A young genius' scientific chronicles 5

This took longer than I had hoped, so the Summon Perfect Warlady's likely going to be late... which won't actually affect the public releases. Next non-regular update's going to be another Fae chapter. That one's going into the endgame, should be over within 3 or 4 chapters. 

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    They were met at the airship dock by Professor Beausoleil, who according to their acceptance letter was their academic advisor. “Greetings from Paris to you, our newest students.” He said boredly in French. She’ll have to get used to that. “I am Count Drusus Beausoleil, Professor of Philosophy and the Ars Mechanica.” Tanya wasn’t quite clear what that meant, but literally from Latin it translated as ‘Master of the Mechanical Arts’. Was it some kind of award he received from the Master of Paris? 

    The stiffness of his movements, the way the light reflected off of his hair… Those gears… “This is a clank body.” Tanya realized. “Remotely operated.” One of the less useful abilities of the Spark was the ability to ‘hear’ electromagnetic signals, although it was easy to ignore and difficult to interpret consciously. But even a crappy extra sense could draw data for whatever the heck the Spark is to infer conclusions, even if she usually only understands half of what went into any one of them. At best. This was apparently substantially above average cognition of the spark’s inferences, according to the Baron during that interview/luncheon discussion for his research into the spark itself, which also served as an exit interview for her employment as an inventor. She was quickly beginning to learn that most Sparks tended to multitask whenever possible. 

    “I see the Spark shines brightly within you, mademoiselle. “ Professor Beausoleil said, his interest piqued. “Few notice right away that these gears are not just a fashion statement.” He said, referring to the gears that were in his shoulders, although it was easy to think them as stationary pauldrons. If she had to guess, they were fancy wind-up keys, allowing him to operate on a spring battery. Very space-efficient in theory, but with such large motive force harvesters, he probably broke even compared to what passed for ‘modern’ internal electrical capacitors. Should have a quick wind-up time, though. 

    “Ah, where are my manners?” Tanya said, moving on. “I am Countess Tanya von Degurechaff, and this is my associate, Mr. Gilgamesh Holzfaller.” She gestured to the rolling platform that held the massive frame of the Absolute Safety Mecha Mk. IV. “I trust the arrangements for my luggage have been made?”

    Professor Beausoleil craned his head up at the mecha, which was compressed slightly for ease of transport. “...I’m afraid this rather substantially exceeds the size for a personal conveyance.” He said, shaking his head ruefully. 

    “But not for a portable entertainment venue.” Gil said, interjecting himself into the conversation. “While it moves and can be lived in, as many performer’s wagons can, it can also project her voice at a maximum of one hundred thirty decibels.” Which is, to be blunt, overkill for a concert. Even a loud concert would only need a tenth of that, although if it was for a large enough crowd, it could theoretically be necessary. It was also the legal limit in Paris for sound equipment for the purposes of performances without special permits. 

    “...So that’s why you insisted I upgrade the vox systems.” Tanya muttered, mostly to herself. 

    Professor Beausoleil raised a mechanical eyebrow. “So the Countess is a performer, then? I hope you won’t mind showing off a bit?” While she wouldn’t call her short stint of lounge-singing in her twenties a career, she did earn a few marks and free drinks when the stage was empty and Visha volunteered her. It was no trouble; singing a sappy love song was easy under those circumstances. 

    So… Tanya rolled her eyes, but belted out the lowest note she could hit reliably, which due to her extensive practice lowering her pitch to sound more commanding, was a respectable frequency of one hundred eighty hertz, an F3 sharp. There were women who could go lower, but Tanya’s voice was always naturally high and even doing that much took a lot of work. 

    She then went up by intervals of twenty hertz per second, going through her full range all the way up to nine hundred hertz, an A5 sharp, which was also quite respectable for a mezzo-soprano. Continually singing without breath for thirty-six seconds was not that impressive a feat, but with the volume she did it at, appropriate for the operatic performances she did a handful of times on Castle Wulfenbach, it was not something that could be done by someone without vocal training. She was incredibly unsurprised to find that the frequency of a sound was used just as much as the traditional notes in musical literature, due to the influence of Sparks in the creation of operas and symphonies. 

