"A weight scale...how fascinating. It says it can quantify how much matter something has...without using a counterbalanced item for reference?" (Alto)
Alto's continued commentary snaps me from my recollection, and I can't help but smile.
The scales were actually pretty straightforward, since I followed similar principles to what one would see in a grocery isle. Basically, I used my alchemy spell to create metal springs of various strength, then measured their compression distances when supporting several known masses of water to determine their spring constants. After that, I just had to connect a sample plate and compression-sensitive dial through the springs and make some calibrated markings, all housed inside a basic casing, of course.
"Refrigerators? Incubators? Thermometers? Quantifying temperature...why would you...ah, I see..." (Alto)
Okay, alright, that last one actually made me quite nervous. It's very similar to the weight scales theory-wise. Certain liquids expand in a meaningful, linear fashion as they're heated. So, put such a liquid in a container with an empty capillary space for it to expand into, then use some known standard to calculate its expansion factor and engrave the extrapolated temperature values along the container's stem. The boiling and freezing points of water make for perfect standards, while the expanding liquid itself is the real problem.
I'm not actually sure what chemical is used in more modern Earth thermometers. All I knew is what was used in old thermometers, before people found out how easily it could poison and kill people...liquid mercury. So, yeah, call me insane, but that's what I used since it was easy to alchemize and I knew it had the properties I wanted. Fortunately, Alto and I both have access to full magic armor spells that should protect us from skin exposure, and I intend to lecture her on using it anytime she's in the lab.
At last, Alto arrives in front of the piece of equipment I've been most excited for her to see. Something I never would have been able to recreate until I stumbled upon vector spells. Something she's already been exposed to conceptually, and obsessed over ever since.
Her eyes flit back and forth between the devices, which I'm sure few scientists would recognize in their magically adapted form, and the handbook I made for her. Then, she freezes, her voice coming out in a soft mix of sheer excitement and disbelief.
"M-Microscopes...these are microscopes!?" (Alto)
I let out a smug chuckle, soaking in the satisfaction of seeing her react so strongly. Indeed, I managed to make some basic light microscopes.
If you're familiar with the theory of light magnification, and can use a vector spell, they're actually quite easy to make with a little empirical tuning. The hardest part would normally be the manufacturing and alignment of the condenser, objective, and eyepiece lenses to precisely refract light from the viewing field...things that a vector spell for visible-spectrum photons can easily replace and improve upon through precise conceptualization.
So, at the end of the day, these microscopes look like little more than elevated glass stages with mechanical knobs to adjust their height during image focusing. The under-stage light source and the lensing effects are fully controlled by two separate enchantments. In fact, there are multiple lensing enchantments per microscope, corresponding to the different levels of magnification. Each microscope also has a framed square of white parchment erected behind it, which is where the vector spell projects the magnified image instead of into an eyepiece.
Still relishing in the achievement, I retrieve a slide and coverslip from the glassware cabinet, before walking over to the still stupefied Alto with a smug grin.
"That's right, Alto...your very own microscopes. Say, do you remember when I told you that your whole body is made up of nothing but tens of trillions of tiny creatures working together, and you accused my entire race of including too many wild mushrooms in their diet?" (Mizuki)
That was, in fact, the exact conversation in which I first told Alto about microscopes. She was skeptical how we could be sure of something we can't see, and I told her we built these machines to see them.
Alto blinks at me, still in a daze.
"Yes?" (Alto)
I grin wryly.
"Good, let's see you keep that attitude through this little demonstration." (Mizuki)
While realization starts to dawn on Alto's face, her eyes widening once again, I'm already moving. Conjuring a sharp forcefield, I cut my finger just enough to put a drop of blood on the glass slide, healing myself right after. Then, I carefully slide the coverslip into the drop at a 30° angle before gently lowering it to create a proper blood smear slide. Without ceremony, I place it under one of the scopes, activating the light and 1000X lens enchantments before quickly focusing the stage.
The result is a projected image of innumerable pale-yellow-orange, biconcave disks crowded together, some still drifting slowly, their ranks interspersed with smaller, irregular pale fragments and the occasional much larger, pale blob.
I glance back over at Alto, whose eyes are glued to the projection, admiration written plainly on her face. I smile softly.
"So, what do you think? About the microscopes...and your new lab." (Mizuki)
Even as she responds, voice soft and full of awe, Alto's eyes never drift from the microscope image, her expression still slackened.
"I...I love it..." (Alto)
She suddenly turns to face me, expression dead-serious, eyes focused and unflinching.
