Ryan rolled up his nonexistent sleeves and took a deep breath, ready to dive in.
First, he dismantled the needle meter as Herta had instructed.
“Done. Now we need a more sensitive detector.” The Herta doll produced a thumbnail-sized thin plate from somewhere.
“Micro piezoelectric sensor. It converts mechanical vibration into electrical signals.”
Ryan took the plate—cold to the touch.
Following the design, he carefully integrated it into his oscillation circuit.
This step went smoothly enough—just physical connections.
Next came the main event.
The core of Herta’s design required “exciting” a higher-grade imaginary active material using a precisely controlled electromagnetic field.
The material was only the size of a grain of rice, sealed inside a micro resonant cavity.
“Your task: use your abilities to generate an alternating magnetic field inside this resonant cavity—intensity stable at 7.3 microtesla, frequency locked precisely at 125.8 kilohertz—to excite the imaginary internal energy in the material’s core and induce stable high-frequency micro-vibrations.”
Herta’s voice was matter-of-fact, as if she’d long planned this and was simply waiting for Ryan to execute.
Ryan’s scalp tingled.
7.3 microtesla?
125.8 kHz?
And stable?
This was more than an order of magnitude more demanding than his usual “roughly, maybe, good enough” approach to manipulation.
She specifically designed this knowing he could see the data, didn’t she?
“Um… what’s the tolerance?” Ryan asked carefully.
He had to confirm—he couldn’t guarantee he could maintain it indefinitely.
“Error exceeding five percent will cause the material’s core to undergo instantaneous lattice collapse due to energy imbalance. In simpler terms: ‘poof’—it becomes even more useless powder.”
The Herta doll spread her hands.
“So do your best, lab assistant. I have plenty of materials. My patience, however, is limited.”
Ryan swallowed hard, feeling the pressure mount.
He concentrated and began his first attempt.
First try: the field strength approached the target, but the frequency drifted to 126 kHz.
The rice-sized material vibrated slightly, its internal glow flickering rapidly, then—pop—a tiny crack appeared on its surface.
Wasted.
“Your frequency control is completely inadequate. Have you been drinking today?” Herta’s commentary arrived right on schedule.
Ryan’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing, swapping in a new material.
Second try: he carefully controlled the frequency, finally getting close to 125.8 kHz—but the field strength, neglected while he focused on frequency, spiked out of control.
Snap!
The material released a wisp of smoke, its internal glow extinguishing completely.
Wasted again.
“Magnetic field strength control is equally inadequate. Are you trying to achieve liftoff?” Herta’s voice remained impassive.
“I’m working on it!” Ryan protested.
“This is harder than embroidery!”
“Embroidery at least lets you see the stitches. Your control belongs in abstract expressionism.” Herta shot back.
Ryan had no rebuttal.
He began his third attempt.
He slowed his pace, no longer trying to reach the target in one leap.
He adjusted frequency and intensity incrementally.
Even with abilities, he still had to follow physical laws—otherwise he’d never finish.
He muttered to himself, fine sweat beading on his forehead.
This level of precision control was extremely draining on his mental energy.
Hum…
This time, the resonant cavity emitted a low, resonant tone.
The material inside radiated a steady glow.
The high-frequency micro-vibrations were converted into stable electrical signals through the piezoelectric sensor, displayed on the monitoring screen.
Success.
Ryan exhaled deeply, feeling like he’d just finished a marathon.
His entire body felt weak, but his heart swelled with immense joy.
“Hmm. Thirty-seven minutes. Two standard test units consumed. Final control precision… barely meets the minimum requirement.”
Herta’s data summary was, as always, perfectly timed and perfectly deflating.
“But the basic excitation is complete.”
Ryan ignored her criticism, staring excitedly at the stably functioning micro-device.
“What’s next? Encapsulate it? Add a housing?”
“That’s assembly line work.” The Herta doll waved dismissively.
“Your part is done. You’ve demonstrated that under specific conditions, you can meet the project’s minimum control standards.”
Ryan blinked.
“That’s… it?”
“What else? Did you expect to hand-craft a complete, usable sensor from scratch?” Herta’s doll smirked at him.
“Collaboration means leveraging each other’s strengths. I provide theory and design. You prove your abilities can execute the core components. Mass production and optimization come later.”
She closed the design projection.
