“Even by the twenty-second century, no way had yet been discovered of keeping elderly and conservative scientists from occupying crucial administrative positions. Indeed, it was doubted if the problem ever would be solved.” ― Arthur C. Clarke,

  I didn’t have a huge amount of time to work before I needed to report back to the lab, so I turned my focus to my core room and library and set to work. As I’d noted for myself a little while back, I needed to pass my thanks to Almeidra – both for the reader and more critically for her assistance in sending Sir Milback. I’d have to ask her to pass my thanks on to Zymther as well – since I’d not considered having Sir Milback provide a shrine or even a token I could use to establish contact.

  That wasn’t going to take long, but I did need to provide an offering to accompany my thanks. I briefly considered offering her a book about cataloging systems, but it turns out I’d never really read any books that covered them in significant depth. I was aware enough to know that my own University had followed the Library of Congress Classification system, and I’d grown up around the Dewey Decimal system, but while I could find things in either system, I didn’t have any reasonable works to transcribe about them specifically. I opted instead to provide them with a non-fiction book I had read about the library of Alexandria, The Vanished Library. I’d read it in English, though it was originally written in Italian. I didn’t really buy the author’s conclusion regarding the library’s ultimate fate, but I guessed it would be of interest to a goddess devoted to the preservation of knowledge, even if a fairly dry and technical read.

  After transcribing the book, which at only about 200 pages didn’t take that long, it was a matter of moments to send up a quick prayer at her shrine. I accompanied that prayer with the offering and a request that she pass my thanks to Zymther as well. The book was immediately absorbed, and I was left with a simple sense of acknowledgement and appreciation. As always with books I intended as gifts, I transcribed a second copy for my own library but didn’t upload it to the central archive.

  Sadly, I had no real technical works on mining or aerophysics to share with Hakdrilda. I simply hadn’t ever taken classes in those areas or had call to read any of those books. Instead, I simply transcribed my introductory level college textbook for an Astronomy course. It was titled Horizons: Exploring the Universe by Dr. Michael Seeds. I thought for an airmage, possibly learning about not just the sky, but what lay beyond it might be of interest – and more to the point – it was closer to her area of interests than any of my upper-level physics or anthropology texts. If nothing else, she should be able to trade it to some other scholar for work of greater interest to herself, if she so chose.

  Transcribing that one took up most of the time I had left, as it was close to 500 pages long. The upside was that pushed me over the 10,000-page requirement for the transcription quest.

  Quest Completed: Transcribe Lore III; Reward: Enchanted Magnifying Glass

  Quest Reissued: Transcribe Lore IV – Transcribe 50,000 pages; Reward – Scholar Blueprint

  A couple of things stood out to me. Fifty thousand pages was doable, and I appreciated that the quest line hadn’t continued to scale exponentially. If it had, I’d likely only have managed to complete it one more time. I wasn’t sure if the quest line would stop scaling entirely or just grow more slowly, but I hoped I wouldn’t be stuck transcribing things for the archive with no additional quest rewards. It wasn’t really all that critical, but it would totally annoy me if that were the case.

  The enchanted magnifying glass was an interesting tool, but at a quick glance it wasn’t really going to be all that helpful to me, as I could already focus my attention to much smaller scales. It might make a useful tool for visiting scholars, but I didn’t really need its magnifying properties, its ability to view things in UV or IR light, or its ability to translate a number of languages. It was a clever tool alright; but not something I was going to need personally.

  That left me with just enough time to try to answer a few of the more immediate messages that had come with my new reader. I accepted the requested contacts from all four individuals who had messaged me already. Apparently not enough of them counted as scholars to trigger my other quest line – or perhaps that would register once they’d received the message? Or possibly I’d need them to visit in person. The language of the quest didn’t seem to require that, but who knows? In any event, there was no immediate completion of the quest. I was a bit limited for time, so sent Semyaza and Janelle fairly basic greetings – though more informally to Janelle than Semyaza. I included no particularly substantive information, though I did promise Janelle a longer update when I found a moment.

  I wrote slightly longer messages to the Drs. Keradji. To them, I suggested that I could likely offer them useful works, up to a point, though I tried to be clear that my knowledge of their fields wasn’t all that detailed and, in fact, came largely from lower-level University courses in my old world. I couldn’t offer them any real timeline for completing their requested works but suggested that I’d try to have something for each of them within the next week or so.

  That had all taken me slightly over the five hours that Hakdrilda had asked I allow her to sleep, but not by enough that I thought she would notice. Still, I shifted my attention back to her room and slowly brought up my mana lights until she awoke.

  She stirred with a groan, but heaved herself upright, clearly unwilling to waste a moment of what time she had left. She waited just long enough to down two cups of strong black tea and a hunk of mushroom bread and goat butter before launching herself into her lab space to complete her few final experiments.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  These were tamer than most of the earlier ones, mostly seeming like she was trying to wind them down by performing simpler tests that could conceivably be run back at her university – focusing mostly on calculating the drag coefficient and its effects on ventilation with different textures and particularly smoothness of the kinds of stone found in her own home cavern and its associated mines. With enough power, it likely didn’t matter much, but any efficiencies she could find would certainly be valuable and might even enable a further expansion of the settlement if the economics and energy efficiency worked out.

  Frankly, I was more interested in hearing her chat about her plans for writing up her results when she got back to her own home office and her intentions to return for follow up research in the next couple of years.

  She was rambling on, nearly under her breath and her bone-deep tiredness may have elicited a bit more information and opinion than she’d have otherwise provided.

