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Technical Debt [Olga]
Posted: Thu Nov 14, 2024 9:28 am
by Valentin
Ash 15, 124
The Imperial Academy
Academia is always something of a paradox, and the Imperial Academy was the paradox to beat all others. It was grand in scale, of course; the grounds and facilities could support enough students and professors and administrators to constitute a large city, or perhaps a small army. Scale was nothing unusual in the Gelerian Imperium. What was paradoxical was how atomized it felt, with legions of students and instructors all more-or-less engaged in their own projects, their own private studies.
Every student knew, on some level, that this was an artificial dam holding back a great sea of obligations, binding laws, hierarchy, and the oppressive bureaucracy which Gel'Grandal exported like lesser cities did flour and wheat. Some day they would graduate (or not), and the dream would end. The sea would rush in, and they would be swept back out into the world, to toil and labor and think for the benefit of the Imperium.
For the students of the College of Artifice, however, that dam was especially flimsy. Technological development was the secret to the Imperium's dominion over the western half of the continent, and constant advancements were needed to balance the concerns of Gelerand's burgeoning empire. The Palace of Spires, visible from every north-facing window on campus, kept a close eye upon the work of its engineers, and it was whispered among the students that even from your first day of class they kept lists of who might be worth further investment... and who would be better-suited designing tools for the army's latrine diggers.
Just important--to the Imperium, anyway--were matters of funding. The college's budget for space, materials and arcana were generously allotted, but the unofficial motto of the department was "Von wem viel gegeben wird, von dem wird viel erwartet." And as far as the funders were concerned, much was always being given. Thus, even noviate engineers were soon exposed to the Imperium's methods of ensuring returns on its investment.
~~~
Valentin Valentin had spent several years on this campus, though not in this college. He would be the first to admit (though in a formal, dry register, such that it could not be construed as any admission of weakness) that he had essentially no expertise in the matters of artifice. Nevertheless, he walked with such casual authority that the students found themselves scrambling to get out of his way. The instructors, meanwhile, found their own dread in something else- the little black leatherbound book which he held against his thigh as he strode through the halls.
As far as the auditor was concerned, he didn't really need to know anything about the glowing scrivening and ticking automata which stuffed the workrooms and gymnasia of this side of campus. He knew finance and he knew people, and that was enough to let him decide which projects were worth their keep.
By the time midmorning was finally turning afternoon, he had gotten through interviews with seven of Professor Windrow's students, their names and projects safely recorded in his little book. There were dire red x's next to a few of the names, though he had expressed his opinion of their projects in much more energetic terms while they were present. If there was one thing which brought Valentin joy, it was haranguing people who could not protest.
He turned the corner into a room, making a show of checking his notes even though he remembered all the names on his list perfectly well.
"Olga Barber." he read, not in the tone of a question at all, "I am Senior Auditor Valentin, of his Imperial Majesty's Office of Revenue, here to conduct the annual project review. I see here that your grant is... military funding, is that right?"
The lawyer looked up from his book for the first time since he entered the room.
"I'll be needing a justification of costs for your term research." There was no 'please' forthcoming.
Re: Technical Debt [Olga]
Posted: Thu Nov 14, 2024 10:06 pm
by Olga Barber
In this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.
No, that wasn’t true. There were ways back from death, and ways back to death, again. There was undeath. Gods didn’t die, or that was the rumor. Death, Olga was sure, had damn good PR. She wasn’t sure who got the idea first that death was anything more than a mild inconvenience, but Olga was pretty sure the only people who died and stayed dead were complete idiots.
Taxes, on the other hand. Well. Everyone knew you had to fight those until you're drying (ha!) breath.
“Mr. Valentin,” and she smiled in her own way, toothy and forced and unpleasant. “Yes, it is.” All of this was a farce, and she hated her part in it. Olga fumbled through one of her drawers, finding a small journal. “Here -,” she flipped open to the first page, revealing an incredibly detailed account of the project’s planning. Figures and budgetary analysis; predictions, projections, and assumptions. “- is the first portion of planning. An account of the justifications of costs, before costs accrued, and how I understood the variables that might impact spending.”
Her smile lingered on her face, and warmed slightly. She’d prepared for him. Or someone like him. No, if Olga thought someone who couldn’t beat back death a moron, she didn’t think too much better of anyone who simply acquiesced to an Auditor. In so many words, there were better ways to die.
