As for escape safety, the Austrian Empire had actually developed parachutes long ago. But at this point, the Austrian Empire's aircraft all had biplane structures and open cockpits; even climbing out of a fast-moving plane was no easy task for a pilot.
Never mind the potential safety hazards of the parachute itself—if the altitude was insufficient, using a parachute was meaningless.
Early parachutes in particular deployed rather slowly, and it was all too easy for a person to hit the ground before the parachute had fully opened.
Even more ironically, the most common accident involving early parachutes was the opened canopy becoming tangled in the wings or propeller.
Moreover, in actual combat, pilots might face situations such as loss of control, rolling, diving, or even fire. Climbing out of a cramped cockpit under such circumstances was itself an extremely dangerous and time-consuming feat of difficulty.
Thus, test pilots would rather stay in their planes and gamble on one last chance than jump with a parachute.
In fact, even by the time of the First World War, the survival rate for parachuting was still extremely low.
London, Britain.
The grand Great Exhibition had just ended. The government, the public, and the manufacturers were all still immersed in boundless joy when Babbage quietly arrived before a cemetery.
Joseph Clement, 1779.6.13–1844.2.28, aged sixty-four.
Babbage stood before the grave for a long time. Yet there was no grief of mourning on his face—only a chest full of fury. Even after so many years, even though the other man was already dead, Babbage could not forgive what Joseph Clement had done.
Babbage had once been called a genius of computation, while Joseph Clement was hailed as a genius of mechanics. Famous throughout the world for micron-level precision machining, he had invented numerous practical technologies and