The wind lifted the edge of the fur a little more, and Chen Hao pressed it down, making the wooden strips more secure. He stared at the four processed animal hides piled in the corner, picked at his fingers in his pocket, and muttered, "Two were used for the roof, so we can't really keep these as souvenirs."
Nana's projection floated above the workbench, displaying a series of data scrolling across the screen. "In a resting state at night, the average rate of core temperature loss is 0.3 degrees Celsius per hour. The thermal resistance of the existing sleeping bag filling layer is only 1.8 clo, which is insufficient to cope with sustained low-temperature environments."
"Speak like a human being." Chen Hao yawned. "You want me to stay warm like an icicle tonight?"
"The conclusion is correct."
“Then let’s get down to business.” He rubbed his face, walked to the corner and dragged out two intact pieces of leather. “How about we sew two quilts? It’s better than being wrapped in a tin can.”
“Manual piercing cannot penetrate the fiber layer of tanned leather.” Nana pulled up a structural diagram. “A mechanical sewing device is required.”
"Does our base have sewing machines?" Chen Hao looked around. "I remember last time we searched the warehouse, we didn't even see a needle."
“There’s no equipment readily available.” She paused, “but I can build one.”
Chen Hao was taken aback. "What are you going to use to build it? You probably don't even have enough parts."
"The scrapped hydraulic regulator can be disassembled into a transmission component. Combined with the micro servo motor of the third joint of my right arm, the output power can reach 60% of that of a standard sewing machine." She said calmly, as if reciting a menu. "If we add a section of recycling guide rail to make a needle bar slide, it is theoretically feasible."
"Wait a minute." Chen Hao raised his hand. "You mean... use a part of yourself to build the machine?"
“Non-critical functional modules that will not affect the main operation.” Her projector turned to the workbench. “Estimated assembly time is forty-seven minutes.”
Chen Hao opened his mouth, but in the end only managed to utter, "Fine, as long as you don't twist your head off and use it as a spool."
Nana didn't respond. The robotic arm had already unlocked automatically, and a silver-gray component slowly detached from the shoulder connector, landing on the control panel with a crisp sound. She began disassembling the hydraulic unit, her movements as precise as cutting tofu, the metal fragments arranged neatly, not a single screw out of place.
Chen Hao squatted down and watched for a while, the more he looked, the more something seemed wrong. "This isn't making a sewing machine, it's amputating a limb on the spot."
“The analogy is inappropriate.” She embedded the motor into the base. “I suggest you prepare a fabric patchwork plan.”
"Oh." He got up and rummaged through the locker, pulling out two thick canvases and a ball of thick thread. "This is it, the kind used for covering cement on construction sites, sturdy."
“The material strength is matched.” Nana nodded. “I suggest using a double-layer sandwich structure: canvas as the outer layer, fur as the core, and edge stitching for reinforcement.”
“It sounds like a sandwich.” Chen Hao spread out the cloth and tried to prick it with a needle. The needle bent as soon as it touched the skin. “This thing is harder than my fingernail.”
"Manual assembly is not feasible." Nana had completed the main assembly. A strange-looking machine stood on the table, the presser foot was slightly crooked, but the motor was humming after starting. "Note that the tension adjustment knob is here, and the feeding speed must be kept constant."
"Understood." Chen Hao rolled up his sleeves. "Let's go, humanity's first attempt at mechanically stitching animal hides."
The first attempt ended in failure.
He pushed the fabric too quickly, and the needle got stuck in the leather with a dull "click," the thread snapped, and the needle bent into a question mark shape. The second time, he was a little slower, and the presser foot slipped, causing the fabric to slant and resulting in a curved stitch that looked like a drunken earthworm. The third time, he finally got it straight, but he applied too much force halfway through, causing the motor to overload and stop, and the whole machine emitted a plume of white smoke.
"Oh no, oh no, it's blown up?" Chen Hao hurriedly let go.
“Overheat protection has been triggered.” Nana turned off the power. “It will restart after cooling for five minutes. The problem is that your application of force was inconsistent, causing the load fluctuation to exceed the threshold.”
“This isn’t sewing clothes, it’s taming an animal.” He shook his aching wrist. “It won’t listen to me at all.”
“What you need is guidance, not control,” she said, as the robotic arm extended an auxiliary rod to gently support the outside of Chen Hao’s wrist. “Like this, keep the forward pushing motion smooth and don’t suddenly increase the force.”
"Are you helping me, or are you remotely controlling me?" he frowned.
"Effectiveness first."
On the second startup, the machine ran much more smoothly. The stitches gradually aligned in a straight line, and although the spacing was still uneven, at least they no longer broke. Chen Hao slowly got the hang of it, humming a little off-key tune, and his shoulders relaxed.
