Chapter Five – Breakthrough
Soundtrack: Fall At Your Feet by Crowded House
After getting inside his flat, Oscar slumped into his recliner, his mind tormenting him with the lectures his uncle routinely jackhammered into him on the subject of courting a woman of his class to marry. For all his forward-thinking government policies, Lord Ozpin was frightfully traditional on that front.
Eventually, after silently staring at the wall for half an hour in a desperate attempt to avoid crying, Oscar poured himself a brandy and took it to his bed. As he lay down with the lamp on, Oscar picked up the latest copy of The Vacuo Digest, a subscription engineering magazine that he'd made a point of reading since his university days.
Allowing his favourite subject matter to take his mind off his personal woes, Oscar was nearly lulled to sleep until an article about newly-developed industrial magnets caught his eye. Despite himself, Oscar jumped out of bed in euphoria as he scrambled for a pen.
"EUREKA! By George, I've got it!"
Marking the article down and leaving the magazine open on the relevant page, Oscar finally allowed himself to sleep.
April 26th, 1891.
General Ironwood was surprised when Oscar cantered into his office the following afternoon – after all, it was Sunday.
"What brings you into my office, Mr. Pine?"
Oscar unfurled the magazine, and showed his superior the discovery he'd made last night. "I believe we have a solution to the joints problem after our field tests yesterday in this product."
Ironwood took the magazine and read it carefully, his expression never shifting as he saw what Oscar had done. Eventually, he took note of the industrial-grade, nickel-plated neodymium magnets that Oscar had pointed out to him and handed back the publication with a smile.
"Thanks for making me aware of this, Oscar. While these magnets are a new-fangled technology, I'll admit that Rose Industries are pretty trustworthy component makers. I'll need to wait until Monday morning before I can make the relevant orders, though."
"I imagined as much, sir," Oscar admitted. "I just wanted to be efficient about it and minimise the waiting time."
Ironwood nodded, glad to have given Oscar a chance in the first place as the younger man left. He reached for the phone to the President's office to tell him the news.
April 27th, 1891.
Naturally, Dr. Polendina was flabbergasted and relieved the next morning, having received the news from General Ironwood himself the preceding evening.
"That was a damn lucky catch you had there, Oscar," he started without preamble as Oscar showed up for work. "And I've made sure to subscribe to The Vacuo Digest too."
"Good to hear on both counts," Oscar replied jovially. "How long will the magnets take to get here?"
"The General said he'd know by lunchtime today; he expects that Magnus Rose will take a fair bit of time to negotiate a deal of some sort for this."
Oscar nodded; it wasn't just a cheap play on his initials that caused the head of Rose Industries to be called "the Mad Rose" behind his back. There was nothing the man wouldn't do within the bounds of law to increase his wealth – although he routinely offset that by donating to charitable causes.
"So what can we do while we wait for the news?", Oscar asked.
"Well, perhaps you can start testing polymers for the carapace of this being, while I finish the limbs to the best of my ability before we need to link them together," Dr. Polendina offered.
Oscar needed no further encouragement to put his education to good use. After about seven hours of testing, during which General Ironwood confirmed that their required magnets would arrive at four the following afternoon, the young intern had settled on a complex polyester mutated by indigo Dust that managed to mimic the appearance and texture of Caucasian skin, while being thrice as durable. Furthermore, both men managed to develop a pair of green "eyes" for the being, which would move in sync with the lenses that Dr. Merlot developed.
The other main event that happened at work that day was the finalisation of the weapons. Around forty percent of the computational capacity was allocated to the being's combat matrix, which governed the movement of a pair of retractable, case-hardened steel blades that stuck to a magnetic strip on the small of the being's back. The blades were hollowed, allowing for a duo of prototype lasers to fire beams of compressed verdant Dust, allowing for a stopping power sitting between crimson Dust elephant gun rounds and light artillery.
