"This thing isn't really for me to play with…"
Smith thought to himself, but he couldn't say that to Friedrich. Instead, he explained:
"Well, it's not exactly a toy—it's more like a learning tool for me. You see, Father, although I've learned a lot about technology from reading, the knowledge gained from books is different from what you learn through hands-on practice. I want to use this to explore specific concepts in electricity and mechanics."
"Is that so?"
Friedrich raised an eyebrow, still suspicious. However, he was well aware that his eldest son was unlike other children. Perhaps this was just how a genius's mind worked.
"Alright then," Friedrich finally relented, agreeing to Smith's request.
"I'll grant my little Willy's wish!"
And just like that, the matter was settled.
The finished product arrived much faster than Smith had anticipated. This was not only thanks to the skilled craftsmen in the Hohenzollern court but also to the precision of Smith's design drawings—they were far more scientific than they appeared at first glance.
After all, before his transmigration, Smith had been working on tokamak devices. Even though his current small body made handling pen and paper clumsy, his design skills were still top-notch.
Thus, before Prince Albert had even set off from London to Berlin, a new machine was already sitting on Smith's small desk.
Like many machines of this era, its craftsmanship was exquisite. Every metal component was polished to perfection—the steel parts gleamed like mirrors, while the brass parts shone with a golden luster. The base, made of teak, featured intricately carved patterns, making the machine look more like a work of art than a tool.
"Machines from the 19th century really are something else…" Smith marveled at the device, momentarily forgetting what it was even for.
Of course, a machine's appearance wasn't enough—it needed to function smoothly. After admiring its craftsmanship, Smith decided to test its performance.
The 1860s were still the dawn of the electrical industry, a time before household power lines. Naturally, this machine was powered by batteries.
Given the limitations of battery technology at the time, the batteries were quite large and couldn't be integrated into the machine itself. To power the device for four hours, the battery pack was a box-like contraption nearly as large as the machine itself.
Running his hand over the battery pack, Smith sighed. In his original time, two D-cell batteries could have provided the same energy. But considering the nearly 200-year gap, this technological chasm was understandable.
The battery pack and the machine were connected by a wire about a meter long—the only link between the two bulky components.
The machine's switch was located at the back, a finely crafted brass component reminiscent of the device Professor Yang had once used to shock him. The memory made Smith wince momentarily.
Shaking off these odd thoughts, Smith flipped the switch. With a faint hum, the machine came to life.
Unlike the noisy machines typical of the 19th century, this little contraption operated almost silently—its hum quieter than the rustling of leaves outside the window. This indicated not only excellent craftsmanship, with well-controlled tolerances between components, but also a successful design—a true masterpiece.
The switch wasn't the only control. There was also a small lever to adjust the machine's motion range.
This lever was part of a clever clutch mechanism. By pressing the lever down and moving it to different positions, the machine's settings could be changed. It had three modes, allowing the rubber piston-like component to move back and forth at amplitudes of 10 cm, 14 cm, or 18 cm. Each mode also had a different frequency: 3 movements per second at 10 cm, 2 per second at 14 cm, and 1.5 per second at 18 cm.
Since Smith lacked experience in every sense, he wasn't sure if this design was ideal, but it seemed reasonable enough.
Testing the lever a few times, Smith found the transitions smooth. If he, a child, could easily adjust it, an adult would have no trouble at all.
What surprised Smith even more was the faintly sweet fragrance the machine emitted when running. The scent was familiar. After some thought, he realized it was rose essential oil!
In the 19th century, before industrial purification techniques, rose essential oil was an expensive commodity. If Smith remembered correctly, it wasn't produced in Prussia or even the German states. Most of Europe's supply came from the Balkans, with smaller quantities from France and Italy. The long distances and complex extraction processes made it costly.
To find such a luxury used in this machine astonished Smith. After some sniffing, he discovered that the rose essential oil was being used as a lubricant!
"My goodness, my stingy old man really went all out…"
Smith was dumbfounded. Using rose essential oil as a lubricant was a luxury he couldn't have imagined. In the 1860s, before petroleum-based lubricants, most machines relied on animal fats, which often had an unpleasant odor. Friedrich must have wanted to make Smith's experience more enjoyable.
Now that everything was ready, Smith turned off the machine and thought to himself:
"Everything's set. Now, when will Grandpa arrive?"
By the time Prince Albert appeared at the Crown Prince's Palace, it was already the last Sunday of May. It was one of Berlin's rare mild spring days, and under the gentle sunlight, Smith saw his "grandfather-in-law" for the second time.
