Read Arcadia Snips and the Steamwork Consortium for Free Online Page A

engine',"
    Nigel explained. "A machine capable of performing all manner of mathematical formulae, removing any element of human error."
    "And it works?"
    "It does."
    "I hope to replace this portion with a steam engine,"
    Jeremiah commented, panting. He finished with the crank, stepping away and wiping his sweat-soaked palms off on his trousers.
    "It is a fascinating machine, and surely deserving of attention," Abigail said. "But it does not explain how you predicted the rain."
    "When Jeremiah finished the machine, he showed it to me.
    I realized at once that its applications extended far beyond matters of simple maths," Nigel said. "With modification, it could perform incredibly complex calculations—processes that could predict nature itself. A sort of 'probability engine'."
    "But that is not feasible," Abigail said. "As my paper showed, even the slightest change in atmospheric pressure—"
    "—disrupts the most precise predictions," Nigel agreed.
    "We discovered this on our own, independently; we were quite surprised when you discovered it without the aid of our probability engine."
    Jeremiah stepped to a basin of water, splashing his face.
    "The problem was that there were too many variables," he said.
    "To be successful, any system of prediction had to account for them all."
    Abigail hesitated. "You found a way."
    Jeremiah dried his face with a towel. "We did. Our equations were perfect—too perfect. We needed an agent of chaos; an element of imperfection. We needed something that made our engine’s calculations fallible."
    "We experimented with sub-systems—mechanisms in the engine that would create inaccurate results. And in the process, we blundered upon something very interesting," Nigel said.
    "The larger and more unpredictable a system was, the more accurate our flawed predictions became," Jeremiah said.
    "Predicting the weather became child's play. Yet predicting something as simple as the rate of speed at which a feather should fall was impossible."
    "Your findings are remarkable," Abigail said. "Why have you not submitted them to the Academy? Why have you kept them secret?"
    "Because we haven't told you the whole story," Nigel said.
    "We didn't predict the rain," Jeremiah said. "We made it happen."
    Abigail stared at Jeremiah as if he had just confessed to secretly being a monkey in a person-suit. "I beg your pardon?"
    "The flapping of a butterfly's wings half way across the world can cause a thunderstorm over our heads," Nigel said. "We discovered that, with the right calculations, we could become the butterfly."
    "We predicted what action would be necessary to attain the results we wanted," Jeremiah said. "And then we took that action.
    Whether it be the flapping of a butterfly’s wings or breaking a teacup on the floor, we discovered how to identify the first domino in a chain that could lead to any result we desired."
    "That's—that's absolutely impossible," Abigail stuttered, leaning forward to hear more.
    "There are limits," Nigel confessed. "The system must be large, and ultimately of an unpredictable nature; such as the weather, or a civilization. In addition, changes must happen slowly over time. The more rapid of a change we propose, the more powerful the initial catalyst must be."
    Jeremiah nodded. "If you attempted to make it rain tomorrow rather than next week—"
    "You would have to find an awfully large butterfly," Nigel finished.
    "I still don't understand. Why keep this silent?" Abigail asked. "Why, we could control the weather—end droughts! Prevent famines! Circumvent floods!"
    "I thought much the same at first," Nigel said. "Jeremiah revealed to me the error of my ways."
    "In your defense," Jeremiah said, grinning, "neither of you were raised by mad scientists."
    "I do not understand," Abigail replied. "What error am I making?"
    "You're assuming these equations would be employed for the better good," Jeremiah said. "You look at this and see an end to famine; I look at it and see a