That he was now pretty much STUCK was more than apparent.
It was also pretty apparent that he had to do two things. Remain alive - that meant being useful to these primitives who were at least able to make wootz-style steel but tended to make things of bronze more often. Second thing was to try and find a way back to his own time.
In order to build a time machine, he had to build technology from Late Roman Republic to where he could put 100,000 volts through a ring of superconductive material and activate a superstring vibrational pattern that resonated at a frequency of 0.4 planck lengths.
To say this was a daunting task was an understatement of epic proportions.
Latin wasn't his strong suit, but he managed to pick up more and more of it as things went on. It was all Greek to him, though.
Well, he could suggest a few things. Get things started. New steel processes, mining techniques, manufacturies. Heck, just the concept of an assembly line was a major change in the way things were done. It was being tried out in a pottery shop.
He might be stuck here for awhile.
Julius Caesar was happy. Those overstuffed togas that were the aristocracy were in an uproar but too afraid to say anything.
Saying something about Caesar was one thing. When the gods threw some person into the Senate and managed to burn the marble floor in the process, another thing altogether.
Sure the guy was weird and confused and could barely speak any Latin much less Greek. It was well known, however, that the gods were hardly flawless or even particularly comprehensible.
One of the more superstitious Senators, Senator Dago, had put forth the theory that the stranger's appearance was a test by the gods. That the Roman Republic was in danger and their treatment of the stranger was to be their own judgement.
Far far more happy about the results of all this were the various engineers. Every time that the stranger sketched out a page of things, there were those who just scratched their head at the strangeness and others who got very very excited.
A way of making a windmill's head shift with the direction of the wind. This line of specialist workers so that each contributed their specialty and was kept working. A new design for a lamp.
Julius Caesar was happy. This person sent by the gods was stirring things up nicely, and while his epilepsy had been acting up - he could stick to the background and occasionally prod things along. As opposed to being stuck in the center stage of things where any embarassing moments were fully exposed and prone to gossip.
Yes, and now things were really beginning to move. He was beginning to think about retirement instead of going for some heroic death. A nice villa out in the country away from things, where maybe he could be consulted from time to time. Maybe some vineyards. Wine to drink, a few women to drink that wine with. It wasn't a bad picture, was it?
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(Posted Fri, 14 Apr 2006 09:45)
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