A whole night was all it took for Ridge to finish orchestrating his plan to extend his outings. His and Quennel's, that is. He was still unsure about taking Quennel's company into implementation. Into consideration, yes, but actually having him on his forthcoming outings was risky. On a different light, it would be beneficial to have an author complicity go with him, especially if the author was an unknown man. In case a governor catches them, he could vindicate himself using Quennel and his middle-of-the-road stance. It probably would be middle-in-the-road, judging by how indifferent he was to the Riskometer and the fact that Ridge broke a glass-fragile rule.

   Ridge attempted to finish his setup before the time of the Slint, and his effort proved to be fruitful. His Slint days were spent conceptualizing the invention, creating blueprints, testing, iterating, and finally manufacturing everything in his room. All in his room! This gave him the time and space to carry out the first phase of his setup.

   An automaton in a wheelchair would move around the Scapulars, collecting blueprints from industrial mechanics. If a mechanic needed extra gears, the automaton would supply them from a hidden box in its wheelchair. The automaton would scan the blueprint for approval to ensure it wasn't plagiarized or structurally nonsensical—though not for the invention's risk level, as Havenians never took that approach. It would then execute a system called the Swap Slint, common to most jobs: it would take the mechanic's blueprint and exchange it with one from another mechanic to manufacture. After prototyping and patenting, the invention would be ready for submission to the commerce organization, which would also be handled by another automaton. Both blueprints and inventions were to be submitted within a week—two blueprints swapped, and an invention delivered a week later. The cycle continued.

   Ridge began by checking his blueprints in his brainstorming corner. In his younger, finer years (perhaps even the coming ones will be finer), he had scaled and drawn many blueprints of inventions he wished to create when he became the "Innovative Havenian Hero." However, he was not alone. Word had spread that there was unspoken competition between Ridge and another inventive prodigy in the engineering department. This competition wasn't just about inventing and pioneering, but also about winning Faye Ire's heart, as they "coincidentally" attended the same classes. Ridge didn't know who this rival was, but he knew that this person was on par with his workarounds for inventing functional mechanisms. The person could invent an analog computer in a week, which was perfect for Ridge's setup.

   Ridge took an armful of blueprints and pulled out a cylinder tube disguised as a scroll from a nearby box. He opened the top and stuffed the blueprints inside. After packing everything, he heaved a sigh. With the tube—or rather, scroll—he left his room and walked restlessly until he reached the Academy.

   Faye had just finished class and was happily skipping while twirling her handfan, stretching her wrists after extensive writing. She was still in her blue dress and accessories, showing no signs of restricting a highly esteemed botanist who would play a significant role in the plant industry once she obtained her Sensing Snowglobe. She gasped and stopped when she noticed familiar boots just beneath an open locker door. With a grin, she skipped over, closed the door, and leaned toward Ridge, simpering, "Dearie Ridge! You really came here to see me."

   "You can put it like that," Ridge said, facing Faye while flicking cashews into his mouth.

   Faye hummed. "Do you want some more cashews? I can see your package is almost empty."

   "It's more filled than empty," Ridge replied with an eye roll, stuffing the package back in his pocket. "Also, let me tell you why I want to see you, alright?"

   Faye twiddled her thumb, looking petulant. "I have a lesson in fifteen minutes. I can't be with you now. But if you want, I can excuse myself—"

   "Let me speak, will you, Faye?" Ridge snapped, rubbing his temples. He took a breath and looked Faye in the eye. "Do you know who the one is that creates blueprints and inventions even before getting his Sensing Snowglobe?"

   The deeper Ridge's words sank in, the wider Faye's smile grew. She poked him with the fan and teased, "Ooh, the smart dearie is jealous of another smart dearie! I like him too, you know."

   "Don't be so presumptuous just to anger me!" Ridge exclaimed, snatching the handfan from her and fanning himself. Faye watched with hidden amusement as she played with a strand of her hair.

   Ridge sighed. "Look, I just need his help with something. It's related to my work."

   Faye crossed her arms, feeling recalcitrant. "Work? Then ask one of your peers, dearie."

   "But I need someone who doesn't work in mechanical engineering right now. I don't want to burden the others."

   Faye scoffed. "Are you hearing yourself? You want to burden an Academy student, but not a licensed mechanic who's just a door away from you?"

   Ridge gave an airy laugh before stopping, covering half of his face with the fan. He bent slightly and demanded, "His name, now, Faye."

   Faye rattled her head in surprise and wrung her gloved hands. "Well... fine... but don't do anything to my fan, okay?" She quickly pointed at the handfan, her eyes flickering between it and Ridge. "His name is Guantum Jern."

