I Think That's Pretty Scientific

Chapter 8: 008: This Isn’t Scientific!

After that unpleasant dance party was over, Kraft’s life finally got back on track. However, because Tony Stark’s offhand remark had landed him in a whole string of trouble, Kraft had already labeled him a “troublemaker.” If he could, Kraft would have preferred to have nothing more to do with him. Sales of the “Deft Hands” combination locks gradually stabilized once the initial hype died down. Although Tony Stark claimed the combination locks were more interesting than the Rubik’s Cube, they were far less popular. Still, the money Kraft had earned during this period was enough for him to start experimenting with some more complex inventions. “…Another failure…” Looking at the pile of scrap metal before him, Kraft set down his tools with a sense of frustration. Although he had the funds, Kraft’s own knowledge and experience weren’t up to par. Even when he followed the steps from his dreams step by step, he would always make mistakes during the stages that required precision. Even if he occasionally got lucky and managed to successfully create one or two items, his success rate remained low on subsequent attempts. “Was I just rushing things, after all?” Kraft sat cross-legged on the ground and began to reflect on the reasons behind his recent failures. Because the funding had come through, he’d acted on impulse and asked Martin for help. He’d set up another private workshop and bought a whole bunch of tools, but in reality, he wasn’t familiar with any of this equipment at all—it was only natural that he’d make mistakes while operating them. “I bit off more than I could chew…” Kraft couldn’t help but think of this saying. Once he realized this, he temporarily set aside those overly complex inventions and decided to try some of the inventions from his dreams that he could barely understand, then proceed step by step to gradually improve his skills. Once he found the right approach, Kraft’s success rate finally began to rise, and the progress he made was far greater than when he had simply been copying designs. This made him even more absorbed in his lab, where he spent most of his free time. Back home, Kraft casually tossed his backpack onto the couch. Just as he was thinking of heading to his little workshop, Martin Li suddenly darted out from the inner room. “Don’t rush off yet—I need to talk to you.” “You’re actually home?!” Martin Lee was a very busy man; he usually left early and came home late, often not returning until after Kraft had already gone to sleep. At first, Kraft felt sorry for Martin, working so hard to make a living, but after accidentally discovering his nightclub VIP card one day, Kraft started nagging him to find a partner. Of course, Martin Lee had his reasons for coming home early. “I’ve got some business to take care of these next few days. I need to go on a long trip and won’t be back for about ten days. I’ve already let Uncle Liao know, so you can just go ahead and eat there.” “Oh, got it.” Kraft waved his hand dismissively. Martin went on long trips from time to time, and he was used to it by now. His friendship with Fat Liao had only grown stronger through all those free meals. “One more thing: Aunt Mei’s birthday is in three days, and she’d like to invite you to her house for her birthday party.” Naturally, Kraft wouldn’t turn down Aunt Mei’s invitation, but with only three days left, he probably wouldn’t have time to make her a gift. Besides, to be honest, those weird inventions from his dreams weren’t really suitable gifts for Aunt Mei. Fortunately, Kraft was now rolling in money, so buying a decent gift wouldn’t be a problem. After finishing his report, Martin Li hurried out the door. Kraft also abandoned his plan to continue tinkering in his private workshop and instead rushed over to Fat Liao’s house. He planned to give Aunt Mei a set of kitchenware; since Fat Liao’s family ran a restaurant, asking him for advice was definitely the right move. He dragged Fat Liao to the store to pick out a complete set of kitchenware. After having it wrapped in a gift box, the two returned to Fumanlou for an authentic Chinese meal. They then stayed at Fat Liao’s place to play video games together for a while. It wasn’t until it was completely dark that Kraft, carrying the gift he’d prepared for Aunt Mei, strolled back home. After a quick wash, Kraft went back to his room and fell asleep immediately. Then, for the first time in a long while, he dreamed of Dr. Agasa. Kraft’s dreams seemed to evolve over time—from being fragmented and disjointed at first to gradually becoming more coherent; from waking up groggy and unable to recall the details, to being able to remember the entire dream; and now, to being able to stay awake within the dream and freely examine and use the objects that appeared in it. However, Kraft’s range of movement was limited; he couldn’t stray too far from the dream’s protagonist. Furthermore, the items he obtained from the dream didn’t interfere with the dream characters’ use of them—it was as if a duplicate had been projected into his hands. Kraft was already as familiar with Dr. Agasa’s lab as could be—whether it was the various inventions piled to the side, the stack of science magazines and reference materials on the bookshelves, or the small collection of mystery novels, he’d gone through them all during the brief moments when Dr. Agasa took a break. So this time, instead of darting around aimlessly, he stood quietly by Dr. Agasa’s side, watching to see what he was tinkering with. “Is this… a tape recorder?” Once