Tuhan, People’s Republic of Tuska, Central region of Rohana Federation, 2035 S.C., 271st day
The grand hall of the main government estate thrummed with restrained excitement. In the first rows sat journalists from all over the country, and some from the other Federation members as well. They were armed with their pens, and their ledges awaited what the invitation letter said would be announced as this fundamental shift. Behind them were the nobles in stiff brocade, whispering behind gloved hands; government officials who sat acting neutrality alongside celebrities who participated in various liberal arts.
Across the hall announcer’s voice echoed: “Please welcome to the stage our leader, Pavlo Tisovnik. Joining him on stage is Copperline Artificer Myu Gero.”
Two figures entered the room from the main door.
The first was Pavlo Tisovnik. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a silver-streaked beard flowing over dark ceremonial robes threaded with faint crystal filigree.
At his side walked Myu Gero, an elderly man whose bald head gleamed beneath the lights. Round spectacles magnified his unblinking gaze, and his tailored coat bristled with brass fittings, coiled tubing, and small glass vials that clicked softly as he moved.
Applause broke across the hall in waves. Pavlo reached the podium and waited just long enough for it to swell as he then lifted one hand.
The clapping thinned, then fell away, until the room was silent.
“Our elites and people of the press,” he began, “welcome to the unveiling of what is sure to be a shift in the world as we know it. It has been several cycles, but finally our scientists from the Institute of Resonance have brought forth a prototype of the device that will change the way we communicate.”
The grand hall stirred with a low murmur of anticipation. Pavlo studied their faces and smiled.
“I now invite Artificer Gero to the podium to brief you on the invention itself,” he said, stepping aside with a gracious gesture.
Gero moved forward the brass on his coat, giving a faint clink as he settled behind the lectern.
"May the Creators bless you all.” He greeted the crowd with a prayer. “Today, it is my honor, as overseer of the project, to speak of our newest invention. But first, allow me to address the problem we set out to solve.”
His gaze swept the front rows as he wanted to make sure the press were ready to take notes.
"As many of you know, our world relies on the brave lettermen who deliver our correspondence between cities and even across borders. But some of these messages need to travel quickly—and by the time they arrive, it is often too late. Some never arrive at all. The lettermen are not trained warriors. They may be killed on their journey, whether by monsters or by fellow men."
Gero gestured to a young woman in a lab coat seated in the first row. She stood at once and brought forward a briefcase. He opened it and withdrew several papers.
“We ran the numbers. More than half of all letters are severely delayed. A full third never reach their destination. These figures are unacceptable. So we resolved to change them.”
He set the papers aside and looked up. A rustle moved through the front row as reporters scribbled down the stats.
“In the adjoining hall sits a device we have named the ‘Voicebox.’ The name is literal. It is a vessel designed to capture the human voice and propel it across vast distances through a network of pressurized brass conduits.”
A collective gasp filled the hall. The journalists had their pens racing frantically across their ledgers.
“Settle yourselves, please. It is a reality,” Gero said, with his eyes not blinking once since he started the speech. “By utilizing the resonant properties of white crystals to refine and direct the vibrations, we can now carry the human voice within the wind and drive it through our tubing. To prove its efficacy, we have successfully completed a large-scale trial between a secure outpost on the outskirts of Tuhan and a hidden location near the town of Escata.”
A nobleman shot to his feet, voice sharp with skepticism. “That is a full day’s drive by steamtruck. A letterman can cover the same ground in hours. What makes your contraption superior?”
Gero’s eyes shone with excitement. "An excellent question. For one, it does not take a day. It takes seconds."
The crowd gasped again in genuine shock. Before they could settle, Gero pressed on, not allowing them a moment to collect themselves.
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“The other matter is security. The brass lines are laid underground, along routes known only to the military, keeping them shielded from the elements and sabotage. While I must clarify that the system is not entirely immune to damage, our hundred days of rigorous testing have proven we can maintain a constant, bi-directional flow of communication.”
He then paused and his sharp features softened into a modest expression.
“There are, naturally, hurdles yet to be cleared. At this stage, communication can only be established between two fixed points. Furthermore, the infrastructure requires a staggering amount of metal. It doesn’t have to be brass, specifically, but it does require perfectly circular pipes stretching across the distances we wish to bridge.”
“Any questions?” he concluded.
The room erupted. Hands shot up across the hall—journalists leaning forward, nobles forgetting their composure, even a few government officials raising tentative fingers. Pavlo moved smoothly to join Gero behind the podium.