   Ridge lowered the handfan and asked, "What lesson are you going to have?"

   "Social—"

   Ridge, uninterested, quickly flicked the fan toward a passerby carrying a "Social Studies" booklet. He said sternly, "Hey, I'm speaking on behalf of Faye Ire. She doesn't like talking to other boys, if you know what I mean. Tell Guantum Jern he needs to be in the Scapulars Wing now. And tell the professor that Mr. Boyle Ire requested something related to his greenhouse."

   The student looked confused, and Faye cleared the confusion with a dramatic throat-clear. "My dearie, you didn't let me finish! I was going to say Social Humanities, not Social Studies."

   "Your dearie, huh?" Ridge muttered as the student walked away. "What's the difference?"

   Faye looked disconcerted. "You mean between 'dearie' and 'my dearie'?"

   "No, I meant—forget it. Forget it. Good riddance to getting off-topic." Ridge returned the fan to Faye aggressively. Nonetheless, Faye fanned herself leisurely, passing time. And soon, they were all in the Scapulars Wing.

   Ridge wagged his finger slowly as he regarded the reserved yet intelligent boy who was a shadow of him: Guantum. Guantum was about the same height as Faye and had a lean, slanted physique. His head was dipped downwards, and his shoulders hunched forward. He wore a white and orange outfit that felt high-tech, with a utility belt around his dark pants. A bandage adorned one cheek, and he wore an earpiece. His brown hair, like Ridge's, framed his short face, and his grey eyes were somewhat weary, as if responsibility weighed on him.

   Guantum drummed his fingers idly on his legs. Ridge didn't mind the mannerism and noticed a QR code stamped on Guantum's cheek. He pointed at it. "What happens when you scan that?"

   Guantum flinched and rubbed it. "You get to solve a Sudoku puzzle with exponential numbers. Each time you finish a block, you unlock a new chapter of an informational book on how quantum systems collapse from a superposition of states to a single state. I also describe the megaphone device I'm going to build to transmit quantum signals related to particles. If a wave function collapse generates a tiny fluctuation in a field, the megaphone will amplify the effect so it can be detected more easily."

   Ridge scratched his ear with his wagging finger and scoffed, "Yeah, for someone who speaks so quietly, you should make something out of a megaphone."

   Gauntum looked embarrassed. "Eh—sorry."

   Faye, already bored, puffed her cheeks and looked at Ridge. "Can you tell us why you wanted Guannie?"

   "Why I wanted Guannie..." Ridge repeated, almost sarcastically, but his serious demeanor remained.

   Faye pointed to two baskets with sensors attached to the door, right beneath a miniature door serving as a cat flap carved into the bottom. A robotic arm supported by two strings connected to the hinges held the door knob. A tennis ball hung from the ceiling in front of the door, low enough to make contact with a metal plate at the top of the door when it opened. She asked, "What's that?"

   "You'll know," Ridge said, swinging his pocket watch. "What I want from Guantum is simple. If you can already guess what Guantum's good at and the setup you see, you'll know what I want."

   Guantum studied the setup, drumming his fingers. He then spoke, "From the tennis ball to the sensors in the baskets, I assume you're using these to handle blueprints and inventions more functionally, not humanly. When the door is knocked three times consistently, the Doppler effect activates the buzzer in the tennis ball. This sends magnetic waves that pull the metal plate at the top of the door toward it. Once that happens, the wooden door opens. The arm raises instantly, and the strings lift it from the basket. It closes its fingers, taking papers from the right and placing them outside for the automaton to take. When the door opens again, the arm does the same with the inventions, securely, as the magnets on the fingers strengthen after a week due to the external magnetic field."

   Guantum looked at Ridge, who smirked. He applauded Guantum's elaborate explanation. "To a T, or should I say T.O.A.T., 'Time on a Till!' Know what that means?"

   Faye grinned and raised her handfan. "That time is snowballing, and we're wasting it by letting it go! Huzzah!"

    Ridge admitted, "Double toat, but this time it was the good one." He turned to Guantum, who was sulkily drumming his fingers on his sides. "Thanks, Guan, but try dialing it down."

   Guantum nodded excitedly. Ridge continued while opening a new package of cashews. "What Guantum said about its purpose is right. I created this setup for the automaton to take blueprints and inventions as per the Slint. How it works also matches his explanation. But he missed one thing."

   Ridge swallowed a mouthful of cashews, wagging his finger. "The Swap Slint exists. I have my blueprints ready, yes, but what about the blueprint created by another mechanic with different methods and designs? Plus, I wouldn't have time to build the blueprint I'm given. It's best that someone at my level—or higher—takes my place and constructs the inventions based on both my and their blueprints."

