I. Naming
After attending Hubery’s funeral, Geoffrey Bray kept his focus on researching the Bray Engine.
“I think we are close to completing the modified version of the Bray Engine. We could name it the Bray Engine—Bruce Modified Version,” Bruce Sinclair suggested to Geoffrey Bray.
“I think calling it the Bray Engine Mark II would be safer,” Bray said, looking at the new engine.
“But I was the one who modified this version. Why call it Mark II?”
“Because it is called the Bray Engine.”
Bruce was rendered speechless by Bray’s retort. He strode out of the laboratory, leaving Bray inside alone.
This was not the first time the two of them had disputed naming rights. But Bray was extremely taboo about this—he disliked having other people’s names on his inventions.
The new generation of the Bray Engine could achieve full spatial transfer without any side effects. It was only limited by distance—roughly the distance from Tokyo to Canberra.
For operation on Earth, it was enough. Placed in outer space, it fell far short.
Bruce had always been regarded as Bray’s sidekick. He was unconvinced and unwilling. Many modifications to the Bray Engine were clearly his work, yet none bore his name.
Bray once had Hubery’s support. He had nothing. He could only keep his discontent buried in his heart.
Now Hubery was dead.
He finally erupted.
II. Rupture
“I believe the Bray Engine poses a massive security risk. It can easily kill people at a distance.”
At an academic forum, Bruce stood on the podium, his compiled data projected onto the large screen.
“If I were to teleport a person from Berlin to London, everyone within range of the engine would be killed by spatial strangulation.”
The room went silent for three seconds. Then Bray stood up.
He did not speak. He walked out.
With that, Bruce and Bray broke off completely.
The Bruce Engine led the Bray Engine by a wide margin in multiple benchmark tests. It could achieve long-distance instantaneous transmission, covering any corner of Earth from multiple points.
In the internal classification of engine technology, the Bruce Engine was designated as Type I space jump—the starting point for all subsequent models. But at the time, no one knew this. People only knew that Bruce had made a better engine than Bray, and then betrayed his master.
At the first press conference for the Bruce Engine, Bruce stood before the stage. The camera flashes were bright. He wore an old suit, its cuffs frayed.
“I think it should be called—” He paused, looking below the stage. “The Claude Engine. Bruce Modified Version.”
A murmur swept through the room.
“Who is Claude?” a reporter asked.
Bruce looked at the reporter.
“He was an outstanding scientist. A hero of humanity.”
He said it word by word.
Not a single person at the scene had ever heard of this scientist. Even the current upper echelon of humanity no longer knew.
Just who was Claude?
After nearly half a century, someone finally spoke the name.
But what was the use? Claude had already been erased from history. Past history called him a madman. Present history had deleted him entirely.
His name appeared in an internal Alliance technical file, designated KLD-2188-DECLASSIFIED. No one went to look at that file. It gathered dust in a cabinet.
Between a name spoken aloud once more and a cabinet no one had ever opened lay an entire galaxy.
III. Burning
Bray thought Bruce was mad. Just like Claude.
He burned Bruce’s manuscripts. They were all the records Bruce had slaved over in the lab for three years—formulas, experiment logs, revision plans. Flames surged from the fireplace and burned for an hour.
He smashed the so-called Bray Engine—Bruce Modified Version. That prototype shattered on the lab floor, its parts scattered everywhere.
“Bruce is a disgrace to us Infernals. Eating from the Infernals, drinking from the Infernals, yet turning around to throw himself into the embrace of humans.”
Bray petitioned Zhu Weichang: arrest Bruce and execute him by slow slicing.
Zhu Weichang ignored Bray. He showed him out.
He did not know who Claude was either. He only knew he was a mad scientist.
IV. Patents
This purge in the scientific community did not last long. People still named it after the Bray Engine. It was just that for Bruce’s version, they tended to call it the “Bray Engine—Bruce Modified Version.”
Although the Bray Engine affected lifespan—each transfer shaving off about 0.03 months of the user’s life expectancy—it enabled multi-person transfers. Bruce’s version could only transport one person at a time. For time-sensitive industries, the Bray Engine had a greater advantage.
A military transport vessel transferred two hundred people at once. Using Bruce’s version would require two hundred transfers.
Bray won.
He made a fortune collecting patent fees. The Alliance military, civil shipping companies, the postal system, geological exploration teams—every organization using spatial transfer paid licensing fees to Bray. Numbers flickered in his bank account.
Bruce, on the other hand, gained utility—his engine was indeed better—but lost his reputation. The scientific community called him an ungrateful cur, claiming he had only gotten where he was by relying on Bray.
V. Breakthrough
Bruce was not discouraged either.
He continued researching and improving the new engine in a windowless basement. His wife delivered his meals.
Bray still guarded his scrap metal, content with the status quo. His laboratory was spacious—bought with patent money—but new developments grew fewer and fewer.
Bruce believed reputation was less important than science. Bray simply placed too much weight on fame.
A few years later.
The Bruce Engine debuted out of nowhere.
It completely overturned the Bray Engine. It had almost no side effects. It could also achieve long-distance multi-person transfers across the entire Solar System. Out of a hundred test subjects, only a few lost hair and body hair.
In the later engine genealogy, this version was called Type V—Jessica Ella later boosted its power by another order of magnitude. But on that day, it was merely the thing Bruce stood at the press conference and declared, “I am finished.”
Bruce stood on the press conference stage.
“I truly want to thank everyone who supported me. They helped me get to where I am today. Without them, I would not have achieved such great success.”
He paused. He glanced at the front row below the stage. His wife sat there, wearing a blue dress.
“Of course, even more thanks go to my wife. She supported me recklessly during my lowest points.”
Applause.
When Bray heard the news, his face flushed red with rage.
His hands trembled. He sat in his laboratory with the patent licensing list on the desk before him. The company names on the list grew fewer and fewer—everyone was switching to the Bruce Engine.
He picked up the communicator and sent Bruce a telegram of congratulations.
“May Mr. Bruce’s path in science grow brighter and brighter.”
After sending it, he put the communicator back on the desk.
Then he sat in that chair bought with patent fees, watching the obsolete Bray Engine prototype—Type III, spatial range three hundred kilometers, multi-person transfer, life-shortening—gathering dust in the corner.
He did not turn off the light. Nor did he leave.
He sat there until dawn.
—End of Chapter 10.