Ten minutes after starting his job, Aaron Vale realized he might get fired today.
There hadn't been an accident yet.
The problem was that the machine destined to cause one was running far too smoothly right in front of him.
“Pressure forty-two.”
The researcher in front of the instrument panel called out the reading.
Aaron wrote the number on the log sheet.
Royal Institute of Power Research, Seventh Applied Engines Lab. Exactly ten minutes into his employment as a contract researcher.
His first assignment was to record the maximum-output test of an aether compression engine.
The instructions had been one sentence long.
“Write it down every time the reading goes up. Don’t touch anything else.”
The assistant researcher who handed him the log sheet hadn't even asked his name.
Apparently, a contract worker's name was only worth remembering if it was still around after the experiment ended.
Aaron wasn't particularly offended by that judgment.
He just had to make it through today without incident.
Endure his six-month contract, pass the permanent researcher review, and someday work on his own research equipment instead of machines other people had abandoned.
It wasn't an ambitious dream.
Which was why he wanted it all the more.
“Pressure forty-eight.”
Aaron wrote down the number again.
Beyond the glass partition stood a cylindrical compression engine a little taller than a person. Blue light leaked through the body, which had been built from overlapping black iron plates.
It was the light produced when aether ore reacted with steam.
The force that drove Velcarium's railway trains, factories, and airships.
Handled properly, it was power. Handled improperly, it was a bomb capable of blowing away an entire floor of a building.
Aaron had often seen things closer to the latter at the repair shop.
Machines usually gave warning before they exploded.
Vibrations unlike normal. A needle moving a little too slowly. A connection growing hotter than necessary.
And someone tampering with a safety device.
Aaron's gaze stopped at the lower right side of the compression engine.
An emergency vent valve with a red handle.
A thin wire had been wrapped around the valve stem.
Twice, not once.
It looked as if someone had tied it down to keep it from opening on its own from the vibrations. But fixed that way, it couldn't be opened in an emergency either.
There was only one reason someone would use wire where a locking pin belonged.
Someone had wanted to prevent the valve from being opened.
“About that valve.”
Aaron spoke to the assistant researcher beside him.
The man didn't take his eyes off the instrument panel.
“What about it?”
“It’s secured with wire.”
“Vibration prevention.”
“Do you normally apply vibration prevention to an emergency vent valve like that?”
Only then did the man look at Aaron.
His gaze lingered briefly on the word “contract” on Aaron's ID badge.
“First day?”
“Yes.”
“Then learn to record things first.”
The meaning was clear.
He was telling Aaron to pretend he hadn't noticed.
Aaron didn't answer. He looked down at the log sheet instead.
Pressure forty-eight.
Underneath it, he added a note in small letters.
Confirmed wire securing emergency vent valve.
The assistant researcher's eyebrow twitched.
“Why are you writing that?”
“Isn’t recording what I see my job?”
“I told you to record the readings.”
“If it breaks, is it enough to have only the readings left?”
The man's mouth snapped shut.
Aaron said nothing more, either.
He wasn't looking for a fight.
He just wanted to avoid a situation where someone later asked him why he hadn't said anything.
He'd heard that research institutes were places that sought the truth.
What Aaron had learned at the repair shop was that, before the truth, what you needed was proof you wouldn't have to pay the repair bill.
“New hire.”
A woman's voice came from behind him.
Aaron turned to find a woman standing there with the sleeves of her white lab coat rolled up to her elbows. Her dark brown hair was tied back carelessly, and black lubricant stained her fingers.
“Aaron Vale.”
“I know. I read the paperwork.”
The woman glanced at the log sheet, then shifted her gaze to the compression engine.
“Ria Moren. Senior Researcher at the Seventh Applied Engines Lab.”
Aaron straightened slightly.
“Nice to meet you.”
“If that line is still true in a month, say it again then.”
It sounded like a joke, but Ria didn't smile.
Her gaze fell on the red valve.
She had noticed the wire.
“Is that normally like that?”
Aaron asked.
Ria didn't answer right away.
“Who checked it?”
“I did.”
“No. I mean, who approved the test with it in that condition?”
The test supervisor turned his head from inside the glass partition.
“Senior Researcher Moren. Is there a problem?”
“The emergency valve is secured.”
“We have to stop the pressure from leaking if we want maximum output.”
“If there’s an accident, there’ll be no way to release the pressure.”
“There’s a main power cutoff.”
Ria's lips thinned.
“It wasn’t designed for us to rely on only one of the two.”
“The test schedule is already four days behind.”
The supervisor grabbed the handle again.
“We’ll check it after we raise the pressure to sixty.”
When he finished speaking, the output rose again.
The blue light deepened.
“Pressure fifty-three.”
Aaron wrote down the reading.
Ria didn't move.
