Chen Hao's hand was still hovering above the start button, his fingertips just a millimeter away from it. The stove hummed softly, as if urging him to make a clean break.
But he couldn't move.
"M-type six-pin...T-type four-pin?" He muttered to himself, then repeated it, as if saying it a few more times would automatically put the two unrelated things together. "Are you sure it's not a part that's installed backwards? Like when I put my left shoe on my right?"
Nana stood by the control panel, the terminal screen floating in mid-air, the interface cross-section diagram clearly displayed. She didn't speak, but simply pointed the camera at the sockets behind the control box, then pulled up the 3D model of the stock cables, comparing the two images side by side—one with a six-hole socket and a positioning slot, the other with a four-core socket and no locking mechanism, they looked like brothers, but they never intermarried.
“The physical structures are incompatible,” she said. “A forced connection is impossible.”
"So, we have the furnace, the materials, the parameters, but we're stuck on just one wire?" Chen Hao slowly withdrew his hand, looking down at the old cable he had been stroking for so long. "If it were a person, it would be laughing at me right now."
"It does not have an emotion module."
"Thank goodness I didn't, otherwise I would have thrown it into the oven to bake."
He turned and walked to the tool cabinet, pulled open the top drawer, and rummaged through a pile of messy connectors and adapters. After rummaging around for a while, he finally picked up a dusty circuit board with several metal sockets soldered on it.
"What about this? It's from an old relay. I remember using something similar when I repaired radios before."
Nana scanned the sample and found, "Pin count matches, but insulation level is insufficient. Breakdown may occur under high temperature conditions."
"So it's usable, but a bit dangerous?"
"Not recommended as a long-term solution."
“We don’t expect it to live for a hundred years.” He slammed the circuit board on the table. “It just needs to last three hours. The iron has already gone in and gone through a cycle; we can’t just leave it inside all alone, unable to get hard.”
"Your analogy has a logical flaw."
“But I understood.” He grinned, then his face fell. “The problem is, even if this board works, it can’t be directly connected to the magnetic field generator. We need to build a bridge in between.”
Nana nodded, and the screen switched to a diagram of the interface's internal structure. "We need to make a temporary adapter module, which includes a six-pin female connector, conductive copper pillars, a heat-resistant insulating layer, and a fixing bracket."
"It sounds like cooking: one main ingredient, several side ingredients, simmered over high heat for three hours." Chen Hao scratched his head. "The problem is, do we even have these 'side ingredients'?"
“We have basic raw materials in our inventory.” She pulled up the list: a piece of bare copper wire, two ceramic partitions, three metal clips, and half a roll of mica tape.
"They're all scraps." He stared at the screen. "If we put them together, they'd probably be lighter than my weight. Could they withstand magnetic field vibrations?"
"Simulation results show that if the structure is stable and the contact is good, short-term conduction can be achieved."
"But what does 'good contact' mean? I might not even be able to get it working if I press it with my hand right now."
"It is necessary to ensure that each pin is independently conductive, with a resistance deviation of less than 0.5 ohms."
Chen Hao was silent for a few seconds, then squatted down, leaned against the control panel, and looked up at her: "Tell me the truth, what is the success rate of this kind of temporary modification? Don't tell me it's 78.4%, that's just a consolation figure for your robots."
"Based on the current conditions, the probability of success is 61.3%."
"Less than 70%?" He whistled. "Isn't that gambling with your life? If you win, the materials become stronger; if you lose, the machine explodes?"
"The risks are manageable."
“You always say that.” He stood up, patted the dust off his bottom, “Last time you said the demagnetizing fan was controllable, but my key flew out and stuck to the wall, and I didn’t dare touch the doorknob for three days.”
"That was an accident."
"If another accident happens this time, I'm afraid I'll turn into an electromagnetic cannonball and be fired out."
The workshop quieted down. The furnace was still preheating, emitting a low-frequency vibration that could be felt underfoot. Chen Hao stared at the tightly closed insulated door, inside which lay the first main shaft, waiting to be awakened by "SpA".
But now, they haven't even turned on the tap in the bathhouse.
He suddenly laughed. "What are we trying to achieve? It's just making a spinning wheel, right? Is it really necessary to perform surgery on the iron, become an electrician, welder, and equipment modification expert all at once?"