Initially, it was just a fleeting glimpse from the balcony. What caught Smith's eye was a frail, slightly stooped figure. Even from such a distance, Smith could sense the prince's weakness and exhaustion.
Prince Albert was indeed too tired. He had just concluded Lady Kent's funeral and was immediately embroiled in a trade dispute. The American Civil War had caused the North to blockade the South's cotton-producing regions, leading to a surge in international cotton prices. Britain's textile industry, heavily reliant on American cotton, was thrown into turmoil. This matter drained what little energy the prince had left. Yet Smith knew this was only the beginning. As the situation worsened, history recorded that in the autumn of 1861, the British Parliament nearly declared war on the United States over cotton. It was Prince Albert's mediation that turned swords into plowshares, though it nearly cost him his health.
And in this timeline, there was no indication that similar events wouldn't happen again!
Seeing the haggard Prince Albert, Smith felt a mix of admiration and pity. A German who had crossed the channel to England, burning his life for this country, all because the woman he loved was the Queen of the British Empire. Perhaps this was the power—and price—of love.
Thinking this, Smith glanced at the peculiar machine on his small desk and thought to himself:
"I hope this machine can at least ease some of your physical burdens..."
Before long, the three generations—father, daughter, and grandson—gathered together. Victoria, seeing her father's frail appearance, couldn't help but burst into tears. Prince Albert, who had just lost a loved one, was also moved to tears upon seeing his daughter. The father and daughter wept bitterly, leaving Smith feeling a pang of sorrow. He couldn't help but think of how heartbroken his own parents, wife, and children must be in his original world after his inexplicable crossing into this one.
After the tears were shed and family matters discussed, it was time for the scheduled medical consultation. Several Khitan imperial physicians conducted a thorough "three-way consultation" on Prince Albert and unsurprisingly concluded what Smith had anticipated:
The prince's kidneys were damaged and required immediate treatment, or his life would be at risk!
This conclusion greatly alarmed Victoria. Although the prince himself showed no fear, it was clear the diagnosis had shaken him. The good news was that the condition wasn't beyond saving. With proper treatment, there was still a good chance of recovery.
The treatment plan naturally involved medication. The Khitan physicians prescribed a formula and noted that some of the herbs were available at the Khitan's temporary embassy. Smith, under the guise of curiosity, also glanced at the prescription. It was indeed a kidney-nourishing formula, so it seemed there was a way forward.
After the consultation, it was time for some family bonding. Smith seized the opportunity and said to Prince Albert:
"Grandfather, would you like to try out our new toy?"
Prince Albert had no reason to refuse, and Victoria, seeing her son so close to her father, was pleased. Thus, the three of them moved to Smith's room.
"This is a mechanical device powered by an electric motor," Smith began, standing before the machine like an inventor introducing his creation. He continued with a serious tone:
"Once the power is connected, this piston-like component will move back and forth!"
As he spoke, Smith turned on the power. The machine began to operate swiftly and quietly.
Prince Albert and Victoria exchanged wide-eyed glances. From their pure and puzzled expressions, Smith could tell they had no idea what this device was actually for.
"Little Willy has a peculiar fondness for machinery..." Victoria eventually broke the awkward silence, trying to lighten the mood. "What others find dull and boring, he finds more fascinating than the best toys..."
"That's because you haven't tried it..." Smith muttered under his breath. Out loud, he continued to demonstrate the machine, enthusiastically explaining how to switch gears and the different functionalities of each setting.
"Hmm... hmm..." Prince Albert listened to Smith's introduction. At first, he was still confused, but at some point, a realization seemed to dawn on him. Smith watched as the prince's face turned red almost instantly.
"Finally, the old elm tree gets it..." Smith thought with a sigh of relief. "All my effort in designing and explaining this thing wasn't in vain..."
"Willy..." Prince Albert pointed at the machine and asked, "How long can it run?"
"Four hours!"
"Interesting... very interesting!" Prince Albert's face grew even redder as he spoke.
Seeing that the timing was just right, Smith shifted the conversation:
"Grandfather, I want to give this toy to you!"
"Willy?" Victoria still hadn't figured out what was going on. She looked at Smith in confusion, unsure what her son was up to.
"Mom! It's just a little gift from a grandson to his grandfather. Isn't that perfectly appropriate?" Smith said playfully, coaxing her.
"Alright, it's your toy. You have the right to decide who it belongs to," Victoria finally relented. Smith then turned to Prince Albert, awaiting his reaction.
"Thank you, my little Willy!" Prince Albert said. To Smith's surprise, there was a trace of genuine gratitude in his voice.