In just one day, this makeshift room had been transformed into a fully functional laboratory by Herta—or rather, by her legion of Little Hertas and Micro-Hertas.
Anyone entering would immediately notice seven or eight Little Hertas, uniformly clad in white lab coats and glasses, working diligently at computer stations. Above them, Micro-Hertas buzzed through the air, transporting various objects.
Despite being only the size of a human fist, resembling adorable chibi figurines with perfectly balanced head-to-body proportions and stubby limbs, these Micro-Hertas could lift objects dozens of times their own weight.
Unlike the Little Hertas, the Micro-Hertas lacked AI modules. They were purely cargo drones, designed solely for manual labor. Herta, indulging her personal whims, had simply designed these drones to resemble herself.
While the Little Hertas and Micro-Hertas toiled away, Herta Herself lay sprawled on the bed in a thin white shirt, hugging a blank-faced Herta Puppet and enjoying a lazy nap.
She treated the Herta Puppet like a giant plushie, even unconsciously stretching one of her pale, slender legs across it while she slept.
A sliver of morning sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Herta's tea-brown hair cascading across the bed like a waterfall. Her delicate eyebrows twitched slightly, but she kept her eyes closed. With a flick of her finger, a Micro-Herta floated over and drew the curtains shut.
By the time Herta woke up, it was nearly afternoon. She had arrived at the house late the previous night and spent hours pondering the Dimensional Rift before finally drifting off to sleep at dawn.
While her current energy levels allowed her to forgo sleep for days without consequence, every version of Herta still maintained a normal sleep schedule.
Moreover, the Herta Puppet proved incredibly convenient. Last night, Herta had conceptualized several theories and drafted initial plans, leaving the practical execution to the puppet—the perfect scientific tool.
After all, in scientific research, inspiration and theoretical frameworks were paramount; the rest was mere manual labor.
After being dressed and groomed by her puppets, Herta, wearing slippers, led the way to what had once been the grand hall, now transformed into her laboratory. Two puppets followed behind, combing her hair.
Herta casually picked up a component from the table, examined it briefly, then retrieved her Key and began modifying it.
First, she installed the Comfort Module, designed to make sitting on the Key as soft and comfortable as lounging on a sofa, while also providing protection from wind, heat, cold, and harsh sunlight.
In essence, she was building an invisible, air-conditioned personal space on the Key—one that would only materialize when she sat down.
Next came the intricate modifications based on her research into Dimensional Rifts, a complex and tedious task that promised to be a lengthy undertaking.
During this process, Martin sent someone to ask if Herta wanted a meal. She promptly declined. In this era, especially in Great Britain, good food was virtually nonexistent. She'd rather have Robin cook something and send it over than subject herself to whatever a chef Martin might dispatch could conjure up.
Time flowed smoothly as Herta immersed herself in her research. A week passed in a blur, and without any unexpected setbacks or frustrating bottlenecks, her work progressed seamlessly. Step by step, Herta methodically advanced her research, and before long, she had achieved her goal. It was as simple as that.
The first prototype of the Space Stitching Key, also known as the Medical Suture Needle, was complete.
Holding the finished product, the key appeared virtually identical to its original form. Yet Herta had discreetly incorporated 351 auxiliary components, all housed within a Subsidiary Space adjacent to the key—a space-manipulating construct akin to a Space Ring, but far more advanced.
Unlike traditional Space Rings, which required manual access to retrieve stored items, all the components within Herta's Subsidiary Space, though residing in a separate dimension, were treated as if they were already integrated into the key. In its normal state, the key could utilize its full functionality.
At first glance, this technology might not seem particularly outlandish. However, during this same period, Herta had also created another device using the same principles—a boxy black cube about the size of an old television set.
The black box's function was simple: press the button on top, open the box, and anything you desired would appear inside—gold, silver, copper, iron, paper, glass, obsidian, figurines, Gundams, even Little Herta puppets. Anything that fit within its dimensions could materialize out of thin air.
To outsiders, this black box would seem utterly miraculous. Weighing less than a kilogram and appearing empty when opened, it produced objects from nothingness at the touch of a button. Surely, this was divine intervention?
In reality, the device utilized Subsidiary Space technology. The box itself was merely an exit portal connected to numerous Subsidiary Spaces housing various manufacturing and printing equipment. These machines fabricated items and transported the finished products into the box—nothing more.
Essentially, this black box was an advanced 3D printer, capable of producing only items Herta had previously scanned into its database. Yet if such a device fell into the wrong hands, it could become a cosmic treasure powerful enough to ignite interstellar wars!
Herta had a Herta Puppet balancing the black box on its head. She herself held the Great Key, ready to head out for a field test. Now that the preliminary research was complete, it was time to see if they could repair the Dimensional Rift.
But as soon as she stepped outside, Herta spotted Hector and Aether loitering nearby. Hector was pacing back and forth, taking two steps forward and then two steps back, moving like a malfunctioning pendulum.
Herta walked over and asked bluntly, "Is there something you need?"
Hector startled and stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Herta pressed, "So, nothing then? If not, I'm leaving."
She turned and started walking away, not as a bluff, but because she genuinely intended to leave.
Just then, Hector lowered his head and shouted, "Madam Herta, I deeply apologize for my previous rudeness! Please forgive me!"
Herta didn't turn around, but glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Oh, I understand," she replied.