Chapter 1302 - Song of Electricity (Part 2)

The electricians arrived at the small dock beside the hydroelectric station, where a launch with "Lingao Power" painted on its smokestack was already fired up and ready to depart.

Originally, the Power Company had been issued several bicycles for patrol use, but bicycles were in such demand everywhere that all quarters had their eyes on them. Since Lingao Power's main transmission lines radiated along the Wenlan River, the Planning Commission had "reasonably" reclaimed the Power Company's bicycles. As compensation, they assigned a small launch for the Power Company's use: after the first phase of the Wenlan River comprehensive improvement project was completed, the dry-season water depth had reached 1.5 meters. With some river shoals and rocky areas cleared, the launch could now travel directly from the hydroelectric station to Bopu Harbor at reasonable speed.

Liu Tangmu led his people aboard the vessel and waved at the stoker. The stoker opened the damper and started the steam engine, and the boat began chugging along, belching black smoke. For balance, the steam engine and boiler were installed amidships, so Liu Tangmu and his crew all went to the foredeck—good visibility, and no choking coal smoke.

The launch proceeded downstream along the river. The crew sat aboard, divided into two rows, each monitoring the transmission lines on their respective riverbanks. Initially, the Power Company had only one 10KV transmission line on the eastern bank, supplying Bairren City and the Bairren Industrial Zone. As the industrial zone expanded, a second 10KV line was built on the western bank. Thus patrolling along the Wenlan River allowed simultaneous inspection of both transmission lines.

Both lines used tar-coated wooden utility poles with 10KV cross-linked cables strung above—the cables, power transmission equipment, and porcelain insulators all came from another timeline. Though this grid was quite primitive by old-timeline standards, it was something the Council's industrial system couldn't replicate in the short term. Given their current industrial technology level, even maintenance was difficult.

According to proper power patrol regulations, 10KV-class lines only needed monthly inspection and semi-annual night patrol unless special circumstances arose. But at Lingao Power, they patrolled daily—not just during the day, but also armed night patrols escorted by security personnel. This was partly to prevent sabotage, and partly because this primitive grid had a much higher probability of problems than old-timeline systems.

Setting aside Lingao's small generating capacity, Liu Tangmu knew the trickiest issue was that Lingao's grid had extremely poor peak-shaving capability. Power generation and consumption had to balance. If generation exceeded consumption, grid voltage would rise, and if it rose too high, many electrical devices would burn out. Conversely, if generation fell short of consumption, grid voltage would drop. Some equipment like computers and televisions could tolerate low voltage reasonably well, but other motor-driven equipment could also burn out.

Therefore, grids had always emphasized balance and stability, meaning the power plant had to constantly monitor grid voltage—reducing generation when voltage ran high, increasing it when voltage ran low. Common methods included adjusting plant load: for instance, a hydroelectric station could close some sluice gates, and a thermal plant could burn less coal.

Specifically, Lingao's power dispatch center had to adjust load around the clock based on grid conditions—dedicated personnel watched the gauges and communicated instantly with the power stations to increase or decrease generation.

Moreover, Lingao's grid was particularly complex: the heavy industrial enterprises whose production equipment required electricity all had pulsating loads—electricity consumption came in bursts with very high peak loads. Every time equipment started up, all the lightbulbs in Lingao would flicker for a moment. Each occurrence made Liu Tangmu's heart pound.

As for various accidents, they were too numerous to count. Hundreds of naturalized citizens and natives died in power-related accidents every year. Half the electricians currently accompanying Liu Tangmu on patrol had only been brought in within the last two months. From 1630 to 1632, the average survival period for an electrician was less than three months. The shortest-lived one had lasted only four hours. It was the second-deadliest industry after the chemical plants, to the point where, like the chemical plants, they could only use contract laborers.

"This kind of grid is bound to drive someone insane eventually," Liu Tangmu muttered to himself, recalling how a month ago, Old Chang had called him and the other few "elite backbones" together for a meeting and announced that the Executive Committee had approved the "1633 Power Improvement Plan"—sufficient budget and manpower would soon be allocated to carry out a "Great Leap Forward in Power."

At the time, everyone listening found it hard to believe. Even Old Chang, who was conveying the directive, spoke without much confidence—they were all from the power industry and understood the complexity and difficulty of power systems as a whole. Never mind everything else—just the voltage testers they carried on patrol couldn't be manufactured in the short term, and the old ones would eventually be used up. Liu Tangmu didn't have high hopes that test pens could be manufactured within his lifetime.

And sure enough, the "technical route conference" that was supposedly happening "very soon" had gone silent; it had now been nearly a month since "very soon."

