The New Toy

The first sketch rarely survived the night.

Ernest had learned that brutal truth long before he ever woke up in Belfast. Back in his university days, and later during his first real engineering jobs, the "napkin blueprint" was a running joke. The first draft was always brilliant, elegant, and revolutionary—right up until you actually ran the statics calculations, checked the material fatigue limits, or looked at a quote from a machine shop.

Then it was just garbage with a nice aesthetic.

He pushed the rough 0-4-0 locomotive render off to the side, cleared a space on the oak desk, and pulled a fresh sheet of heavy drafting vellum from the side cabinet.

"This one has to actually work," he muttered to the empty room.