"I think I can relate to Ilina's desire to kiss you right now." (Alto)
I blink, completely unprepared for that turn in the conversation. After a moment, I sigh deeply, rolling my eyes at her.
"I'd settle for a thank you and a ceasefire on your passive-aggressive threats to turn Ilina homicidal." (Mizuki)
The corners of her mouth twitch upwards, but her tone grows warmer, her sapphire eyes full of undeniable sincerity.
"Thank you, Mizuki...I have not been this happy since I first learned magic. In fact, this is better, because someone I care about arranged every detail of me being able to experience it." (Alto)
I am uncomfortable with gratitude to begin with, and the unbridled intensity of appreciation implicit in her words is enough to make me freeze. Unsure how to respond to such uncharacteristic emotion, I merely avert my gaze, clearing my throat sheepishly.
"Ehem...well, yeah, uhm...I'm glad you like it. I'll admit, it was quite the undertaking." (Mizuki)
Truly, I could not have imagined just how hard building this lab was going to be when I first decided on it, despite the aid of magic. Some of these challenges necessitated me to progress my magic abilities in ways I'm genuinely grateful for now, like the vector spell.
Others, like the springs' required use of metal alloys instead of pure elements, prevented me from relying fully on alchemy spells for fabrication, instead having me lean on Percivil's smithing lessons. In truth, what I do now hardly qualifies as 'smithing', but it's undeniable that the smithing principles I learned from him were both translatable and essential. For example, while I was previously familiar, generally, with how steel is produced – mix molten iron and carbon, cast it, then compress it in a heated, malleable state to achieve a more stable crystal structure – I had no idea of the specifics, nor how to visually identify successful forging. So, even though I now forge steel quickly through my own blend of magic spells, Percivil's teachings were instrumental.
However, none of those challenges compare to a more basic, almost philosophical challenge I encountered. One that reared its head from the very start, before I fabricated a single piece of glassware or equipment.
Measurement.
It's the cornerstone of rigorous, reproducible science. Distance, volume, temperature, mass, time...it's in these and other languages that research is meticulously planned and its results recorded. Yet, I found myself on an alien world, completely cut of from access to any of these existing measurement standards.
How does one translate the concepts of meters, liters, centigrade, grams, and seconds into practical units of measurement without existing physical references with which to calibrate their measurement tools, on a planet where things like gravity may vary? Not generically, matched only to one's general intuition, and with large margins of error, but with an exactness that allows reasonable interplanetary consistency.
Meters and seconds – I knew that if I could get those accurately, with my knowledge of the periodic table and geometric principles, the other key units would follow as well. Unfortunately, the second was defined on Earth by an astronomical number of oscillations in the energy state of a cesium atom...something I had no hope of measuring. Similarly, the meter was defined by the distance traveled by light in a vacuum over a set time interval...also out of reach.
So, I had to make do with two other points of reference – my own height for length, which I was most confident about, and Azura's standard acceleration for time, which probably had a higher margin for error since this is a different planet, even if the gravity feels pretty much the same to me. I considered calculating Azura's actual standard acceleration using Eratosthenes's method for planetary circumference and assuming Earth-like density, instead of just assuming standard acceleration was comparable to Earth's, but it would have been a lot of hassle for limited increase in accuracy.
Creating the first meter stick and dividing it into centimeter engravings was pretty straightforward once I had a thin piece of string as long as I was tall – strategic, serial foldings of the string to get accurate half measurements can take you a long way. From that, volume, mass, and temperature were easy extrapolations based on my memorized properties of water.
As for time, I used the pendulum periodicity equation with Earth's standard acceleration and my new meter stick to calculate the length of the pendulum in my clock that should give it a one second period. My initial time tracking with the clock suggests there are about 20 Earth hours in an Azuran day, which seems consistent with what I've read and experienced here. I also checked my heart rate using it and got 64 bpm, a reasonable number. So, ultimately I rolled with my seconds units as correct, and I made sure the clock face now has 10 hour increments instead of the 12 from Earth clocks.
After I had those units figured out, constructing the rest of the lab was just time, effort, and attention to details...and magic, of course.
"So, what are we going to research first?" (Alto)
I'm torn from my solo pride party by the sound of Alto's voice, its tone distinctly...expectant. I glance at her, and sure enough, she's staring at me like she just unwrapped a handheld game console on Christmas morning and I'm hiding all the batteries. My lip twitches at the sight, amusement and something inexplicably irritable warring for supremacy.
I shake my head at her, my eyes scanning the lab with renewed focus.
"Actually, our first order of business in this lab won't be a research project. I need to synthesize something for a little side project of mine, and the deadline is today, so...get ready for some chemistry!" (Mizuki)