The patrol proceeded smoothly. The launch arrived at Bopu, where a dam now stood at the mouth of the Wenlan River at the harbor. Ships traveling between the bay and the Wenlan River now had to pass through a lock.

The dam and lock were negligible by old-timeline standards. Even by the standards of locks on this timeline's Grand Canal, the Bopu lock and dam couldn't be considered "grand" structures. But in terms of mechanization, they were unique: the opening and closing of the lock gates, as well as filling and draining, all used steam power.

Traffic between Bopu and the bay wasn't heavy. The launch quickly entered the lock chamber. The steam-powered pump began draining water from the chamber, and soon the water level matched the sea level in the harbor. The steam-powered winch emitted a low rumble as the lock gates gradually opened, and the launch chugged into Bopu Bay, trailing black smoke.

Liu Tangmu's destination was the "Holy Ship"—or more precisely, the Bopu Fengcheng Power Station. This station was actually the shipboard generator set from the Fengcheng.

The Fengcheng's shipboard generator wasn't large—it ran on heavy oil and output 100KW. Though it couldn't compare to the three 200KW units producing 600KW at the Bairren Hydroelectric Station, it was still a major power station under Lingao Power. The Energy Ministry and Machinery Industry Ministry had converted it to gas power, installing a gasifier on the Fengcheng's deck.

"Chief, they're signaling with flags from the ship," reported the crewman on the launch.

"Signal back: X8990," Liu Tangmu said after carefully checking his notebook.

This was the access code the Bopu Harbor Authority had notified him of yesterday, valid for one-time use that day only. Approaching the Fengcheng—whether by land or sea—required following strict security protocols. Any vessel entering the 200-meter warning perimeter around the Fengcheng had to signal the access code by semaphore or light signal; otherwise it would trigger the "Holy Ship Defense Protocol."

Once security personnel aboard determined an approaching vessel was suspicious and had "malicious intent," the typewriters and Hotchkiss machine guns on the Holy Ship's deck would open fierce fire. More than once, native boats had been destroyed with all hands lost due to curiosity or rubbernecking. Liu Tangmu had no intention of becoming the first transmigrator to be hit.

"Permission granted." The signalman on the Holy Ship's deck sent back the response.

The Lingao Power launch first circled the Holy Ship, then checked the floating rafts used to support the transmission cables. Liu Tangmu inspected the twisted-pair cables—the cable sheathing was wrapped with a thick layer of deerskin and coated with tar. This was all to resist the highly saline humid air in the bay, which had a strongly corrosive effect on cable insulation. This required constant attention; any corrosion or peeling had to be repaired immediately.

After the circuit, the launch came alongside the gangway, and Liu Tangmu's party boarded the "Holy Ship." Only he and the electricians who had survived more than a year were permitted aboard.

According to the Council's resolution, at least one transmigrator had to be stationed aboard the Holy Ship at all times, responsible for patrolling and watching over the vessel. In the past, transmigrators had eagerly volunteered for this duty. As Lingao's infrastructure improved, the "Fengcheng Hotel" that had once been considered a "luxury hotel" gradually fell out of favor. Living alone with a squad of naturalized citizens in this big iron shell—drafty in winter, sweltering in summer—wasn't exactly pleasant.

Meng De was waiting at the gangway to receive them. At this point, he was the only transmigrator still stationed on the ship—the "Harbor Director" who had no choice but to stay. Of course, he was professionally suited for it: after all, Meng De was a maritime university student, and no one knew the ship's equipment better than he did.

Since transmigrators so rarely visited the ship, Meng De was very enthusiastic about Liu Tangmu's periodic visits. He led him into the bridge.

The ship was empty and dark—a world apart from the bustling days when it had served as the "Fengcheng Hotel" and was packed with dignitaries.

As a microcosm of twentieth-century industrial society, the cargo ship contained much useful equipment. Not long after D-Day, various materials and equipment began to be removed and transported ashore for use. Now not only had key installations like the mechanical workshop and infirmary been stripped, but even ordinary living facilities—from air conditioners and refrigerators down to ceiling lamps, faucets, and light bulbs—had been removed. In the previous phase, even some of the boom winches and steel cables had been taken.

For safety reasons, aside from the cargo holds still being used as bulk goods warehouses, most unused compartments had been sealed off entirely.

The bridge and the crew quarters behind it were among the compartments still in use. Meng De, his life secretary, and several servants currently lived here, along with a small squad of Lingao Garrison Battalion soldiers and workers. The workers' tasks included routine rust removal, tar application, and similar simple maintenance work. Every month, transmigrators from the machinery factory came to perform "major maintenance" to ensure the ship's electronic and mechanical equipment remained intact.

(End of Chapter)