Chapter 91: Song of Electricity (Part 2)

The electricians arrived at a small pier next to the hydroelectric station. A small steam launch with the “Lin’gao Power” logo painted on its smokestack was already fired up and ready to go.

Originally, the power company was equipped with several bicycles for patrols, but there were too many places that needed bicycles, and everyone was eyeing them. As it happened, Lin’gao Power’s main transmission lines ran along the Wenlan River, so the company’s few bicycles were “reasonably” recovered by the Planning Department. As compensation, a small steam launch was allocated to the power company. After the completion of the first phase of the Wenlan River comprehensive management project, the water depth during the dry season reached 1.5 meters. After clearing some of the riverbank reefs and shoals, the small launch could travel directly from the hydroelectric station to Bopu Port at a decent speed.

Liu Tom and his men boarded the boat. He waved to the launch’s stoker, who opened the damper and started the steam engine. The boat started moving with a puff of black smoke. For balance, the steam engine and boiler were located in the middle of the hull, so Liu Tom and his men all went to the foredeck—it had a better view and was free from the choking coal smoke.

The small launch headed downstream along the river. The men sat on the boat, divided into two rows, watching the transmission lines on both banks of the river. Initially, the power company only had one 10kV transmission line on the east bank of the river, supplying power to Bairen City and the Bairen Industrial Zone. As the industrial zone expanded, another 10kV transmission line was built on the west bank. Therefore, they could inspect both transmission lines simultaneously while traveling along the Wenlan River.

These two lines used tar-coated wooden poles. The poles carried 10kV cross-linked cables—the cables, transmission and transformation equipment, and porcelain insulators all came from the other world. Although this power grid was low-grade by old-world standards, it was something the Yuanlao Yuan’s industrial system could not replicate in the short term. At their current industrial level, even maintenance was difficult.

According to standard power line inspection regulations, a 10kV line like this only needed to be inspected once a month, and once every six months at night, unless there were special circumstances. But in Lin’gao Power, it was inspected daily, not only during the day but also with armed patrols at night escorted by security personnel. On the one hand, this was to prevent sabotage. On the other hand, the probability of problems with this primitive power grid was much higher than in the old world.

Never mind that Lin’gao’s power generation was small. Liu Tom knew that the most difficult part was the grid’s extremely poor peak-shaving capability. Power generation and consumption had to be balanced. If more power was generated than consumed, the grid voltage would rise. If the grid voltage rose to a certain level, many electrical devices would burn out. Conversely, if less power was generated than consumed, the grid voltage would drop. For some devices like computers and televisions, a lower voltage was acceptable. But for other motor-driven equipment, it could also cause them to burn out.

Therefore, the power grid always emphasized balance and stability. This meant the power station had to constantly monitor the grid voltage. If the voltage was high, they had to reduce power generation. If it was low, they had to increase it. The common method was to adjust the power plant’s load. For example, a hydroelectric station could close some of its gates, and a thermal power plant could burn less coal.

Specifically, the Lin’gao power dispatch center had to adjust the load 24 hours a day based on the grid’s load situation—a dedicated person would watch the meters and report to the power station at any time to increase or decrease generation.

Moreover, this power grid in Lin’gao was particularly complex. Some heavy industrial enterprises whose production equipment required electricity had pulsed loads, using power in bursts with a very high load. Every time their equipment started, all the light bulbs in Lin’gao would flicker a few times, making Liu Tom’s heart pound.

As for various accidents, they were countless. Every year, several hundred naturalized citizens and natives died in electrical accidents. Half of the electricians following Liu Tom on patrol now were new recruits from the last two months. From 1630 to 1632, the average survival period for an electrician was no more than three months. The shortest-lived one lasted only four hours. It was the deadliest enterprise after the chemical plant, to the point that they had to use indentured servants, just like the chemical plant.

“This kind of power grid will drive people crazy sooner or later,” Liu Tom muttered, remembering a meeting a month ago where Old Chang had gathered a few of them, the “elite core,” and announced that the Executive Committee had passed the “1633 Power Rectification Plan.” A sufficient budget and manpower would soon be allocated for a “Great Leap Forward in Electricity.”

At the time, everyone felt it was unreliable. Even Old Chang, who was conveying the message, sounded unsure. They were all from the power industry and knew how complex and difficult this system engineering was. For one thing, they couldn’t even manufacture the test pens they carried on patrol in the short term, and the old ones would eventually be used up. Liu Tom didn’t have high hopes of being able to manufacture a test pen in his lifetime.

And so, the “technical route meeting” that was supposed to be held “soon” had gone silent. “Soon” had been almost a month now.