    Professor Beausoleil hummed appreciatively, and a few of the people around gave some polite applause. “The Master always gives me the troublesome ones.” Why was he giving Gil that dirty look? “Well, if you’re not going to move that walking eyesore-” Eyesore? “-back onto the Baron’s dirigible, you’ll just need to walk it to campus. Being seen in public with that should be punishment enough for your chicanery.” 

    Tanya looked over the Absolute Safety Mecha Mk. IV. Eyesore? …Well, admittedly aesthetics were a secondary consideration… She thought it looked pretty good, a bit like a bathysphere in a gyroscope frame (which brought ideas for a modification to allow the cockpit alone to spin…) on top of the original, impressively stout legs, and with two pairs of limbs: a bulky, armored set that had human-like hands, and a secondary set above that that were more like industrial manufacturing robot limbs than anything in nature. The ends of those were very modular, all the better for precise machining. Yes, she thought it a beautiful design, but… perhaps some paint? Or superfluous filigree? 

    Nevertheless, she shrugged and activated the remote control built into her dress, sending a signal to cause it to leave secure mode and start booting up. She smiled slightly as the familiar 8-bit tones she set it to play on startup rang out. Once the central chamber opened up, she stepped on the now-outstretched hand and let it lift her into it. She sat in the pilot seat, noting all of the folded-up features, and engaged the next step in the boot process. 

    Eight mechanical arms stretched out towards her as the cockpit closed, one pair linking up to her shoes, another four to the attachment points at her hips and shoulders, and another set with gloves that she slipped her hands into. 

    Once the metal frame hidden within her dress fully connected with the mecha’s systems, she stood up and started walking forward, the connectors on her feet interpreting her movements and translating it to the mecha’s gait. The front door separated, moving the heavily armored parts aside to reveal her own attempts at recreating plexiglass. It did a pretty good rendition, in her opinion. It let her see a much greater view angle, and it let everyone in front of her see her upper body clearly as she operated the mech. “We’re fully operational here, Professor.” She said, the upgraded vox system projecting her voice at a reasonable volume in the direction she was focusing her eyes, using a laser rangefinder to adjust the power. “Lead the way.” 

    Paris was everything she expected and more; a true city with more people than she had ever seen outside of formations of soldiers in this life. She wandered the streets and looked at the various shops, advertisements, and particularly fashionable ladies as they walked towards the university. 

    Everywhere you looked, there was some kind of entertainment: theaters, novelties, boutiques… Fashion was just a status-seeking activity where one flaunted wealth and in-group knowledge to gain the respect of others… but she was definitively in that group right now, so it was proper for her to make sure to keep up on the trends. 

    “Gil, that coffee shop has chocolate mimmoths.” Tanya announced, “Get me one.” A chocolate mimmoth was on the large side, as candy goes. Even if they exclusively used very young, specially bred mimmoths for the recipe, it still tended to be larger than one’s hand. “Also, ask where we can get some quality coffee beans, if they don’t sell bags of it themselves.”

    The boy in question sighed. “Professor?” He asked, implicitly requesting permission. 

    Professor Beausoleil snorted, but stopped walking. “I know how young ladies can get, and it wouldn’t be a proper introduction to Paris without a confection anyway. Go ahead.” Ah, Paris. His priorities are clearly in order. 

    In minutes, a small paper bag was picked up by one of the precision manipulators and brought into the mech. She removed her arms from the arm controls and popped one of the coffee beans into her mouth. After ruminating on the taste, she hummed in approval and put it into the hopper of her coffee machine, one of the few appliances that retain functionality when she’s got everything locked up for travel. 

    Gil himself was snacking on some kind of waffle-like pastry, but they stayed in place for long enough for him to finish. “Are you ready to continue?” Professor Beausoleil asked drolly. 

    Yum. Chocolate… “We can continue.” Tanya said, taking her thermos out of the coffee machine and taking a sip. Exquisite. She started to walk forward again, advancing steadily through the crowded roads. 

