Chapter 93 – Consolidation
Since he had to wait for his father to return, Orestis decided to be productive while he waited. The node-linking device was something that had been on his list for a while now, after all.
Of course, following Eirene’s suggestion, he had forwarded the concept to the Consortium as a personal idea. They had apparently already been exploring something similar. After all, the concept of one device connecting to many others already existed in the current long-distance communications network.
Although they had still been thinking along the lines of resonance to expand the network—a dead end for long-distance communication. That was why they had been unable to come up with anything workable. The outlines and technical suggestions in his report had given them a more concrete direction to pursue. Thus, the Consortium had assembled an official project team to develop it.
However, the last time he checked on that project—which was a couple of days ago—they were still stuck on discovery and routing: how a device discovers other devices on the network, and how it decides where to send a connection request.
It was the same thing they had been stuck on last week as well. Not a particularly long time by research standards, but considering the nature of the problem, Orestis suspected they were searching in the wrong direction.
Frankly, I’m more surprised no one has come to me about it yet. I am listed as a consultant on the project, after all. Should I just tell them how to fix it?
Orestis thought about it for a moment before discarding that idea. Some of them were halfway competent and would eventually come up with something. Besides, he did not want to get into the habit of spoon-feeding people.
That kind of thing tends to stunt creativity and encourage dependency. It also breeds envy. The latter, I do not care about. The former, however, is unacceptable.
Regardless, just because the Consortium team had yet to figure out a workable design did not mean he had to wait for them. His father’s study was starting to look as though it contained more call-nodes than ledgers at this point.
So, Orestis brought over a few materials and got to work while chatting with his mother. The steady supply of pastries had nothing to do with his choice of workspace. Though it might have contributed. Marginally.
In truth, the work was simple enough—and safe enough—that he did not need an isolated workspace. His mother was also quite intrigued by how such things were made and seemed to enjoy watching the process.
She especially liked watching him carve the runes. According to her, it was because she appreciated the precision and skill it required. Orestis suspected she simply liked the glowing colours the process produced—though he chose not to call her out on it.
She also asked about the principles behind what he was building, which he was happy to explain.
In the future, every communications device, large or small, had its own unique identifier. It was a fundamental requirement for any multi-call communications system.
Since the current call-nodes had no such thing, he needed something else to fill that role. His solution was to use an array to identify the unique spatial signatures of the gates hidden within each device. For the time being, those signatures would serve as their identifiers.
But that was only the identifier module. The main issue had always been the clutter and wasted space in his father’s study.
That, and the fact that Father needs to interact with them all on a regular basis.
The solution to the space problem was simple enough. Orestis intended to create an expanded spatial pocket inside a container—perhaps in the form of a flat case. That way, both current and future call-nodes could simply be placed inside, where they would automatically sort themselves after extracting their spatial signatures.
Simple, convenient, and hassle-free. No more wall-to-wall displays. No more labels pasted onto every individual device. No more reorganising the collection every time another call-node was added.
Naturally, he would also have to incorporate a function to select the appropriate call-node and activate it whenever the user wished to place a call.
Would be rather pointless otherwise.
Of course, he also needed to leave room in the formations to accommodate future modifications, in case the Consortium team chose to use a different method—which they obviously would.
After all, what kind of nonsense was it to create a perfectly functional device only to chuck it into a spatial pocket when it had to be used? There were far better—and far less wasteful—options out there.
The only reason Orestis was using this method was because he was not in a position to recall all the call-nodes and modify both halves. Since altering the existing devices was not an option, this was the most practical solution.
Okay, maybe it’s not the most practical. But I’m already halfway through implementing it, so I might as well continue. Especially since I have to change it later anyway to match whatever the project team comes up with.
The next requirement was a user interface, much like the mana slates that the Consortium was currently using. One of the larger faces of the container would serve well enough.
But then, active mana manipulation was necessary in order to interact with those interfaces. That was a problem, since his father—like most of the population—had never trained to use mana in his life.
