Grantville Gazette, Volume 69

by Bjorn Hasseler

  Mihulka Tower, HDG Laboratories (Prague)

  Vernon made his way into the workroom where Mags was muttering to herself as she fiddled with one of her retail crystal sets. He watched quietly for a while, listening to the sound of Radio Prague coming from one of the other work rooms. The reception was good, as was the sound quality. Eventually Mags looked up and saw him.

  "Herr Fritz!" she said as she scrambled to get to her feet.

  Vernon waved a hand. "Stay seated. I just dropped by to see how you were getting on."

  Mags glared at her arm in its plaster cast. "I can do most things, but the cast gets in the way when I need to hold something."

  Vernon nodded. He'd observed the difficulties Mags was experiencing as she worked on the crystal set. But he'd also noticed that she had ways to work around the problems. "How would you like to get back to work?"

  Mags' eyes lit up momentarily, then she frowned. "But I can't work with a cast on my arm," she muttered.

  "Not in your normal area of expertise, but they've managed to boil the coolant in a couple of the rheostats, and…"

  "Boil a rheostat? How did they manage to do that?"

  Vernon shrugged. He wasn't ready to apportion blame until he had the full story. "That's not important. What is, is that Hans Rohfritsch can't get at the bolts securing the rheostat covers, and we're faced with the prospect of lifting up each unit just so we can get at the bolts so we can remove the tops…So, are you interested in helping?"

  "Yes," Mags said as she carefully put the equipment she'd been working with down and started collecting her tools. "I'll need to get changed," she said as she got to her feet.

  "No problem. Five minutes here or there won't make much difference."

  While Mags dashed off to change Vernon examined the crystal set she'd been working on. He'd been impressed enough with the earlier versions he'd seen back in Grantville to hire her over graduates from the electrical trades course with better grades. He could see that she was working on a new version, this time using a flame diode as the detector, replacing the finicky cat's whisker and galena crystal method of demodulating the AM radio signal. He wondered how well it would work, but seeing that she'd even thought to try it reassured him that he'd made the right decision. Even if she'd managed to get herself on the sick list for the last few weeks by breaking her arm.

  "I'm ready," Mags called from behind him. "We just need to tell Frau Mittelhausen where I'm going."

  Vernon nodded and let Mags lead the way.

  There was another radio in the kitchen. Or at least Vernon imagined it was the kitchen judging by the sounds and smells coming from beyond the door. He shrugged. Obviously Dr. Gribbleflotz, or more likely, Frau Mittelhausen, believed that it was worthwhile investing in radios to keep his staff happy. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford to buy several—and the batteries to keep them going.

  ****

  Mags shoved her knuckles into her mouth and sucked on them. The taste of lubrication oil was offset by the taste of her own blood. Next time she saw her boyfriend's father—Jason Cheng Sr. of Kitt and Cheng Engineering and the head of the engineering department at the state technical college in Grantville—she intended to have words with him about doing more to get engineers designing things for ease of maintenance rather than just concentrating on designing for ease of manufacture.

  She pulled her knuckles out of her mouth to survey the damage. She now had a complete set of skinned knuckles on her right hand. The only reason the left hand wasn't similarly decorated was the plaster cast that made it difficult to use the hand also protected her knuckles. She made a mental note: work gloves.

  "How's it going?" Vernon Fritz called from behind her.

  "Just the last bolt to loosen, and we can lift it free."

  "So?" Vernon asked.

  Mags took the hint and got back to work. A couple of minutes later she removed the last nut and washer. "Okay, you can lift it now," she called out as she stepped as far back from the liquid rheostat as she could.

  Using a block and tackle, the other workers quickly hauled the top of the rheostat free and swung it onto a cart, leaving Mags still in the cramped space she'd been working in. "Could someone help me out, please?"

  Two hundred forty-pound Dietrich stepped as close as he could before putting a hand under each of Mags' arms. "Alley-oop," he said as he easily lifted her less than eighty-pound body out from between the rheostats.

  "Thanks, Dietrich," Mags said when he set her back on her feet. She turned to Vernon. "What do you want me to do now?"

  "You can help try and breathe new life back into those rheostats."

  Mags sighed. It wasn't what she'd hoped to hear, but the likely alternative was being sent back home.

  Kitt and Cheng Engineering, Grantville

  Jason Cheng sent the radio-controlled model of Hans Richter's Belle into a tight turn as he tried to get it into the six of the model airplane being flown by his friend and fellow apprentice mechanical engineer, David Kitt. However, with two almost identical models, gaining an advantage in a close-in dogfight was next to impossible. He broke off and sent his model in search of altitude.

  The bell of the timer rang out, calling an end to the flight. Jason circled while David landed his model of Colonel Woods' Belle before landing his own model.

  They were shutting down their respective models when Barry Thompson, their current immediate supervisor, walked up. "That last flight can't have lasted more than ten minutes. Are you two slacking?"

  Jason ran a hand over his aching neck. Keeping an eye on a model airplane meant you were constantly looking skyward. "We were dogfighting, Barry. Ten minutes is pushing the limits for that kind of intense flying."

