A Hospital in Another World?

Garrett Nordmark observed for a moment before leaving the little demon to continue working upstairs as he quickly descended. Whether he watched or not, the little demon worked diligently without slacking or compromising on product quality. Thus, he could temporarily rest assured on this front.

What now demanded his urgent attention was the production—and quality—of penicillin.

The production room was steamy. Led by Priest Matthew, six priests each stood before a beaker, eyes slightly closed, murmuring incantations. Green light glimmered from their palms and fingertips, touching the speck of fungus in the beakers and quickly turning the entire contents green.

The only apprentice in the room with experience in cultivating penicillin moved swiftly, stopping occasionally by a beaker to close her eyes, sense for a moment, then softly provide key tips:

"Mind the temperature of the medium..."

"Keep stirring the medium..."

"Maintain its vitality..."

Garrett stood quietly at the entrance of the production room for a while. After the apprentice made her rounds, she approached him swiftly, whispering:

"Sir, is this okay? Is the speed sufficient?"

Garrett shook his head decisively.

The efficiency of six people working together indeed surpassed that of an individual, at least according to Garrett’s observation. The output from this batch equaled what they usually produced in a day.

But now, they needed to produce in one day what would normally take 500 days, even 1000 days!

"Annievia," he tried to relax his brow, encouraging the apprentice:

"I know you’re working hard—all of you are. But now, we need to increase production by 100 times, 200 times, to save these patients. Push harder, their lives are in your hands! —When will Elder Wood arrive?"

The last question was directed at Priest Matthew. When sending patients to the hospital, Priest Matthew had already sensed something was amiss and used the congregation’s unique methods to send an urgent message to Elder Wood. However, Garrett had no idea where Elder Wood was or when he would arrive—

"I’m here!" Speak of the devil, Elder Wood entered briskly, followed by five or six priests, clearly having gathered all available hands from the congregation nearby. Upon entering, he surveyed the room and then addressed Garrett:

"We’re to make these little things grow more, right? Leave it to me, I’ll help!"

"Not just that, the main goal is to make it secrete more of the effective substances that can kill bacteria—"

Garrett hurriedly explained to Elder Wood. After a brief description and demonstrating the penicillin’s effect on inhibiting and killing the staphylococcus aureus, he then led Elder Wood to the extraction magic circle to observe the filtering, centrifugation, addition of sodium hydroxide, and magical purification processes—

"We need this substance. The more the Penicillium grows and secretes this substance, the better, as it can save lives!"

"I understand." Elder Wood’s eyes were half-closed throughout, seemingly distracted, but Garrett knew he was using his magic to sense every detail. After the demonstration, he promptly shooed Garrett away:

"I’ll handle the production, you attend to your tasks!"

"I’ll work too! The syringes are still being produced, and after production, they need to be sterilized at high temperatures. We have an hour and a half!"

Elder Wood gladly agreed. He and Garrett stepped into the production room together, reviewed the penicillin production process, and quickly began to give orders:

"You two, at levels one and two, are responsible for the first round of cultivation!"

"You two, at levels three and four, take the second round!"

"No more small jars, use the largest ones, cultivate vines, and connect jars of three different sizes! Matthew, lead those above level five for the third round of cultivation! One person handles stirring, another supplies the fire essence, and all others, channel the force of nature to grow these little things!"

"I’ll take care of optimizing the strain!"

Garrett watched Elder Wood in astonishment. He vaguely remembered his pharmacology classmates gossiping about the industrial production of penicillin indeed involving first multiplication, second multiplication, and then large-scale production in big containers. Did you just figure this out with bare hands, Elder?

He turned and ran: "You don’t need to collect the essence of fire! I’ll set up the electrolysis device!"

Isn’t it just electrolyzing water? Isn’t it just adding a bit of sodium hydroxide to the electrolyzed water? The Mage Tower is currently producing bleach at full capacity, and sodium hydroxide, a by-product, is available in any quantity needed!

Elder Wood’s arrival put the entire production process on fast-forward. The Mage Tower hummed and whirred into high gear.

Flames billowed, corn

starch bubbled and boiled, then rapidly cooled to the right temperature under cooling magic. Centrifuges spun at full speed, their buzzing filling the air, and even the tower’s invisible servants sprang into action.

The tower spirit MOSS, fixed at the core of the Mage Tower, lacking legs, could only express admiration beside Garrett:

"Master, I’ve never seen our Mage Tower work with such high efficiency before..."

