Just as the hammer was halfway raised, Nana's voice rang out: "Don't smash it."
Chen Hao's hand trembled, and he almost hit himself in the face with the hammer handle. "What's wrong? Doesn't this ore still need to be broken up and refined?"
“Direct forging achieves an impurity separation rate of less than 35 percent.” She squatted down, her fingertips lightly tracing the surface of a silver-gray ore. “It needs to be smelted and purified first.”
"Oh." Chen Hao put down the hammer and scratched the hair on the back of his neck. "Then should we build a stove? I remember there's an abandoned heating device in the corner of the warehouse, but I don't know if it still works."
“The availability assessment is 61%.” Nana stood up. “However, the temperature control module and fuel interface need to be replaced. It is recommended to use liquid methane for power. The base’s spare tanks have enough reserves to support three hours of high-temperature operations.”
"Sounds like they're going to build a mini volcano," Chen Hao muttered as he walked toward the warehouse. "You know, our desolate planet base is short of everything, but we never run out of fuel. Is it because God thinks we're too idle, so He's sending us some work to grind us down?"
Nana followed behind him, her steps as steady as a pre-programmed conveyor belt. "Your analogy is flawed. Fuel reserves are based on the redundancy design of an ecological cycle system, not for 'torturing humanity'."
"But the result is the same, isn't it?" He glanced back at her. "I did the work, you gave the instructions, and in the end, we still didn't have enough electricity."
The warehouse door creaked open, and dust rained down. Chen Hao coughed twice, pulled out the grease-covered heating device, and nearly strained his back as he dragged it out.
"When was the last time this thing was turned on?" he asked, panting.
“The last record was on day 187, used to melt frozen water pipes.” Nana took the wrench he handed her and unscrewed the side cover. “At that time, the temperature only needed to reach 120 degrees Celsius. This time the target is above 1400 degrees Celsius, so the insulation layer needs to be reinforced.”
"Fourteen hundred? Are we smelting metal or making bricks?" Chen Hao wiped the ash off his face. "Fine, I'm already as dirty as a stray dog that crawled out of a ditch, so it doesn't matter if I get a little darker."
The two worked for over an hour, piecing together a crooked, makeshift stove. Nana modified the thermostat using an old circuit board and salvaged a high-temperature resistant pipe from a scrapped robot to use as a chimney. The moment it was ignited, the flames roared up half a meter high, startling Chen Hao so much that he jumped back, nearly slipping and falling to the ground.
"It's stable." Nana stared at the dashboard. "The current temperature is 900 degrees Celsius. It is expected to reach the target value in 40 minutes."
"You actually made it burn." Chen Hao grinned. "I thought at most it would just produce some smoke, and then we'd just sigh over a pile of scrap metal."
“Sighing won’t increase the purity of the metal,” she said. “I suggest you prepare the mold. The press’s hydraulic system needs to be preheated for ten minutes.”
"Yes, sir." He gave a crooked salute and limped toward the workbench.
After the ore was completely melted into a dark red molten metal, it was poured into a mold and cooled. Nana then checked the three bolts three times with a laser thickness gauge to confirm that the dimensional error of the three pressed bolts did not exceed 0.2 millimeters.
"It's barely usable." She handed it to Chen Hao, "Be careful with the torque when installing it; if it's too tight, it can cause a micro-crack in the base."
"Got it." He took the bolts, squatted down next to the windmill model, and began replacing the old parts. "You know, if these things were on Earth in the past, they would be called 'precision parts,' right? But now? They're just called 'just don't fall apart right away.'"
With the main shaft secured, the blade support recalibrated, and a temporary coil installed on the generator, the small windmill stood in the center of the courtyard, four meters high. Its three aluminum blades were arranged in a spiral, and several recycled steel plates were welded to the base. It looked crooked, but at least it resembled a proper piece of equipment.
“Wiring complete.” Nana connected the two wires to the portable energy storage module. “The current wind speed is 3.2, which is theoretically sufficient to start rotation.”
Chen Hao took a few steps back and looked up at the set of leaves. "Come on, little one, make your dad proud."
The wind blew in gusts, but the leaves didn't budge. He pushed the support again, but it still didn't move.
"Stuck?" He frowned.
“The bearings are not properly lubricated,” Nana said. “The frictional resistance is higher than expected.”
"Then what should we do? Spray it around with an oil can?"
“There is no suitable lubricant.” She paused, “but human sebum has a short-term drag-reducing effect.”
"Wait—you mean you want me to rub the bearings by hand?"
