Chapter 920 – The Morning Briefing

Lin Hanlong walked along the streets of Bairren New City. Dawn was just breaking; the scent of trees and wild grass permeated the early morning air, still damp with dew. The nighttime gas streetlamps had already been extinguished. Sanitation workers in blue cotton robes, wearing masks and caps, their bamboo ID badges hanging at their chests, swept the stone-paved roads. If not for the gas streetlamps, Lin Hanlong might have thought he was walking through an old neighborhood built in the 1960s.

He encountered few transmigrators on the road—most were either still asleep or sleeping in their workshops and offices. But maids were already out in numbers. They carried baskets and straw bags, chatting and laughing in small groups as they headed toward the demonstration farm. Ever since transmigrators acquired maids, many had started cooking at home. Accordingly, the Administrative Office had kept pace with the times and now issued food allowance vouchers and special meat-egg-dairy ration cards directly to individuals, rather than providing free meals at the cafeteria.

Lin Hanlong returned to his transmigrator apartment, which he'd moved into not long ago. Being a bachelor, he was in the second batch to receive housing. Per policy, he'd been assigned a forty-square-meter small unit. The place was modest, but plenty for him and his maid.

He'd sent his maid home earlier in the night—there were no security issues inside Bairren City. Even in the busy industrial district, people without passes couldn't move around. For transmigrators, it was the safest green zone.

Once home, his maid would rise at five. That way, by the time he arrived, bathwater and breakfast would be ready.

"Bath first, or eat first?" the maid asked.

"Bath. Then I'll sleep a bit first." Lin Hanlong's body was exhausted, but he wasn't hungry. And there was a meeting at eight; he needed to grab a quick nap first.

The room, decorated by Zhen Qian, was very minimalist—colors fresh and bright. The furniture was all IKEA-style. Lin Hanlong didn't care for so-called "classical" style. He hurried through a bath, put on pajamas, and lay down on the fabric sofa with its wooden frame and thick kapok cushion. He fell asleep almost instantly.

At 7:30 he woke on schedule. His maid had already warmed breakfast: two Fujian-style savory meat zongzi. She was from southern Fujian and made excellent savory zongzi. Beside them was a glass bottle sealed with cardboard, sterilized paper, cotton thread, and sealing wax, containing pasteurized milk—freshly delivered from the farm that morning.

The maid had prepared his toothbrush and wash water. Toothpaste had long since run out. Making toothpaste that met old-timeline standards was somewhat difficult, and the Chemistry Department lacked both sufficient raw materials and interest. Mo Xiao'an had devised a substitute: bamboo salt.

So-called bamboo salt was made by filling bamboo tubes with table salt and then roasting them at high temperature. After discarding the charred bamboo, the salt had fused into a block. Ground into fine powder, it became "bamboo salt." Packed into fine bamboo tubes polished on pedal-powered lathes, it became a product of the Ministry of Light Industry, sold equally to transmigrators, naturalized citizens, and natives. Reportedly it sold quite well in Guangzhou.

Whether this stuff was as miraculous as the old-timeline hype claimed, the transmigrators didn't care. At least since ancient times, Chinese people had brushed and rinsed with salt—it was at least somewhat good for teeth and oral hygiene.

Lin Hanlong drank his milk and had his maid peel the zongzi. Shouldering his old laptop bag and putting on a sun hat, he ate as he walked out the door.

Just outside the apartment building, he spotted Hailin from the Woodworking Factory walking bleary-eyed down the road. He knew Hailin was another chronic overtime worker, probably just off the night shift—the Woodworking Factory was no lighter than any other department, yet it had always received low priority for resource allocation. The Forestry Department had accumulated many grievances.

Hailin didn't notice Lin Hanlong and walked past on his own. Lin Hanlong knew he too was heading to the Industry and Energy Commission compound.

Every morning at eight, the Industry and Energy Commission held a transmigrator briefing to summarize the previous day's production and assign the day's work. Because the Industry and Energy Commission had the most transmigrators, the meeting room was extra large—enough to seat 150 people. The large windows let in plenty of sunlight, and the specially designed walls allowed speakers to be heard clearly without a PA system.

To save space and materials, the seating was all fixed wooden benches with backs—simple and sturdy. The back of each front seat had a protruding wooden board for participants to write and read on.

The "senior transmigrator engineers" serving in the Industry and Energy Commission had been trickling in. They formed many small circles, conversing in low voices—like a hive. From time to time, someone would shout an excited curse or two.

