It shouldn’t matter in the slightest. The name shouldn’t have moved the needle at all. Grey didn’t even decide what to name his mech until after he was finished, and then he’d just slap some ridiculous title on it like "Pimp Gloves". That was what he did.
He’d imagine that most mech techs were the same. At the very least, they’d wait until they finished the blueprint first before naming it anything, no?
That made sense. Who would name something first? No one. Or at least a rare few.
It wasn’t like there was anything particularly wrong with naming it first, but it wasn’t the natural thing to do until you saw the final product.
This was all to say that there was absolutely no reason why the name should matter. Maybe the mech tech who created it realized they could fit all these materials together, realized it was red, and then named it Crimson Fracture Jaw.
Occam’s Razor and all that. It was what made the most sense.
But Grey kept getting pulled back to the concept of red over and over again.
’Why the hell does that matter?’
Grey touched the page. His fingers had reached hovering range, just a few millimeters away, and a shock ran through him. It looked like little pools of static electricity were arcing up the length of his fingertips, and as he moved his hands across, they continued until they became a stark red.
It almost looked as though Grey was controlling crimson lightning for a moment. But in reality, this was just the intent of the blueprint turning even his own Neural Frame signals red.
’... Red...’
You could associate a lot of things with the color red.
On Earth, it was almost the universal signal for stop in most cases.
But to a bull it most definitely meant go. It was the same to sharks with blood in the water.
Then again, red was also life to some. Blood donations, for example. Or, if you stretched it far enough, those stop signs and stop lights were definitely saving lives.
How could you distill a color to a single meaning? Why was he even thinking about this right now, anyway? He had so much he needed to do, so much he needed to understand, so much he just wanted to—
’Fracture.’
Chi.
An echo of broken glass filled Grey’s ears and his eyes lost focus for a moment before they solidified into a steely bright light.
He slapped a palm down on the ground he sat on, a wild grin spreading across his face.
’So that’s the difference between a Command Class mech and one beneath that. A single, unifying concept that makes the whole far more powerful than any one of the individual parts.
’This is kinda bullshit, though. They want me to write one of those stupid English class think pieces every time I need to build a new mech now? Whose idea was that?’
Despite his jokes, Grey never lost focus for a single moment.
He immediately started to draw the blueprint, feeling like he had understood at least the surface level. But if he wanted to understand it on a deeper level, he couldn’t just look at it, he had to experience it.
The first one Grey drew took him an entire hour, and it was the worst blueprint he had ever drawn. It only had a 7% SA-index, and if someone tried to make the mech based on this blueprint alone, they’d be lucky if they didn’t blow up during the process.
But Grey didn’t pause for a single time, immediately hopping into the next one.
All the while, Barkeep Ji stood to the side, his nails digging into his biceps as he watched with rapt attention.
How long did it take for Grey to find the Command within the blueprint?
Minutes. It had taken him minutes before he started drawing the first blueprint.
Even with the result being pitiful, it hardly mattered at all. He just immediately scrapped it and went on to the next one.
This one only took him 45 or so minutes to finish, and its SA-index was at 32%.
As speechless as Barkeep Ji was already, he really couldn’t believe what he was seeing. This was the first time he had seen someone use blueprint drawing as a training method. Just what kind of comprehension ability did that take?
Blueprints were supposed to be used to teach other people how to craft a mech. It wasn’t supposed to help someone understand a mech that already had a blueprint.
But Grey’s visual acuity, his ability to put himself in different perspectives and see the world from different angles others would simply never think of.
Every time he drew a blueprint, he wasn’t just drawing it. He was undergoing the process of the craft every time without the burden. It was like his mind was simulating every step.
So when he completed the third blueprint in just 30 minutes and had a 76% SA-index, he didn’t even feel surprised. He didn’t seem to care that that alone was worth tens of thousands of blue credits itself.
He immediately went on to the fourth.
He finished the fourth in just under 12 minutes.
100%.
He grinned wildly and still didn’t take so much as a break, finishing the second 100% SA-index blueprint in just under 12 minutes as well. Then the third in just shy of 11 minutes. Then the fourth in just under 11 minutes.
He slapped down four in front of Barkeep Ji, his eyes sparkling.
"I’m fucking him. Gimme my money, I’m going on a spending spree."
The frogman blinked. "You’re gay?"
Grey choked. "Where the fuck did you—?!" then he understood. "Forget it, I can’t expect you aliens to understand real culture."
"That’s more than just a little racist. This is the second time."
"Then tattoo bigot on my forehead and call me daddy. Right now, daddy needs some money and quickly. I’ve got concubines to save. Chop chop."