“As for the accounts of actual spending -,” and she bent down, finding a pile of loose papers as tall as her arm was long. “- here. Complete financial logs. I accounted for every justification, the need for additional grant requests, and the support I required to see this much needed project through. I am not sure of your understanding of Artifice, but I do consider myself something of a specialist on magical efficiencies.”
There were of course a few mistakes made. A few dragonshard foci lost to her laboratory. But those were well buried under pounds of notes detailing lunch orders and machine part repairs, all of which she’d noted in the diary. With any luck, Mr. Valentin would simply give up. He wouldn’t have been the first Auditor she’d broken.
“Oh, and forgive me -,” and her smile widened, just enough that it (finally) reached her cold, dead eyes. “I am terribly curious. You don’t happen to share any relation to the Oliver Valentin, do you?”
Tolfar - (permissible) gods bless him - had seen Mr. Valentin working earlier that day and had been quick enough to ask around. Apparently, he’d been something of a star in his days at the Academy, but had been quickly overshone by his brother, who unlike Mr. Valentin, hadn’t the reputation of being a stellar student. Not that it mattered much, Olga supposed, if you were lucky enough to stumble upon the lost remains of some abandoned civilization.
She hoped it bothered him. She’d have lost ground if it didn’t. And Olga didn’t appreciate losing anything at all.
Re: Technical Debt [Olga]
Posted: Fri Nov 15, 2024 2:31 pm
by Valentin
The man grunted noncommittally as he paged through the papers, eyes scanning them so quickly that he was either a speed-reader or faking it for certain.
In Valentin's experience, there were three kinds of engineer; those who hid shit by omission, those who hid shit by burying it in their reports, and idiots who weren't doing any work valuable enough to hide anything about. These costing forms were comprehensive, accurate to the requirements taught to the students early on, and extensive, all of which pointed towards someone burying the lede. Unusual for a student. Even the smart ones were usually too lazy at this point in their careers to go all-in on that strategy.
Per usual, he couldn't make any sense of the technical notes. He'd been taught the basics of aetheric physics when he'd been prepped for his Rune, of course, and attended a lecture on Scrivening as a pursuant elective, but this kind of work was far beyond his baliwick. Still, he wasn't out of luck. If he simply-
Valentin Valentin blinked at Olga's last question, the unexpected name pulling him out of his review.
"Oliver?" the man's eyes lifted slowly off his paper and fixed themselves onto the student. He studied her for a moment, already-grim disposition growing somehow stormier, "My brother. Needless to say, he will not be attending on this audit." Valentin tried to keep his voice neutral, but there was no way to prevent the smallest little shake, the most subtle hint of displeasure.
The auditor didn't know machines, but he knew people, and he especially knew the kind of petty office-politicking bullshit that bringing up his brother signified. He'd met plenty of people in school who had asked the question in earnest, of course, not just to needle him- but the look on Olga's face was too familiar for that. It was the same look he wore when bringing up some detail to force a target to stumble and sweat. It was a tactic, meant to distract and annoy, he was sure of that.
But the difference was that the people he audited were on the back foot, not in control of the situation in the least. He had an option they did not. He flipped through the papers, letting them thwap! against one another as loudly as possible as his eyes scanned the lines for anything he could-
"Your materials costs are in order. Almost in order." Valentin's voice was rock-steady once again, clinical, "But I see that you've repeatedly delayed giving the liaising colonel the required in-person updates."
"Required" was a strong word. The colonel didn't want to have to sit through dozens of engineers talking about their projects any more than Olga wanted to waste her time giving presentations to some uncomprehending bootlicker. The officers pretty much always just asked for written reports. But the Code of Military Procurement did have such a requirement, technically speaking.
"No matter, we can correct that issue now." there was a smile in the auditor's voice, knowing that Olga would be in no way prepared, "Give me a verbal report on your progress and how you expect your prototype to lead to cost efficiencies for field deployments, if you would."
Re: Technical Debt [Olga]
Posted: Sun Nov 17, 2024 1:15 pm
by Olga Barber
Olga prided herself on, well, a lot.
And why wouldn’t she? Olga was an experienced magitech. She was ambitious; and, perhaps more importantly, she had the skills to carry her own ambitions. That, and she’d always liked to consider herself prepared. Not that she had much of a choice not to be. True magic, world magic, wasn’t as flippant as those wielded by the soul-burned. She couldn’t (and wouldn’t) just cast a fireball on a whim.
