Ernest drew a steam engine that he envisioned would eventually replace the waterwheel powering the Helmarte Soap Works and, later, countless other industries.

Then he paused.

The quill hovered above the paper.

Actually, before drawing anything further, he needed to answer a simple question.

Why did Newcomen’s engine fail to trigger an industrial revolution?

Most people would immediately point toward efficiency.

And they would be correct.

Partially.

But efficiency was not the biggest limitation.

Motion was.

Ernest tapped the notebook.

The Newcomen engine produced reciprocating motion. Up. Down. Up. Down.

Nothing more.

The beam moved like a giant seesaw.

One side descended.

The other side rose.

That worked perfectly for pumping water.

After all, pumps naturally moved up and down.

But factories?

Factories were different.

Factories required rotation. Continuous rotation such as spinning shafts, rotating gears and turning wheels.

A soap mixer needed rotation.

A textile mill needed rotation.

A flour mill needed rotation.

A lathe needed rotation.

Almost every industrial machine required rotational power.

The Newcomen engine could not provide that efficiently.

At least not directly.

Ernest quickly sketched a beam engine.

Then beside it, he drew a spinning wheel.

The difference became obvious immediately.

One oscillated.

The other rotated continuously.

That was where the true breakthrough happened.

Not with Newcomen.

Not even with Watt’s separate condenser.

It happened when engineers figured out how to convert reciprocating motion into rotary motion.

The crankshaft.

Actually, it sounded almost stupidly simple.

A piston moved back and forth.

A connecting rod attached the piston to an offset wheel.

As the piston moved, the wheel rotated.

One revolution. Then another. Then another.

Suddenly, the engine could power machines.

Ernest drew the mechanism carefully.

Piston.

Connecting rod.

Crank.

Flywheel.

The flywheel was particularly important.

Actually, without the flywheel, the engine would run terribly.

The piston produced uneven power.

Strong during part of the stroke.

Weak during another.

The flywheel stored energy.

Its momentum smoothed everything out.

The heavier the flywheel, the smoother the rotation.

It acted almost like a mechanical battery.

Store energy. Release energy. Store energy. Release energy.

Again and again.

People often thought the steam engine created factories.

Not exactly.

Factories existed before steam engines.

Water-powered factories existed before steam engines.

What steam engines did was remove dependence on rivers.

That changed everything.

A waterwheel required a river.

A good river.

With sufficient flow.

Sufficient depth.

Sufficient reliability.

A steam engine only required fuel.

And coal could be transported.

Rivers could not.

Suddenly factories could be built near cities.

Near workers.

Near customers.

Near ports.

Near mines.

Wherever it made economic sense.

Not wherever nature allowed.

Ernest turned another page.

Then began writing numbers.

Current Helmarte Soap Works.

Power source:

Waterwheel.

Estimated output:

6 horsepower.

About 4.5 kilowatts.

Actually, six horsepower sounded respectable until compared against steam engines.

A modest Watt-style engine could easily produce twenty horsepower.

Thirty.

Fifty.

Some larger engines produced over one hundred.

A single engine could replace several waterwheels.

And unlike rivers, the output could be increased.

Need more power?

Burn more coal.

Build a larger boiler.

Increase cylinder size.

Increase steam pressure.

The possibilities became enormous.

Ernest leaned back in his chair.

Then another thought entered his mind.

Electricity. Now that was where things became interesting.

Actually, introducing electricity might be easier than introducing a practical steam engine. At least initially.

Because he already had something valuable.

Moving water.

The stream near Beryl District.

He quickly turned to another blank page.

The principle was simple.

A rotating wheel.

Copper wire.

Magnets.

Relative motion.

Electric current.

The first generators were surprisingly primitive.

Compared to steam engines, they were almost elegant. The challenge however would be materials. Copper, iron, and insulation are readily available as they are being mined in the continent. Permanent magnets are a different case. Why is it difficult?

Because nature rarely produced strong magnets.

Actually, most people thought magnets were common.

They weren’t.

Natural magnets existed in the form of lodestones.

A naturally magnetized iron ore.

The problem?

They were weak.

Like horsepower measured mechanical power, magnetism had its own measurement.

Back on Earth, magnetic field strength was measured in teslas.

A modern industrial permanent magnet could easily produce magnetic fields thousands of times stronger than many naturally occurring lodestones.

And unfortunately, Ernest wasn’t living in a world with rare earth mines, industrial metallurgy, and precision manufacturing.

He was living in a world where most iron was still hammered by blacksmiths.

Which made permanent magnets surprisingly difficult.

Actually, the problem wasn’t creating a magnet.

The problem was creating a strong magnet.

Ernest quickly scribbled another note.

Steel.

That was the answer.

Pure iron magnetized easily.

The problem was it also lost magnetism easily.

Steel retained magnetism much better.

The carbon trapped inside the metal structure helped lock the magnetic domains into place.

Of course, nobody in this world knew what magnetic domains were.

But Ernest did.

At least conceptually.

A piece of steel contained countless microscopic magnetic regions pointing in random directions.

Normally they canceled each other out.

Magnetize the steel and those regions aligned.

The more aligned they became, the stronger the magnet. The process itself wasn’t complicated.

The challenge was scale.

One method involved repeatedly stroking steel with a lodestone.

Another involved heating steel and allowing it to cool while aligned with Earth’s magnetic field.

Neither produced particularly powerful magnets.

Useful? Yeah sure. But industrial? Not really.

Then Ernest’s eyes drifted toward another note.

Electromagnets.

Now that was where things became interesting.

Because unlike permanent magnets, electromagnets could become incredibly powerful even with primitive technology.

All he needed was iron.

Copper wire.

And electricity.

Which naturally created another problem.

How do you obtain electricity before building a generator?

The answer was surprisingly simple.

A battery.

Actually, batteries came before generators historically.

Alessandro Volta built the voltaic pile decades before large-scale electrical generation became practical.

Copper.

Zinc.

Salt solution.

Stack them together, then boom! Electricity.

Ernest began sketching rapidly.

Voltaic pile.

Copper disks.

Zinc disks.

Brine-soaked cloth.

Connected in series.

The output would be pathetic by modern standards.

But he didn’t need much. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

A weak current running through hundreds of turns of copper wire wrapped around steel could gradually create a permanent magnet stronger than any naturally occurring lodestone available in the kingdom.

Actually, that was probably his most realistic path forward.

Create a small battery.

Use the battery to create an electromagnet. Use the electromagnet to magnetize steel. Use the steel magnets to build a primitive generator. Use the generator to create more electricity. Then use that electricity to create even stronger electromagnets.

The entire system could build upon itself. One small step leading to another.

Ernest stared at the notebook.

Then another memory surfaced.

Armstrong.

Specifically, Lord Armstrong.

One of the greatest engineers of the nineteenth century.

Actually, most people remembered him for artillery and heavy engineering.

But there was another achievement Ernest found far more interesting.

Cragside.

Armstrong’s estate.

The first house in the world powered by hydroelectricity.

Even now, Ernest found the idea fascinating.

A wealthy engineer looked at a stream running through his property and asked a simple question.

Can this power my house?

The answer became history.

Water from the stream was directed into turbines.

The turbines rotated generators.

The generators produced electricity.

Electric lamps illuminated rooms.

Pumps moved water.

Machines operated.

All from flowing water. It’s basically like a waterwheel but more powerful. This is where he got his inspiration to electrify his estate with the stream near it.

And as he engrossed himself, he didn’t realize that it was already evening.

"Ernest! Dinner is served!" Anna called.

Ernest closed the notebook and glanced over his shoulder. "Coming mom!"