I stood before the workstation, staring at the disassembled chanical components scattered across the table. Cables, circuit boards, tal plating—all waiting to be assembled into a functional system.
This was the practical portion of the Robotics and chanical Skills test.
The written portion had been easy enough. My system had the integrated database, so it allowed to pull up any form of public knowledge with just a thought. What's more is that nobody could see my eyes shifting beneath the mask, and I made sure to keep my posture relaxed, like I already knew everything they were asking.
But now?
Now I had to actually build sothing.
And that was a problem.
I had so experience with construction, sure. My Precision Engineering and On-Sight Adaptability skills let understand when sothing was poorly built or when a structure was unstable. But that wasn't the sa as assembling delicate chanical systems.
I couldn't brute-force my way through this.
I needed precision.
I needed expertise.
And worst of all—I needed it fast.
A tir blinked above the workstation. Fifteen minutes remaining.
I clenched my jaw. Damn it.
I could already hear the murmurs from the other competitors, their voices hushed but unmistakable.
"Look at him. He hasn't even started yet."
"Maybe he doesn't actually know what he's doing after all."
"All that confidence, and now he's hesitating."
I forced myself to stay calm. This was just another puzzle. And I was good at puzzles.
I activated Scan, letting my vision flicker through the room. Nas, occupations, and skill lists appeared in my systems as I glanced at the competitors. Most had general chanical skills—Basic Engineering, System Calibration, Component Troubleshooting—but nothing that could give an instant edge.
I kept scanning.
Fifteen competitors.
Ten.
Seven.
Then—
I found soone with the skill I needed. Blueprint and Schematic Reading (Lv. 4): Increases ability to interpret chanical diagrams, wiring schematics, and technical drawings.
Perfect.
I locked onto the skill and used Copy. A sharp pulse ran through my mind, and suddenly, chanical diagrams weren't just lines and symbols anymore. They were instructions. Clear, understandable instructions.
I inhaled sharply, forcing my hands to move.
From that mont on, I didn't even think.
I wasn't looking at what I was building. I wasn't analyzing the pieces. I simply let the skills guide .
Blueprint and Schematic Reading told where each piece belonged.
Fast Assembly ensured my movents were efficient.
Instinct was simply guiding to what felt right to do.
Deduction let anticipate the next steps without hesitation while also informing of the piece I was holding without needing to look at it.
My fingers blurred as I connected wiring, secured panels, and aligned circuits. The murmurs in the room shifted.
"Is he—"
"Wait, is he not even looking?"
"He's building it without checking?"
I could hear their awe, but if only they knew the truth. I wasn't being arrogant.
I was panicking.
I had no idea what I was actually making.
But stopping to check would slow down, and I didn't have ti for second-guessing.
I pressed the final component into place.
Beep.
The tir hit zero.
I exhaled, lowering my hands.
And I still didn't look at what I had built.
Instead, I turned my head—locking eyes with Elliot.
His face was frozen in shock.
He wasn't the only one.
Competitors, judges, even the random strangers who were walking in the library stopped and were staring at my workstation. But I didn't react. I kept my posture calm, unreadable.
And then, with the sa asured tone I had used before, I spoke:
"Perhaps now I am on the sa level as Mr. Fox and Mr. Dust."
Elliot's jaw tightened.
But this ti—
He had nothing to say.
I sat in silence as the last few trials wrapped up. My heart had finally stopped pounding in my chest, but I kept my expression unreadable.
The competition was over.
And now ca the final results.
One person from each division would be selected for the NASA hiring process. The best of the best—the ones deed worthy to advance.
The judge stepped forward, clipboard in hand.
Her voice carried through the silent room.
"For the position of Astrophysicist—Dr. Lillian Carter."
A woman near the front let out a relieved sigh, standing up to accept the offer.
"For Aerospace Engineering—Marcus Lee."
Another na, another competitor stepping forward.
"For Astronaut Trainee—Elliot Vance."
No surprise there.
Elliot rose from his seat, his expression unreadable. But as he passed by, he glanced at , his lips pressing into a thin line.
Even now—he still couldn't understand .
And finally—
The judge adjusted her clipboard, scanning the final na.
"For the position of Astronaut..."
A pause.
A slight hesitation.
And then—
A na that was not mine.
Silence filled the room.
For the first ti, the competitors turned to look at , their expressions shifting from awe to confusion.
I didn't move.
I didn't react.
I simply sat there, letting the weight of the mont settle in.
Because Mr. Angel had not been chosen.
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