No - her artistry required planning and design and then, at the end, government funding. And even though she knew that, and even thought she’d thought herself ready for Mr. Valentin, clearly she wasn’t.
“...cost efficiencies for field deployment?”
Field deployment, she thought, her expression souring to something like disgust. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, and then, very, very slowly, she crossed her arms over her chest.
“There are no cost efficiencies for field deployment, Mr. Valentin,” she said, her every word grounded in her obvious displeasure. He knew that she knew there wasn’t any point in throwing a fit. He had the power - and he knew that she knew that. Olga could hide misspent funds and ferret away unpaid interns, but if the project simply couldn’t do what he asked, well.
“But -.”
Yes, but. She wasn’t yet without recourse.
“- you, Mr. Valentin, should be more than aware of that,” Olga snapped. “My funding proposal -,” and she pulled out a single leaflet from the stack of paper between him and her, “- states as much. The clear and intended efficiencies are focused on construction and personnel resources. What I did -,” and she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.
And this, she guessed, is where he might have figured out the game. It was true, there wasn’t any point in throwing a fit. Olga had seen more accomplished magitechs than herself fined (or worse) because all they’d managed to do was throw a fit. Everything was a competition. Mr. Valetin had put himself ahead asking her something she couldn’t answer.
But she could question his own credentials. His own readiness for this inquisition.
“What I did, Mr. Valentin, was to provide a fleet of automated tanks ready for deployment. This was in coordination with the Gelerian Imperium’s military, under Project XCI-25. Sergeant Florin Braun should be on your list, as well -,” and she handed him a pen, indicating that he start writing. “- to interrogate for your audit. As should Gunnery Sergeant Jamison R. Dusseldorf and Private John Baccas.”
“In terms of progress, that project has been completed. The tanks were readied by the Engineer Core last season, a process overseen by Gunnery Sergeant Dusseldorf. Sergeant Braun developed training for the Operators, of which Private John Baccas was recently titled. It was my task to enchant the tanks,” she said, sitting down, opening a journal to what looked to be draft designs. “Artifice, as I thought you had some understanding of, but clearly you do not, takes time. I made that time spent more efficient. Instead of one tank, I readied five for immediate use.”
Olga looked at Mr. Valentin, her gaze unwavering. “Of course, you should know all of that already, Mr. Valentin. You should certainly be aware that this was not a project centered on increasing cost efficiencies for field deployment. If there are any, it may be a happy incident, but not at all my focus.”
Re: Technical Debt [Olga]
Posted: Mon Nov 18, 2024 9:19 pm
by Valentin
Valentin Valentin smiled slightly as the engineer grew indignant, practically spitting her fury at him. The sides of his lips crooked upwards as she snapped. It was a fact of life that disposition controlled position. His grandfather had often said it thus: "der Charakter ist Schicksal." Character is destiny. Those with the temperament to become engineers expected everything to fit within precise parameters, they grew angry and ineffectual when exposed to sudden shifts in the ground beneath their projects. It was why no engineer would ever get far in politics.
The insults he bore without resistance- an auditor did not care what their subjects thought of them, or perhaps they merely took perverse joy in being hated. The smile only dimmed when she shifted, suddenly coming up with explanations for why his question didn't matter. That was unusual. Most of her colleagues didn't even see the trap until he'd recommended budget cuts.
Very well. he thought as she began her justification, listing out her associates, throwing up smokescreens, We'll do this the hard way.
The revenuer held up a hand as Olga finished her tirade, and the air seemed to warp and melt about his hand. A cold breeze seemed to arise from nowhere as his portal formed through the interstices of Slipspace and the air pressures equalized, and a handful of loose papers seemed to whip into being, whirling violently about the room before returning to whatever Not-realm of endless bureaucracy which had given rise to them. Valentin smiled wanly at the engineer, then reached into nothing, hand sinking away into ripples of distortion. When he pulled it back...
"Frau Barber, you have dedicated your studies to the forming and the functioning of many different kinds of machine. I admit that mine were bent to the observation of one mechanism alone- but I think you'll find it to be quite an important one."
Three folders fell out of the air onto the desk in front of Valentin- slim, black files, each labeled with a white adhesive sticker and in clear hand:
J.R. Dusseldorf
J. Baccas
F. Braun
"I'm perfectly aware of who you worked with, and I have collected the testimony of the officers to whom the XCI-25 tanks were delivered. They were quite complementary, by the way, not that it counts for anything. I have spoken to your professor--whose opinion is considered in the final analysis--and even to that toadying little woman whining about your habit of losing foci. I know exactly how much time and money you spent, and on what results."
