Institute of Science and Engineering (ISE)
Location: New Berlin – Steam Division Warehouse Time: Late Afternoon, One Week Before Final Train Test
The massive warehouse of the ISE headquarters buzzed like a hive. Rows of drafting tables were scattered across the central floor, each piled high with hand-drawn schematics, grease-streaked slide rulers, and curling blueprints tacked with copper pins. The smell of oil, ink, and boiled iron lingered in the air like an invisible fog, and the sound of metal tapping — always tapping — never stopped.
Long-necked lamps hung from steel rafters, swaying slightly from the vibration of underground boilers. Through tall arched windows, pale sunlight filtered through thin glass, casting long shadows across the industrial heart of New Berlin's most ambitious invention hub.
Some engineers scribbled calculations in haste, others hunched over open pipe fittings, muttering to themselves as they adjusted valves and pressure clamps. In the northeast corner, behind reinforced glass, a small experimental chamber churned with mechanical noise. Inside it, a pair of steam propellers whirred slowly — miniaturized prototypes suspended by brass clamps over a heated coil bed. One sputtered as its axle spun unevenly.
From behind one of the viewing panels, a researcher in a grease-stained coat crossed her arms.
"Still think the steam boat was simpler," she said, her voice flat but loud enough to carry over the noise.
Across the table from her, an older engineer named Jarol didn't even look up as he tightened a bolt into place.
"Yeah?" he muttered. "Tell that to the nine men who got steam-burned to death testing the mainline engine. One of them worked for my company." He paused, twisting the wrench once more with a grunt. "Didn't even make it past the third valve check."
The woman — Ms. Ann, early 30s, sharp-eyed and always blunt — gave a long exhale and turned toward him.
"What company was that?"
Jarol straightened, wiping his hands on a dark cloth before adjusting his coat sleeve.
"Judder Co." His tone was neutral, but there was a trace of pride in the way he said it.
Across the room, another voice chimed in — a male researcher named Yureil, who had been listening from a drafting desk two tables down. His white shirt was rumpled, and he had a pencil tucked behind one ear.
"Judder? I heard they offer real good pay. You like it?"
Jarol gave a small nod. "Yeah. Was hard to get in — brutal entrance trial. But I made it." He looked down at the half-finished piston housing at his station. "Wouldn't trade it for anything."
Ann scoffed slightly, brushing soot from her gloves. "Still doesn't change the fact that boats don't explode when the ground shifts under them. Rails crack, tunnels collapse, pressure builds. Steam boats… they float. Steam trains? They fight gravity every second."
Yureil smirked. "She's not wrong, Jarol. Rail design's a nightmare. Every curve adds friction, every dip adds danger."
Jarol shrugged. "Yeah, but once we get it right? No current, no wind, no tides. Just raw steel and schedule." He nodded toward the blueprints lining the northern wall — designs for the 'Adler-Klasse' Locomotive. "We're not building boats. We're building the spine of the Reich."
At that moment, a steam line hissed loudly from the upper gantry. One of the test engineers leaned out of the observation box, waving a clipboard.
"Propeller three's off balance again! We need recalibration on the stabilizing shaft!"
Schmitt, still hunched at his table near the center of the room, didn't even look up as he muttered:
"Then recalibrate it. I'm working on the sketch for the trains."
Ronald, a younger assistant standing at his side, tried again.
"Mr. Schmitt—"
"What is it, Ronald?" Schmitt snapped, lifting his head with a twitch in his brow. "Can't you see I'm trying to finalize the undercarriage for the rear heat exchanger? The last prototype cracked from the stress."
Ronald hesitated, holding a paper report. "I just thought you'd want to know… steam pressure rose to critical in Chamber C. Again."
Schmitt paused.
"Did anyone die this time?"
"No. Valve snapped before the burst point. Just scalded floors. They're mopping it up."
Schmitt sighed, tossing his pencil onto the desk. It rolled across the blueprint of a curved piston engine.
"Fine. Get a thicker seal. Reroute the pressure to Valve D-4. And tell the safety inspector to shove his clipboard where the soot don't stick."
Jarol chuckled under his breath.
Yureil leaned back and whispered to Ann, "If we survive this project, we'll either be rich or deaf."
Ann replied, deadpan, "If we survive this project, we should build the train straight to heaven. Save the afterlife a boiler room."
They all laughed. Even Schmitt cracked a dry grin as he picked his pencil back up.
Outside the warehouse, steam curled into the cold New Berlin air, rising like smoke from a forge that had no plans of slowing down.