Kraft got a clear look at the object in Dr. Agasa’s hand, he was completely put at ease. Dr. Agasa’s inventions were far more practical than those of Shouko Geng, but they often exploded. Although Kraft wouldn’t get blown up, those sudden explosions weren’t exactly kind to his delicate heart. Dr. Agasa removed all the main components of the tape recorder, installed them into a new, smaller casing, and then stuffed it into… a bow? Kraft watched as the chubby doctor in front of him attached a speaker and a controller to the bow in his hand, scratching his head frantically. “What is Dr. Agasa up to? He isn’t making another detective gadget for that brat named Shinichi, is he?” Although he’d never met the child named Shinichi, Dr. Agasa had spoken with him several times during the construction process, so Kraft was vaguely aware of the little guy’s existence. The anesthetic watch, the power-boosting shoes, the tracking glasses, and the detective badge—all of these were inventions Dr. Agasa had created specifically for him. It has to be said that Dr. Agasa really does spoil that brat named Shinichi. After finishing the bow tie—which was likely meant for recording—Dr. Agasa turned on the old computer beside him and began typing code. “Huh? He still has to write code? So this thing isn’t just a simple recording device?” At first, Kraft thought Dr. Agasa was making something like a voice recorder, but upon reflection, it made sense—if it were just a device for secretly recording, he could have just used a regular voice recorder. Leaning his head close to the screen, Kraft examined the strings of code Dr. Agasa was typing. His programming skills were quite good, so understanding the code wasn’t difficult. Kraft’s programming skills stood out largely thanks to Liao the Fatso—a terrible teammate with an insatiable appetite for gaming. After Liao had repeatedly screwed him over during a video game session, Kraft, in a fit of rage, wrote a cheat program for him. Ever since then, whenever Liao the Fatso got stuck on a game he couldn’t beat, he’d come running to Kraft for help. And the requests just kept piling up: things like “It’s too overpowered—it ruins the gaming experience,” “I want a foolproof cheat that adjusts automatically,” or “The characters in this game are too ugly—give me a mod that lets me easily change their skins,” and so on… Since Liao Fatso was a buddy who’d been scrounging free meals at his place for years, Kraft basically granted all of this noob’s requests—and that’s how his programming skills were honed. “Audio input… audio track analysis… audio adjustment…” Kraft had a general idea of what the program did. Simply put, it was a sound recording and emulation program, but… “What’s the point of this?” Kraft continued to scratch his head frantically. Dr. Agasa’s code wasn’t actually that complicated; the main audio track analysis part wasn’t much different from software used to compare voices and identify the speaker. At best, the imitated voice would be about 30–40 percent accurate. But then Kraft thought about it some more. This thing was probably just a toy for that kid named Shinichi—a three- or four-tenths resemblance would be enough. It was just a bit lackluster compared to his previous inventions. Another useless invention—it’ll probably only be good for video footage. Kraft thought to himself, somewhat disappointed. Dr. Agasa’s inventions are often lackluster. If you think about it, the props for kids’ detective games are actually the most practical—but now, for once, he’s finally come up with a detective gadget that’s practically useless… Just as Kraft was thinking this, Dr. Agasa had already loaded the written program into the bow-tie sound simulator. He then opened a video on his computer and captured a segment of audio from it for testing. “Ahem, hello, my name is Dr. Agasa.” Dr. Agasa held the bow to his mouth and spoke. Kraft: ?????? What just happened? Kraft vigorously scratched his ear and stared at the bow in Dr. Agasa’s hand in utter disbelief. The voice that had just come from inside the bow wasn’t just 30 or 40 percent similar, as Kraft had estimated—it was the exact same! You’ve got to be kidding me! Kraft’s worldview had been shaken to its core. Unlike some inventions that fell outside his realm of knowledge, Kraft could understand every single step involved in creating this bow-shaped sound-imitator—and it was precisely because he understood it that he found it so unbelievable. Based on how Dr. Agasa built it, there was absolutely no way this sound-imitating device could produce such an effect! This isn’t scientific! Kraft suddenly sat up in bed. With the device now complete, the dream naturally came to an end—yet even after waking up, Kraft still felt as if he were in a dream, his face filled with confusion. No, I have to test this out! He yanked back the covers, quickly got dressed, and ran to his private workshop. It seems… the contract was signed? I’ve signed another indentured servitude contract… Go for it, worker! A while back, I bought Zhongyuan a toy—one of those multi-tiered cake-shaped discs where each tier has a little ball on a track around the edge for the cat to push around. I don’t even know what it’s called. At first, Zhongyuan played with the little balls just fine, but lately he’s taken to sticking his head under the disc and ramming the whole “layer cake” around until he knocks the toy over. I’d actually put that toy inside Zhongyuan’s cage to keep him from getting bored, but now he’s ramming it around, sending his water and cat food flying everywhere, so I’ve taken it out again…