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Chapter 53 - Chapter 10 – Engines of Faith (Part I)

Istanbul, January 1906

Snow drifted across the courtyards of Yıldız Palace, clinging to the marble balustrades and the dark green cypresses that guarded the Sultan's residence. From the windows of his study, Abdulhamid watched the flakes settle on the Bosphorus, the strait busy with smoke-belching ships. Not all of them were Ottoman; British freighters and French liners still crossed daily. Yet each Ottoman vessel, powered not by coal imported from Wales but by oil drawn from Mesopotamian wells, stood as a visible sign that the empire's future was no longer written by Europe.

He turned back to the warmth of the chamber. Spread before him were reports from the Imperial Academy of Sciences and Industry—statistics, sketches, proposals. Ten years ago he had dreamed of factories and schools. Now he had them. But what he sought was more than machines. Industry could forge weapons and railways, but to sustain an empire, there had to be something deeper: faith made strong, faith made modern. He knew from his first life that technology alone was not enough. Europe had wielded engines without mercy, and its people had devoured themselves in two great wars. The Ottoman Empire would not repeat their mistake. Knowledge must be married to belief, or else it was a sword wielded by a blind man.

The door opened and Selim entered, his cloak wet with snow. He carried a folder stamped with the crescent seal of Crescent Eyes. Bowing, he laid it before the Sultan.

"Majesty, the weekly reports. The Academy flourishes. New departments in chemistry and electrical studies have opened. We have scholars from Germany and Austria arriving, enticed by your patronage. Some speak of Nikola Tesla himself considering an extended visit—his assistants are already here, experimenting with wireless energy and transmission."

Abdulhamid's lips curved faintly. "Tesla. A restless spirit, but a brilliant one. If he comes, he will see that Allah's wisdom is not confined to any one nation. In Istanbul, science and faith do not quarrel—they walk together."

Selim's expression darkened. "Not all agree. Conservative clerics grumble still. They fear the Academy undermines the madrasas. Some whisper that electricity is a devil's trick."

The Sultan's gaze hardened. "Did Allah not create the laws by which lightning strikes? If we tame that lightning, it is no more sorcery than the waterwheel or the plow. Knowledge is faith, Selim. They must be taught that. If they resist still, then Crescent Eyes will remind them that disobedience to progress is disobedience to the Sultan. And to resist the Sultan's will is to resist Allah's gift."

Selim bowed. "It shall be done."

Later that day, Abdulhamid rode through the capital in a closed carriage, the glass frosted but clear enough for him to watch the streets. Istanbul no longer resembled the city of his youth. Gas lamps were being replaced by electric lights. Factories along the Golden Horn poured out cloth, rifles, machine parts. The railway station at Haydarpaşa throbbed with activity, engines hissing steam into the cold air. And most striking of all were the schools. Children in uniforms hurried along, their books pressed to their chests. The sharp letters of the Latin Turkish alphabet were now carved into the stone of new schoolhouses.

He ordered the carriage to stop near one such school. Disguised guards slipped into the crowd to ensure his safety as he stepped down. Inside, he found a class of boys and girls reciting aloud, their voices echoing beneath a tall ceiling. The lesson was not only scripture, nor only science. The blackboard displayed both a Qur'anic verse and an equation of physics, written side by side. The teacher, a young woman trained at the Academy, explained calmly: "Allah's words teach us why we live. The numbers teach us how the world moves. Together, they make us strong."

The children repeated after her, their eyes bright with pride. Abdulhamid stood silently in the doorway, unseen by most. He felt the weight of his secret life pressing upon him. In his first existence, he had seen men kill each other with knowledge stripped of faith—gas clouds rolling across trenches, bombs falling from the sky, men reduced to ash. He had sworn, when Allah gave him this second chance, that his empire would not walk that path. And here, in a humble classroom, he saw his answer: faith and science braided into one rope, unbreakable.

That evening, he summoned his council. Ministers of Industry and Faith sat side by side, as they now always did, for in Abdulhamid's empire, the two could not be separated. He addressed them without notes, his voice steady but filled with fire.

"Steel has given us railways. Oil has given us ships. Knowledge has given us power. But what sustains an empire is not iron or fire—it is people. Our people. They must grow, they must believe, they must become one. Every family that bears many children strengthens us. Every child who speaks Turkish is a stone in the fortress of our future. Every believer who prays and studies in unity is a soldier of faith."

He turned to the Minister of Population, a new position created only a few years earlier. "Have the laws borne fruit?"

The man bowed deeply. "Majesty, they have. Families with many children receive stipends, and the birthrate rises across Anatolia and Mesopotamia alike. Turkish-speaking marriages are encouraged, and already we see assimilation among Arabs and Kurds. In the Balkans, the first generation of children raised under our schools now correct their own parents' tongues."

Murmurs of approval spread around the table. Abdulhamid raised a hand. "Good. Then press harder. Every household must know that to have children is to serve Allah and empire alike. We will outnumber Europe as we outpace them."

Then he looked to the Minister of Education. "And the schools?"

"Majesty, they thrive. The Academy of Sciences now rivals Vienna in its scope. We publish journals in Turkish, translated into German and French. Foreign scientists come not only for pay, but for freedom—freedom to experiment without the chains of European bureaucracies. We have secured collaborations with men like Kelvin and Helmholtz. Tesla's assistants now propose improvements to our wireless stations—not merely messages in dots and dashes, but voices carried over the air itself. Imagine, Majesty, a commander in Baghdad hearing the words of his Sultan in Istanbul, not in code, but in speech."

The Sultan's eyes gleamed. "Not imagination, Minister. Destiny. Build them. The desert will not remain silent forever—soon it will sing with our voices carried on the air."

Selim then stepped forward, his report darker. "Majesty, there are threats. France presses Catholic schools in Syria, trying to subvert our youth. Britain whispers in Arabia, stirring tribes with promises. Russia spreads rumors in the Caucasus, warning that science is corruption."

Abdulhamid did not scowl. Instead, he smiled coldly. "Let them. We have already prepared our counter. Our own schools grow faster. Our printing presses work day and night. And for those who still cling to foreign whispers…" He glanced at Selim, and the meaning was clear. Crescent Eyes would silence them as surely as the night swallowed the day.

That night, he walked once more to his balcony, gazing over Istanbul. Lamps glowed, trains whistled, factories roared. From far away, faintly, he heard the bells of Hagia Sophia mingling with the call to prayer. Even the old city, once divided between faiths, now pulsed in a rhythm of unity. Children of Armenians, Greeks, Arabs, and Turks played together in Turkish. Workers of many tribes bent their backs in the same factories. The empire's body was no longer sick; it was strong and growing.

Yet he knew it was not enough. Europe watched. Europe feared. They would not sit idle forever. But for now, in this winter of 1906, Abdulhamid felt the empire breathe with strength. He touched the railing, murmuring softly for no one but himself to hear:

"In my first life, I saw empires rise and burn. In this one, Allah has commanded me to build eternity. And eternity is forged not only in steel, but in faith."

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