    When the artistically impressive entrance to the campus came into view,  they spent a moment admiring it. Good thing too, because the ground where they would have walked, if they had kept going, erupted with what appeared to be a biological monster of some kind. “Tch. Again?” Was Professor Beausoleil’s only response to it. “ A second one followed the first. “Could you use that walker to stomp those pests?” The professor asked. “Professor Barbier’s trying to conquer an extra laboratory for his department again.”

    One advantage for the local madmen still being scientists in the end was that a lot of their works included a fair amount of convergent design. This particular monster reminded Tanya of a giant mole, massive burrowing claws on a round body. The head, on the other hand, was more of an antlion, pincers and tendrils that ensnared things in front of them for slow, painful consumption instead of going for the classic large bite, which doesn’t tend to play nice with digging. It was a fairly typical example of a subterranean monster, nothing she hadn't seen before back when she was commanding that “clank” squad. 

    Tanya put her thermos in the coffee machine’s cupholder and slipped her hands back into the direct controls for the mecha’s arms, and walked forward, drawing the attention of the closer one. It hissed at her, but one punch from the mecha on the hardest part of the skull knocked it clean out, and probably gave it a lethal brain hemorrhage, she couldn’t be bothered to care. 

    The first, further away one, on the other hand… “Misser!” Gil shouted in French as he dodged out of the way. According to her furious studying of conversational French, that was a common insult, using the word for missing a target to indicate being a loser. 

    Still, Gil was luring the monster back towards her mech, so… With a smooth motion, her mech scooped up her friend and spun, backhanding the monster to daze it, and with the momentum and a quick activation of the maneuvering magnetron, her mech quickly hopped into the air and stomped on the monster, killing it. Fortunately, the city of Lightning had plenty of metal below the ground for her to repulse. She could probably even levitate for short periods if she was willing to burn through her fuel quickly. 

    With the matter handled, she set Gil back down in front of Professor Beausoleil. “Well, you’ll fit in just fine.” He said, although he seemed thoroughly unhappy about this. “Welcome to the Paris Institute of the Extraordinary.”

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    The university was structured into 10 week semesters, four a year. Three week breaks broke them up, one for each solstice and equinox. That seemed like a rather rapid pace, but it was a matter of expectations: several classes were broken up into one semester chunks, and it was downright expected of people to have gap semesters where they travel or adventure or do some major project that couldn’t be done within Paris or otherwise was incompatible with class attendance. 

    Given that airship travel was actually rapid enough to expect people of means, which is essentially everyone attending any university without some scholarship, and most of those had an allowance for discretionary purchases and travel, to be able to reach anywhere important in Europa within two days, it made sense for that amount of time to be considered sufficient for any trip that didn’t involve getting something done. 

    Tanya was actually rather impressed with how organized Professor Beausoleil and by extension the University at large was in noting the time expected for each class on a per week basis both in and out of the classroom, and had selected her first classes to be a mixture of advancing her current long term projects and expanding her horizons. Gil did something similar, but in a more directed fashion. 

    Specifically, Tanya had budgeted sixty hours a week for classes, a quantity that the Professor noted was fairly typical for a Spark who could likely cut down a good chunk of that time by multitasking or just not needing to study as hard to understand the material. Gil budgeted fifty instead, at the Professor’s suggestion. 

    As the Professor was helping both of them at once, they were able to coordinate to a limited extent: Both of them agreed to take ten hours per semester of medical courses, sharing those if nothing else. Gil then split the rest between cultural and scientific classes, appropriate to his goal of becoming a composer, while Tanya split her attention between spark-laden hard science classes to improve her inventions and give her some plausibility for some of her planned extra-universla imports, and expanding her horizons with fields that were exotic to her modern understanding, such as Monster-making 101 and Introduction to Abominations of Science (which, as she understood it, was about transhuman modifications). . 

    On top of this, it was highly recommended that they join some campus organizations, for social reasons, mostly. Tanya asked about anything related to wargaming, and learned that there was a club for constructing scale model clanks and having them either reenact famous battles or just genuinely try to destroy the enemy force without any greater narrative. 

