"Why do all these reports have to come across my desk at the same time?" complained Beau Putman, burying his face in his hands as he stared at the mountain of paper covering his desk. Computers were no longer trusted with sensitive government documents because mana interference had made digital backups unreliable, and in some cases dangerously unpredictable. As a result, every important report, request, and research proposal now had to be printed before it could reach the Minister of Technology.
Beau was at least fortunate that his position meant he only received the important documents. Everything routine had already been handled by his subordinates before anything reached his desk, leaving him with reports that required his personal judgment, signature, or approval. Unfortunately, that still meant that an enormous amount of paperwork accumulated whenever several major developments happened simultaneously. And judging by the stack in front of him, the universe had decided that today was an excellent day to test his patience.
"Sir, I know that you are tired, but you need to stay focused," said Mette Berge, his personal assistant, in the calm voice of someone who had already said the same thing several times that day. Beau was the oldest person serving in the EU cabinet and had originally been appointed by the EU president because he was one of the few actual scientists willing to publicly support the administration. He had never wanted a political career and had only supported the current president because he believed the man was unlikely to slash scientific funding.
"I know, Mette, but I should have retired already," Beau replied with resignation. "I am nearly eighty years old, for God's sake, and I have been working long enough that I should be sitting somewhere peaceful instead of signing research budgets." He already knew what Mette was going to say because they had gone through essentially the same conversation three times that day.
"I understand, sir, but that excuse is no longer particularly relevant," Mette replied dryly. "Everyone is now expected to live for roughly three hundred years, assuming they remain healthy, and anyone who does not reach that lifespan will probably end up becoming a medical research case on your desk anyway." She paused before adding the more unpleasant part of the situation. "The only reason the retirement laws have not been rewritten yet is that the French would probably riot once they realize what three hundred years of life will do to their pension system."
Beau sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "Yes, I know, but they are mostly worried because their elections are approaching, and right now everyone wants popular promises instead of difficult answers." He picked up the next report and immediately recognized the subject from its cover. "I suppose this is about the train everyone has been talking about."
"Yes, sir," Mette replied, already knowing exactly what was inside the document. "The first European steam train has finally completed its testing, and the Ministry of Transport wants your approval for the next stage." The project had been under development for nearly three years, which might have seemed excessive for a steam locomotive, but the difficulties had little to do with understanding how a train worked.
The basic engineering principles had been understood relatively quickly. The real challenge was manufacturing every component by hand while ensuring that all the parts worked together without creating dangerous weaknesses. Mana had changed the requirements for almost every piece of infrastructure, and the materials had to be stabilized through repeated processing by skilled craftsmen before they could safely withstand prolonged use.
The smiths had spent enormous amounts of time hammering mana-infused materials into stable forms. Every additional hour spent reinforcing a component increased its durability, which had become extremely important to the treasury officials overseeing the project. There was a major difference between explaining that a train would last five years and being able to demonstrate that the same train could remain operational for fifteen.
"The treasury officials were particularly concerned about that distinction," Mette explained. "They were far more willing to approve the expenses once the engineers demonstrated that the materials could survive for fifteen years instead of five." She turned another page in her own copy of the report. "Of course, nobody can say what will happen after that because the next Guardian Trial is expected to change the world again."
"That is the problem with planning anything these days," Beau muttered. "Every time we finally establish a reasonable timetable, another breakthrough or system announcement appears and makes half of our projections useless." He continued reading, however, because the train itself was apparently only the beginning of the report.
The real engineering challenge had been increasing the train's speed while allowing it to carry a meaningful amount of cargo. Before mana appeared, a railway connecting distant cities had already been an enormous undertaking, but the current distances were even more problematic because many major population centers were isolated from one another. A train that could not move quickly enough would simply become another expensive project that looked impressive but offered little practical value.
Fortunately, the researchers had found an answer in mana-fueled coal. The new fuel was considerably more powerful than anything available to previous generations, and the reinforced rails could withstand speeds that would have been impossible for traditional railway systems. Under ideal conditions, the prototype could travel from one major city to another in approximately three hours.
