Chapter 73: Telecommunications

Construction on the transmigrators' housing began in earnest. Compared to the infrastructure projects that had preceded it, this was straightforward work—prefabricated buildings that snapped together like blocks, simple enough for anyone to assemble.

The residential zone sat atop a foundation raised two meters above grade, serving dual purposes: protection against potential flooding, and a defensive advantage should they ever come under attack. The slopes were faced with stone, the surface hardened against the elements. The prefabs followed the standard layout common to new villages back home—all buildings uniformly oriented north-south, arranged around a central plaza in seven numbered clusters. Clusters One through Five housed the single men; Cluster Six, the single women; Cluster Seven accommodated families. Singles bunked four to a unit, while families received one unit apiece. True to the original plans, the interiors were fitted for comfort: electric lights, power outlets—though furniture remained absent, as lumber had to go toward infrastructure first. Even so, the mood was jubilant. For the first time in over ten days, people would sleep in real rooms. Laptops could finally charge. Evenings would no longer stretch into unbearable monotony.

Rows of drying racks lined the residential plaza. At the plaza's northern end, a row of buildings housed the toilets and washrooms—brand-new flushing units unloaded from the ships. These were not the seated toilets common in homes, but rather the squatting variety sometimes called "Turkish-style." The Committee had determined that fixtures that didn't touch skin were more hygienic. Flushing water came directly from the river, stored in a simple tower behind the facilities. From its very founding, Bairren Fortress would operate on a dual-quality water supply.

The washrooms and toilets shared drainage infrastructure. Wastewater flowed by gravity through storm drains to the agricultural zone downwind, where Wu Nanhai had constructed a large biogas digester capable of processing all of the city's sewage.

A man-high wall of earth and stone encircled the residential zone's perimeter—suitable for mounting a defense if the need ever arose. A single entrance provided access, fitted with sturdy wooden-plank gates atop a short flight of steps. Beside it stood a two-story duty station of stone and cement mortar, a bunker in all but name, manned around the clock by Security Group personnel.

The Committee's office conditions improved as well. A two-story steel-frame prefab complex rose from the ground, its interior more impressive still. The furniture had been salvaged from the Fengcheng—pieces that had once seemed old-fashioned now appeared luxurious and imposing, drawing no small amount of envy. The offices even boasted a LAN. Rumors soon circulated that certain Committee members spent their evenings playing networked games in the building after hours.

This put tremendous pressure on the Communications Group, which had just received space in the Committee building. People streamed to Group Leader Li Yunxing demanding network ports in every room. Others fretted that there weren't enough routers—with only one port per room, people couldn't go online simultaneously. Some suggested simply opening wireless service, since most laptops had that capability anyway.

The Committee ruthlessly rejected this request. Ma Qianzhu issued clear instructions: establish a communication center at Bairren Fortress as soon as possible.

The Communications Group's pre-crossing plan had actually adopted the now-obsolete PHS system, known as "Little Smart" in China. In practice, it was far from ideal—prone to those infuriating "Hello? Hello? Damn!" situations. But as crossing equipment went, it had compelling advantages: simple structure, low power consumption. As for the poor signal—well, seventeenth-century air had no radio interference, no towering buildings or high-voltage lines to contend with.

Li Yunxing had brought a discarded local telecom PHS base station and controller, two laptops, decommissioned telecom servers, and an assortment of communication cables, interface equipment, protocols, and management software—a complete suite for building a wireless communication network in this timespace. The base station and controller could support over a thousand handsets within a radius of dozens of kilometers, and adding a few remote modules would extend that range further. For internal base communication, it would serve admirably for the foreseeable future.

They also had more than a thousand PHS handsets, bulk-purchased from the same batch for interchangeable spare parts and easier repairs.

Li Yunxing estimated the current base station's transmission power at roughly 50W, providing coverage of approximately 15 kilometers. To meet Committee requirements, coverage needed to reach 35 to 40 kilometers, which meant installing a power amplifier to boost each channel to 200W. This would also significantly increase the system's fading margin. For balance, tower-top amplifiers would be necessary to boost the uplink signal by about 12dB. His overall estimate: the base station would run on 230V/50Hz AC, requiring 7 to 10kW. He submitted a report to the Committee requesting power allocation—but with the locomobile station already providing 200kWh, this modest draw shouldn't pose a problem.

