exactly a complex task, but I am aware it must be delicious to have this effect on Rem.
Rem's eyes widen with astonishment, as if she cannot believe what she is experiencing. Perhaps she thought my words about cooking were mere empty talk, but now she is tasting the reality of my culinary skills.
After a few seconds of resistance, Rem finally surrenders and begins to eat. Her expressions shift from disbelief to a certain satisfaction, and I am content to have succeeded in making her enjoy the meal.
Yet her gaze continues to fixate on me.
I shall savor my meal regardless, collect my dishes, and withdraw from the premises without uttering a word. I tread towards the courtyard, where the sun's radiance begins to assert its dominance.
Pure air and a refreshing breeze envelop me, and I realize that this place is far more comfortable than the mansion.
I conclude my meal tranquilly and then return to the kitchen to attend to the dishes. Rem was occupied cooking for the others, and I behold a stack of soiled plates that unmistakably designate my next task.
I presume Ram has gone to attend to Roswaal, leaving only Rem and me behind.
Rem assists me in activating the crystal that dispenses water, rendering the dishwashing process considerably more straightforward. We labor in silence, yet I sense that we are forging a small connection, a mutual understanding, through our actions.
Upon finishing the dishwashing, I make my way toward the kitchen's exit. After all, I have other responsibilities to fulfill. Before closing the door, Rem utters without meeting my gaze:
"Thank you for the breakfast."
Her gratitude sounds somewhat dry and devoid of emotion, but I recognize it as a step forward. Perhaps Ram has prompted her to say it, but I cannot help but regard it as progress.
As I depart from the kitchen, I head to my quarters. It is time to set my plan for the library in motion. Although I already have the trap's design in mind, I would appreciate Beatrice's assistance in perfecting it.
I know I cannot request this directly, so I decide to prepare the trap and await the night to observe what unfolds.
In the afternoon, prior to meeting with Emilia, I search for the list that Rem wrote for me and make my way to Roswaal's office. Upon arrival, Roswaal greets me and remarks in his characteristic, irritating manner:
"I see you've acclimated to the wo~~rk."
Despite his irksome tone, I suppress my urge to display frustration and instead respond with a smile.
I am well aware that my time in this world is riddled with challenges, but I am determined to confront them with patience and resolve. Each small advancement, such as Rem's this morning, brings me one step closer to my objectives.
"Yes, I can undertake all tasks that do not involve magic. It's frustrating to feel so inept in this situation," I sigh, disappointed by my lack of magical prowess.
Ram, with her characteristic mocking smile, snorts and taunts me:
"You should get used to that feeling; after all, you are utterly ineffectual in that regard," Ram asserts arrogantly, casting a derisive gaze my way.
I smile, anticipating that very remark, and as I made my way here, I devised a witty response:
"Ha! I don't believe you're one to talk, Miss Expert in steaming potatoes," I retort, giving her a triumphant look.
That's how we used to interact, like two friendly rivals. It may seem hostile, but neither of us takes it seriously.
Ram wipes her smile away, turns her head, and I can clearly hear the signal of my daily victory, my small vengeance for this morning's incident.
"Tsh!"
If it weren't for Roswaal's presence, I probably would have continued teasing Ram.
However, I can't afford to do so in front of him. Roswaal observes our interaction with a satisfied smile and, without uttering a word, directs his attention to a letter he holds in his hands.
After reading it, he comments:
"I see, obtaining that sand will be a bit complicated since we'll have to import it from Kararagi, as Lugunica doesn't have it. However, I have an acquaintance who can assist us, so it won't be an issue."
I explain to Roswaal about concrete and how it is a highly durable material that can be relatively easily mass-produced. In response, Roswaal provides valuable information:
"All major constru~~ctions use Earth Lamicta to re~~inforce their foundations. However, this significantly increases costs, making it inacce~~ssible to most people," Roswaal smiles with satisfaction. "If this works similarly, it will be a great product to sell."
An Earth Lamicta is a type of crystal that controls a specific element. Roswaal explains to me that Lamicta not only produces material of the element they possess but can also change its use through a magical formula within. In other words, he is telling me that these crystals can be programmed.
I realize that magic in this world is not as straightforward as I initially thought. Even though they don't currently employ highly advanced technology, the potential is staggering. If I can comprehend the workings of these formulas, I can enhance the machinery in my world.
"That's fortunate, as producing this material requires extremely high temperatures," Roswaal acknowledges with understanding.