"Assuming the route is straight," Beau said, raising an eyebrow.
"Which it almost never is," Mette replied.
Beau laughed quietly at that. "Well, hopefully the public will still be happy to hear about it." He placed the report aside for a moment and smiled. "A functioning train should make traveling between cities considerably easier, especially now that roads and other transportation systems are struggling to keep up with the new world."
He picked up another document and glanced at the map attached to it. "Mette, do you know where the Minister of Transport intends to build the first railway?" he asked curiously. "I assume they have already started planning the route."
"They have been following the project closely," Mette answered. "As soon as they knew the required dimensions for the rails, they began mapping potential routes." She pointed toward the map on Beau's desk. "The current plan is to build the first major line from the port of Rotterdam toward the region where the fighting along the European border took place."
Beau's expression became more thoughtful as he studied the route. "That is actually a sensible choice." The railway would pass through several important inland regions, while its connection to Rotterdam would allow goods arriving from Britain and other maritime trade routes to move deeper into Europe without requiring ships to travel around the continent.
"Yes, sir," Mette said. "The Ministry believes the railway will eventually become one of the most important trade routes in Europe." She hesitated for a moment before looking toward another stack of documents. "However, there is another report you should probably read before becoming too excited about the railway."
Beau immediately recognized that tone. "What happened?"
"The secret research facility has submitted another funding request." Mette deliberately kept her voice calm, despite knowing what was coming. "They recently acquired another knowledge tome, apparently one of considerable importance, and they are requesting additional funding to continue their research."
"What?" Beau's head snapped upward. "They want more money already?"
Mette quietly covered her ears before continuing. "They have used most of their current allocation."
"They have not even made it halfway through the year!" Beau shouted, rising from his chair. "How can they possibly have spent the entire budget already?" He began pacing behind his desk, his hands waving in frustration as the reality of the situation sank in. "Where am I supposed to get the money from?"
"The treasury has already expressed concerns about your department's spending," Mette reminded him.
"That is exactly the problem!" Beau exclaimed. "Those bloodsuckers already think I am spending too much, and now I have to walk into Parliament and tell them that our research budget disappeared in less than six months?" He stopped pacing and stared at the ceiling. "They are going to demand an investigation."
"That is why you need to read their explanation before tomorrow's session," Mette said.
Beau slowly sat back down. "Yes, I know." He rubbed his temples before looking toward the research report again. "Fortunately, everyone involved in that facility signed system contracts promising that they would never betray Europe or deliberately expose its interests." That meant he could discuss certain matters with the parliamentary leadership without immediately risking the security of the research program.
However, Beau still needed something more substantial than a secret contract. He needed a justification that would survive public scrutiny if the opposition demanded answers about the missing funds. The researchers would have to explain exactly what they had purchased, what they had discovered, and why the new knowledge was important enough to justify spending millions of silver coins.
"I need something convincing," Beau muttered. "Something that will make the treasury ministers stop asking where every coin went and instead start asking how much more the researchers need." He looked at Mette with a tired expression. "Because tomorrow's parliamentary session is going to be brutal."
Mette nodded. "I expected as much, especially after the Pope's broadcast."
Beau glanced toward the clock. The Pope's announcement had only happened two hours earlier, yet it already felt as though the entire world had been turned upside down. Europe now had to deal with a confirmed divine entity, a massive religious military deployment, an impending crisis in North America, a new cultivation technique, and an increasingly unstable political environment.
"And I suppose the Pope's announcement means we have even more paperwork coming," Beau said miserably.
Mette looked at the towering stack on his desk. "Yes, sir."
Beau stared at the papers in silence for several seconds. "I suddenly understand why people used to retire at eighty."
Mette allowed herself a small smile. "Unfortunately, sir, you are now considered young."
Beau groaned and reached for the next report. "I hate this new world."