As it transpired, Dr. Merlot had originally planned for nine of these blades guided by spools of wires at the being's command, but those plans had to be scotched when the height issue came up. That, and developing the blades was expensive, even compared to the cost of the project. So Oscar was in a bouyant mood despite his exhaustion when he went to see his uncle for dinner at Number 10 at seven that evening, leaving Polendina to keep on working as his creativity possessed him.
The guards waved him through without incident, and Oscar made good time to the parlour where his uncle routinely received him. However, Oscar knew it'd be a while before the man arrived, so he contented himself by petting Chatelaine, a grey cat whom the press affectionately called the Chief Mouser of the Cabinet Office. She greeted Oscar by sitting on the left arm of his chair, and purred lazily as he stroked her fur gently.
It was twenty minutes later that the Prime Minister entered the room, looking more drained than usual in Oscar's eyes. But as always, a gentle smile emerged as Lord Ozpin gave way to uncle Cormac.
"How have you been, Oscar?"
"I've been well, uncle," the younger man replied. "Work's been going swimmingly for me, and I've found my feet in the SDC."
Cormac nodded thoughtfully; he knew that Oscar wanted to be known for something other than merely being an aristocrat. The strong work ethic hereditary to the Pine family was as clear as day, and Ozpin admired his nephew for refusing to be part of the idle rich.
"I'm glad that it's going so smoothly. I wish that were true in my case."
"You and me both, uncle," Oscar replied. "I'm just glad that Lady Camilla was able to mollify the fervour of the Three Musketeers over the Singapore issue, otherwise there'd be a bloodbath within days."
Cormac shuddered. The press had good reason to use the Three Musketeers as a sobriquet for Robyn Hill, Joanna Greenleaf, and Fiona Thyme. They were the respective MPs for Derbyshire West, South Aberdeen and Carnarvon, and Ozpin had promoted them to the posts of Employment Secretary, Education Secretary, and Agriculture Secretary after Lionheart's death and Ray's retirement in 1889.
The Prime Minister was pleased with their efforts as far as their portfolio duties were concerned – Greenleaf in particular had put her academic experience to good use by pioneering government-funded schooling – but the three of them possessed a bloody-mindedness about them that was making enemies throughout all echelons of the parliament. The furore they and their supporters had kicked up over Chancellor Theodore prioritising the security of the empire's East Asian trade routes ahead of the Whitehall Restoration that Hill was spearheading in the coming Budget had Ozpin thanking his lucky stars that Lady Agnetha Camilla had agreed to let Hill take her place and move to the Home Secretary's position.
"Well," Cormac said as he and Oscar made their way to the dining room, "Robyn's calmed down about the whole affair at least. She'll still manage to kick off the majority of the Restoration projects within this parliamentary term even after staggering out a few of the non-essential works."
"True. I remember you saying that the Restoration timeline seemed a bit too rushed when Hill's proposal came before Cabinet."
"Indeed," Cormac agreed as the pair sat down at the table, with Chatelaine at their feet. "Truth be told, I genuinely can't blame her for getting annoyed at all this, given that it was a policy promise I won the 1889 election on. I just wish it didn't set the other two and their supporters off in a chain reaction."
"Fair enough," Oscar replied, before marvelling at the sight of two plates of chicken Kiev with mashed potatoes, Greek salad – both served with a flute of Barossa Valley champagne. Salivating at the sight of his favourite dish, Oscar needed no encouragement to start eating, with Cormac happily doing the same.
Meanwhile, Dr. Merlot was recovering at home after being given his severance and a hefty pension atop it. But despite Ironwood coming through for him against the greed of Johannes Schnee, the old boffin still felt embittered at being removed from the project that was going to launch him to stardom within the academic world.
And with his personality having shifted e'er so slightly as a result of the stroke, his bitterness and drive to succeed began to push him towards a more simple project. One that he could do on his own, without the fancy biotech or the micromanagement of the SDC.
One that would change the face of robotics in a different way than originally planned.
A/N: I hope I got the interactions right between Oscar and Ozpin here.
Next time - which should be next month if all goes well - we shall finally meet our favourite robot girl.