When the first batch of 600 syringes was completed and sterilized, Garrett found himself in front of rows of small vials filled with sodium penicillin, arranged in a 10x10 grid.

100 bottles, each containing 4.8 grams, 8 million units.

—At least enough for the first batch. Enough for the most urgent, most critical patients.

The heavy stone pressing on Garrett’s chest finally eased a bit. He bowed deeply to Elder Wood:

"Elder, thank you so much! —It’s all thanks to you! Please continue to cultivate these penicillin strains, the more, the better! I’m only worried about having too little, not about using up the production! Send the batches to me as soon as they’re ready, it’s urgent!"

He picked up two boxes—the smaller one containing penicillin, the larger one filled with 600 sterilized syringes—stuffed them into his space bag, and dashed toward the infectious disease hospital. It had been over an hour; how were the patients? How many had become critical? Had any died before they could be saved?

Garrett was frantic with worry. Even though he kept telling himself that from onset to death by septicemia, anthrax took 2 to 3 days, he couldn’t help but feel anxious. The magic horse, understanding his urgency, ran fast and steady, but Garrett couldn’t stop urging it on. If not for his limited riding skills and lack of tools, he would have used both the whip and spurs.

"Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up!" Garrett lay flat on the horse’s back, constantly urging it on. The distance from the Mage Tower to the infectious disease hospital was only about a kilometer, and the magic horse quickly covered the ground. As he approached the hospital gate, Garrett abruptly pulled on the reins:

What happened?

This was his infectious disease hospital, not a prison or a scene from a zombie siege!

"Let me out! Let me out!" On the high walls of the hospital’s side, seven or eight people were desperately trying to climb over. On the outside of the wall, a squad of uniformed patrol guards used their spears to poke them back down:

"What are you running for? Don’t you know you’re infected with the plague?! Letting you out now, you could fall ill at any moment, collapse somewhere unknown! The Mage Lord kindly keeps you here, and you’re ungrateful! Dying outside is one thing, but dragging the whole city down with you, you won’t even enter the kingdom of God after death!"

Garrett: "..." That might be overstating it a bit; anthrax is relatively rare in terms of human-to-human transmission...

The guards continued to poke and shout. Garrett saw three or four people poked down, yet the others persisted in their attempts to climb. Amid the commotion, two men in black left the carriage and ran over, clearly members of the Emergency Management Department’s action team. The leading magician raised his voice:

"Why are you shouting at them?!"

He uttered a magic symbol and pointed towards the wall. A faint magical glow flashed, and confusion appeared in the eyes of the people on the wall, who then let go and jumped down.

He rode towards the hospital gate, stopping to thank the magician who had acted. The magician, with a breezy smile, said:

"Ah, it’s nothing serious. Just a 【Charm Human】 spell to calm them down. We at the Emergency Management Department all practice it; it’s particularly useful for handling large-scale public disturbances—"

Before he could finish, another head popped up on the wall, one of those just charmed. The patrolling guards, having relaxed a bit, didn’t use their spears in time. The person made a bold leap over the wall, tumbling and falling to the ground. Getting up, not even managing to stand properly, he desperately ran off.

Two guards cursed loudly and immediately gave chase. The person climbing the wall clearly had some injuries from the fall, limping as he ran, but soon was brought back by the guards. Garrett saw at a glance it was a brown-haired young man, struggling and shouting:

"Let me out! My boss will fire me if I don’t get to work!"

...Unemployment is fiercer than a tiger. Garrett sighed silently: The threat of unemployment is indeed powerful, making workers endure falls and still go to work, wake up from blood loss in the ICU and still code, and even gives this world’s workers the

power to resist 【Charm Human】...

Recalling his own past as a worker, he silently shed a tear of sympathy for himself. The young man was dragged past him by two guards, shouting with all his might:

"Sir! Mage sir! —How are my mother and little Lila? Save them, please! I beg you, save them!"

Such desperate cries were all too familiar to Garrett, always stirring his compassion. Yet, matters of life and death were beyond his power to reverse. The infectious disease hospital was full of patients, with an unknown number of critical cases. He had no idea who the young man’s mother and sister were.

As for the problem of unemployment following quarantine, even his previous life’s government couldn’t solve it. What could he, a single individual, do?

Garrett couldn’t even say "we’ll do our best" while looking into the young man’s pleading eyes, as he might have in his past life. He had to harden his heart, turn away, and rush into the hospital. Upon entering the lobby, he immediately asked Leon Carlos, who was coordinating arrangements at the door:

"How is it now? How many critical patients?"

God willing, the first batch of penicillin he brought would be enough!

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