"We'll need a fire mage for that. Fortunately, in this mansion, several individuals possess that ability," he continues.
I know Roswaal is capable of fire magic, but I'm uncertain about others. Roswaal regards me with a doubtful expression before adding, "In this mansion, those who can wield fire magic are: the spirit Puck, Miss Emilia, and, of course, myself."
Three people in the mansion can control fire magic, although I've primarily seen Puck and Emilia employ ice magic. Depending on Roswaal for this task, I feel relieved.
However, Roswaal's expression changes, and he scrutinizes me intently. When he appears to have finished, he closes his eyes and speaks softly, "Although now we have four users."
I'm taken aback by his words. As far as I know, the others don't have the ability to use multiple types of magic, making it seem impossible for another user to exist.
Slowly, Roswaal points his finger in my direction, saying, "Congratulations, Marco, you're the fourth user."
His revelation leaves me utterly astonished. The notion that I, a foreigner in this world, could be a magic user is entirely unexpected.
His words hit me hard, causing me to take a few steps back. A magic user? It doesn't make sense. I shouldn't have access to magic; after all, I don't belong to this world.
I wonder if the strange sensation I experienced all day yesterday was, in fact, my gateway to magic forming, or if it has somehow always existed within me.
I endeavor to seek answers in Roswaal's expression, but his countenance reveals little more than mystery.
"It doesn't make sense," I reiterate aloud. "As I mentioned earlier, in my homeland, there is no magic or anything similar. How is it possible for someone with no connection to magic to have an affinity for it?"
Roswaal shrugs, his gaze lost in the infinite.
"Unfortunately, I cannot offer you an answer to that question. Magic in this world is an ever-evolving mystery, and sometimes, destiny holds inexplicable surprises."
I comprehend that, like the protagonist of this tale, I also possess the ability to use magic. However, my ability seems to be restricted by the miasma, limiting its utility. Unlike the protagonist, who never endeavored to train his magical control, I am willing to learn and, hopefully, unlock my full potential.
A surge of excitement courses through my being as I contemplate the possibilities that magic can offer. Although my ability may not be as strategic as the protagonist's, the power of fire is a formidable force that can be effectively wielded in combat.
"No matter," I tell Roswaal, striving to maintain composure. "Thank you for revealing this truth to me. Now that I know I can use magic, I won't feel excluded from the rest."
I gaze at my hands, attempting to establish a connection with magic, but for now, I am unable to do so. I decide it would be prudent to seek the assistance of Puck, the spirit residing in this mansion. If he refuses to help, I will have to use the pending favor.
As for the details about the other necessary materials, I opt to keep them a secret for now, leaving them as a final surprise. I bow respectfully to Roswaal and Ram.
"If you'll excuse me, I will retire to prepare for Miss Emilia's lessons."
Roswaal bids me farewell with a smile, while Ram avoids my gaze. I close the door behind me and finally release all the emotion I have been suppressing.
My body trembles with anticipation as I consider the possibilities that magic offers.
After all, who hasn't dreamed of having the power of magic? This desire knows no age limits; it is a universal longing that we have all cherished at some point in our lives.
I enter Emilia's study, and upon seeing me, she rises from her seat with a playful smile.
"Good morning, Professor!" Emilia greets me enthusiastically.
Immediately, I feel a tingling sensation coursing through my entire body. Almost as if I had suddenly aged forty years, I regard her with an uncomfortable expression.
"I'm twenty-three, not that old yet."
Emilia chuckles lightly and retrieves a notebook to write in. Since I cannot read, I must rely on everything Emilia tells me, just as she depends on what I convey.
Today, I aspire to delve into her knowledge, to uncover the extent of her expertise on various subjects. Throughout the day, I pose questions gradually, commencing with facile topics and progressing as she responds. My aim is to scrutinize all thoroughly.
We embark upon a discourse about politics, and I expound upon the diverse forms of governance in my world.
"Socialism appears quite favorable for the well-being of all," Emilia remarks with an enthused smile.
Internally, I regret having broached this subject.
Swiftly, I elucidate the pros and cons of each political doctrine. In doing so, I discern that she lacks knowledge in economics. It appears she has primarily studied history and the functioning of the noble system in her country.
Studying history is imperative, but overlooking economic subjects is an oversight.
Subsequently, I transition to the exact sciences. Given her limited knowledge in economics, I do not anticipate much, and I am not astonished to discover that she is proficient only in basic mathematical operations.