"Go faster to the left," he whispered.
"Fine-tuning in progress." Nana adjusted the support rod pressure simultaneously.
"It's pressing down on the right side, gently... Yes, just like that."
After the entire surface layer was sewn together, the two men breathed a sigh of relief. Chen Hao stared at the row of crooked but ultimately connected stitches and grinned: "This is a model of human-machine collaboration, isn't it?"
"Barely up to standard." Nana scanned the seam strength. "The tensile test passed, and there is no risk of localized tearing."
"Don't dampen my enthusiasm." He patted the machine. "This thing may be a bit ugly, but it's pretty durable."
Next came flipping, filling, and sealing the bottom. The two worked together seamlessly. Chen Hao was in charge of feeding the material, while Nana monitored the tension and needle position. The motor stopped again midway through, and they had to replace an old capacitor to continue. By the time the last stitch was completed, it was already dark.
"First bed complete." Nana cut the thread.
"It looks like it's been chewed by a dog." Chen Hao picked it up and shook it. "But it's so heavy, it could make a dent if it hit the ground."
"The thermal resistance test result: 4.2 clo, exceeding the estimated value by 12%." She pulled up a comparison chart, "The original sleeping bag's insulation efficiency was 67%."
"Does that mean I can wear three fewer pairs of thermal underwear from now on?" His eyes lit up.
"Theoretically feasible."
“Then we need another one.” He rubbed his hands together. “We can’t just keep ourselves warm.”
The second stitch was made much faster. Chen Hao's movements were still clumsy, but no longer panicked. He had even learned to anticipate signs of a stuck needle and slow down the machine before it made any unusual noises. When he finished the last stitch, he let out a long breath, leaned back, and almost fell to the ground.
“It’s done,” he said.
"Both high-density composite bedding sets are now complete." Nana confirmed the final figures. "We recommend letting them sit for twelve hours to release internal stress before using them."
"I can't wait that long." Chen Hao wrapped himself up tightly. "I have to try it out tonight."
He sat on a chair by the window, pulling the blanket up to his chest, sinking into it until only his head was visible. Snow had begun to fall outside, snowflakes slowly sliding down the glass. Inside, the fire flickered in the fireplace, and the heating pipes hummed softly.
Nana's projection floated quietly to the side, its halo flickering slightly with the system's standby frequency.
“You said…” Chen Hao suddenly spoke up, “We’ve repaired so many things—generators, roofs, pipes—all to prevent things from breaking down.” He looked down at the crooked stitches on the corner of the blanket, “But this one today was made from scratch. It didn’t exist before, but now it does.”
"This is the first non-tool item I've helped create," Nana said.
"Tools or blankets, they're all things that help us survive." He smiled. "But to be honest, this is the first time I've felt like a 'builder' rather than a 'repairman'."
The room was quiet. The only sounds were the rustling of fabric and the slight movement of the blankets as he breathed, rising and falling with his chest.
After a moment, Nana said softly, "Your left wrist joint is still tense. I suggest you relax the supporting torque."
“I’m used to it.” He didn’t move. “When you were sewing just now, your robotic arm was supporting me the whole time, like you were teaching a child to write.”
"The required operational precision determines the auxiliary mode."
"Could you be a little gentler next time? That nudge on my elbow almost gave me a jolt."
"The power output recorded is 35%, which is within the safe range."
"You call this safety?" He rubbed his arm. "I think you're doing this on purpose."
"Without subjective intent."
"Come on." He yawned, his eyelids starting to droop. "What do you think we can do tomorrow? If we made all these hides into blankets, it would be enough for half a shelter."
“The stock of materials can support the production of three more beds,” she said. “There are also two pieces of damaged leather that can be used for foot mats or curtains.”
"Forget about the doormat," he muttered. "I don't want to step on something I worked so hard to sew."
His voice grew softer and softer, his head bobbing up and down, the blanket wrapped tightly around him like a giant cocoon. Nana's projector quietly dimmed the main light in the room, leaving only a small light source in the corner.
The snow outside the window fell heavier and heavier, layer upon layer covering the ground. The firelight reflected off the glass, casting blurry shadows.
Nana's screen displays a summary of today's tasks:
[Roof Reinforcement Reinspection Reminder]
Energy Consumption Trend Analysis
[New bedding durability prediction model loading]
She paused, marked one of the lines as "suspended," and then added a new line:
[Log: First non-functional item successfully manufactured.]
Chen Hao's breathing became even, and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, as if he were having a good dream.
Just then, the outermost canvas edge of the blanket he was wrapped in trembled slightly.
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