Five years have passed since Poul and Jonathan's transmigration to the parallel world. Adapting to their new environment and surviving the hellish working place of the 19th century.
In those five years, their body spurted growth and became mid-teens. They'd work in many industries as workers in coal mining, railway construction, sewage construction, street cleaners, newsboys, and many more.
Using the money they earned, they were able to afford essentials, such as food, clothing, and a place to live. They still rent their current home. Furthermore, they put in the effort to make physical improvements in their bodies, due to the 12-hour days of hard work that requires physical exertion. To support those changes, they consumed high-protein foods.
However, in those five years, the two felt stuck in their lives doing laborious work from day to night. They wanted it to change, and believe that this is the right time for them to emerge.
And so they went to a clothing store and browsed for suits.
"What do you think?"
Poul struck a pose, the billowing folds of his black overcoat swaying around him as he spun around to face Jonathan. His three-piece black suit was tailored to fit his muscular frame, the stark contrast of his white collared shirt drawing attention to his broad shoulders. His brown leather boots were polished until they shone, and his baker boy hat sat atop his head just so. The finishing touches were a pair of round-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and a leather briefcase in his hands.
"You look like an actor from Peaky Blinders," Jonathan commented after scanning Poul's appearance.
"Not just from Peaky Blinders but every person living in the late 19th century. These dresses will help us climb the ranks. In order to attract an investor we must invest first in our appearance," Poul said. "This hat of mine would be enough to cover the shunned hair color of the Albian."
"I think I'll go in the same suit as yours, they look fashionable," Jonathan said and started asking the clerk for the same dress.
"It cost 150 dollars per suit," Poul informed.
"I'm aware of the price, Poul, you don't have to tell me if I can afford it or not. We saved a lot of money, even gambling it for quick cash," Jonathan responded before walking into the fitting room.
After five minutes, he got out of the fitting room, wearing a similar fashion to Poul. He looked dashingly good in his outfit, enough to make Poul doubt if he is even the same person. The power of the right outfit is terrifying indeed.
Jonathan paid the clerk to which the clerk accepted gratefully.
"Thank you for your patronage, sir," the clerk bowed his head to Jonathan but not to Poul.
Poul was tired of the treatment he was getting over the last five years and so he developed immunity from it. After all, in his eyes, they are the ones who are inferior. They don't know his true capability that would soon overturn the world.
The two left the clothes store and headed towards the railway station. As both of them worked as newsboys in the last years, they were able to learn some big names that could probably invest in their venture. Some of them are in New York.
Poul is serious about lighting up the country with electricity. Good thing that no one hasn't done yet in this world. But, he can't let his guard down. Even if electricity has not been introduced to light up houses or buildings, there is a possibility that there is a man in a basement working on it. Whoever they are, Poul and Jonathan have to beat them to it.
The two waited at the station and from the right, they could hear the puffing sound of the steam locomotive. It was moving at about 30 kilometers per hour.
As time went by, Poul noticed something strange. The speed of the steam locomotive is not decreasing. The brakeman from the top of the carriages was struggling to turn the handwheel to stop the train.
"Those people above the carriages, what are they called?" Jonathan curiously asked.
"They are brakemen, the ones responsible for applying brakes to the carriages. In this era, the train would require up to 3 kilometers of the track before being able to arrive at a full stop. The current system is inefficient and dangerous. The fact that they are men on top of the carriages means air brakes haven't been invented."
"Ah…air brakes," Jonathan let out an understanding sigh. Seconds later, realization struck him. His gaze flickered at Poul, whose lips are curled into a smile with a devil expression.
"We can make a fortune out of this…fufufu," Poul giggled at his own thoughts. It was as though they had achieved a small step towards their goal already.
A few seconds later, Poul was snapped back from his thoughts as Jonathan pulled him by the arm as the steam locomotive derailed and rammed towards the station where they were standing.
The people screamed as they dispersed from the station. Debris such as pieces of metal flying in the air struck several people, injuring them. Poul was lucky that Jonathan managed to drag him out of the way in time. The locomotive came to a complete halt near them and two of its sides were bent inward. The passengers inside the cabin seemed to be dead, the heat radiating from the huge boiler was suffocating.
"Shit…" Poul cursed and checked if he sustained injuries. There were none. "You okay, Jonathan?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jonathan assured. "These accidents happen often throughout the country due to brake failures."