She didn't stop the experiment, but she didn't take her eyes off the valve, either.
That bothered Aaron even more.
If it truly wasn't dangerous, she wouldn't be watching it like that.
“Pressure fifty-eight.”
The vibration rising through the floor grew stronger.
A few screws on the workbench began to move little by little.
Aaron examined the mounting pins connecting the compression engine's body to the floor.
One of the pins was trembling later than the others.
That meant the rotating assembly was slipping off center.
SCREEECH.
Metal scraped against metal.
“The rotating shaft is misaligned.”
Aaron spoke up.
The researcher in front of the instrument panel checked the reading.
“Vibration deviation, three point one.”
“Within tolerance.”
The test supervisor replied.
Aaron shook his head.
“The current reading isn’t the problem. Only one of the pins is lagging.”
“You’ve figured out the whole machine after seeing it once?”
“Most machines fail in similar ways.”
“The contract researcher is trying to lecture us through a maximum-output test.”
Several people looked as if they might laugh, but they saw Ria's expression and shut their mouths.
Aaron set down the log sheet.
“We should stop.”
The last trace of composure vanished from the test supervisor's face.
“Researcher Vale.”
It was the first time he'd used Aaron's name.
It wasn't meant kindly.
“Your job is to record. I make the judgments.”
“If it explodes, nobody will be able to record anything.”
The lab fell silent.
Only after saying it did Aaron realize he'd been too honest.
Ria raised a hand.
“Stop increasing the output and check the valve first.”
The supervisor glared at her.
“If we miss this reaction value, the report to the sponsor will be delayed again.”
“Rebuilding the lab will take longer than writing the report.”
Their gazes collided.
Meanwhile, the pressure continued to rise.
“Pressure sixty-three.”
The researcher in front of the instrument panel lowered his voice.
The test supervisor pulled down the main power handle.
The compression engine didn't stop.
He pulled the handle again.
Nothing changed.
“The cutoff signal isn’t responding.”
Someone said it.
The blue light rippled violently once.
The pressure gauge needle crossed into the yellow zone.
The warning bell rang.
The researchers moved all at once.
One cut the power, while another grabbed the experiment records. Inside the glass, the assistant researcher seized the red valve.
The handle wouldn't turn.
“Who tied this up?”
He shouted when he spotted the wire.
Aaron had no intention of laughing, but his mouth tightened.
A moment ago, it had been vibration prevention. Now that things had turned urgent, it had become an object everyone had seen for the first time.
“Evacuate!”
Ria shouted.
People surged toward the exit.
Aaron took two steps back as well.
There was no clause in his contract requiring him to jump into an exploding compression engine.
He had warned them. He had left a record.
If he walked out now, at least it wouldn't be his fault.
Thud.
Something inside the compression engine struck the wall.
Aaron's foot stopped.
It didn't sound like the rotating assembly breaking.
It sounded as if someone were pounding a fist against the other side of a thick iron door.
Thud.
A voice emerged through the hiss of steam.
“Don’t open it.”
Aaron stared at the compression engine.
Had he heard wrong?
There were stories that prolonged exposure to aether caused auditory hallucinations. Most people dismissed them as something factory workers made up to hide how badly they'd overworked themselves.
But Aaron had only been at work for a little over ten minutes.
He hadn't been working long enough to be overworked.
“Don’t open the valve.”
This time, it was clear.
There was a person inside the machine.
No. There couldn't be.
The pressure gauge needle slammed against the end of the red zone.
The assistant inside the glass stumbled while searching for a cutting tool.
The compression engine's outer wall began to bulge from the inside.
Aaron threw down the log sheet.
“Aaron!”
Ria called.
He opened the glass door and ran inside.
Hot air smothered his face. His throat burned when he inhaled.
He picked up the cutting pliers from the floor and shoved them between the wires.
Once.
They didn't break.
“Don’t open it.”
The voice inside the compression engine spoke again.
Aaron tightened his grip.
“If I don’t, someone will die.”
He decided to worry later about why he was answering a machine.
Right now, the pressure was what mattered.
He squeezed the pliers a second time.
The wire spread apart.
On the third exertion, it snapped with a short pop.
Aaron seized the red handle.
The heated metal scorched his palm.
He almost let go reflexively, but he put his weight into it and turned the valve.
The frozen stem screamed as it moved.
Compressed steam rushed into the vent pipe.
The brass pipes in the ceiling shook violently. The pressure gauge needle dropped by the slightest amount.
They were alive.
That judgment was only half right.
Blue light burst from beneath the compression engine.
“Get down!”
Ria's voice overlapped with the explosion.
The impact lifted Aaron off the ground.
His back slammed into the floor.
His vision was washed white.
A long metallic ringing sounded inside his ears.