Even if he had, trying to use mana like that before reaching the First Circle was unrealistic. The level of control required to manipulate mana in its diffuse state took years of dedicated training—a fool’s errand if one could not even cross the First Circle threshold in the first place.
That being the case, he would change the interface to respond to the presence of mana within the body. It would mean interacting with the interface via physical contact. A constraint, yes, but a minor one—especially since it would allow anyone to use it, regardless of whether they knew how to manipulate mana.
Maybe I should have it detect the soul signature as well? Mana signatures can be stolen easily enough. Reading both mana and soul together would provide an additional layer of security when identifying users.
But then again, were such security measures even necessary, considering that only his father—and sometimes his mother—would be using it?
Orestis thought about it for a moment.
Yes. They are. Because there is always the possibility that someone might steal it.
So, add the soul verification function. And also add self-destruction sequences—the same ones he had installed in his own and Varra’s equipment.
Although… some of those could be dangerous to his parents. Solution: add a scanning function to verify they were not nearby before detonation.
Orestis nodded to himself. That would work.
Time slipped away without him noticing. He kept talking through ideas as they occurred to him, implementing them almost as quickly as he thought of them. Before long, the project had taken on a life of its own. It was enjoyable. Relaxing.
Eventually, he finished the device. Looking up, he found his mother quietly watching him. She had long since finished whatever work she had been doing when he started and was now occupied with some embroidery while keeping him company.
“Are you done, dear?” she asked.
“Yes.” He had done too much, in fact. But that was fine; it was an afternoon well spent, in his opinion.
Since he had already added his mother’s signatures into the system, Orestis pushed the case towards her and asked, “Do you want to try it?”
His mother smiled and set her embroidery aside, leaning forward with enthusiasm. She had watched him test the interface a dozen times over the course of the afternoon, so she tapped the surface without the slightest hesitation.
Orestis had also transferred every call-node in the house into the case beforehand, which meant the interface already carried a complete list of contacts. He had copied the labels his father had pasted onto each device into the system exactly as they were written, abbreviations and all.
No point in tidying them up since he is the one who has to read them.
His mother picked his father’s name out of the list. A prompt appeared, asking her to confirm the call. She did.
A moment later, his father answered.
“Can you hear me?” his mother asked.
It was an unnecessary question. Apart from its new form and additional functions, the device operated exactly like an ordinary call-node. As in, she simply needed to speak within proximity and the voice would be carried over to the other end.
“… I can,” his father replied. “Is something the matter?”
“Are you done with your work there?”
“Yes. I’m on my way to get a carriage. I should be back soon.”
“About that. It is getting late. There is no sense in you sitting in a carriage for half the evening. I will send Orestis to get you,” she said cheerfully.
Orestis gave his mother a wry look. Of course she had volunteered him. Not that he minded.
Most people in Theramon and Axiomera already knew of his association with the Consortium, along with the rumour that they supplied him with mana crystals so that he could use magic. He did not use the crystals to cast spells, but that was a misconception he had actively encouraged. Less hassle for him that way.
Thanks to that, he could travel by gateway without anyone looking too deeply into it. Especially since not everyone could detect divine power the way his mother could. It made things quite convenient—both for him and for his parents in situations like this.
His father, unsurprisingly, accepted the offer to be ferried home by gateway. No one enjoyed spending hours cooped up in a carriage, after all. So Orestis went and brought his father home.
After that, they had the ‘conversation’ over dinner. He told the story exactly as he had told it to his mother: no embellishment, only the facts. His father listened without interrupting a single time.
The acceptance came just as readily as it had from his mother. If anything, his father’s reaction had been even less pronounced.
His father had merely said, “That explains a lot,” and gone back to eating.
Really, what is with my parents? Orestis thought fondly.
He had spent such a long time preparing, and yet it had ended before he got to use any of his explanations or contingencies. He found that he did not mind in the slightest.
Soon after, he returned to his research island feeling considerably lighter—mentally, that is. Things had gone rather well at home. He chose to take that as a good sign that the rest of his plans might proceed just as smoothly.
Not that he really believed in such things. But statistically, they did tend to correlate with annoyingly high frequency.
Anyways. Back to work.