Valentin placed a hand on the fallen file folders and leaned in, a disappointed look on his face.
"I did all of those things, even though they were a petty waste of time. Why? Because in the modern era, there's only one question the military cares about: what are the cost savings?" The man sighed, too dramatic a sigh for it to be sincere, "You have made tanks very quickly, but the army has been making tanks which have sat fallow in the fields of Arlas and Tranal for the better part of a decade, the fruits of unwise decisions after so much of the mechanized infantry was lost forever in Ailos and Kythera. To be frank, if you make me five tanks in the time someone else took to make one... I was better off paying them less."
The auditor leaned backwards, raising his hands to his shoulders in a gesture of helplessness. His sarcasm here was somewhat misplaced, and he knew it. He'd been the one the Palace had called on to divert years of development funds to that absurd project two years ago, after all. However much money the army had wasted in parking tanks on the border with Atinaw, it couldn't compare to the amount the Emperor had spent on... well, whatever that was. But he certainly wasn't in any position to criticize the Palace of Spires. Never that.
"So then. When I write up my report of your project, all the costs are already fit snug in their column. What shall I put for the benefits, so that when you come back next year asking for money, they will be eager to say 'ja, yes, take whatever you need'?"
Re: Technical Debt [Olga]
Posted: Wed Nov 20, 2024 7:03 pm
by Olga Barber
Loyalty wasn’t ever an assurance in the Gelerian Imperium. No, that was a lesson Olga had long since learned.
And even then, seeing the folders, she felt a knife slice through her back, and twist. Sergeant Florin Braun. Gunnery Sergeant Jamison R. Dusseldorf. Private John Baccas. Sure enough, according to Mr. Valentin, they’d only been complimentary. Good and well enough for them, she supposed, but any true comrade (meaning loyal) would have found her the moment this inquisition had started.
Sure, yes, a part of her was thrilled at the reveal: she’d pegged Braun and Dusseldorf for the bureaucratic cowards they were from the start. Olga expected less than flattery from them.
But, Baccas?
Baccas had lingered in her laboratory. He’d asked questions. She’d given answers. She’d warmed to him. Her fault. Olga knew better than to trust idiots, and she’d gone and done so, anyway. That he hadn’t even bothered to warn her -
No. What was done was done and that, at least, was out of her hands. She’d suffer for their mistakes - and disloyalty. And at the hands of an Auditor, too. Shame, shame all around. All the worse that he was a practice personal magic. For all she claimed that only world mages kept their senses, their commitment to logic, here she was: outplayed.
Olga sat down.
This, she realized, looking at the smug expression of Mr. Valentin, was the face of her failure. Her incompetence. If only she’d managed to inspire some sort of - what? Fear? Loyalty? What would have encouraged Braun, Dusseldorf, or Baccas to find her. To alert her. To help her prepare for whatever charade she was now forced to endure. For all she was able to wield the primal forces of this plane to create, truly, some façade of life itself, she wasn’t able to prepare well enough to face against a low level bureaucrat.
Her parents would be thrilled. Her father, especially. Oh, he would have loved to say, how the mighty fall. Meaning, Olga, meaning even genius couldn’t protect you from the wheels of the state. Turning and turning and turning.
Even she must bow to the grand and great Gelerian Imperium bureaucracy.
“You will - ,” and then, remembering herself, and her position, she sighed. Olga still remained firm and poised, but there was less to her now than there was. She’d lost, and she knew it, and so would Mr. Valentin.
“The benefits are this: increased efficiency in both construction, but in replacement. The cores - the construct’s mind as it were - remain insulated inside the tank, with the Operators. If the tank suffers enough damage, and the Operator can still escape, they can carry the core with them as they flee,” she said, “And, in terms of construction, any sufficiently qualified Artificer may use a core to copy its instructions into another. The glyphs I used to create multiple copies were basic, and hardly complex.”
“In addition, the training required for Operators is minimal. The tanks themselves should largely be self-driving. I’ve installed a sufficient understanding of physics and mathematics, and understanding its own capabilities, the tanks will most likely outperform their Operators in terms of aim and launching missiles or otherwise at enemies.”
Olga looked unhappy but she would comply. For now.