"We'll address questions from the press only," Pavlo announced. "To our honored elites, I invite private discussions at your convenience. Please direct your inquiries to my staff after the conference."
He pointed to a reporter near the front.
"Sava Kalenin of The Conduit & Coin," the reporter identified himself. "Artificer Gero, given the volume of metal required, is this project truly feasible for a nation of Tuska's size? And what of the Church's interest for the rest of the Federation?"
Gero's magnified eyes fixed on him. "An excellent question, Mr. Kalenin. The project remains in its early stages. It will become fully feasible once we complete our method for connecting multiple points."
"And what method would that be?"
"That information is currently classified. Future breakthroughs will be announced in due course. Next question, please."
“Nadya Treskov, Tuskan National Ledger.” Nadya rose. “Prime Minister Tisovnik, is the government truly prepared to allocate such vast funds to this project, especially given the public’s continued frustration with the lack of zeppelins for civilian air travel?”
Pavlo’s expression darkened. “Tuskan National Ledger. You are always against any great progress this government tries to make.”
“Sir, we are merely independent journalists,” Treskov countered.
“Independent? No, you are closer to traitors,” Pavlo said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You hide behind the protection of the Church and their claims that your ‘spirit of inquiry’ serves the Creators. Were it not for that, I would have the lot of you moved to a cell.”
“Can you please just answer the question, sir?”
“Very well.” Pavlo’s jaw tightened. “You and your readers need not worry. The funds have been allocated, and the first batch from the Skylea factories is already on its way. By the end of the next two cycles, we will have a modern zeppelin fleet ready to serve our citizens.”
“There are rumors of overpayment for those zeppelins. Some suggest the coin is being diverted for personal gain.”
“I believe this is not a topic for this conference,” Pavlo hissed. “Next question,” he snapped.
“Nadya Treskov, Tuskan National Ledger.” Nadya rose. “Prime Minister Tisovnik, is the government truly prepared to allocate such vast funds to this project, especially given the public’s continued frustration with the lack of zeppelins for civilian air travel?”
Pavlo’s expression darkened. “Tuskan National Ledger. You are always against any great progress this government tries to make.”
“Sir, we are merely independent journalists,” Treskov countered.
“Independent? No, you are closer to traitors,” Pavlo said, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You hide behind the protection of the Church and their claims that your ‘spirit of inquiry’ serves the Creators. Were it not for that, I would have the lot of you moved to a cell.”
“Can you please just answer the question, sir?”
“Very well.” Pavlo’s jaw tightened. “You and your readers need not worry. The funds have been allocated, and the first batch from the Skylea factories is already on its way. By the end of the next two cycles, we will have a modern zeppelin fleet ready to serve our citizens.”
“There are rumors of overpayment for those zeppelins. Some suggest the coin is being diverted for personal gain.”
“I believe this is not a topic for this conference,” Pavlo hissed. “Next question,” he snapped.
“Viktor Zoric of The Rattlepress,” The reporter rose with some sort of folded envelope visible in his hand. "Prime Minister, what is your response to the leaked photographs of you and the Minister of Transport's wife, Ophelia Mirova, in what appears to be a loving embrace?"
For the first time since taking the podium, Pavlo’s composure cracked. His eyes widened.
"What did you just say?"
Viktor didn’t flinch. “Unmarked envelopes were handed out just before the conference began. The images appear to show you embracing on your yacht, sir.” He waved a few images in his hand that he pulled from the envelope.
All the murmurs in the hall came to a stop. Then Pavlo's voice came out low and rough. "The Rattlepress." He spat the name. "I should have known you tabloid swines didn't come here for the invention. Who sent you the passes? I'll have their heads for this."
Gero reached out, a gloved hand pressing firmly against Pavlo’s shoulder. “Sir, I believe it would be wise to maintain your composure,” he whispered, leaning in.
Pavlo violently brushed the Artificer’s hand aside. “I will have you all know that Lady Mirova is a dear friend, and that was a strictly private matter! That is all! This conference is over!”
Without another word, he seized Gero by the arm and hauled him toward the side exit, disappearing into the adjacent hall.
The room erupted into a cacophony of shouting voices and chairs sliding across the floor. The announcer quickly scrambled to the podium, his voice strained as he attempted to regain control over the chaos.
“Everyone, please! You will now be permitted to witness the prototype’s operation!” he shouted over the din. “Please form an orderly line at the door. Members of the nobility shall have priority for the initial viewing. The exhibition will remain open for three days. There will be ample time for everyone to study the device!”
And thus the conference was reported across the federation with its sensationalist conclusion.