  "Yeah," David said, rubbing his own neck. "You can't afford to lose your concentration when you're flying planes that aggressively that close together. Otherwise you'll collide and bang go two models."

  Barry nodded. "Okay then, ten minutes is the limit for close flying. I'll pass that on to the movie guys." He paused a moment. "Should I tell them the models are ready, or have you two not finished playing around with them yet?"

  Jason glanced over to David. He got a shrug in reply, which meant, if David was thinking the same as him, that he didn't think they could put off handing over their handiwork any longer. "Go ahead, Barry."

  He would have said more, but just then Rosina Trempling, the office manager, appeared. "Jason. Your father just rang. You were supposed to be home half an hour ago."

  Jason shot a glance at his watch. "It can't be that late," he protested. He looked around at all the gear that had to be put away before he could head home. He was going to be in soooo much trouble.

  "Just leave it and go, Jason," Barry said. "David and I can put everything away."

  "But you'll owe me," David said, making move-along gestures with his hands.

  "Thanks," Jason said before grabbing his personal gear and making a run for it.

  Meanwhile

  Jason's older sister, Diana, had her nose buried in a book. It was no ordinary book. It was an offset-printed photographic reproduction of Dr. Shipley's copy of Grey's Anatomy, and the very expensive book's presence in her personal library was a good reason to be glad of her family's relative wealth.

  She was reaching out to turn the page when there was a knock on her bedroom door. She sat up. "Yes?" she called to the still-closed door.

  "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," her mother called.

  Diana groaned and muttered about yet another interruption to her studies. "Coming," she called. She placed a bookmark in her book before closing it and got to her feet.

  Some time later

  Jason made his apologies as he pulled out his chair and flopped down. "Sorry. But David and I were test flying the Belles and lost track of the time."

  "How are they going?" his mother, Jennie Lee, asked.

  With that question, coming from his mother, Jason knew he wasn't in any trouble. "They're working perfectly. The eng
ines are firing without a hitch." That last was important, because he'd built the engines himself, copying one of the engines his father had made. Sometimes it helped to have a father who was a mechanical engineer who had been heavily into radio-controlled aircraft before the Ring of Fire.

  "So you're ready to hand them over to Gino?" Jason Sr. asked.

  Jason nodded. Gino Bianchi was the director and producer of the proposed Hans Richter movie, and the person who had commissioned the two radio-controlled scale model Belles. "Barry's going to give the studio a call and let them know they're ready." He looked inquiringly at his father. "So, what are you going to have David and I work on next?"

  "Funny you should ask that," Jason Sr. said, "because we've been asked to send someone to Prague to help with a problem the radio station has experienced."

  "Prague!" Jason said, all excited. "Can I go?" Mags, his girlfriend of more than four years was currently working there, and he hadn't seen her since June—not even to check up on her after she'd been injured in an encounter with a couple of housebreakers.

  His father nodded. "You'll be going, as will the rest of us." He looked pointedly at Diana.

  "What?" Diana protested. "But I can't go to Prague. I've got an anatomy test to prepare for, and I've got assignments to write, so I need access to the library."

  Jennie Lee turned to Diana. "You, young lady, need to cut back on your studies and relax a little."

  Jason stared at his mother in disbelief. "Who are you and what have you done with my real mother?" he asked.

  "What he said," an equally incredulous Diana said. "The only reason you haven't grounded him for life for graduating only second in his class is because he was beaten by Daniel."

  "Who happens to be a certified genius," Jason said, "with an IQ off the scale."

  Jason Sr. and Jennie Lee smiled at each other before turning to face Jason and Diana. "That is beside the point," Jennie Lee said.

  "Teacher's pet," Jason muttered, referring to the fact his mother was one of Daniel Pastorius' mathematics tutors, and that they shared a true love of mathematics.

  His mother glared at him. "I was speaking to your sister," she said before turning her attention back to Diana. "You're getting too far ahead of the rest of your intake, and the teaching staff are running out of material to give you before the class is scheduled to start working on the wards."

  Jason Sr. smiled at Diana. "We're proud of you. You're going to complete the BSN curriculum six months ahead of the previous best by any student, and your mother and I think you deserve a short break."

  "But what will I do in Prague?" Diana protested. She gestured towards Jason. "It's all right for him. He gets to visit his girlfriend. But what will I do while we're in Prague?"

  "You could visit the hospital," Jason suggested, "to see what's happening with Dr. Gribbleflotz' vibrating bed experiment."

  Diana snorted. "That's a load of crock," she said. "There's no way vibrating beds can help patients heal faster."

  "And how do you know that, young lady?" her father asked. "At least Dr. Gribbleflotz is willing to test the theory before reaching a conclusion."

  "And," Jason said, eager to add his two cents worth, "your friends on the veterinary program did say that cats' purrs help speed up healing in animals."

  He got a glare from his sister in response to that. "If it was a viable treatment someone would have been doing it up-time," she said.