    Needless to say, she joined that one. It isn’t the only competitive clank sport, but she’ll see how she feels about the tiny army one first. 

    Gil didn’t find any that interested him immediately, but said that he’d figure it out. This was not an answer that Professor Beausoleil liked, but in the end he was their academic advisor, not their academic dictator. Beyond pointing out that they are obligated to take some social science classes eventually, they were able to finish signing up for their first semester and be directed towards their dormitory. 

    The dorms were all named after the most famous examples of AI in the world, the Storm King’s Muses. This required some explanation. While making intelligent constructs was simple enough, if you used biological material, truly intelligent machines remained a legendary feat that only two men were rumored to have truly succeeded. One of the Heterodynes, although she never bothered going into that much detail on that dead family’s history, and Van Rijn. 

    “Intelligent” clanks that were not particularly smart were common enough, the Baron mass produced a few models even, the primary user of the autocannon her combat Mecha were designed to make use of were such clanks, which is why it was informally referred to as a ‘Clank Gun’ (or ‘Clenk gun’ if you were a Jagermonster). The Muses, on the other hand, were supposedly just as intelligent as people, while also having personalities as bespoke as their elegantly crafted bodies. 

    She was in Mawu hall, while Gil got the one she could see from her window: Otilia Hall. Each had a similar floor plan to each other, with some variations in the public spaces. As the Muse of Love, the first floor of Mawu hall had several private meeting rooms, as well as a fully stocked kitchen usable by the students that had a frankly worrying amount of spark-tech among the appliances. Otilia, as the Muse of Protection, had training spaces, both regular workout equipment and arenas for practicing fencing or other kinds of combative sports. 

    “...Sumo?” Tanya asked incredulously. “They have sumo here?”

    “Oh, you’ve heard of it?” Gil asked, surprised. “Apparently it’s something from the Far East, some traditional thing that needs specially trained dedicated warriors to do right.”

    That’s… one way to describe the usual build of a sumo wrestler. The two boys who were at least dressed appropriately didn’t have nearly enough body fat to qualify. This did, however, seem to draw an appreciative audience. Stupid Gaijins. She didn’t realize how much pride she still held as a Japanese person until right this moment. 

    A weight plate crashed through a wall and nearly took her head off, but Gil slapped it out of the air, which was a somewhat more impressive feat of strength than she usually saw out of him; sure, he winced and waved his now-sore hand, but that was a fair amount of inertia he just deflected. 

    “Ah, are you okay, monsieur?” Asked a very pretty dark-skinned girl that, from how much of the room’s attention was drawn to her movement, was probably either very popular or very important. Possibly both. 

    “I’m fine.” Gil said offhandedly. “Things are always falling or being flung towards Tanya’s head, I’m used to it.” 

    Tanya huffed. He didn’t have to say it as if it was her fault! “At this point, I’m convinced that someone” Being X. “-is just trying to harass me.”

    The girl seemed rather surprised, but quickly set it aside. “So, I see you still have luggage. Cutting it kind of close, aren’t you?” Classes did begin the next day, so she was right. 

    Gil chuckled. “Well, maybe a bit. We ran into some trouble on the way.” If by ‘trouble’ you meant ‘pirate attack’. Oddly, they only took the ship’s food, fuel, and spare parts, leaving just enough to make it to Paris, where the Wulfenbach vessel could stock up before doing the other task they had all those excess supplies to do, which given the sheer quantity of supplies stolen she figured was a resupply mission of some kind. Captain DuPree seemed to genuinely enjoy fencing with Gil, and even gave the boy some pointers after deciding to leave once the supplies were extracted, their luggage unplundered. “Our ship had to limp that last two hundred kilometers.”

    “Well, allow me to welcome you to Paris. I am Colette Voltaire, and you must be from Castle Wulfenbach.” Colette said, which led to Gil nodding in agreement. “That must make you Gilgamesh… What was your family name again? I’ve forgotten.” For a split-second, Tanya thought Colette was going to say something else, but probably just realized what she was about to say was someone else’s last name. 

    “Holzfaller.” Gil said, somewhat irritated at the girl. Hm, his wrist must be bothering him more than he’s letting on, if he’s being so testy. 