“That’s all for today. You can rest.”
With that, the Herta doll disconnected, her eyes returning to their usual slightly vacant state as she turned and resumed her cleaning duties.
Ryan looked at the still-operating micro-resonant cavity on his workbench, then at the “eternal swinger” on the shelf—now stopped swinging.
A wave of reflection washed over him.
From tinkering alone to create a useless toy, to participating in a project with genuine practical potential—the progress was real.
Even if Herta’s criticisms had shredded him along the way, the outcome was good.
He loved science—not just for the knowledge itself, but for this sense of accomplishment from gradually unraveling mysteries and turning theory into reality.
Even with the twists and turns, even with a certain genius’s merciless sharp tongue, he still enjoyed it.
After all, she was a genuine genius, yet she still patiently taught him.
That was already more than enough.
The laboratory grew quiet.
Ryan didn’t leave immediately.
He leaned back in his chair, gazing at the successful semi-finished product before him.
“Science… is fucking awesome.”
He chuckled softly, rubbing his temples.
The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he paused.
Science…
awesome?
In his memories, the old him probably wouldn’t have described the subject that way.
Before transmigrating, he’d been an ordinary STEM student.
He didn’t hate the formulas and theories, but he couldn’t call it love either.
In his spare time, he preferred gaming, grinding materials for his friends, or reading web novels.
Physics books?
Never on his reading list.
The person who’d truly changed how he felt about science was someone else—his high school deskmate.
That guy was a genuine physics fanatic.
His desk was always piled with physics books far beyond high-school level, from “A Brief History of Quantum Mechanics” to “A Brief History of Time.”
He’d cover scratch paper with dense formula derivations.
He’d argue with the physics teacher until he was red-faced over a thought experiment.
And during evening study sessions, he’d suddenly lean over and describe the vastness of the universe, the wonders of string theory, or what the black hole information paradox really meant.
Back then, Ryan would usually listen half-heartedly while secretly reading novels on his phone under the desk.
Because honestly, he didn’t understand a word of it.
“Hey, stop reading novels. Listen—Maxwell’s equations are seriously beautiful. Four formulas unifying electricity and magnetism. It’s divine language!”
“Beautiful? Can it feed you? The exams don’t even go this deep.”
“You don’t get it! This isn’t about exams. It’s the key to understanding the essence of reality. Think about it—light, phones, radio broadcasts—all of it’s built on this theory. Isn’t that cool?”
“Cool cool cool. Give me back my phone first, then we’ll talk about cool…”
Though he’d found his deskmate annoying, stubborn, and weird—lost in his own world—Ryan had been influenced more than he’d realized.
At least through those forced sermons, he’d remembered Maxwell and electromagnetic fields.
He’d learned that physics wasn’t just test questions—there was a vast, wondrous world behind it.
And then…
transmigration happened.
After getting nuked, he’d inexplicably gained electromagnetic abilities and a head full of systematic knowledge.
Fate had a way of being ironic and wonderful.
If his stubborn deskmate knew about his current situation, he’d probably be green with envy, then bombard him with a thousand questions about this other world’s physics.
“Maxwell’s equations… they’re a bit different in this world.”
Ryan watched a tiny arc of electricity dance at his fingertip.
“Wonder how excited that guy would be if he were here. Probably would’ve immediately grabbed Madam Herta’s leg and begged to stay—though she’d likely throw him out…”
The mental image made Ryan chuckle.
He was actually grateful to that stubborn deskmate.
Without that period of being “indoctrinated,” he’d have been far more lost when faced with the sudden influx of electromagnetic theory after transmigrating.
Instead of feeling overwhelmed, he was willing to try, to explore, even to enjoy it.
Herta’s sharp tongue, the precise experiments, the failures and frustrations, the successes and joys…
It all felt like reliving that experience of being guided to touch the mysteries of the world.
Except this time, his “deskmate” was Madam Herta.
Did he love science?
Maybe now, he could say yes.
Because in this process, he’d found the joy and fulfillment of an explorer.
It wasn’t bad at all.
He stretched and decided to get some proper sleep.
Tomorrow, who knew what Herta would have him do.
He hummed a tune as he left the laboratory.
The “eternal swinger” he’d modified still sat on the shelf—resuming its gentle swinging on its own.
“Standing on the shoulders of giants.” That saying really held true.