Creating an Industrial Empire in 19th Century Parallel World

April 18, 882.

The day of Friday has arrived, meaning the industrialist duo will demonstrate the new rifle they have developed for the United States Military. It took Jonathan two months to build fifteen working rifles, an incredible feat.

At Pittsburgh North Park, military officials from the United States of Avalonia arrived, shaking hands with their fellow servicemen before taking their respective seats on a row of empty chairs. Prominent individuals such as John Morgan, General William Sherman, and Caroline Dupont are in the scene, waiting for the two industrialist duo to begin.

Speaking of the industrialist duo, Jonathan and Poul were in a tent, preparing themselves for the demonstration. Though, that should be what's happening.

Jonathan paced back and forth nervously. Poul, who was reading the manual for the M1 Garand couldn't help but get distracted from Jonathan's uneasiness.

"Jonathan, how long are you going to keep doing that?" Poul said, slightly irritated at his partner's uneasiness.

"Well, what if the gun didn't work? We will lose the contract!" Jonathan expressed.

"That's bullcrap, we already tested the weapon, it fired, it worked," Poul said.

"I know, but there are uncertain times when things happen unexpectedly," Jonathan said.

"You are overthinking it, Jonathan. Please, put doubt out of your mind for a moment and tell me. If the military liked the rifle, think of the money we are going to receive from them."

Jonathan paused as he imagined a scenario where General Sherman offered them lucrative proposals which amounted to millions of dollars.

"Damn…it's a lot."

"I know right? So, man up, we can't afford to show them that we are gullible, especially at this moment," Poul said, patting him on the back.

"Okay, let's go," Jonathan breathed out, pumping himself up.

As they were manning themselves up, Amelia revealed herself at the entrance of the tent.

"Mr. Nielsen, Mr. Axelsen. Everything is ready for the demonstration," Amelia informed.

"Thank you, Miss Weiss. Please see to it that they are being taken care of while we get ready."

"Of course, Mr. Axelsen," Amelia politely bowed before walking away to carry out her duties.

Meanwhile, on the outside. Caroline and Morgan were engaged in a conversation as they waited for the industrialist duo,

"So, I was told that it was you that made their rifles possible," Morgan said.

"That is correct," Caroline affirmed. "As per our agreement, I agreed to provide the necessary technical support for the development of the most effective propellant specifically designed for their weapons, and I have fulfilled that obligation."

"Exclusively huh? That means only your smokeless gunpowder would work on their weapons? Not the current ones?" Morgan inquired.

"Indeed, Mr. Morgan. The weapons that the industrialist duo has developed are conceptually and mechanically superior to any existing rifles in the world, even surpassing those of the French and Germans," Caroline asserted. "Once the generals or military officials lay their eyes upon them, their passion for weaponry will be greatly intensified."

"Surely you are not exaggerating, right?" Morgan chuckled, unable to conceal his skepticism.

"I am not, Mr. Morgan," Caroline replied firmly. "You'll see it for yourself."

Caroline's eyes glinted with conviction as she spoke. She had poured all her expertise and resources into the development of the industrialist duo's rifle. Her confidence in the weapon's capabilities was unshakeable.

As if on cue, Jonathan and Poul emerged from the tent, rifles in hand. The military officials rose to their feet, eager to witness the demonstration. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the industrialist duo took their positions in front of them.

The military generals, including Sherman, carefully scrutinized the appearance of the rifle Poul and Jonathan were holding. A glint of sunlight played off the sleek metal of the M1 Garand replica, which Jonathan held at a crisp and respectful angle. The stock was made of polished wood with a smooth surface, and its rich brown hue gleamed in the light. As they squinted to get a closer look, they noticed its streamlined design, the clean and precise lines. In stark contrast to the ornate designs of the existing rifles, with their intricate engravings, carvings, or scrollwork, this rifle was simple and elegant. It was also relatively long, measuring about forty-three inches.

Now, everyone wondered how it would work. Would it defy their expectations or fall short?

"Gentleman and lady, thank you for coming all the way here to Pittsburg where we can show you a new piece of art that you'll surely love," Poul began. "We present to you this rifle, made with great precision and craftsmanship, designed to bring death to the enemy of the United States of Avalonia. Now, without further ado, I will let my partner demonstrate the capability of the rifle."