   Shapes began to form in Ridge's mind. He continued, eating cashews. "Only the best can finish an invention within six days and pass by my door on the seventh, before the automaton can take the blueprint or invention. Luckily, my room isn't the first one the blueprint naturally reaches. You can negotiate with the mechanic next door and ask if he'll use your blueprint instead of his. He'll likely agree since it means less work for him. Then you can use this—" Ridge pulled out the Diurnal Bridge chip hidden in a moth-filled cupboard and nodded toward the mini door sealed with a lining of material. The material had been burnt and cooled stone from the stand of his Sensing Snowglobe. "—to unzip the door's sealing and push the blueprint or invention through their respective boxes."

   Ridge tossed the chip to Guantum, who fumbled but caught it. His eyes widened in disbelief. He pointed at himself. "You want me to handle your blueprints, as well as my own?"

   Ridge nodded. "Yes. And if you can't talk to my neighbor, use your skills to create a concealed vacuum for the automaton to unknowingly suck in the blueprint and give it to me. I want it to activate once it reaches my room—perhaps with a button implanted in the ground or something. It'll be a bulletproof strategy for someone who can't communicate even with their own family."

   Guantum ignored Ridge's last comment, excitedly drumming his fingers. "I can do that. I can do that!"

    Ridge smiled. "And I want you to practice becoming an eminent, skilled inventor like me. You've got more potential than you let on, Guantum. Just do what you're best at, and you'll be great."

   Faye's mouth dropped open while Guantum's eyes gleamed. "Sure, master Kindler! I'm at your beck and call."

   Ridge raised his brows, exchanging a glance with Faye, who covered her sly smile with her handfan. He didn't expect Guantum to be emboldened so easily by a few words. He even called Ridge "master Kindler" (though Ridge preferred "Riskmaster"). Perhaps Guantum was just too excited to curb his self-confidence. Regardless, buttering the effete wunderkind up was like outsmarting a crass Nevanese.

   Ridge tossed a filament toward Guantum, who caught it with a hoot. "These are iodine stickers with my fingerprint. Use them instead of gloves. It'd be suspicious if there were none or yours on my products."

   Ridge stepped forward, placing a hand on Guantum's shoulder. He glanced at Faye and said, "You can also hang out with Faye while wearing my jacket. My jacket—the one and only. Who knows? It could add to the special changes you'll be making as Ridge's acolyte. It might even make you look like a real skilled inventor." In reality, it was so any blimps with cameras hovering would think it was Ridge with Faye.

   Guantum nodded enthusiastically. "Say no more! I can do that."

   Faye was stupefied as she stared at the two with slumped shoulders. Ridge was giving her permission to be with another man? She cleared her throat dramatically. "Dearie Ridge. I never agreed to this. This isn't a test to see if I would betray your faith in me as your dearest Faye, surely?"

   Ridge glanced at her. "No. You could say it's Guantum's reward for helping me out."

   "Helping you out is already the reward, master Kindler!" Guantum blurted, his cheeks reddening.

   Faye let the levity linger before causing tension with her final question. "Excuse me, dearie Ridge? The deal is amazing and all, and I don't sense any foul play on your part. But there's a question that's been preying on my mind since Guantum explained the arm and baskets: why are you doing this?"

   There was no escaping this one. Ridge had to craft an excuse neither of them could test. It couldn't be about health troubles, nor could it be his sudden incompetence. It had to be something that rang true. He mulled it over as he watched the airship-shaped shadows drifting through his workshop. They gravitated toward the L-shaped desk, their ethereal forms flickering in the dim light of gas lamps. What—did he need to repair the desk itself? Ridge thought as he set a packet of roasted cashews aside. "Think of something else... Aha! Good riddance to excuses."

   Ridge wagged his finger with a self-satisfied grin. He elucidated with a flourish, "You two know how prolific a mechanic I am in this industry. Well, I've just received an official summons, issued by the governors themselves. They want me to partake in a top-secret project—one that will irrevocably alter the future of Haven. It's a matter of utmost discretion, so all I can tell you is, it will change Havenian history."

Faye narrowed her eyes at him, skeptical. Guantum, however, smiled widely, his brass goggles gleaming in the candlelight. "Good for you, Master Kindler!" he chimed with genuine admiration.

"This is one of the rare occasions when that sentence is said without a trace of sarcasm," Ridge muttered as he twirled his pocket watch between his fingers, the glass face catching the flickering light. Faye batted her lashes at him, eyes narrowing further. "Are you trying to hypnotize us?"

