Sitting at the laptop in search of suitable and necessary lots for me, I spent the next few hours in active research, simultaneously checking with instructions from a forum for radio electronics enthusiasts and garage DIYers. I needed capacitors, but not just any kind—high-voltage ones, which are hard to find in a regular radio store, but can be salvaged from old CRT TVs or monitors, from defibrillators, from industrial lasers or welding machines. In short, there are options, but specifically CRT TVs were the most obvious.
The search turned into a real digital safari. I scrolled through dozens of pages on Craigslist, eBay, and some local flea market forums. Most of the ads were trash: single, half-dead TVs with cracked screens being sold for next to nothing. I, however, needed unification, identity, so that the parameters of each capacitor matched to fractions of a percent. I read arguments on forums where gray-bearded amateur engineers foaming at the mouth proved the advantages of some models over others, memorized brands and serial numbers, creating an entire database in my head. This turned out to be quite exhausting, painstaking work requiring patience and attention to detail.
The key problem was that the capacitors had to be absolutely identical! That is, if I were to buy TVs, then of one model and ideally from one batch, and such options existed, and even in New York, though some TVs weren't working and some were too expensive. Но after a few hundred viewed ads, I found what seemed like the ideal option! 12 CRT TVs of the Zuun Electronics brand, already familiar to me from my laptop, all working, all the same model, and I dare hope from one batch; they were used in a security room for broadcasting from surveillance cameras, and the price was more than acceptable: 30 bucks apiece, and for all 12—300. Naturally, I couldn't miss such a chance; the ad appeared just a couple of hours ago and judging by the number of views, there are quite a few radio electronics enthusiasts in New York.
"Hello, I'm calling about the ad!" I immediately dialed the number, and after a short dialogue, we agreed to meet in an hour. Just enough time to get to Brooklyn, to the Sunset Park area, and for the return trip, I'll order a cargo taxi.
The meeting place turned out to be a small warehouse in the Sunset Park industrial zone. I was met by a stout man of about fifty in a greasy cap, who gave me a skeptical look.
"You the one for the TVs?" he boomed, wiping his hands on his overalls. "Twelve of 'em?"
"Yes," I nodded, trying to look confident.
"And what do you need 'em for, kid?" he squinted. "Nostalgia got to you? Or are you some kind of artist, making an installation? I had one guy here like that, buying up old irons. Building a pyramid out of 'em."
I thought feverishly. Telling the truth about high-voltage capacitors meant attracting unnecessary attention.
"Something like that," I replied evasively. "Video art. I want to make a wall of screens displaying the same static noise. Conceptually. About alienation in the information society."
The video art cover was born spontaneously, woven from scraps of articles about modern art I had once read and John's memory, as he is after all a college of arts student. It was pretentious and strange enough to sound plausible to someone far from the subject. The main thing is to speak confidently, with a bored look, as if it's an ordinary thing for you.
The guy thought for a second and then burst out laughing.
"The youth of today! Noise on screens for three hundred bucks! In my time, we just pulled the antenna out, and there's your free alienation. Alright, come on, I'll show you your 'conceptual art'."
He led me deep into the warehouse, where twelve identical cubes with the Zuun Electronics logo were gathering dust on a pallet. They looked like dinosaurs from a bygone era.
"Working, just as I wrote in the ad. You can check."
"I take your word for it," I said hastily, taking out the cash I'd withdrawn in advance. I didn't want him to see the predatory glint in my eyes as I looked not at the screens, but at their innards.
Having paid and called a cargo taxi, I waited at the warehouse gates, feeling like a junior spy who had just conducted a secret operation to acquire components for a super-weapon under the guise of buying antiques for a bored artist, hah.
It's 2 PM, and I'm pleased to have made the deal of the century, though the credit dollars are becoming fewer and fewer with every expense; I hope I don't sink to the point of opening another credit card... Но while there's money, one can live without a care and create, hah.
Returning home, I set about searching for the next important components; here everything was an order of magnitude simpler. A used but good microwave for 20 bucks, a diode, resistors, a sheet of plexiglass, several wooden boxes, lead foil, foam rubber, a soldering iron, a multimeter, dielectric pliers, high-voltage wires, and a bunch of other trifles. To be honest, by 6 PM I was already tired of trekking back and forth across the city, and that's considering that everything else cost another few hundred bucks; by estimate, there's about 500 bucks left on the card, and I already have ideas on how to earn money, but for that I vitally need to create the Intellect Potion, fortunately the pre-preparation stage is partially completed; let's begin!
Casting a look over the small studio, which had become even smaller due to my purchases, I realized the picture was surreal. Twelve bulky CRT TVs, resembling tombstones of a bygone era. A shiny, almost new microwave bought only to be mercilessly gutted. Coils of wire, bags of resistors and diodes, sheets of plexiglass and lead foil, a soldering iron still packed in a blister. All of this resembled props for the filming of a low-budget movie about a mad scientist.