The Communications Group requested help from the Engineering Team to erect a tower structure in the city and install array antennas. Height would reduce echo noise from surrounding buildings. Of course, there were no high-rises at present, but higher was always better.

Director Wen proposed integrating all wireless resources as soon as possible—enabling radios, phones, and walkie-talkies to intercommunicate. It was a reasonable request, and Li Yunxing racked his brains over it, convening his team for research sessions until they finally arrived at a workable if crude solution: using the air public interface protocol to provide trunking dispatch for everyone's walkie-talkies. He built a makeshift server from industrial microcontrollers, simulating walkie-talkie signals as phone signals to feed into the exchange. This required not only the microcontrollers but also an additional antenna, since PHS and walkie-talkies operated on different frequencies.

The PHS launch restored a familiar feeling for everyone. On handset distribution day, the Communications Group office was mobbed. Everyone wanted what they considered a lucky number.

"I want 888888!"

"Give me 168168! 'All the Way Rich!'"

"Bullshit—that one's mine."

"Xiao Shao, remember? I treated you to dinner once. Save me one with 8s!"

"You people are so vulgar—nothing but 8s. Skinning?"

"It means 'prosper!' 'Fortune!' You don't know that? Illiterate!"

"You're the illiterate—your whole family's illiterate. You're not even Cantonese—why are you aping them?" These two nearly came to blows.

"I want 6s—give me ones with 6!"

One person tried to be clever: "I want 444444."

"Then you might as well get 514514," someone joked. (Note: 514 creates a homophone for "I want to die" in Mandarin.)

Shao Zong sat behind a desk with a large box on it, shouting over the din: "Don't crowd—one at a time! We're drawing numbers here—no choosing! Whatever you draw is yours. Hey, hey, hey—no taking one, looking at it, and throwing it back! Where are your manners?"

"Hey, Xiao Shao, can I get a nicer-looking one? This phone is hideous." A woman's voice.

"I want a flip phone. Why are these all candybars? So old-fashioned!" The women chattered away—their interest lay not in the numbers but in the pile of handsets, which they rummaged through with abandon.

"Yeah, no color choices either... If I'd known, I would've brought the one I left at home..." The phones had been bulk-purchased—only the colors differed; all the same model. No wonder the women were dissatisfied.

The Communications Group struggled to maintain order. Just as the chaos reached its peak, Guo Yi stepped forward from where he'd been working nearby.

"Everyone, don't crowd."

He'd never actually done public-security work, but he came from that world—never eaten pork, as the saying went, but he'd seen plenty of pigs run. Sensing an opportunity, he immediately helped restore order. One hot-tempered fellow tried to shove Xiao Guo but found his joint locked until tears streamed down his face. With such a pitiful example before them, the unruly crowd quickly fell into line.

The number-drawing concluded without further incident. A lucky few walked away with 8s and 6s, but most ended up with ordinary numbers. The superstitious ones who hadn't drawn well cursed their luck, then approached the fortunate to trade personal supplies for better numbers.

"Business opportunities exist everywhere..." Shao Zong murmured contentedly as he carried the desk back to the office. Just like in that other timespace, the Communications Group—future Crossing Telecom Company—had already reserved the so-called lucky numbers. Li Yunxing and Shao Zong had done the calculations: once Crossing Telecom restructured, they would release these numbers to the market. Oh boy—wouldn't that be a fortune?

Noticing the person who'd helped maintain order leaving without a phone, Shao Zong hurried to catch up.

"Brother, what's your name? Why didn't you get a phone?"

"Well..." Guo Yi scratched his head, looking a bit embarrassed. "I've got a temporary ID. Can't get a phone yet."

"Oh!" Shao Zong slapped his hand in realization. "You must be Guo Yi."

"You know me?" Xiao Guo was puzzled—he should have been unknown here.

"Mm, others don't. But our group leader brought back an internal bulletin. I've read it."

"Oh? What does it say?" Guo Yi was keenly interested in his future. Internal bulletins surely reflected this bold group of time-traveling adventurers' leadership's views and policies toward him.

"Well..." Shao Zong shifted uncomfortably. "Can't really say—it's classified..."

Damn—they learned fast. Mastered this game instantly. Xiao Guo cursed internally, but his expression remained utterly sincere. "No problem—just asking casually."

"I'll spill a bit, then." Shao Zong decided that being too principled was inhuman. "The three of you—the Committee means to treat you differently. Just remember that."

Treat differently? What did that mean? Guo Yi fell into deep thought.

(End of Chapter)