  "Just because you've never heard of anyone researching the field doesn't mean it won't work. Keep an open mind!" Jason said. "You never know; it might turn out to be a revolutionary cure."

  "You mean your girlfriend's hero might finally manage to invigorate the Quinta Essentia of the human humors," Diana said.

  "Children!"

  Jason and Diana froze. Their mother very rarely raised her voice. There was a mutual exchange of glares as they fell silent.

  "Thank you," Jennie Lee said. "We are all going to Prague. That's final. Now, let's start planning the trip."

  A couple of days later, Grantville

  Jason Cheng Sr. slipped into the drawing room as quietly as he could. His son and his fellow apprentice mechanical engineer were attempting to produce accurate engineering drawings of two completely different bearing housings. When their drawings were complete they'd be checked for errors and corrected before being turned over to Ollie Reardon, who would then hand them on to some of his machine shop apprentices, asking them to make the bearings.

  He edged up beside Barry Thompson, the company's head, and only, qualified machinist. "How are they doing?" he quietly asked.

  Barry whispered back, "They had a few teething problems finding things in the engineering drawings standards manual, but they seem to have worked out what they're supposed to be doing."

  Jason Sr. nodded. The drawing standards manual laid down the conventions to be adhered to by engineering and drafting personnel in the preparation, revision, and completion of engineering drawings. If his son or David Kitt deviated from the standards, it was likely Ollies' apprentices wouldn't be able to follow the drawings. It was, naturally, a test—testing Jason and David's ability to produce proper engineering drawings, and, after they'd been corrected, the ability of Ollie's apprentice machinists to follow said drawings.

  Before too long Barry called out that time was almost up. That resulted in a brief flurry of activity as the two youths gave their drawings a final check, making subtle alterations here and there.

  "Time's up," Barry announced a few minutes later.

  Both Jason and David laid down their pencils, pushed their chairs back, and stood. "Why do we have a time limit?" David asked as he rubbed his neck.

  Barry glanced to Jason Sr., inviting him to answer.

  "If you had all the time in the world," Jason Sr. said, "you'd never make a mistake, but we're running a business, and we can't afford to have you spending hours we can't charge preparing drawings, so you have to learn to work to a time limit."

  Jason and David exchanged looks. They'd learned about chargeable and nonchargeable hours when they first started their apprenticeships. Chargeable hours were included in the quote and produced income, while non-chargeable ones cost the company. David's mother had told them in no uncertain terms not to accrue non-chargeable hours.

  "Barry, if you don't mind, I'd like a few words with Jason and David."

  Barry glanced around, raising a brow in Jason Sr. "Hey, no problem. I'll just collect the drawings and start checking them."

  "Thanks." Jason Sr. turned to the two boys. "I've just been on the phone to Gino…"

  "Is there something wrong with the Belles?" Jason asked his father.

  "No, but it is about the Belles." Jason Sr. grinned. "How would the pair of you like to show off your flying skills to the good people of Prague?"

  "Hey, cool," David said.

  "Why does Mr. Bianchi want us to fly the Belles around Prague?" Jason asked.

  "He wants to use them to raise interest in his movie."

  "But he hasn't made the movie yet," David protested.

  "Is he trying to get investor interest, Dad?"

  Jason Sr. shrugged. "Maybe, but that's not our concern."

  "Mum'll be very concerned if we aren't going to get paid," David said.

  "Yes, your mother would be concerned," Jason Sr. agreed. "However, we have been paid for our work to date."

  "Including the Belles?" David asked. "We only just turned them over."

  "The check is in the mail," Jason Sr. said. Then he grinned. "Actually, your mother has already deposited the check."

  "So if we're taking the film company's Belles to Prague, what happens if anyone asks to have a go?" Jason asked.

  "You tell them no," his father replied. "We can't risk the Belles in the hands of people who don't know what they're doing."

  "Even the king?" Jason asked.

  Jason Sr. winced. The king was probably a special case. "We'll have to make sure the king doesn't want to try flying one o
f the Belles. Gino can't afford to lose either of them before he finishes shooting the movie."

  "There's an easy solution," David said. "Just take some round-the-pole or simple control-line models."

  "That's a good idea, David." He stood up straight and smiled at the two boys. "I'll leave you two to sort out what you need in the way of models and spare parts."

  A few days later, Prague

  Jason Cheng was enthralled with what he was seeing and hearing as he observed his father investigating what was wrong with the Radio Prague installation. He glanced quickly at his fellow apprentice mechanical engineer and smiled. It looked like David was also enjoying the opportunity to see an expert at work. Of course, Jason was a still a teenager, having only recently graduated from high school, so although his brain was one hundred percent attentive to what was happening, another part of his body had other considerations. It had been more than four hours since his stomach had received sustenance, and it didn’t approve. It voiced this disapproval with embarrassing audibility.

  Jason Sr. turned at the first audible rumblings from Jason. "Are you feeling hungry?" he asked.

  "I'm good," Jason said, waving his hand, but his stomach disagreed, releasing another loud rumble.

  "We can stop now," Vernon Fritz, the up-time installation manager for the Radio Prague project, said with a grin.