Chapter 102: Proof of Concept
The response from the Royal Palace arrived four days later.
The letter itself was short.
Very short.
His Majesty shall receive the demonstration on the 14th day of August.
Preparations within the palace have been authorized.
The Royal Household awaits your arrival.
Ernest read it twice before setting it down on his desk.
Across from him, Hollen looked as though he had just read an execution notice.
"Four days."
"Ten."
"Ten days until the demonstration."
"That’s still four fewer than I would like."
The forge owner leaned back in his chair.
"Tell me honestly."
Ernest looked up.
"How bad would it be if the machine failed in front of the king?"
He considered the question seriously.
"Politically?"
"Yes."
"Embarrassing."
"And financially?"
"Potentially catastrophic."
Hollen closed his eyes.
"Wonderful."
The next ten days became absolute chaos.
The prototype inside Laboratory Number One was no longer sufficient. Demonstrations inside workshops were one thing. Demonstrations inside royal palaces were another entirely.
Royal palaces had an unfortunate tendency to contain important people.
Important people disliked failure.
The first decision Ernest made was redundancy.
If one battery failed, another battery would immediately replace it.
If one wire connection loosened, duplicate pathways would exist.
If one receiver malfunctioned, another receiver would already be mounted beside it.
The demonstration would not rely on one machine.
It would rely on four machines pretending to be one.
"That seems excessive," Hollen said while reviewing the diagrams.
"It is excessive."
"Then why are we doing it?"
"Because kings only need to see a machine fail once."
The older man nodded immediately.
"Carry on."
By the third day, the workshop resembled a military staging area more than a laboratory.
Telegraph keys occupied one table.
Receivers occupied another.
Battery jars lined an entire shelf.
Coils of copper wire rested beside wooden crates filled with spare components.
Every part was numbered.
Every component was tested.
Every connection was inspected repeatedly.
Ernest personally tested the batteries each morning and each evening.
Voltage consistency mattered.
The palace demonstration would last perhaps fifteen minutes.
He needed the batteries to remain stable for several hours.
Preferably days.
The Daniell cells performed remarkably well.
Much better than he expected.
Copper sulfate crystals slowly accumulated near the bottom of the containers while zinc dissolved exactly as chemistry dictated.
Beautiful.
Predictable.
Reliable.
Engineering always felt comforting when physics behaved itself.
Unfortunately, people rarely behaved as predictably as chemistry.
That problem revealed itself three days before departure.
Specifically, operators.
The first trained operator sent messages too quickly.
The second confused short and long signals.
The third became nervous whenever anyone watched him.
The fourth somehow managed to transform simple sentences into complete nonsense.
"Send the message again."
The young operator nodded.
Click.
Click click.
Click.
Click click click.
The receiver operator frowned.
"Enemy cavalry approaching from the east."
The sender looked horrified.
"That wasn’t the message."
"What was it supposed to say?"
The young man looked down at his paper.
"Tea will be served at noon."
The room fell silent.
Eventually Hollen spoke.
"Those are very different situations."
Ernest rubbed his forehead.
"We need better training."
They solved the problem through standardization.
Operators would repeat every message twice.
Important military messages would be confirmed by return transmission.
Critical orders required acknowledgements.
Errors would become procedures.
Procedures became reliability.
Reliability became trust.
By the end of the week, the operators had improved dramatically.
Not perfect.
Good enough.
That was all engineering ever really asked for.
Good enough consistently outperformed perfect occasionally.
Two days before departure, Ernest ordered the full demonstration rehearsed inside the factory.
One room became the Royal Office.
Another became the receiving station.
Hollen reluctantly agreed to play the role of king.
The older man seemed to enjoy the responsibility more than he admitted.
"I require tea."
"You’re not the king."
"Then why am I sitting in the king’s chair?"
"Because you’re pretending to be him."
"Then I require tea."
Ernest sighed.
Someone brought him tea.
The demonstration began.
Hollen wrote a message.
The operator transmitted it.