"Sadly, the technology to prevent those accidents hasn't been invented yet," Poul said, looking around the scene. People cried in anguish, others groaning in pain as they lay on the ground. "Let's help the injured."
"Yeah," Jonathan agreed and sprang into action. They ran towards the injured nearby and checked them.
"This one broke his shoulder," Jonathan said.
"Lift his upper body up," Poul ordered."
"Arrrrggghhh," the man cried in agony as Jonathan lifted him up.
"Broken shoulder huh…I'm no doctor but I believe we can relieve him of pain by applying the Kocher maneuver."
"Do you even know how to do that?" Jonathan asked.
"Well, when I was working at Lockheed, an engineer who was conducting maintenance on one of the engines accidentally lost his footing and fell down on the floor from a height. I was there and performed the Kocher maneuver."
"Where did you learn it?" Jonathan added.
"On youtube," Poul replied.
The passenger of the train looked at them strangely after hearing their brief exchange. It didn't make sense to him. Lockheed, youtube? What are those things?
"Anyways to perform that, I'll have to lift his hand relative to the direction of dislocation, then externally rotate it…" Poul explained the procedure as he performed the Kocher maneuver. "And…there."
The man was surprised at Poul's sudden rotation, the pain aching on his shoulder is starting to relieve.
"Ah…thank you, sir," the man thanked.
Poul was silent for a moment. It was his first time receiving such words from another person since his arrival in this world. Poul returned a smile and placed his hand on his shoulder gently.
"You should stay down and get rest. We'll go and help the others," Poul said as he grabbed the man's coat and used it as a sling to support his arm. "Done, we will get going now."
They left the man alone and headed to another person who sustained injuries.
"So how does it feel?" Jonathan asked as they ran.
"Hmm…despite seeing my silver hair, he thanked me genuinely. I'd say it felt good. Not all people in this country are bad, you know?"
"Help!" a woman shouted nearby. "Help! My daughter…my daughter…she won't wake up!"
Poul and Jonathan dashed toward the crying mother and immediately checked the child.
Poul checked the girl's condition while Jonathan calmed the mother. There was shortness of breath, a hacking cough…her cheek turning bluish. This is also the time he first saw a person with lavender hair. This could sum up that each race is categorized by their hair color.
"Could this be…" Poul recognized the symptoms.
"It hurts…" the girl said faintly as she brought her hand to her chest.
The cause could be on her chest. He reached his hands toward the girl's chest to remove the clothing—
"Remove your filthy hands off my daughter!" a man bellowed from behind and suddenly, someone grabbed the back of his collar and threw him away.
Poul rolled on the floor, clambering his arms on his head, protecting it.
"Poul!" Jonathan shouted, his fiery gaze flickered at the man, whose head was bleeding. "What do you think you are doing?"
"That Albian tried to touch my daughter!" he said.
"He was helping your daughter!" Jonathan shouted in reply. "You all people are too hung up on prejudice, even in the face of disaster. How delusional can you be?"
"How dare you speak to me that way?!" The father of the girl fired a punch at Jonathan but Jonathan evaded it by ducking. "Do you even know who I am?"
"You are a man who is about to lose her daughter if you don't let my friend do his job," Jonathan replied.
"Are you telling me that Albian is a doctor?" the father said.
"No, I'm not!" Poul chimed in, walking towards them. "I am not a doctor but I have an idea of what's happening to your child. I need a clear view of her chest to confirm it."
"If you touch her with your filthy hands, I will fucking kill you," he threatened.
"And you're going to let your daughter die?" Jonathan asked the father.
"No, we have a family doctor along with us. You two should get moving before I do something that you won't like."
"Where is that doctor then huh?" Jonathan asked.
The father looked around and there he saw their doctor who was lying unconscious on the floor next to his leather medical bag.
"Oh no…" the father's face turned pale.
"Let them help her, Morgan!" Amelie pleaded. "Let them save our daughter."
"I can't...how can you expect an Albian to save our daughter? Who doesn't even receive an education…an Albian who can't read and write…how can you expect that man to save our daughter? Who isn't even a doctor!" Morgan yelled at her.
"Then are you going to let our daughter die? Look at her! Morgan, she's suffocating…my dear daughter is suffocating…" Amelia whimpered.
"We will wait for another doctor to arrive," Morgan stammered.
