Looking Classy

The clerk huffed, pulling out his tape measure. "Stand still, boy," he muttered, tapping his fingers impatiently. "Chest, waist, inseam… height?"

Matthew paused, realizing he didn't actually know his measurements. "Uh… I'm not entirely sure," he admitted.

The clerk rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation. "Figures. Another clueless one." He circled Matthew, muttering under his breath. "Fine, let's do this the hard way, then."

As the clerk wrapped the tape around Matthew's chest, he grumbled, "You're about thirty-six inches here. Waist—" he checked, pulling the tape with a swift tug. "Thirty inches."

Matthew tried to stay still as the clerk worked with quick, practiced movements, noting each measurement with a terse nod. "You're about five-foot-nine," he added, looking at Matthew with faint annoyance. "Neck, fourteen and a half… arm length… thirty-three."

Finally, he handed Matthew a dark gray suit jacket. "Try this on."

Matthew slipped into the jacket, feeling the unfamiliar weight and stiffness of the fabric. It wasn't what he was used to, but it fit decently. The clerk made a few adjustments, muttering as he pinned and marked areas that would need tailoring.

"Stand straight," the clerk instructed, adjusting the shoulders. "Railmaster Stone, I'll have it ready within the hour."

Stone nodded. "Good. And see that it's done properly."

Matthew and Railmaster Stone waited in silence as the clerk disappeared into the back room with the jacket and his notes on the adjustments. The shop was quiet, with only the faint sounds of the clerk's work echoing from the back. Stone glanced at Matthew occasionally, giving an approving nod as if reassuring him he'd made the right choice in taking the opportunity.

After what felt like an eternity, the clerk finally returned, carrying the freshly tailored suit. He handed it to Matthew with a slight nod.

"Go on, try it in the fitting room," he muttered, his voice losing a bit of its earlier edge now that the work was done.

Matthew took the suit and stepped into the small fitting room, feeling the weight of the fabric as he slid the jacket on. The sleeves fit perfectly, just brushing his wrists, and the shoulders felt snug without being too tight. He buttoned up the waistcoat and slipped into the trousers, noting how each piece now fit him as if it had always been his.

He stepped out of the fitting room, standing straighter, a newfound confidence settling over him as he saw Stone's approving smile.

"Well, boy, you look the part now," Stone said, clapping a hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Mr. Hargrave won't know what hit him."

"How much is this?" Matthew asked, glancing at the clerk.

The clerk looked him over, a hint of newfound respect in his gaze. "Four florins for the suit. Tailoring's included since you're a friend of Mr. Stone's."

Matthew glanced at Stone. "You are going to pay for this right?"

"Don't worry about it. As I mentioned earlier, you won't owe me a thing," Stone replied with a reassuring nod, settling the payment with the clerk before they stepped out onto the street.

 He tugged at the cuffs and adjusted the collar, still getting used to the fit as they walked. Stone glanced at him with a smirk.

"Getting used to it?" he asked.

"Feels strange," Matthew admitted. "But… good, I think."

Stone chuckled. "That's how it starts. Soon enough, you'll wear it like you were born to. Now, remember, Hargrave isn't the sort to wait on anyone. Be ready to speak when he arrives."

They arrived back at the station and took up a quiet spot by the platform. Matthew straightened his posture, his eyes fixed on the tracks, willing himself to focus. Stone stood beside him, hands clasped behind his back, a silent show of support as they awaited Hargrave's return.

And they found him, walking along his entourage as if giving them the final words. And then, with a sharp glance, Hargrave spotted Matthew in his tailored suit. He paused mid-sentence, his gaze narrowing as he appraised the young man before him. There was a faint, almost imperceptible nod of approval before he resumed his conversation with the men around him, sending them off with brisk handshakes and curt orders.

Finally, he approached Matthew, his eyes flickering over the suit, then locking onto Matthew's face

"Well, I'll say this, you certainly clean up well," Hargrave remarked, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Appearances may not be everything, but they do matter. You're going to find that out quickly enough."

"Thank you, Mr. Hargrave," Matthew replied, holding his ground under the man's scrutinizing stare.

Hargrave nodded, seemingly satisfied, and motioned for Matthew and Stone to follow as he strode toward his private carriage cabin on the train.

Matthew followed Hargrave and Stone into the cabin, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the opulent interior. Dark wood paneling, fine leather seats, and brass accents filled the space, 

Hargrave settled into one of the plush seats, motioning for Matthew to sit opposite him.

As soon as they were seated, Hargrave wasted no time, pulling out a portfolio from his briefcase and laying it on the table between them. 

"These are our existing brake systems' schematics," he said, his gaze never leaving Matthew. "Explain to me how it works." 

"For what purpose?" Matthew asked, looking for an explanation.

"Well you are going to introduce something new right? In order to do that, you must understand the problem of the current technology in order for you to make a new iteration or a completely new one."

Matthew nodded, gathering his thoughts as he scanned over the schematics in front of him.

"The current brake system, sir, is what's known as a manual or 'handbrake' system," he began, glancing at Hargrave to ensure he was on the right track. "Each car has its own braking mechanism that a brakeman has to operate individually. This system relies entirely on the physical effort and coordination of the crew, which means there's a high margin for error."

Hargrave's expression remained inscrutable, but he gestured for Matthew to continue.

"The issue lies in its unpredictability and inefficiency," Matthew went on. "During an emergency, if just one brakeman is out of sync or fails to respond quickly enough, it can lead to a disastrous delay in stopping the train. It's also incredibly strenuous for the crew, especially on longer trains. And, as we saw with the accident in Columbus, the manual system can't always be relied on in critical moments."

He paused, watching as Hargrave's eyes narrowed slightly, contemplating his words.

"That's where an automated air brake system would make a difference," Matthew said, leaning forward slightly. "By having a centralized mechanism using compressed air, the brakes would engage simultaneously on each car, eliminating human delay and the risks associated with manual operation."

Hargrave leaned back, fingers steepled as he studied Matthew. "You've certainly identified the flaws accurately," he remarked. "But theory alone won't suffice. The concept may be sound, but the transition from idea to application is a challenge most young innovators underestimate."

Matthew met his gaze, a spark of determination in his eyes. "I'm aware, sir. I'm prepared to prove it."

Hargrave's lips twitched in what might have been the hint of a smile. "We'll see. But consider this your first test: I want you to refine this proposal."

"No problem."