   Ridge shook his head with a mock sigh. "No. This is how I let you two go. Goodbye!"

   Guantum nodded eagerly and shuffled toward the door, his enthusiasm carrying him halfway out of the room. But just before he disappeared entirely, he stopped, drumming his fingers nervously on the brass filigree of the basket by the door. "Apologies, Master Kindler... but which basket is for blueprints, and which is for inventions?"

   Ridge rolled his eyes, exasperated. "You said it yourself! The one on the right is for blueprints, and the one on the left is for inventions. Honestly!"

   Guantum blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "So, from the outside, I would push the blueprint from the right door—"

   "No!" Ridge snapped, cutting him off with a sharp gesture. "The left! It's like a mirror—don't you know anything about mirrors? And don't forget the jacket! Wear it at all times, you hear?"

   "Sorry, Master Kindler!" Guantum's  shoulders slumped in embarrassment, his words muffled by his downcast gaze. He grabbed one of Ridge's red field jackets from the hanger and hurried out, muttering a string of apologies under his breath.

   Faye exhaled sharply, her face flushed with a mix of exasperation and amusement. She shook her head, her steampunk corset creaking slightly as she adjusted herself. "This is too much, Ridge. I can't possibly deal with another man. You know you're the only one I have my... eyes on, don't you?"

   Ridge smiled, reassuring her with a wink. "It'll be worth your while, Faye." He took her gloved hand in his, pressing a deliberately drawn-out kiss to it—mostly the glove, but still, it counted. She smiled fondly at him, her cheeks blooming crimson as she fanned herself with a lace-trimmed hand fan.

   With a final smile, she strutted out, Guantum trailing awkwardly behind her. The sound of their conversation echoed down the hallway. "So, Faye, are purple grapes just overripe green ones?"

   Once their voices faded, Ridge turned toward his desk and approached the transmission screen, switching it on. He adjusted a few dials, ensuring the quantum entanglement system he'd integrated into the mechanism was functioning properly. This way, whenever his parents or others communicated through the screen, the signal would be sent to a hidden receiver embedded in his shoulder plate. Guantum would love that little trick, but revealing it would raise too many suspicions. Best to keep it under wraps for now.

   "Time for the final part of this setup," Ridge muttered to himself, his fingers brushing over a drawer. He retrieved a small bag of fireflies and a container of yellow powder. Carefully, he opened the bag, making sure none of the tiny, glowing insects escaped. As the fireflies fluttered inside, Ridge poured the powder over them, watching it glitter in the dim light like stardust. The powder coated their wings, the luminescent glow intensifying as he gently shook the bag, ensuring each of the 242 fireflies was properly dusted. He counted them off in his head, using a mechanical counter embedded in his wrist.

   Once the fireflies were prepared, Ridge made his way to the tramcar station. Fortunately, it was Thursday—busy enough that no one would notice his movements among the bustling crowd of citizens. With a quick glance around, he casually dropped the bag into a nearby waste bin, nestled between the platform and a kiosk. Then, he seated himself on a bench, his eyes scanning the kiosk intently. The tramcar would soon arrive, but someone had to activate the kiosk and use the halting bell to make it stop.

   At that moment, a mother ushered her daughter toward the kiosk. The girl skipped forward, her eyes wide with wonder. As soon as she turned on the kiosk, the fireflies were propelled out of the bag like a swarm of mechanical sparks, flitting through the air to settle on the tramcar as it rolled to a stop. They clung to the car's brass frame, glowing like tiny lanterns. The passengers gasped, some shielding their eyes in confusion, others staring in awe—especially the girl, who beamed with excitement.

   Ridge smirked, pressing his finger to his lips in silent triumph. He boarded the tramcar, weaving through the crowded interior. A man nearby asked, "Are those part of a new safety feature for the trams at night?" A woman responded, "I think it's for some kind of light show." A child squealed, "This will happen every day!" The excited chatter grew, a whirlwind of curiosity and wonder, as the tramcar rumbled back to life and took off, leaving behind a trail of glowing fireflies that illuminated the night.

   As Ridge settled into a seat, his mind raced. "This way, he thought, the governors will be so focused on detaching the fireflies and figuring out who's responsible for this stunt, they won't realize the real trick. They'll think someone used the tramcar to escape from Haven, through a hidden exit buried deep in the railway line. They'll waste time chasing that lead—after all, it's technically possible, but it would take a lot of muscle. Maybe a dozen Nevanese tribesmen, a fisher hunter, and his loyal dog. And just like that, I'll buy myself and Quennel more time."