"So, you are acquainted with all fundamental mathematical operations but are unacquainted with more intricate arithmetic methods," I convey.
"Yes, regarding 'statistics,' I had never heard of it," Emilia responds.
Although they do not formally employ the term "statistics" in their world and lack concepts such as percentages, records and data are compiled in various areas that could serve as a foundation for future analyses.
This suggests that someone might eventually develop the field of statistics in this world, or perhaps it is already underway in commercial establishments.
This information is invaluable and could be a pivotal point in my forthcoming conversation with Roswaal. If I demonstrate the utility of statistics, I might persuade him to entrust me with the mansion's economic affairs.
He places his trust in me, and if his book indicates my competence, I may no longer need to toil as a servant.
I have been here for just two days, yet I am already weary of this predicament.
Subsequently, I initiate a discourse on Physics, but in this world, there is no genuine comprehension of this science.
Why would they care when they are perpetually defying the laws of physics?
Their perception is intuitive; they believe this place to be the center of the universe, with the celestial bodies in the sky revolving around them.
They also mention seven elements: Water, Earth, Fire, Air, Light, Darkness, and a seventh one called "mana." Clearly, there are inaccuracies in considering light and darkness as elements, as light lacks matter, and darkness is merely the absence of light.
As for mana, it is a concept I do not fully grasp, thus I cannot adequately judge it.
"For you, knowing this will not be crucial, so I shall only impart the basics when the time comes," I tell Emilia.
I do not anticipate Emilia becoming an expert in physics or engineering, but if she comprehends the fundamental concepts, I shall be content.
Furthermore, I lack the means to demonstrate these concepts, so I can only assert what I know.
My primary concern lies in whether the physical constants in this world are identical to those on Earth, for this could have profound implications.
Moving on to biology, their knowledge in this domain is rudimentary. The existence of various animal species is acknowledged, but they are just beginning to categorize them based on their characteristics.
Regarding anatomy, their knowledge is limited.
They are aware of the existence of organs but lack comprehension of the causes of diseases or the functioning of organs beyond the heart, lungs, and stomach.
I wonder if improving our medical knowledge could enhance our healing abilities. Perhaps only the healers can delve deeper into this field.
As for chemistry, consensus eludes us. Some mention alchemists, but their numbers have dwindled.
"If it concerns mixing substances, the alchemists should assist you," Emilia suggests.
Despite magic overshadowing chemistry in this world, I remain convinced that its development is vital for humanity. Chemistry allows us to unravel the secrets of matter and unleash its transformative potential.
I shall contemplate requesting Roswaal to seek out and employ alchemists.
Regarding rhetoric and literary prowess, my comments are limited due to my inability to read or write. Though Emilia's ability to speak may improve both in depth and vocabulary, I am confident she will progress with diligence and practice.
As I become aware, dusk approaches. We have spent the entire afternoon here, and it has been exceedingly productive.
"Good job. This will assist me in better organizing my explanations," I say to Emilia, who responds with a playful tone:
"Yes, Professor."
Her nervousness towards me seems to have considerably diminished, and I believe our efforts from yesterday were not in vain.
"See you tomorrow. I must prepare dinner and then receive writing lessons from Ram."
"Thank you for everything," Emilia smiles at me as I exit the place.
I venture into the enigmatic realm of the mansion's corridors, eager to activate my instinct and unveil the secret hidden behind one of its doors. I close my eyes, contemplating which one might be the correct choice, but I fail to discern any special signal.
Perhaps the first time was merely a stroke of luck.
Or maybe it's due to my lack of affinity with Yin magic, something the protagonist masters perfectly.
I open several doors, but none respond to me. I accessed it this morning, so it must be that I am not concentrating enough.
I decide to close my eyes once more, focusing my entire being on recalling the sensation I experienced when the door led me to the library.
It's a scent, I know it.
A faint aroma of old books always precedes the entrance.
"Here!" I exclaim excitedly.
I make my way to a door, and upon opening it, I am engulfed by the fragrance of books, a scent that intensifies upon entry. As I look around, I discover before me a haphazardly stacked mountain of books.
Curiosity drives me forward to investigate what is happening, but the pile of books is so vast that I cannot see beyond it.
When I finally reach the summit, the scene unfolds before my eyes. A diminutive figure, normally apathetic to everything, is completely absorbed in examining the blueprint I handed her this morning.
Yes, it is a blueprint of a steam engine.
The machine that triggered the first industrial revolution.