"It is more efficient to apply the product after rubbing your palms together to warm them up."
"Am I building windmills or repairing bicycles?" Chen Hao looked utterly bewildered. "What kind of high-tech solution is this?"
"Practicality takes precedence over form." She said without changing her expression.
Chen Hao, grumbling, rolled up his sleeves and rubbed his hands back and forth in the bearing gaps for several minutes until his palms were burning hot. "Is that enough? This is my family's hereditary hand sweat, a once-in-a-century occurrence. Doesn't it qualify me for a patent?"
No sooner had he finished speaking than a strong gust of wind swept across the courtyard.
The blades suddenly trembled and began to slowly rotate.
At first, it moved so slowly it seemed lazy, but after a few laps, it gradually increased in speed and made a soft "whooshing" sound.
"It's spinning! It really is spinning!" Chen Hao jumped up and clapped his hands. "Our old junk can actually spin!"
Nana had already opened the testing interface, her gaze quickly scanning the data stream. "The machine is operating stably, with no abnormal vibrations detected. Load connected... Voltage output 0.23 watts, current fluctuation range ±0.04 amps."
"How much?" Chen Hao leaned closer to look at the screen. "0.23? Wasn't it supposed to be closer to 0.8? This is less than a third of the total."
“The system efficiency is 28.7% of the theoretical value,” she said. “Energy loss is mainly concentrated in two parts: frictional power consumption in the transmission part accounts for 54%, and the electromagnetic conversion efficiency is only 39% of the ideal state.”
"So, most of the wind's energy is wasted fighting with the bearings, and the little energy left goes to the generator, which then shirks its responsibilities?" Chen Hao scratched his head. "So we've built a high-end fan? It's fine for blowing air, but forget about generating electricity."
“The structure and function have not deviated from the original design intent,” Nana corrected, “it’s just that the performance has not met expectations.”
"You really know how to comfort people." He sighed, looking up at the still-spinning blades. "If I had known, I wouldn't have gone through all this trouble to dig up stones in the valley. I could have just made a paper one and hung it here. It would have saved time and effort."
“The paper model is not wind-resistant enough,” she said. “The last test showed that it would break apart in a level 3 wind.”
"Look, look, they won't even let me finish complaining." Chen Hao rolled his eyes. "I'm starting to suspect that this windmill isn't for generating electricity, but is specifically designed to dampen my enthusiasm."
Nana didn't respond. Instead, she crouched down and lightly touched the motor casing with her finger. A few seconds later, she withdrew her hand.
“Insufficient coil turns and uneven magnetic pole distribution,” she said. “If the winding density is increased and the angle of the permanent magnet is adjusted, the conversion efficiency can theoretically be increased to over 60%.”
"So it still needs to be changed?"
"yes."
"What about the materials?"
"The copper wires in the old communication array can be disassembled and reused. The insulation layer is partially aged, but the conductivity still meets the standards."
“It’s recycled stuff again.” Chen Hao smiled wryly. “We haven’t used anything new in this project from start to finish. The screws were picked up, the aluminum pipes were scrap, the wires were salvaged from old equipment, and even the lubricant was my own sweat.”
“The resource utilization rate has reached 89.3%,” she said. “This is a case of highly efficient recycling.”
“But I feel like an old scavenger, picking up discarded parts to assemble toys.” He reached out and flicked the blade, watching it slowly spin. “Do you think… is it possible that one day we can actually buy a new set of equipment? Without having to repair or piece things together, we can just install one cleanly and make it generate electricity properly?”
Nana glanced at him.
"That possibility cannot be ruled out in the future," she said.
Chen Hao smiled and didn't say anything more.
The wind was still blowing, the blades continued to rotate, and the voltmeter pointer trembled slightly, remaining fixed at 0.23.
He squatted back down, picked up a small file, and began to polish the edge of an aluminum strip.
"Let's start by changing the bearings," he said. "You mentioned changing the lubricant, but what do we have left in the warehouse? The engine oil is long gone, and there's only half a tube of grease left. I can't... expect you to rub it by hand again, can I?"
Nana opened the supplies list.
“A can of food-grade silicone grease, originally intended for sealing rubber rings, was detected in the spare compartment,” she said. “The composition meets short-term lubrication standards.”
"Food grade?" Chen Hao's eyes lit up. "Can we eat it?"
"Not for consumption."
"Oh, I was just asking casually." He stood up, patted his pants, and said, "Let's go steal some 'inedible food' to save our windmill."
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