She better take charge. “I am Countess Tanya von Degurechaff, Miss Voltaire. Would it be safe to assume you are one of the get of the Master of Paris?” Tanya’s eyes flicked around her body. She didn’t seem terribly interested in the sumo, so.., which feature to compliment… Ah. “I must ask you who does your hair. Those curls tempt one as the void, enchanting yet dangerous.” Tanya smiled flirtatiously, leaving just enough plausible deniability to claim innocence if the girl took offense. 

Colette looked surprised, but smiled back. Success. “It would indeed, Countess.” She said, giving a tiny bow of respect. “Naturally, I know all the best salons in Paris. Come find me tomorrow after your classes and I’ll… show you around.”

“It’s a date, mademoiselle.” Tanya said before turning to Gil. “I believe we have a roommate for you to meet?” She asked. 

“Right.” Gil said, distracted by the exchange. Hm, he’s never seen her flirt before, so he was probably surprised that she knew how to. “The document said his name was… Ardsley Wooster?” They started walking, the luggage clank continuing to follow them as they went up to his room on the second floor. 

Gil’s dormitory was just as generally luxurious as Tanya’s was, spacious and clearly intended for the children of nobility, as most of the students were. It was already decorated with a set of giant wings curving around the room in brass, the feathers remarkably detailed. 

At one of the desks sat a black-haired boy, slightly older than the two of them. “Ah, hello.” Hm. British. This world’s version of the perfidious Albish did not drift much away from that impression, they still thought themselves the masters of the world… although if even half of the stories about the immortal Queen, Albia, are true they did have something of a disadvantage in terms of free will. 

“Wooster, right?” Gil asked, “I’m Gilgamesh Holzfaller.”

“Charmed.” Wooster said, looking vaguely smug. “Tea?”

Tanya stayed for a bit to help Gil unpack, assessing the British boy with idle conversation. He seemed… okay. No real red flags beyond the Union Jack. “I must be going. I still haven’t met my roommate, and expect her to show up eventually. If you look out the window, you can see mine: I can’t leave my mecha there permanently, but it’s where the hand is currently near.” She still needed to finish unpacking, after all. 

She stowed her luggage and then moved the Absolute Safety Mecha Mk. IV to a place between the two dormitory buildings that a stage could be set up. There were four such places, and she had to put on at least one scheduled show a day to keep the spot, but she figured she could design a music player and record a few songs to play within a week or two, depending on how busy her classes make her. Maybe make an actual stage mode where she can keep the internals safe while also allowing others to use it, use a karaoke machine? 

Once that was done, she finally had the chance to get out of her armored dress and take a shower, and when she left it, her roommate was already there, poking at the power armor frame that was currently separated from the dress. “Oh! You’re done.” the girl said, looking straight into Tanya’s eyes without a trace of fear and without even glancing at her nearly naked state. 

“That I am.” Tanya said, looking at how her roommate was already completely unpacked. “How many porters did you have?” She asked incredulously. 

“Not many.” The girl said. She was dark-skinned, and surprisingly, even younger than Tanya was. “I talked Mama down to only twenty servants to help me get settled in, and most of them aren’t staying.”

Ah. This girl must be higher nobility. Perhaps royalty? With another scan of the room, Tanya noticed two hidden people. One of them made the hairs of her neck stand up, so she labeled that one as ‘bodyguard’ and the other as ‘servant’. “Introductions, then. Countess Tanya von Degurechaff, of Rhine county. It’s near the Black Sea.” If by ‘Near’ you mean ‘about three hundred kilometers upstream’. She went behind the changing screen, which was a pre-existing furnishing: it had an image of Mawu dancing with the Muse of Loss, Liza. As usual for renditions of the paired muses, it was in greyscale, with each one mirroring the other with white and black. Mawa was smiling, while Liza was despondent. She shooed away the servant, and a stern-looking British maid revealed herself. 

“Ah, my name’s Neena.” The girl said, visibly considering whether or not to reveal her title. “I’m a Princess, but you don’t need to make a big deal of it. I’d prefer to be friends.”

