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H303
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By: Muhammed Nurul
(Mechanical Engineering)
Competition Year: 2012 Votes (1) | Comments (0) |
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Who yearned to be enrolled in H three-zero-three.
So when he was finally granted his chance he felt as light as a feather.
He packed his rucksack, and sailed to Manchester in all of its inclement weather.
Although things seldom went his way, he was never the one to make a fuss.
For now, it dawned upon him that he would have to be as resilient as a fortified truss.
Not too long ago, the consequences of many of his actions were resented by the nation’s taxpayers.
But he’d given up that life, for one of computing the second moment of areas.
Now residing alone, he was not much of a cook. His omelettes were always inexplicably chewy.
So he sat down at his desk in deep thought, trying to analyse the problem with equations of Bernoulli.
The experimental data seemed to suggest that the issue at hand was the flipping velocity.
He could not have been more mistaken however, as it was actually in the egg’s viscosity.
As winter approached, and he would work all day until the sun’s luminescence wore off.
It was no cause for alarm though, as the bulbs would save him, governed by the infallible laws of Kirchhoff.
Come nightfall, when he turned on the news, he saw nothing but strife, famine and police brutality with Tasers.
So he turned it off, in hopes that electricity would be better utilised and understood, just as he had with alternating current phasors.
To break this mind-numbing monotony of study, he decided to see the Opera.
So he tidied his room, put on his Sunday best and put away his books of Algebra.
Strutting to the ticket office, “Two tickets it shall be; front and centre”, he thought in his head.
Only then did he realise, it was one ticket too many, as he had not found his complex conjugate.
Undeterred, the young boy decides to keep calm and fix the situation without getting sad.
Off to the computer clusters he went, to design his own cybernetic significant other using AutoCAD.
Arriving at the workshop, he passed the technicians the blueprints. “These dimensions are all wrong!” they yelled.
“If you need things done right, do them yourself” he sighed. And so he began to lathe, mill, file, and weld.
His creation was perfect. Well almost, at least. She needed a source of power to begin her new life with grace.
So he fitted her with a 16-valve, turbocharged, four-stroke engine, with pistons angled hundred and eighty degrees out of phase.
He felt something was amiss however, as she had not been granted the gift of flight.
So the boy got two engines; a turbojet and a turbofan, and worked tirelessly to better his new machine through the night.
This was his ingenuity coming to life, as she looked right through him, trying to command his attention.
Only then did he realise, she would never amount to anything more than a mechanical abomination.
Looking her straight in her photoreceptive sensors, he told her to be gone, as she flew away in fear.
The young boy went back to the life he knew best; which was that of a mechanical engineer.
