Chapter 42 “The Knowledge Within Books”
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As the city fell under curfew, Duncan found himself confined to the antique shop for the entire night. Despite the imposed limitations, his excitement about setting foot on solid ground for the first time in ages fueled an insatiable curiosity. He eagerly roamed every corner and crevice of the ancient building, now his temporary sanctuary.
The body he now inhabited had once belonged to a cultist, yet also to an ordinary individual reliant on modern amenities for survival. Like everyone else, this person had depended on contemporary conveniences for communication and daily necessities.
As Duncan familiarized himself with this new environment, he stumbled upon numerous clues that began to unveil the intricacies of life in the city-state of Pland. These clues offered insights into technological advancements, living standards, and cultural norms of the era.
During his exploration, Duncan discovered a hidden compartment behind the ground floor counter. Inside, he found a modest sum of money—coins and bills in shades of blue and green, standard currencies in many city-states. These currencies, issued jointly by the city-states and the Boundless Sea Banking Association, formed the economic backbone of the region. The primary unit was the “Sora,” with a sub-unit called the “Pesos,” valued at one-tenth of a Sora. The amount Duncan found totaled just over two hundred Sora, enough to sustain a family of three in the lower district for about a month.
Despite the shop’s limited trade and most assets having been donated to the cult, it was evident that the original owner had maintained a basic standard of living, indicating a steady stream of customers to the antique shop.
The ground floor was divided into two sections: a storefront occupying most of the space, and a storage area concealed behind a small door at the base of the stairs. Another door at the back of this storage area likely served as a delivery entrance.
The layout of the second floor was more complex, housing a bathroom, two rooms—one large and one small—and a shared utility space with the neighboring building. Both rooms, situated on either side of the staircase, were relatively tidy.
A quaint kitchen on the second floor appeared unused for at least two weeks, covered in a thick layer of dust, suggesting abandonment.
After a thorough exploration, Duncan felt compelled to return to the main bedroom on the upper level. Smaller than his previous bachelor’s apartment, it contained a cabinet beside the bed that caught his attention.
On top of the cabinet sat a photo frame holding a black and white photograph of a modest family of three—a young couple and a little girl of about four or five years old, posed against an artificial courtyard backdrop. Though they smiled faintly, their expressions betrayed a sense of forced cheerfulness.
Examining the photo closely, Duncan tried to connect the dots between the people in the picture and his vague memories, noting the absence of the original body’s owner. It seemed likely that these individuals were immediate relatives of the person he now inhabited.
Replacing the photo, Duncan pondered the cost of such a picture for ordinary people in the lower city district and the state of photographic technology in this world.
His attention then turned to the meticulously made bed, prompting curiosity. Would a devout cultist of Sun worship have the time to maintain such a pristine room? While the shop downstairs appeared neglected, this bedroom exuded care and order.
Intrigued, he stepped into a smaller room across from the stairs, where he found another neatly arranged bed and desk.
Delving into the recesses of his acquired memories, Duncan recalled a significant detail: the previous inhabitant of his body had vacated the premises several days ago, purportedly for a clandestine meeting at the cult’s secretive gathering place. This departure marked their final exit from the shop. Curiously, there was no recollection of any preparations to tidy up the space before departure.
This prompted Duncan to ponder: were there others who shared this living space? Could there have been family members cohabiting with this individual labeled as a “cultist”?
With a furrow forming on his brow, Duncan meticulously combed through his memories for further clues as he approached the desk in the smaller room. His attention was drawn to the meticulously arranged stationery and, notably, to a prominently displayed book adorned with a deep blue cover embellished with intricate depictions of gears and linkages. Its title, written in elegant script, caught his eye: “The Art of Steam and Gears—Universal Textbook III.”
A perplexed expression crossed Duncan’s features. Though he suspected this room belonged to someone other than himself, he found himself instinctively reaching for the book.
Nowhere else in the shop could literature pertaining to the Vanished be found, neither in the master bedroom nor elsewhere. The book Duncan chanced upon might offer invaluable insights into this enigmatic realm.
Upon cracking open the tome, Duncan was greeted by pages adorned with meticulous illustrations. The layout resembled that of a textbook, delving into engineering methodologies and the foundational principles of steam-powered technology. Scattered throughout were numerous annotations penned by a previous reader.
The penmanship exuded neatness and sophistication, hinting at a possible female origin.
Massaging his temples, Duncan reflected on the original occupant of his current vessel, a being seemingly devoid of close bonds—neither friends nor kin. The memories at his disposal were largely marked by solitude and despondency. Yet, after persistent effort, he managed to recollect a solitary individual—a young woman with lustrous brown locks.
She stood as the sole significant figure in the fading recollections of a cultist named Ron.
Returning his focus to the book, Duncan disregarded the technical terminology and diagrams, instead immersing himself in the editorial prefaces and discussions on broader themes.
One particular passage seized his attention:
“… Flames, particularly those birthed from the combustion of oceanic oils and crystallized minerals sourced from surrounding waters, stand as indispensable elements in the functioning of our contemporary society and the preservation of our civilization…”
“The stability and prosperity of our society hinge greatly on the utilization of fire and steam… Clean and convenient electricity cannot supplant the comprehensive functionalities of fire, nor can it ensure the sustained operation of large-scale machinery… Experiments have evidenced that steam remains the most reliable power source within subspace’s influence…”
“This chapter elucidates three fundamental designs of steam cores, elucidating their mechanical principles and underlying design philosophies…”
Duncan momentarily paused.
He recollected the omnipresence of gas lamps, torches, and oil lamps in the sewer systems, as well as the gas-fueled streetlights adorning city thoroughfares. He pondered the peculiarity of electric illumination within the confines of the shop.
Was there a rational explanation behind these seemingly unconventional choices?
Despite the ostensible hazards associated with open flames in sewers or gas lamps illuminating streets in an era of electrical progress, could it be that “fire” served as a deterrent against certain “mysterious and perilous” occurrences?
An amalgam of emotions surged within Duncan as he delved deeper, uncovering intricate diagrams, meticulous annotations, and astute observations left by the book’s prior reader.
These were contraptions beyond his comprehension, bearing little resemblance to the “steam engines” of his former existence.
Duncan marveled at the intricate intricacies of the steam engine before him. The precision of the gears, the bewildering complexity of the cylinders, and the elaborate network of pipes and valves interconnecting the various components surpassed his understanding. It resembled less a conventional steam engine and more a contraption plucked from the pages of a fantastical tome, characterized by an intriguing yet seemingly contradictory aesthetic.
This apparatus stood as the nucleus propelling civilization’s advancement in this realm.
Vanished in contemplation, Duncan gingerly returned the book to its original resting place on the shelf, its contents surpassing his grasp.
As an inhabitant of Earth and a former educator, he found himself incapable of fully comprehending the profound intricacies of the steam-driven mechanisms detailed within its pages.
Yet, a glimmer of insight began to dawn. The trajectory of civilization in this realm appeared to diverge starkly from any precedent he had encountered.
In their struggle to endure in a world teetering on the edge of calamity, the denizens here had fashioned a life both unconventional and fantastical. Nevertheless, Duncan realized that, however bizarre this realm might appear, if it could be deemed a “civilization,” it must adhere to its own underlying rationale and principles guiding its evolution.
The flickering gas lamps within the sewers, the gentle glow of electric lights in the shops, and the steam-powered contraptions depicted in the books—all bore witness to the collective sagacity and resilience of myriad individuals within this society.
Hell Yea, Humanity!
Hoping he doesn’t pull a reverend insanity on the girl