Sarah's hands moved with uncanny precision as she completed the rewriting of an entire blue-level nanochip while the machine continued to operate. Inspector Vega watched in stunned silence, her mind reeling from what she was witnessing.
Only one question burned in Vega's mind: Who on earth had taught Sarah? Had anyone ever instructed her on the safety protocols of nanoengineering?
Sarah's casual approach to these highly unorthodox and dangerous procedures made it clear that this was her standard method. Vega couldn't help but think that whoever had taught Sarah was criminally irresponsible. In the nanoengineering industry, such a teacher would be metaphorically shot ten times over!
Didn't they understand how rare it was to find a student with such natural talent for nanoengineering?
As Sarah put away her pen, Vega took a deep breath, deciding against lecturing her. Every single one of Sarah's actions seemed to dance on the edge of what Vega considered acceptable practice. Even the careless way Sarah tucked her pen into her waistband made Vega wince internally. Didn't she understand that a nanoengineer's pen and ink were their lifeblood?
Oblivious to Vega's internal struggle, Sarah focused entirely on her work. As she finished, she let out a sigh of relief and looked up at the Component A she had just repaired.
With the core chip repaired, Sarah could feel the entire component stabilizing. However, the machine's ongoing damage continued to feed back into the chip, causing faint black lines to appear on the newly redrawn circuits.
This was an inherent flaw in chip-centric machines, Sarah realized. But the other engineers and maintenance workers had already sprung into action, likely to complete the component's repair before the chip encountered further issues.
With this critical component stabilized, the ominous fluctuations Sarah had sensed earlier had significantly diminished. The terrifying sense of imminent explosion had subsided.
"It should hold for at least a week," Sarah estimated, feeling a sense of accomplishment wash over her.
A week should be more than enough time for NeoTech Industries to bring in additional personnel to handle the situation properly. In the meantime, Sarah saw an opportunity. Before her replacement arrived to assist Inspector Vega, she was determined to glean as much nanoengineering knowledge as possible from the inspector.
After all, opportunities like this didn't come often in her new life.
Confident in her performance on this first task, Sarah decided to press her advantage. Reflecting on Vega's detailed explanations before the chip repair, Sarah felt that mastering blue-level chips might not be as challenging as she'd initially thought. With some effort, she might even be able to tackle purple-level chips.
But most importantly...
Sarah's hand unconsciously went to the nanocollar around her neck. She wanted to learn more about this technology.
With an expression of earnest eagerness, Sarah held out the ink vial, still a quarter full, offering it back to Vega with both hands in a gesture of respect. "Teacher, I've repaired the chip!" she announced, her voice brimming with barely contained excitement.
Vega, hearing the term 'chip repair' for the first time, was momentarily speechless. Having witnessed Sarah's extraordinary abilities firsthand, she managed to maintain her composure as she took back the ink vial. "Tell me," she said, her voice steady, "how exactly did you repair the chip?"
Sarah, not suspecting any ulterior motive, gave a brief explanation. The issue of conflicting residual mental energy from the original engineer wasn't a problem for her. She likened it to complementary colors in painting or harmonious instruments in an orchestra. Different mental energies could be coordinated; it was just a matter of adjusting her own mental energy waves to blend with the residual energy.
As Sarah spoke, Vega quickly grasped the principle behind Sarah's chip repair technique. But understanding the theory and being able to apply it were two very different things.
Adjusting one's mental energy waves was an enormous challenge, as was stably merging with residual energy. Sarah wasn't the first to dream of repairing chips, but others, both great and small, had ultimately given up.
Because...
"Doesn't it hurt?" Vega asked softly.
The residual mental energy, when not properly merged, would actively attack the repairing engineer's mental energy. The resulting mental damage was said to be excruciating.
"It does," Sarah admitted candidly. But she didn't dwell on it; the memory of that pain had faded with time. "But..." she continued, carefully avoiding mentioning the Black Port, "...with limited resources, repairing chips was the best way to learn."
Those damaged chips had been crucial tools in Sarah's journey to master the "Basics of Nanoengineering."
Eager to change the subject away from her past in the Black Port, especially given their current location in NeoTech Industries's core area surrounded by other engineers and maintenance workers, Sarah decided to ask a question that had been nagging at her:
"Teacher, why didn't you perform such a critical repair yourself?" Sarah asked, genuinely curious. She had always assumed that chip repair or creation was a solo task. Why had the inspector needed an assistant?
Vega stared at Sarah, marveling at how this young woman could perform miracles without realizing their significance. She felt a twinge of annoyance at the implied accusation. When had she ever told Sarah to repair the chip directly?
Feeling suddenly weary, Vega decided against arguing. Instead, she simply stated her situation: "My mental energy is damaged. I'm in a recovery period and can't perform any nanoengineering work for a while. That's why I'm out here doing inspections."
Sarah's initial assessment of inspectors not being able to perform nanoengineering wasn't entirely wrong. This explained why the supervisor had called Vega "Master" rather than by her title. Her status was higher than that of a regular inspector.
With this explanation, the last piece of the puzzle fell into place for Sarah. However...
"Unable to perform nanoengineering?" Sarah gasped, her eyes widening in alarm. "How were you injured?"
The ability to perform nanoengineering was crucial to Sarah; it was the foundation of her survival in this world.
Vega, realizing that Sarah's concern was more for herself than for Vega, replied in a deadpan voice: "Just like what you did in the transfer room earlier. The machine I was inspecting exploded, shattering my mental energy."
Sarah fell silent, the implications of Vega's words sinking in. The recklessness of her actions suddenly became clear, and a chill ran down her spine as she realized how close she had come to a similar fate.
As the silence stretched between them, Sarah felt a new respect for the dangers of this world and the knowledge Vega possessed. She had much to learn, not just about the techniques of nanoengineering, but about its risks and responsibilities as well.
With renewed determination, Sarah looked at Vega. "Teacher," she said, her voice filled with a new sense of humility and respect, "I have so much more to learn. Will you continue to teach me?"
Vega studied Sarah for a long moment, weighing the potential risks against the undeniable talent she had witnessed. Finally, she nodded. "Very well," she said. "But remember this: in nanoengineering, caution is just as important as skill. Your life depends on it."
As they turned back to the core, ready to tackle the next challenge, Sarah felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. She had found a teacher, but she had also glimpsed the perilous nature of the path she had chosen. The game had changed once again, and Sarah was determined to master its new rules.