Tanya nodded along as she dressed herself for bed. It was late enough that she could spend the rest of the evening drafting designs and turn in without really missing anything. “If that’s what you’d prefer, Neena.” She said, before gesturing to the servant. “You are?”

“Miss Poppins, Countess.” The maid replied, bowing lightly. “It is my duty to ensure that Princess Neena is able to focus on her schoolwork. I will clean the room, do laundry, style hair, and anything else required of me.”

“If you want, she can do yours too.” Neena offered. Miss Poppin’s face didn’t change one iota at the thought. 

Tanya hummed noncommittally. According to the brochure, there were communal maids to handle at least part of that, but it made sense that a Princess would prefer to have one they’ve vetted. “Now, the bodyguard?” Neena looked confused. The bodyguard moved to another hiding spot. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.” Tanya said to the guard testily. That stealth cloak was making a distinct whining noise on the ultraviolet band. 

The bodyguard was, fortunately, a woman. “Victoria Astor, Countess.” She said, now fully visible. Neena seemed a little annoyed at her presence, but accepted it quickly and moved on. 

Now clothed in the silk pajamas that were gifted to her on her last birthday by the Sun twins, Tanya left the changing screen and sat at her desk. “All I really wanted to confirm was that we didn’t have some man peeping on us.” Tanya said, turning away from Miss Astor. “I think your stealth cloak is damaged, though. Can I have a look at it?”

Neena’s eyes widened. “Are you a spark? That’s so rare!”

Tanya frowned. “I would think Queen Albia’s children would have plenty of sparks among them.” 

“You’d think so, but no.” Neena replied, gesturing for Miss Astor to hand over the technology. Clearly unhappy, the woman nevertheless obeyed the order and handed over what appeared to be a pocketwatch. “We’re all pretty smart, there’s a reason I’m here when I’m only fourteen, but we’re not… mad. We don’t break through.” Hm… interesting.

Tanya tested the device by turning it on, so as to identify how it functioned. “...Ah. I see.” She turned it off and took out the bundle of delicate tools she was planning on using to try out making a miniature clank before she attended the first meeting. “The electromagnetic whine wasn’t intended at all, it was a crack in the quartz battery.” Actually… this design looked an awful lot like a computation orb, now that she examined it. There were many differences, as appropriate for a specialized device, but… hm. It didn’t use mana, instead using a special spring battery that’s magnetically charged, which expends its stored tension as electrical energy instead of mechanical. From the quality of the thing, it could store a lot of power. Very expensive. “Bad news is that I can’t fix it without a spare part. The good news is that it’s not only an inexpensive part, it’s also one that whatever technician you have to service this likely has several on hand.”

“Uh… thanks?” Miss Astor said, confused but putting the device away. 

“I would guess, Neena, that we are roommates because both of us are younger than the norm for the University.” Technically, there was no age requirement to attend. If you could be sponsored by someone who had either graduated or was otherwise important, could pass the entrance exam, and could afford tuition, you could attend. In practice, few students came in before being eighteen, and the ones who did were all sparks who broke through young. Even among them, being fifteen was impressively young, and fourteen… well, Tanya figured that Albia’s status as some kind of… super spark meant that she had genetically modified her children to approach a spark’s level of cognition. “I’m surprised you have a roommate at all, though.” Tanya started to do what she intended to do, and took out some draft paper. Okay, so what will she need to make a karaoke machine…

“Simon Voltaire writes the policies.” Neena explained, “He thinks forcing everyone on campus to have a roommate helps stir the artistic pot, metaphorically.” That did make some level of sense. “What are you doing?”

“Drafting.” Tanya replied absently, absorbed in her task. “My mecha’s registered as a stage, so I’m designing something to remove any reason for someone to insist on it’s removal.” 

“...Why would you want a machine to criticize your voice?” Neena asked, looking over her equations. 

“Because if I set it up right, I can make it so that other people sing with it, so I don’t have to.” Tanya replied, “It’s called karaoke, it’s a party game.”

Neena’s eyes sparkled. “You and I are going to have So. Much. Fun!”