Aaron spat out the dust in his mouth and pushed himself upright.
Half the glass partition was gone. One side of the compression engine's outer wall had also split open.
Even so, the lab was still standing.
Everyone was still alive, too.
One researcher with a cut arm from the glass shards and one assistant researcher burned by steam were taken to the infirmary. The rest got to their feet on their own.
Ria crouched in front of Aaron.
“Let me see your hand.”
The skin on his palm was red and swollen. Blisters were beginning to rise.
“Anywhere else?”
“I hit my back.”
“Can you breathe?”
Aaron answered with a cough.
Ria pressed his shoulder once, then immediately stood.
She didn't offer any words of relief.
Instead, the test supervisor's voice came first.
“Who opened the valve?”
Aaron turned his head.
“I did.”
“The machine broke down right after you opened it.”
“If I hadn't opened it, everything would have blown.”
“That’s your speculation.”
The supervisor looked around at the other researchers.
“Looks like the accident was caused by unauthorized tampering by the contract researcher.”
The people who had just survived with their lives all stared at the floor or the instrument panel.
Aaron wasn't unfamiliar with that reaction.
Even at the repair shop, they decided who would pay the repair bill before they worried about the broken machine.
Apparently, the research institute wasn't all that different.
“The cutoff didn’t work before I touched the valve.”
Aaron spoke up.
“And the valve was secured with wire.”
“Do you have proof?”
Aaron searched the floor.
The cut wire and the cutting pliers were nowhere to be seen.
They might have been blown away by the explosion.
Or someone might have removed them first.
Then Ria picked up the log sheet from the dust.
The edges of the paper were singed, but the writing remained.
Pressure forty-eight. Confirmed wire securing emergency vent valve.
Ria held the log sheet out to the test supervisor.
“It was recorded before the test began.”
The supervisor's jaw tightened.
“It’s nothing but a note the new hire scribbled on his own.”
“That note he scribbled on his own is how we found the wire.”
“Senior Researcher Moren.”
An older man interrupted from the lab entrance.
There wasn't a speck of dust on his coat. Judging by the silver insignia on his chest, he was the department head of the Seventh Applied Engines Lab.
He checked Aaron's contract ID before looking at the wrecked compression engine.
“Was he assigned here today?”
“Yes.”
The test supervisor answered.
The department head took the log sheet.
“Put all of it in the accident report: main power cutoff failure, emergency valve secured, and manual opening by the contract researcher.”
Aaron let out the tiniest breath.
At least it didn't look as if they were going to pin everything on him.
That was before the department head said his next words.
“Don’t leave out that the machine broke down immediately after the manual opening.”
Small victories always came with a price.
This one appeared to cost him roughly half the blame for the accident.
“I’ll send him to the infirmary first.”
Ria spoke.
“We’ll take his statement this afternoon.”
The department head looked at Aaron for a moment, then nodded.
“Have him submit his written report by the end of today.”
People began moving again.
Some calculated the equipment losses, while others gathered the remaining experimental data.
Aaron didn't go to the infirmary.
He watched Ria sit in front of the opened compression engine.
“Senior Researcher.”
“Don’t ask right now.”
“I heard a voice from inside.”
Ria's hand stopped.
Aaron didn't miss the reaction.
“So I wasn't the only one who heard it.”
“Don’t put that in your report.”
Ria checked her surroundings and lowered her voice.
“Why not?”
“Which do you think is more likely to keep his job longer: a contract worker who caused an accident, or a contract worker who hears voices?”
Neither seemed likely to stay long.
Instead of answering, Aaron stared at the charred machine.
“Has this accident happened before?”
Ria was silent for a while.
“This is the third time.”
“The same machine has exploded three times?”
“According to the records, they were different. The first was an assembly defect. The second was defective ore.”
Ria cleared away the wreckage.
“The third will probably become unauthorized tampering by the contract researcher.”
Her hand pulled a metal plate from inside the machine.
It was a nameplate the size of her palm.
The surface had melted black from the heat, but the engraved letters remained.
Ria checked the nameplate and fell silent.
Aaron held out his hand.
“Let me see.”
“Infirmary first.”
“I’ll go after I see that.”
Ria studied him for a moment, then handed over the metal plate.
At the top was a researcher asset number.
Below it was a person's name.
Johan Remer.
Aaron had never seen the name before.
The letters on the final line were smaller.
Fourth Memory Transfer Experiment.
Failure.
Aaron read the sentence again.
The compression engine was a machine that generated power.
There was no reason for the word memory to be in it.
Thud.
A sound came from inside the open outer wall.
Ria looked up.
Aaron held his breath, too.
Thud.
Someone was pounding on the wall inside the machine.
Blue steam flowed through the gaps between the blackened pipes.
A man's voice emerged from within it.
“Did we fail again?”