“Ordinary structures cannot support simultaneous loads on multiple ingots,” Nana said calmly. “If unreinforced materials are used, fatigue fracture is expected after 72 hours of operation.”
"So you'd rather risk blowing yourself up than give up?"
"Otherwise, the process of repairing, replacing, and then damaging again will be repeated endlessly."
Chen Hao leaned against the table, motionless. After a while, he looked up and said, "Do you know what the worst thing is?"
Please explain.
"The worst part is that I've started to get used to this kind of life." He waved his hand self-deprecatingly. "Yesterday I was thinking about whether I could be lazy and make do with some scrap metal I already had, since I wasn't expecting it to run on the high speed. But now? I'm seriously considering how to put together a high-precision magnetic field interface using electrical tape and ceramic pieces."
"This is a manifestation of technological progress."
"I think this is a terminal illness."
He crouched down again and rummaged through the bottom of the tool cabinet. This time he pulled out a small box of screws, with a yellowish plastic sheet underneath, its edges worn white.
"Can this be used as a base? Although it's not heat-resistant, it should be fine to leave it outside."
“It can be used as an external support structure,” Nana confirmed after scanning, “but it must be kept at least 15 centimeters away from high-temperature areas.”
“Okay, let’s do it this way.” He hauled everything onto the table, piling it up into a small mountain. “Copper wire conducts electricity, ceramic sheet provides insulation, plastic board forms the base, clips secure it, and mica tape is wrapped around it to prevent leakage—it sounds like a joke, but it seems like it can actually be put together.”
“Precise wiring is required,” she said. “There must be no short circuit between any two pins.”
"I know this isn't like connecting a light bulb, where if you connect it wrong, at most the light will go out. This is connecting a magnetic field, and if you connect it wrong, it might stir up all the water in my brain."
He picked up a pen and drew a rough sketch on a piece of scrap paper, marking six points crookedly, the lines of which looked like a spider crawling across the paper.
"Look, how about this? We'll enter from here, split into three groups, two in each group, with gaps in between..."
Nana glanced at it and said, "The distance between the third and fourth pins is too close, which can easily cause an electric arc."
"Then move it further away." He erased it and redrawn it. "Can you stop just nitpicking and give me some constructive suggestions?"
"It is recommended to adopt a stepped layout to increase the horizontal spacing."
“Staircase? You mean make it higher and lower?” He pondered, then his eyes lit up. “Wait, I have an easier way.”
He found a discarded socket casing; the bottom was flat and the interior space was large enough to fit a ceramic piece.
"Take this apart, keep the shell, arrange the copper pillars inside as you said, wrap the outside tightly with mica tape, and then lock it with buckles—the whole device is like a box, and it can also be dustproof and waterproof."
“The structural rationality has improved by 32%,” Nana commented.
"Forget about percentages, I just want to know if I'll be alive enough to press the start button after this thing is made."
"Absolute safety cannot be guaranteed."
"Sigh." He sighed, "As expected, high-tech projects can't be participated in by ordinary people."
"You can choose not to make any modifications."
“But if we do that, the spindle will be ruined, the support structure will be useless, and all the previous work will be wasted.” He paused for a moment, his voice lower, “I don’t want to go back and fix it a third time.”
After he finished speaking, he lowered his head and continued organizing the materials. His movements weren't particularly nimble, but they were steady. He unscrewed the screwdriver, removed the socket panel, carefully took out the metal pieces inside, and laid them out one by one on the table to dry.
Nana watched him intently, fine-tuning the focus of the optical lens to record every step of the operation.
"Are you really going ahead with the modification?" she asked.
"What else?" He didn't even look up. "The medicine can't be changed, and the needle doesn't fit, so we have to change the needle. We can't just stop treating the patient because the IV tubing isn't suitable."
The analogy holds true.
"You're quite cooperative." He smiled and bent a copper wire into a U-shape. "Now you tell me which wire should be connected where, and I'll do it. If I connect it wrong, don't wait until it explodes to remind me."
"I will monitor the resistance value in real time."
"That's good." He took a deep breath, picked up the welding torch, and said, "Come on, let's see if we can get the equipment sorted out first, or if the equipment will drive us crazy first."
A spark flashes as the tip of the welding torch touches the metal.
Chen Hao narrowed his eyes, his wrist trembled slightly, but he didn't let go.
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