Lin Hanlong overheard Ji Tuisi holding forth: "...Viagra? Zhao the Emperor still dares bring that up? I'm just waiting for him to get me the manpower to fill the chemical plant! I need at least 20,000 people. Just the synthesis process alone would fill a blackboard! Never mind the molecular formula—with our pitiful village-level chemistry capabilities, fifty more years and we still couldn't make it..."

Nearby, people were egging him on with talk of "Indian God Oil," "Spanish Fly," and the like. Others were scheming to sell ecstasy and meth to the Manchus—crazy plans everywhere. Lin Hanlong found it amusing. Then someone called out: "Meeting's starting! Meeting's starting! No more talking!"

The room gradually quieted as everyone returned to their seats.

Zhan Wuya hurried in with several naturalized secretaries. Having started as a small machine shop owner, he was a jack-of-all-trades and had almost no rest time. Lin Hanlong noticed his work clothes were blackened with some scorch marks—he'd probably just been in the heat-treatment workshop.

The Industry and Energy Commission's briefing wasted no words, used no platitudes, and had no opening remarks. Zhan Wuya briefly explained the statistical summary compiled at 5 AM, then discussed the day's tasks and priorities. Problems and requests raised by departments were addressed if solutions and answers were available.

The morning briefing by rule had no discussions—too many transmigrators present; each adding a comment would consume enormous time. The entire briefing was kept under thirty minutes.

Before the meeting ended, Zhan Wuya instructed documents to be distributed to department heads. Then he cleared his throat:

"According to the instructions in the documents, everyone should estimate the additional human resources and skills your department needs and submit a report to the Planning Commission by June 30—"

Murmuring rippled through the room. Personnel shortages had always been a bottleneck for expanding production; every time a request was filed, it was ignored or delayed. What had suddenly changed? Could Operation Engine have officially commenced? Even if it had started now, they wouldn't be shipping people back immediately.

"The Planning Commission plans to pre-classify and pre-train the population collected during Operation Engine. They'll try to arrange some basic vocational training while still in quarantine camps, so that when people arrive in Lingao they can immediately enter as apprentices. So please report roughly how many people and what skills your department needs." Zhan Wuya continued, "The Planning Commission will use these reports to implement training programs. Note that the total requested should align with the quota plan in the document—five to ten percent over is fine, but not too much."

Finally, Zhan Wuya solemnly announced recent major safety incidents—boiler explosions, traditionally the biggest killer in the Senate's industrial system, had recently ceded that title to the Steel Plant. A few days ago, five naturalized workers had been vaporized. Molten iron from a ruptured ladle had spilled onto the floor and solidified, leaving not even a trace of the men. Add prior incidents, and the Steel Plant's fatality rate had now surpassed boiler explosions—especially since steel quality had stabilized and boiler quality had improved substantially.

"Comrades, this must be a warning to all of us!" Zhan Wuya looked at the transmigrators lounging at various angles below, wondering if his earnest words had any effect.

"Also, fire prevention and typhoon preparedness for summer," Zhan Wuya continued. "I won't say much about fire prevention. Typhoon preparedness is critical—we have dozens of times more smokestacks now than before, plus many new high-truss factory buildings. Once July arrives, typhoon activity will pick up."

For production safety, the Planning Commission was preparing a major safety inspection drive to check equipment across the industrial district and eliminate hazards—especially equipment and facilities built in the early period, when conditions were limited and quality was rushed.

Everyone whispered among themselves. Zhan Wuya then assigned the Machinery General Factory to produce screw presses.

"For making propellant grains for the Munitions Factory," Zhan Wuya specified. The force required wasn't great, but the press had to output steady, slow pressure—too fast and it would detonate. Different grain shapes and uses would be handled by swapping molds and adjusting pressure. This equipment could make not only explosive charges but also rocket propellant: uniform shape and density in propellant grains were critical guarantees of rocket trajectory consistency—of great significance.

Lin Hanlong's Optical Plant also received a formal telescope production order—both army and navy had placed large orders. The army's order included simple officer telescopes as well as more advanced artillery spotting scopes. Lin Hanlong thought this wasn't a major problem, but could personnel and equipment be expanded? And then there was the awkward power issue—the Optical Plant had no independent power shop; it used power output from the Science and Technology Department's power shop. This output wasn't very stable, posing hidden dangers for the Optical Plant, which needed stable power to run grinders and other equipment.

All these issues would need to be discussed with Zhan Wuya, Lin Hanlong thought, to come up with a plan.