"Your daughter doesn't have much time," Poul urged. "If we don't do something, your daughter is going to die within a minute."
"Shut up…I will not take my chances to an Albian—" Morgan trailed off as someone grabbed his shoulder. It was Jonathan, who released a punch directly to his face.
Morgan was stunned as he reeled backward. Everyone around him gasped. Seconds later, blood trickled down his nose.
"You are fucking stupid. Your daughter is dying and yet you still cling to your prejudice? My friend here has a way to save your daughter and you reject it. What a wonderful father figure you are?"
Morgan was speechless, his lips trembling at the sight of her daughter fighting to survive.
"Look I'm not a doctor, I'm an engineer," Poul said. "But I have read some medical articles that could be probably affecting your daughter right now. There are instructions there on how to stabilize her condition but if we waste our time talking, it will be too late. So let me do my thing. Jonathan, get the doctor's medical kit."
"Sir Morgan, please remove her dress, only the top part. I need to see her chest."
"I'll do it," Amelie said and remove the top portion of her daughter's dress. Poul took a look at it, her chest was swelling.
"Jonathan, see if there's a stethoscope in that bag,' Poul said as soon as Jonathan arrived.
Jonathan rummaged through the medical bag and he found a binaural stethoscope. It didn't look like the modern models but it would do.
Poul grabbed it and knelt to one knee. He placed the bell on her chest. He listened to the sound and from there, he confirmed his diagnostics.
"Your daughter has tension pneumothorax," Poul revealed. "It means air is leaking into spaces between her lungs and chest wall, crushing it. We have to relieve the pressure. Jonathan! Bring me alcohol and a needle, the bigger the better."
"How are you knowing this, Poul?" Jonathan asked as he rummaged again through the medical bag.
"I'll explain after, we don't have time," Poul replied flatly.
"Here," Jonathan handed him the 14 gauge needle. "Is this good?" i𝒏𝑛r𝑒𝘢𝙙.＆nbsp;com
"Yeah that would do," Poul snatched it from Jonathan's hand and started prepping up. To relieve the pressure on her chest, he has to perform a needle thoracostomy in the second intercostal space in the midclavicular line. If this works, he would thank himself for asking how Sara performed a medical procedure on one of her patients.
"Uhm…pneumothorax. I have never heard of that…is that dangerous?" Amelie asked, her expression grim.
"She's a child, ma'am, so I'd say it's dangerous. I'm no doctor but it's good that she only suffered broken ribs. Once I'm done piercing a needle on your daughter's chest, I recommend that you have her checked by the best of the best doctor in the country," Poul answered.
"Are you going to pierce my daughter's chest with a needle? I have never seen such a medical procedure," Morgan asked, clearly apprehensive about the procedure.
Poul ignored his question as he sanitized the area where he is going to pierce the needle. After that, he inserted the needle gently into the skin. Amelie averted her gaze away as she couldn't bear the sight of her daughter suffering.
Seconds later, her chest started deflating as the air escaped from the needle. Her daughter exhaled deeply, indicating the success of the procedure.
The girl opened her eyes and drifted towards her mother.
"Oh, darling!" Amelie enveloped her hand in hers. "Thank god you are safe."
'Is my daughter…really safe?" Morgan asked.
"You're going to have her checked in the hospital to monitor her condition," Poul said, washing his hands with alcohol. "I'm going to dress her wounds to wrap things up."
"I can't believe that I'm saying this but…thank you," Morgan said genuinely.
"You should get those wounds stitched up," Poul ignored his thanks as he rose to his feet.
"If you don't mind me asking, where do you live? I would like to pay you for your service."
"We don't have a place in this state as we decided to move to New York," Jonathan interceded.
"Why is that?"
"We have a venture that can revolutionize the world, we are seeking potential investors who could turn it into reality," Jonathan explained and allowed Poul to finish.
"But due to this common occurrence of train accidents, we decided to set it aside. I believe we can build a device that can stop this accident from happening ever again."
"Is that so?" Morgan mused. "Well do give me a call or send me a telegram once you have completed the design, here is my card." he handed them a business card.
"John Morgan?" Poul read the written text on the card.
Poul and Jonathan had heard this name before. He's the richest banker in the United States with huge shares in every growing industry. How lucky they were to stumble to the parallel J.P Morgan?
"We will give you a call," Poul promised.
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