I sat on the floor and scanned it all. Hundreds of dollars drained from the credit card lay before me in the form of a pile of old and new junk. For a moment, doubt gripped me. What if nothing works? What if I fry the capacitors? Or the transformer turns out to be non-functional? What if this entire undertaking is just expensive nonsense inspired by a strange glitch in my head that I call the System? Но then I looked at my laptop, on which the Marx Generator scheme was still open. And the doubts left. The fear of failure was there, but the thirst for creation, the desire to assemble this complex and dangerous machine with my own hands, was stronger. It is a challenge. Not only to the System, but to myself. A test of strength, of intellect, of precision. I stood up, joints cracking. Enough reflecting. Time to turn this chaos into a working device.
Before starting the creation of the generator itself, I need to deal with the power source. I need a high-voltage DC source to charge the capacitors. And oddly enough, the best "garage" option for this is a modified microwave oven transformer (MOT), which is why I bought the microwave. Having disassembled the iron box, I pulled out the transformer—the very part that transforms domestic 110/220 volt AC into about 2000 volts. True, I need DC, not AC, but in the same microwave there is a high-voltage diode, which I will simply connect to one of the transformer outputs, and it will only let current pass in one direction, turning the AC into pulsing DC. This is sufficient for charging the generator.
The process of disassembling the microwave was an act of deliberate vandalism. I wasn't fixing, but breaking, yet with a clear goal. With every unscrewed screw, with every removed panel, I felt like a surgeon dissecting a body to get to a vital organ. And here it is—the transformer. Heavy, massive, with thick copper winding, it looked like the heart of this microwave, though in some measure it was. Looking at it, I see not just a piece of iron and copper, but a key that will allow me to raise the voltage of the household network to lethally dangerous values. This is my first real step from theory and purchases to practice.
Alright, I've dealt with the power source, now it's necessary to desolder the capacitors from the TVs, which I set about doing, carefully checking each with a multimeter for capacity and lack of breakdown; here I was lucky and the TVs really were from one batch and all capacitors were in order. Then I took a sheet of plexiglass and marked a "ladder"—places for 12 capacitors, which will be arranged in 2 rows of 6; this will be the generator's chassis.
The next step—mounting the components: capacitors, high-voltage resistors, and homemade spark gaps (two rounded-head screws screwed into a plexiglass block at a distance of 3-5 mm from each other) I attached to the base of the sheet.
Wiring, the most important stage! Using high-voltage wires, I connected all the capacitors in parallel through resistors to my power source (microwave transformer + diode from there). The positive source through the resistor goes to the positives of all capacitors, and the negative to all negatives; in the end, the circuit provides a slow and simultaneous charging of all stages. Next, I connected the capacitors in series through spark gaps—that is, the positive of the first capacitor I connected to the negative of the second through a spark gap, the positive of the second to the negative of the third through the next spark gap, and so on.
After all these procedures, most of the work can be said to be over; I simply installed 2 output electrodes at one end of my "ladder," the role of which was played by simple polished metal balls on isolated stands. The distance between them is only a few centimeters, and that is where the resulting lightning will jump. Under these balls, I will place the resonator cage for "exciting" the quartz crystal. The generator is ready, and it seems the system is of the same opinion!
[Simple electrical construction "Marx Generator" created. Difficulty: Minimal. Received +50 OP!]
Damn, it feels good. System confirmation is the best guarantee that I did everything right and the construction won't kill me. Well, provided I follow basic safety rules, of course. The one-hand rule, the most important rule for high-voltage workers. When working with an active or potentially charged circuit, one hand must always be behind your back. This prevents current from passing through the chest and heart in case of accidental contact. Insulation, for which I worked in sneakers standing on linoleum, and no clutter at the workplace; all wires must be securely fastened, and switching on the generator is done remotely, using a switch at a distance.
Before charging the crystals, I prepared boxes for them because a charged crystal will be unstable and sensitive to external fields; consequently, I need something like an "energy thermos." In fact, I simply took small wooden boxes and first lined the interior with thin lead foil, then foam rubber. I will place the charged crystal in this box and then put the box with the crystal into the inventory.
Deciding not to drag things out, I placed a dielectric ceramic stand under the output electrodes, put the crystal itself on it, and moving further away, turned on this monstrous construction, feeling like a mad scientist. In microseconds, the capacitors lined up in a chain, and at the output, a total voltage of 60,000 Volts was obtained (12 capacitors at 5,000 V each). Despite the fact that the discharge lasted literally millionths of a second, it was enough to "shake" the crystal lattice of the quartz in the epicenter.
A sharp, clean smell of ozone, like after a strong thunderstorm, hit my nose. Despite the fact that this all lasted a fraction of a second, in that moment I felt the primal power of the elements enclosed in my apartment. Tens of thousands of volts released with a single flick of a switch. This is simultaneously terrifying and incredibly exciting. A real, man-made lightning. I forced myself to calm down and waited for the voltage on the residual capacitances to drop. Inside, everything was exultant. It worked! I didn't just assemble some craft; I created a working high-voltage pulse generator. And even the system rewarded me with points, but the main satisfaction was not in that, but in the fact of success itself. I managed. I brought a complex technical project from an idea and search for components to a final result.
