The doctors, however, had not mentioned that the syringe would reduce the patient's pain.
Joseph cut through everyone's admiration and asked, "Then who can make this thing?"
Dr. Lamark thought for a moment. "A watchmaker, perhaps. They can machine extremely delicate parts."
"A jeweler," Perna said. "The most complicated part of this syringe is the hollow needle. I've seen Her Majesty the Queen's hair ornament; the cannon barrels on it are hollow."
Joseph immediately remembered his mother's warship hair ornament. The cannon barrels on it were only a little thicker than toothpicks.
He nodded. "Call both watchmakers and jewelers over. Oh, and borrow two locksmiths from Father."
Thanks to Paris's now-developed rail transit system, just one hour later, seven royal craftsmen arrived at the Paris Pharmaceutical Factory.
These top craftsmen of France gathered around the standard blueprint redrawn by the Crown Prince, discussed it for more than ten minutes, finalized the division of labor, then laid out their tools and began trial production.
The jeweler rolled a silver sheet into a hollow tube as thick as a toothpick, heated it until it glowed red, then clamped both ends and slowly stretched it.
As the silver tube kept growing longer, its diameter grew thinner as well.
But just as it reached only half the thickness of a toothpick, it suddenly snapped in the middle.
The jeweler was not discouraged either. He quickly threw away the scrap and began the next attempt...
The syringe barrel was originally handed to the locksmiths to make out of brass, but they soon found that melting and casting wasted too much time, and in the end decided to switch to easily melted tin.
Although Joseph knew tin usually contained small amounts of lead, if it was only used for a few injections, the harm should be