The next morning greeted me not just with good mood, but a real mental explosion, tsunami of pure energy. Awakening was akin to an electric shock, but not painful, rather invigorating, which instantly evaporated remnants of sleep and yesterday's fatigue. I jumped from bed with such fierce, primal charge of vigor, with such pure unclouded motivation and itching in my fingertips desire to create, which I probably never experienced once in my entire past life. This is what the damned system can do to an ordinary person, break his apathy and turn him into an obsessed workaholic. Scary! But also devilishly, intoxicatingly pleasant.
Not resisting this powerful internal impulse that demanded immediately creating something, I acted like a well-tuned mechanism. Quick, almost icy shower to finally accelerate the blood. Hastily made breakfast from yesterday's pizza, swallowed without much attention to taste, because thoughts were already far away. And here, I stand over the table that turned into an operating room. On its surface neatly laid out PVC pipes, knife, sheets of sandpaper, tube with acrid-smelling glue and simple piezo lighter. The laptop screen casts bluish light on my face, on it opened a primitive instruction from the internet. I began to create.
Potato gun, potato cannon or, as I solemnly christened it for myself, Spud Gun 3000. Simple construction that in the wet dreams of Belarusian politicians is a weapon of mass destruction capable of annihilating all living things. In harsh reality though, it's just a clever set of connected PVC pipes and flammable gas. From the main pipe, the barrel of our weapon, under pressure of expanding gases flies out a potato tuber acting as a projectile. Depending on construction, tightness and fuel used, potato flight distance varies from several dozen to several hundred meters. My construction will be ridiculously simple, so I realistically count on confident fifty meters, no more.
First thing I tackled the pipes. Movements were precise, calibrated, as if I'd been doing this all my life. Combustion chamber, from wide 80-millimeter pipe, section about forty centimeters long, with unscrewing block on top for "loading" fuel. Barrel, from narrower 50-millimeter pipe, about a meter long for better projectile acceleration. I carefully treated cuts with sandpaper, achieving perfect smoothness so nothing interfered with gluing. On one end of combustion chamber firmly glued a cap, inhaling acrid chemical smell of glue that unpleasantly tickled nostrils. On the other end installed adapter from 80 to 50 mm. Further, with the same meticulous precision, to the adapter already glued the long barrel pipe. Main frame of legendary Spud Gun ready, and looks surprisingly formidable.
Next stage, ignition system, heart of my creation. I drilled in the chamber cap two tiny holes for 4mm diameter screws. Then screwed in screws at slight angle so inside the chamber their metal ends were at distance of just 2-3 millimeters from each other, improvised but effective electrodes. To the screws sticking outside I carefully connected wires from disassembled piezo lighter, and its plastic body itself securely fixed with several layers of tape on the combustion chamber. Finger pressed the button. Click! Bright, angry bluish spark with dry crack jumped between screw ends. Excellent, practically everything ready!
Last touches before triumphant test: final check of all connections for tightness and, of course, search for suitable ammunition. For the latter had to run to nearest grocery store. And here it is, less than an hour from work start, the legend was ready! With pleasant effort squeezing into the barrel a large, dense potato tuber, I felt how pipe edges cut from it a thin layer of skin, ensuring perfect obturation. Unscrewing lid on combustion chamber, I injected there a generous portion of propane-butane from canister for lighter refills. Then approached the window, threw it open, letting into the room cool morning city air, and aimed Spud Gun barrel upward, targeting so potato would land somewhere on the flat roof of neighboring building. Heart beat slightly faster in anticipation. I pressed the lighter.
Short but surprisingly juicy and ear-pleasing pop! Potato projectile with invisible whistle successfully left Earth's orbit, well, or at minimum, orbit of my fifth-floor apartment. At the same moment before my eyes flashed a system notification glowing with soft blue light.
[Created simple weapon construction "Potato Gun". Complexity: Minimal. Received +50 OP!]
I immediately leaned out the window, trying to track tuber's flight, but it too quickly turned into a dark dot and disappeared from view against morning sky. Into nose struck sharp chemical smell of burned gas mixed with barely perceptible, almost sweet aroma of baked starch. Gun body in hands was noticeably warm, and recoil, though weak, pleasantly pushed into shoulder, confirming accomplished fact of shot. This was... real creation. Not paper figurine, not drawing, not line of code. Functional, albeit primitive, device. In some sense, even a weapon. I ran finger along smooth PVC plastic, feeling barely noticeable seams at joints glued by my own hands. Feeling of deep, pure satisfaction was almost intoxicating. I didn't just follow a recipe from internet. I took disparate pieces of matter, pipes, lighter, glue, and by force of my will, my knowledge and hands turned them into something whole, possessing purpose and function. This was a small, almost childish miracle, but it was mine.
At this moment I understood that "Celestial Forge" isn't just system mechanics for dispensing points. This is the very essence of creativity elevated to absolute, catalyst of creative will. And if I already experienced such childish, genuine delight from a potato gun, then what will I feel when I assemble something truly complex? Protective field generator? Power armor? On lips appeared by itself a wide, predatory grin. I only just started, and ahead of me waited an entire universe of possibilities.
Regarding received +50 OP, as expected, for complex and more or less functional creations the system generously rewards! Another important fact is that the construction got a named designation, if I'm not mistaken, the system first time gives something a name. Usually everything was limited to general, faceless concepts like "figurine," "utensil," "origami." This felt like recognition.
And so, now I have 65 OP. Simple arithmetic suggested that if I make literally two more Spud Guns, which don't cost significant money, time or effort, then in just a couple hours I can spin "Forge Reality" again. And no, I'm not a gambling addict, firmly and clearly! This is cold, rational calculation. Simply the most efficient way at the moment to get a new technology package.
Problem only is that I, in my shortsightedness, bought materials needed for crafting just one Spud Gun. Which means again have to go to construction store and stock up on PVC pipes and piezo lighters. Alright, at the same time I'll walk, air out my head and stretch my legs. Yeah, should also do physical activity, otherwise my physique resembles a skinny pole. Or not? What if I pull from system roulette something like "super soldier serum recipe at home for dummies," or even better, already finished serum itself in a neat ampule. Alright, for now I'll be a skinny weakling, we'll deal with physical training later, priorities are set.
It's Friday, September 11, 2015, and outside stands surprisingly warm, pleasant weather. Therefore, throwing on simple gray hoodie, jeans and old sneakers, I left my modest dwelling, already thinking about what I'll do after farming OP on Spud Guns.
Walking down the street, I couldn't help but note how much my perception of the world changed. Literally a day ago I saw around myself only gray buildings, faceless crowd and potential threat in every dark alley. Now though my gaze caught details with engineer's greed. I looked at construction scaffolding and mentally estimated how their design could be improved by adding buttresses for greater stability. I saw old humming air conditioner on wall and mentally disassembled it into components, wondering if inside was a useful fan or copper radiator for future projects. Street lamp stopped being just light source, I thought about its wiring, lamp type, whether from its sturdy aluminum body something useful could be made. The world turned for me into a huge materials warehouse and unrealized projects. "Celestial Forge" infected me with creation virus, and now I looked at everything through prism of question: "What can I make from this?" This was like professional deformation amplified a thousand times. But better not get too carried away for now, I already have things to do.