The patrol went smoothly. The small launch arrived at Bopu, where a dam now stood at the mouth of the Wenlan River. Ships entering and exiting between the harbor and the river had to pass through a lock.

The scale of the dam and lock was insignificant by old-world standards. Even by the standards of the locks on the Grand Canal in this world, the Bopu lock and dam were not “magnificent” structures. However, they were unique in their level of mechanization. The opening and closing of the lock gates, as well as the filling and draining of water, were all powered by steam.

There were not many ships traveling between Bopu and the bay. The small launch quickly entered the lock chamber. The steam-powered pump began to drain water from the chamber. Soon, the water level was the same as the sea level in the harbor. The steam-powered winch let out a low roar, and the lock gate gradually opened. The small launch, puffing black smoke, entered Bopu Bay.

Liu Tom was heading to the “Holy Ship,” or more accurately, the Bopu Fengcheng Power Station. This power station was actually the shipboard generator set on the Fengcheng.

The Fengcheng’s shipboard generator set was not large. It used heavy oil for power generation and had an output of 100kW. Although it couldn’t compare to the 600kW output of the three turbines at the Bairen Hydroelectric Station, it was still a main power station under Lin’gao Power. The Ministry of Energy and the Ministry of Mechanical Industry had converted it to gas power, for which a gasifier had been installed on the deck of the Fengcheng.

“Sir, the ship is starting to signal with flags,” a crew member on the launch reported.

“Return the signal: X8990,” Liu Tom said, carefully looking at his notebook.

This was the passage code the Bopu Port Authority had given him yesterday, valid for one use on that day only. Approaching the Fengcheng—whether by land or sea—required adherence to strict security protocols. Any vessel entering the 200-meter warning line around the Fengcheng had to report the passage code using flag signals or light signals. Otherwise, it would trigger the “Defend the Holy Ship Protocol.”

If the guards on the ship deemed an approaching vessel suspicious and with “ill intentions,” the machine guns and Hotchkiss cannons on the Holy Ship’s deck would open fire fiercely. More than once, native boats had been destroyed and their occupants killed due to curiosity or sightseeing. Liu Tom had no intention of being the first Elder to be hit.

“Permission to pass,” the signalman on the Holy Ship’s deck signaled back.

The Lin’gao Power launch first circled the Holy Ship, then inspected the floating raft used to support the transmission cables. Liu Tom checked the twisted-pair cable. The outside of the cable was thickly wrapped in deerskin and coated with tar. This was all to resist the humid, salty air of the bay, which was highly corrosive to the cable’s sheathing. It required constant attention, and any corrosion or peeling had to be repaired immediately.

After circling, the small launch came alongside the gangway, and Liu Tom and his party boarded the “Holy Ship.” Only he and a few electricians who had survived for more than a year were allowed on board.

According to a resolution of the Yuanlao Yuan, at least one Elder was to be stationed on the Holy Ship at all times to inspect and look after it. In the past, many Elders had eagerly volunteered for this post. As the infrastructure in Lin’gao improved, the “Fengcheng Hotel,” once considered a “luxury hotel,” gradually fell out of favor. It was not a pleasant thing to be stationed alone with a team of naturalized citizens in this large iron shell, which was chilly in winter and hot in summer.

Meng De greeted them on the deck at the top of the gangway. Currently, the only Elder stationed on the ship was him, the “Port Director,” who had no choice but to be there. Of course, he was also a professional match. After all, Meng De was a maritime studies university student, and no one was more familiar with the ship’s equipment than him.

Meng De was very enthusiastic about Liu Tom’s regular visits, as it was rare for an Elder to come on board. He led him into the bridge.

The ship was empty and dark, a world away from the bustling scene when it served as the “Fengcheng Hotel.”

The freighter, a microcosm of 20th-century industrial society, had many useful pieces of equipment. Shortly after D-Day, they began to dismantle various materials and equipment from the ship and move them ashore. Now, not only had important equipment like the ship’s machine shop and infirmary been removed, but even general living facilities, from air conditioners and refrigerators down to chandeliers, faucets, and light bulbs, had been stripped clean. In the previous phase, even some of the winches and steel cables on the derricks had been dismantled.

For safety reasons, apart from the cargo holds, which were still used as warehouses for bulk goods, most of the unused cabins had been completely sealed off.

The bridge and the sailors’ living quarters behind it were still in use. Currently, Meng De, his life secretary, and a few servants lived there. They were also assigned a small squad of Lin’gao Garrison Battalion soldiers and workers. The workers’ task was simple maintenance like rust removal and tar application. Every month, Elders from the machinery factory would also come for a “major maintenance” to ensure the ship’s electronic and mechanical equipment remained in good condition.