The Only Fixer

I closed my eyes.

"Haha, who are you acting all mysterious for?" A young worker taunted in a whisper.

"Exactly, does he think he's an expert? Just listen, and he'll know the problem."

Melody also frowned, clearly not understanding my actions.

I ignored them, and the entire world seemed to consist of me and this machine. I could hear the subtle sounds inside it—the almost inaudible, abnormal friction between the gears; the extremely subtle, sluggish jolts when the guide rails moved; the faint popping sound of bubbles breaking as lubricating oil flowed in the pipes.

These sounds were a jumble of noise to others, but they were a clear report filled with symptoms to me.

I remained motionless for a full ten minutes.

Then, I straightened up and took off my reading glasses. I repeatedly ran my rough hands over the cold seams of the guide rails, as if caressing a lover's skin. My fingertips could feel the micron-level misalignment and wear.

"How is it?" Melody finally could not help but ask. Her voice had lost its previous disdain, replaced by deep confusion.

I turned to look at her and at Bill and the group of workers who had gathered again at the sound of my voice. I calmly announced my diagnosis. "It's not a circuit problem. The XY-axis linkage transmission module of the machine tool suffered severe impact during transportation or installation, resulting in irreversible loss of mechanical accuracy. My preliminary assessment indicates that the loss is at least 50 micrometers or more."

These words caused an uproar in the workshop, as if a bomb had gone off.

Melody's eyes widened instantly. She strode to the nearby desk, pulled a report from a pile of documents, and held it up to me. "But... But the diagnostic report jointly issued by those eight experts concluded that the main control chip was overloaded and burned out, the driver circuit board was faulty, and they suggested that we replace the entire motherboard and servo system!"

The report highlighted 'Main control chip failure' in bold red, followed by a shocking repair quote of 1.2 million dollars.

My gaze swept over the report as I sneered. "They're wrong."

"How can you be so sure?" Melody pressed with an urgent tone.

I pointed to an inconspicuous hexagonal bolt on the machine tool base. "This bolt is one of the reference bolts that were calibrated horizontally before leaving the factory. Its tightening torque is strictly regulated; the tolerance cannot exceed 0.1 Nm."

I gently rubbed the bolt between my fingers. "But this bolt's torque is incorrect; there are signs of it being tightened twice. Moreover, the method was amateurish. Not only was it not calibrated, but it also disrupted the stress balance established at the factory for the entire base. This is the root cause of the loss of precision."

"As for the circuit alarm..." I paused.

"It was simply a mechanical malfunction that caused excessive load on the servo motor, triggering the system's self-protection mechanism."

The entire workshop fell silent. Everyone stared at me as if I were a monster.

A warehouse manager overturned the conclusions reached by experts using various precision instruments simply by listening and touching.