Jonathan stepped forward, holding the rifle aloft, allowing the spectators to appreciate its features more closely.

"First, I will load it with rounds," Jonathan began, extracting an en-bloc clip from the pouch fastened to his waist. General Sherman and the military officials were left awestruck, taken aback by his demonstration of skill. He inserted the clip into the rifle, and the unmistakable sound of the clip snapping into place reverberated throughout the park. General Sherman and his staff watched with rapt attention as Jonathan continued to showcase his innovative invention.

"Did you witness that?" one of the military officials whispered to the officer beside him.

"He inserted eight rounds at once," the officer replied. "Normally, we would be inserting one round manually. Let us observe further."

"Now, I will demonstrate the rifle's rapid firing capability. Watch closely," Jonathan said, aiming towards a series of targets placed at 100 yards, 300 yards, and 600 yards.

The spectators shielded their ears from the upcoming deafening blast of the rifle.

With a flick of the safety, he squeezed the trigger, and the rifle fired, the sound of the gunshot echoing loudly in the park. The targets were struck dead center, causing them to jump slightly with each impact.

Jonathan repeated this process numerous times, firing the rifle in quick succession and striking each target with remarkable accuracy. The moment the last bullet exited the muzzle, the signature ping sound of the Garand was heard as the clip was automatically ejected. General Sherman and the military staff watched in amazement, visibly impressed by the speed and precision of the rifle.

"Did it just?!…"

"Yes, it fired eight consecutive shots…without even having to cycle a bolt or lever?"

"It even reached six hundred yards. Our rifles can only travel up to three hundred yards, and they require a marksman to shoot it at that distance," one of the military officials exclaimed.

The faces of the military staffers, including General Sherman, were grinning from ear to ear. It was evident from their expressions alone that they were enthralled by the demonstration.

Jonathan reloaded and fired the rifle until the last bullet had been discharged. After firing the last shot, he turned around to face the spectators, bowing gracefully before them as if he had concluded a symphony. Raising his head, he spoke.

"Gentleman and lady, the rifle we just presented is a semi-automatic action rifle, meaning it can fire a round with each trigger pull without requiring the shooter to manually cycle the bolt or lever. It uses the .30-06 cartridge, a powerful and precise cartridge designed exclusively for military rifles. The rifle's sight system is highly sophisticated and adjustable, allowing for accurate targeting at long distances. It is also easy to use, enabling soldiers of our great nation to become proficient in a short amount of time," Jonathan explained.

"And with that, we conclude the demonstration. Let us get down to business," Poul said. "General Sherman, you are offering us seven million dollars to design a new service weapon for the military, am I correct?"

"That is correct, Mr. Nielsen," Sherman replied. "After witnessing the firepower of your rifles, we are more than willing to do that. Truly, it is remarkable, and I am thrilled to equip our soldiers with such a weapon."

"Well, my partner has performed some calculations, and he has determined that we will require ten million dollars to mass-produce this rifle. Will the government be willing to add three million dollars?" Poul inquired.

Sherman paused for a moment, carefully considering the offer. "If we provide you with ten million dollars, you will be able to mass-produce this rifle. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Poul replied "we will need ten million dollars to mass-produce this rifle. Is the government willing to add three million dollars?" Poul asked.

pαпdα Йᴏνê|,сòМ Sherman was silent for a moment, pondering the offer. "If we give you ten million dollars, you will be able to mass-produce that rifle. Is that what you are saying?"

"Yes," Poul replied confidently.

"How many rifles can you produce if you already have the infrastructure needed to mass produce them?"

"We can churn out thousands of them in a single month," Jonathan stepped in and answered.

"That's a good number…" Sherman muttered under his breath.

"See what I told you," Morgan, who was standing next to Sherman, spoke. "They are good."

"You are right, Mr. Morgan. Thank you for introducing them to me," Sherman said before flickering his gaze back to the industrialist duo. "The United States Army is happy to award you with ten million dollars to mass produce the rifle. Before we end, does it have a name?"

Poul and Jonathan's lips curled upward and intoned together. "The AN-M1."

The industrialist duo smiled broadly, exchanging glances of satisfaction and relief.

The AN-M1. A simple and straightforward name that incorporates the company's initials and the name of the original M1 Garand. The industrialist duo smiled broadly, exchanging glances of satisfaction and relief.

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