The quartz crystal lying on the stand now seemed subtly changed. It was as if it had absorbed part of this energy, and its internal structure was now quietly humming at a frequency of the electromagnetic pulse inaccessible to hearing. In the end, I carefully approached the stand with the crystal and opened the box with one hand, and with the other took dielectric pliers with ceramic tips, which I used to take the crystal and place it in the box, and the box into the inventory. The first one's done, 4 left, and then I can start the alchemy!
Repeating the procedure with the crystal 4 times, then turning off the generator, I set about preparing the place for the full-fledged creation of the Intellect Potion. Despite the fact that it will be created at night, it's better to be ready in advance. Judging by the information about the nuances of the Phantasmine extraction stage, this stage must be conducted in total darkness, but the use of red light is permitted, like in a conditional darkroom, so I had to run to a specialized store and spend another 10 bucks on a bulb. Also, this same stage requires slow, uniform heating to 40 degrees... I had to urgently look for ways to pull this off on the internet; I settled on the obvious and simplest: a dry heating block! Compact, adjustable, and relatively cheap (in used condition, naturally); another 200 dollars down the drain, but now I'm definitely ready!
It's 6 PM, there's still time before night, so I decided to do the last thing I'd been putting off due to the abundance of other tasks, but which I'd spent money on—leatherworking! Naturally, I didn't expect to finish the 200 OP needed for the spin, especially considering my current 55 OP, but figuring out what kind of beast this is and how to eat it is probably worth it.
Opening the beginner's leather kit and laying a couple of leather scraps before me, I naturally first looked at several guides for crafting a simple cardholder with two card compartments. It seemed simple enough, so placing a 20x20 cm piece of leather on the cutting mat, I set about cutting, having previously transferred the template for the cardholder itself (10x7 cm) and two 10x4 cm rectangles for pockets, leaving 0.5 cm of seam allowances.
Then I sanded the edges of the cut elements with sandpaper to make them smooth and marked the seam line with a ruler (about 4 mm from the edges), then punched holes with an awl at a 4 mm step. After all these procedures, I applied glue to the edges of the pockets (those 10x4 cm ones) and glued them to the main part, one pocket on top, the other on the bottom, thus creating 2 compartments, and let the glue dry. The next thing I did was sew the main part with the pockets using waxed thread and two needles for a saddle stitch, sanded the edges with sandpaper, applied wax, and polished with a wooden stick for smoothness. The final touch is applying a protective cream for durability, and here, after about an hour and a half of careful and painstaking work, I received the coveted notification!
[Simple leather product created. Difficulty: Minimal. Received +20 OP!]
Eh, the cardholder turned out to be too simple for the system and not named, so not a lot of OP, but I got some good initial experience and pleasure from the work. Right now I have a total of 75 OP, and considering the remaining leather I can make a few more simple things, for example, a passport cover, a key holder, a leather bracelet, and maybe even another cardholder, but this time, for example, with three compartments. In any case, there are still more than 4 hours until midnight, and OP will never be redundant, so let's get to work!
After the tension and the ozone smell of high-voltage discharges, leatherworking was like balm for the soul. There was no risk of instant death from one mistake here. Only the material, the tool, and your hands. I inhaled the thick, tart aroma of natural leather, and it was calming. The process was slow, almost meditative. The smooth movement of the knife along the ruler, creating a perfectly even cut. The rhythmic tap of the awl punching holes for the seam. The precise, measured movement of two needles weaving the waxed thread into a beautiful and incredibly strong saddle stitch. There was its own magic in this, completely different from the one I had sought the previous night. Not the magic of the thin edges of reality, but the magic of craft.
Turning a formless scrap into an elegant, functional thing. If the assembly of the Marx Generator was an act of brute, primal power, a taming of the elements, then leatherworking was a dialogue with the material. One had to feel its thickness, its plasticity, understand how it would behave under the tension of the thread or when treated with wax. I realized I was getting pleasure not just from the system notification of OP being awarded. I liked the process itself. I liked seeing something beautiful and useful being born under my fingers. Perhaps this was the key. To create complex, world-changing technologies, one shouldn't forget about such simple, earthly things. One gave power, the other—concentration and mental equilibrium. And I, as it turned out, needed both.
The next few hours I spent in a leather haze, if you could call it that, and the last thing I made was several simple leather bracelets for each of which I received only 5 OP, but there was no leather left. In total, I received 70 OP from my leather creations, bringing my balance to 145 OP, and since I'm unlikely to get 55 OP in the coming hours, I can start creating the Intellect Potion. The recipe isn't difficult; the preparatory phase required much more effort and money—phew—alright, gathering my thoughts and beginning!