The second operator decoded it.
The message returned perfectly.
Again.
Another message.
Success.
Again.
Success.
The fourth message failed entirely because the receiving operator sneezed halfway through transmission.
They adjusted procedures accordingly.
The fifth worked.
The sixth worked.
The seventh worked.
By sunset, confidence had slowly begun replacing anxiety.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
The following morning, six wagons departed Helmarte Machine Works.
One carried equipment.
One carried batteries.
One carried spare wire.
One carried replacement components.
One carried tools.
The final wagon carried nothing but backup equipment.
Hollen stared at the convoy.
"How much of this is actually necessary?"
"Most of it."
"And the rest?"
Ernest thought for a moment.
"Insurance."
The journey to the capital passed quietly.
Both men spent most of it reviewing plans.
Message procedures.
Battery maintenance.
Equipment setup.
Emergency contingencies.
By the time the capital walls appeared once more upon the horizon, Ernest had mentally rehearsed the demonstration enough times that he could probably perform it in his sleep.
The Royal Palace received them immediately.
Apparently the king was eager.
Very eager.
Several servants escorted them directly toward the prepared rooms.
The moment Ernest entered, he immediately approved of the arrangement.
Excellent.
The first room contained a large desk and several chairs.
The second room lay nearly forty meters away across two corridors and one stairwell.
Perfect.
Far enough to eliminate accusations of trickery.
Close enough to guarantee reliability.
The palace staff watched with fascination as workers unpacked the strange equipment.
Copper wire stretched through hallways beneath the supervision of royal guards.
Ceramic insulators were mounted carefully against stone walls.
Battery jars occupied a side table under constant observation from horrified servants.
One young maid stared at the batteries for nearly a minute.
"Is that safe?"
"Mostly."
She looked alarmed.
"What do you mean mostly?"
"It probably won’t explode."
"Probably?"
Hollen stepped forward.
"They rarely explode."
That did not improve matters.
By late afternoon, everything was ready.
The batteries were connected.
The wire was tested.
The receivers responded perfectly.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The sound echoed quietly through the room.
A servant entered moments later.
"His Majesty will receive the demonstration tomorrow morning."
Ernest nodded.
"Understood."
The servant hesitated.
Then asked quietly,
"Does it truly work?"
Ernest looked toward the receiver.
Then toward the wire disappearing through the corridor.
"Tomorrow everyone will find out."
That evening, Ernest stood alone beside the palace window overlooking the capital.
Thousands of lights flickered below.
Oil lamps.
Candles.
Lanterns.
A city illuminated by fire.
Behind him rested batteries capable of controlling invisible energy.
The contrast felt strange.
History often moved quietly.
Not through battles.
Not through speeches.
Not through coronations.
Sometimes history moved through workshops.
Through wires.
Through experiments.
Through engineers refusing to accept that things must always remain as they were.
Tomorrow the king would see the telegraph.
If the demonstration succeeded, Belfast would begin constructing its first electrical infrastructure project.
If it failed...
He preferred not to consider that possibility.
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
Hollen entered carrying two glasses.
"Wine?"
Ernest accepted one.
The forge owner stood beside him overlooking the city.
For several moments, neither spoke.
Eventually Hollen sighed.
"You know something?"
"What?"
"When I first met you, I thought you were an unusually clever child."
Ernest smiled.
"And now?"
The older man looked toward the distant city lights.
"Now I think you’re dragging the entire world behind you whether it’s ready or not."
The young engineer laughed quietly.
That was probably true.
Tomorrow morning, kings, ministers, servants, guards, and nobles would gather around a machine that moved information faster than horses.
A simple device.
A lever.
A wire.
A battery.
A receiver.
Nothing more.
And yet perhaps everything would change because of it.
Far below, the lights of the capital continued flickering beneath the night sky.
Above them, storm clouds gathered somewhere beyond the sea.
Electricity already existed in this world.
Humanity simply hadn’t learned how to ask it for help yet.
Tomorrow would be the first time someone did.
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