The Chronomechanical Brain
Dr Dave
Engineering Conundrums, Kebabs, and the Chronomechanical Brain
Good evening, folks.
Well it was, at least in part, a Monday kind of Tuesday, but any
kind of Monday, even a Tuesday you can walk (or drive) away from is a
good one.
But first, let’s establish a new house tradition.
đź‘• T-Shirt of the Day
The Shirt du Jour: A certain deep blue police box
draped in stone angel wings, bearing the iconic warning: “Don’t
Blink. Don’t ever blink.” Fitting choice for the day to come,
perhaps my wardrobe was trying to warn me.
Act I: Daisy and the Master Mechanic
The morning plan was simple: take our old car, Daisy, into the
workshop in Launceston for four fresh spark plugs, and a new
thermostat. Running on three cylinders may be alright for Liz, my
bike (that’s all she has) but it hasn’t been a joyful experience
in a four cylinder car, especially one with a Damoclesian cooling
system hanging over her head.
The plugs went smoothly. The thermostat, however, decided to play
hide-and-seek. It turns out it wasn’t where the mechanic (and simple
logic) thought it should be. To actually get to the cursed thing, he
had to completely disassemble the top end.
As he wiped grease from his forehead, he muttered a piece of
cynical engineering poetry that I am absolutely stealing for my
sci-fi universe:
“If there is a hell for automotive design
engineers, they will be forced to spend eternity working on the exact
engines they designed.”
Act II: Sunlight and Halal Snack Packs
With Daisy’s engine block scattered about the shop, I found
myself with an unexpected few hours to kill in the “Moderately
Large Smoke” of Lonny.
I wandered up the road to the open-air street food park that’s
become a local favourite in town. The Tassie autumn air was brisk,
but the sun was out, so I hunkered down in the shade and caught some
glorious indirect Vitamin D while hunting for lunch.
I settled on an Australian-adapted dish known as the HSP (Halal
Snack Pack). For the uninitiated, imagine a donner kebab stripped
of its wrap and served in a takeaway container directly over a bed of
piping-hot chips, absolutely smothered in sauce, make mine hot chilli
and garlic please. Not even remotely the healthiest option on the menu, but
a tasty treat for occasional indulgence.
Act III: Mapping the Crew and the Clockwork Brain
While digesting the HSP, I pulled out my tablet and went to work
on the Argo’s universe, tackling a niggling technical hole
that had been bothering me and locking down the core cast.
Because sophisticated computers fry inside the ship’s Quantum
Decoupling Shell (the Q-Shell), I realised the crew couldn’t rely on
digital automation to flip the ship at the journey’s halfway point.
At greater than light speeds (since I’d taken the breaks off
yesterday), missing the turnover by a fraction of a nanosecond means
flying blind into the void.
The solution? We’re going completely retro-futuristic. The Argo
will rely on a Tri-Axial Chronomechanical Navigation Computer—a
heavy-duty, grease-slicked mechanical clock just like earlier
explorer sail ships and their chronometers but running on
hyper-stable alloy mainsprings and microscopic ruby gears. Three
separate devices time the voyage and hold “votes” on the exact
nanosecond mechanically, triggering a hydraulic pressure drop to kill
the engines. It turns interstellar flight into a tense,
heavy-machinery operation. It has an almost Steampunk/Clockpunk/
Dieselpunk feel and keeps my universe with a solid Age of Sail in
space feel.
To command this beast, I finally found our protagonist’s name:
Jason Callis: It’s clean, rugged, and rolls right off the
tongue. Joining him on the deck plates are:
-
Peter Gelas: His quick-witted, joke-cracking best
friend (fitting, since Gelas is rooted in the ancient Greek
word for laughter). -
Helen Kostas: His steadfast, lifelong mentor—a
weathered, old-school independent skipper who refuses to wear a
corporate uniform and keeps Jason grounded when the galaxy gets
messy.
The Evening Ledger
Daisy is back with the family and ensconced in her usual spot, the
universe has a mechanical heartbeat, and some of the characters
finally have names, all with a slightly Greek feel to them, but
subtly so. All in all, today was a good day… to drive.
Time to kick off the boots, step away from the keyboard, and let
the gears rest.
How would you handle a two-month voyage listening to nothing but
the heavy whir-tick-whir of a mechanical clock keeping you
alive? Let me know in the comments below.
Until next time,
Barefoot, Out.