Prepared a technical plan.
And still couldn't obtain enough money to build the facility.
Then she remembered what the manager said.
Build a smaller demonstration.
She looked toward the road.
Perhaps she'd been thinking too big.
Perhaps the solution wasn't to build the entire system immediately.
Perhaps she needed to prove each stage before spending money on the next.
When she reached home, she opened her father's notebook.
She turned to the equipment sketches.
Then began crossing out everything that wasn't essential for a pilot.
She didn't need six large silos.
She didn't need an expensive automated packaging system.
She didn't need a giant building extension.
She needed a controlled reception area.
A suitable washing and separation process.
Reliable drying.
A properly enclosed milling operation with dust management.
Quality testing.
And a way to package finished material without contamination.
She studied used equipment listings.
Called manufacturers.
Visited two small processing businesses.
And discovered that some components could be leased or purchased refurbished without sacrificing the required controls.
But the equipment still had to meet safety and operational requirements.
She couldn't simply bolt together random machines and hope the result was safe.
So she contacted a retired industrial process engineer who lived in the region.
He had spent decades working with agricultural materials facilities.
His consultation fee was reasonable.
His attitude was not.
He arrived at the farm on a windy Tuesday morning, examined the old packing shed, then looked directly at her.
“What's your budget?”
She told him.
He laughed.
Not cruelly.
In disbelief.
“That's your budget for the whole project?”
She folded her arms.
“For the pilot.”
He walked into the shed.
Studied the electrical panel.
Examined the floor.
Looked toward the roof structure.
Then shook his head.
“You've got more problems than equipment.”
She sighed.
“I know.”
He pointed toward the floor.
“Material flow. Separation. Cleaning. Drainage. Dust. Ventilation. Fire protection. Access for maintenance.”
She took notes.
He continued.
“And if you're handling raw eggshell waste, you need to think about odor, pests, biological contamination, and where the wash water goes.”
“I've included those.”
He looked toward her notebook.
Then back at her.
“Good.”
For several minutes, he walked silently through the building.
Eventually, he stopped near an old loading door.
“Your father was the fellow who wanted to recycle eggshells?”
She nodded.
“He was.”
The engineer looked toward the building.
“I remember him.”
Her throat tightened.
“You do?”
“He called me years ago asking about dryers.”
She smiled sadly.
“That sounds like him.”
The older man nodded.
“He asked more questions than most people.”
Then he looked toward her.
“And he wasn't entirely wrong.”