  “Like to see those stodgy old graybeards on my committee dismiss THESE test results as derivative. As though old Stonehead’s had an original thought in his entire 200-year tenure in the department. Think he’s actually afraid of new ideas and wants to squash ‘em before they ever get out.

  And don’t get me started on that sleazy Rockhumper... Don’t think he’s had a graduate assistant in the last century that he hasn’t tried to sleep with – male or female! Good thing he’s slowed down to the point where his advances are easy to ignore.

  Even my committee chair, that cast iron cow Dr. Gneisschest ‘with a Gn’, was full of carefully phrased doubts about my experimental plan. ‘Oh, what’s your back up plan for when the dungeon tries to eat you?’ Like she cares if I have to wait another twenty years paying tuition and grading her students!”

  I wasn’t really sure if those names were real; frankly, I assumed they had to be plays on their actual names shared among their students – but I didn’t want to try to interrupt and ask. I was simply amused at the restrained vitriol. It was odd some days what parts of the academic existence made the transition to this new world – unloving nicknames for senior faculty appeared to be a multiversal constant.

  Her ramblings did give me a certain skewed insight into how the dwarven University worked, and I gave a mental shudder at the thought of some of my own senior faculty and how hidebound they might have become if given another century to work at it. Not me, of course... Honestly, I didn’t think I’d gotten to that point, but perhaps I would have, given enough time and complacency.

  I tuned back into her discussion as she suddenly pondered what she could do if people cast doubt on the validity of her findings. She snapped upright with a glazed look of horror. “Oh Schist! I’m going to need to have my findings certified by a senior priest of Skavruli Deepguard, aren’t I? That’s going to blow my remaining research budget.” She groaned to herself, and all I could do was ponder the extent to which the weird nicknames were accurate translations or whether they required rather more intensive massaging by my translation skill to convey the general intent. I didn’t really suppose it mattered much, as long as it was giving me the basic idea correctly.

  She continued, pondering her next moves a bit haphazardly.

  “I’ll have to update my committee chair first, then write up a brief overview for the whole passel of ‘em. Meanwhile, I’ll want to start submitting papers to conferences; got enough material for at least three just from these last couple of days’ work... have to remember to include the dragon. Don’t see how she’d find out, if I forgot, but I don’t doubt she would eventually.

  Got a couple of ideas I need to run past the patent office, too. Can’t be sure they’re new until I hit the stacks again, but you’ve given me some great ideas about improving the ventilation systems – partly by addressing drag, but also by showing me how to track where the trouble spots are most likely to form. If I’m right, that’ll make us all some solid profits in a few years.”

  That sounded good to me, though I wasn’t about to hold my breath on making a profit. One of the nice things about this reincarnation was that I didn’t really need to worry about advancing my academic career or even simply making money. Of course, I’d swapped that for existential dread concerning the fate of the sky island and a plethora of other lesser considerations, but still. I WAS enjoying this new life, and especially the feeling that I was making significant contributions to the welfare of a not insignificant number of sapient beings. Weirdly, that felt more important than the fact that I was also directly THREATENING the welfare of a variety of other sapient beings, but it was what it was, and I was increasingly fine with it.

  We spent a few minutes setting up the next test run, when I had to inform her that it would be our last. I’d just been notified by the Redcrests that a small air ship flying the flag of Daekar had been sighted approaching, and that it would likely arrive in less than two hours.

  Hakdrilda perked up briefly but gave an extended yawn before nodding her assent – placing the final sample into her device and noting down the level of smoothing she’d requested I perform. We calculated its final drag reading, and then she was packing up the remnants of her gear. Some of it she was hauling away, some of it she was leaving with me – at least partially in hopes of being able to reuse it when she next returned.

  She’d already requested that I preserve at least the test chamber for her. I already had blueprints for everything she was leaving behind, and I had some quiet plans to convert the test chamber into a trap or a holding cell, but I’d promised her there’d be a test chamber here when she came back – as long as I got a couple of days’ notice through the reader.

  I’d given her my contact details with the central archive, so she had at least some way to reach out – even if it was going to be a somewhat pricy way to do so. I passed over her farewell present shortly before she wrestled her pack onto her back – accidentally forcing her to do some repacking to secure it properly.

  She seemed confused by the imagery on the cover and was still working to master her English, but even her basic translation skill was enough to give her a sense of the main focus of the work. She seemed a bit confused by my choice, and for the first time in either existence I regretted my lack of interest in textbooks on mining engineering – but it’s impossible to know everything, so I let go of the emotion. She’s a smart lady, though, and I’m sure she’ll find some way to profit from it. If nothing else, the central archives would likely make her an offer, once it became clear that I wasn’t uploading it to them directly.

  I used my mana lights to guide her back out of the dungeon. She hadn’t left the second floor since she’d arrived over a month ago, so a little guidance was called for. I was prepared to have one of my creatures lead her from the main entrance to the landing area by the ruined sky pier, but the path the orcs had left was still clear enough for her to follow without any further assistance.

  She paused at the edge of my domain and offered her thanks one last time with a grin on her face.

  “Thank you for everything, Vay! You’ve been a big help, and I’m really hopeful that I’ll be able to return for more work in a year or two. I wasn’t sure what to expect from you, and you’ve exceeded my expectations time and again. We dwarves don’t say this often, but we mean it when we do – I owe you one. Let me know if I can help with your mission, and I’ll do my best.”

  And with that, she turned to face the rapidly approaching skyship and strode determinedly forward – looking back, not even once.