Chapter 393: Talent Delivered to the Door
On a morning as ordinary as any other, Charles sat at his desk after waking up, nibbling on a piece of bread brought by an orderly. He hadn’t washed his face or brushed his teeth.
This might seem unhygienic, but the old Charles wouldn’t have done this.
Ever since returning from the Gallipoli battlefield and experiencing the trenches filled with blood-soaked earth, the stench of excrement, and the air heavy with the smell of rotting corpses, he no longer cared about such trivialities.
Tigani held up a newspaper and waved it at Charles, saying, “It’s amazing, isn’t it? You can actually see human bones!”
“What?” Charles replied indistinctly, his mouth full of food.
Tigani handed the newspaper to Charles, pointing to a picture on the page. “This—Madame Curie’s invention.”
Charles froze at the mention of “Madame Curie,” his chewing instinctively slowing.
Of course, Charles knew who Madame Curie was. He had grown up hearing her name but hadn’t realized she existed in the same timeline as him.
Charles glanced at the newspaper. The front page headline read: “‘The Little Curie Family’ Has Helped Over 100,000 Wounded Soldiers Receive Proper Treatment.”
The picture showed a vehicle with Madame Curie sitting inside, her gaze tinged with melancholy.
From the article, Charles learned that the car, invented by Madame Curie, was equipped with radiation devices and could be driven to field hospitals to take X-rays of wounded soldiers. Madame Curie called it “The Little Curie Family.”
(During World War I, Madame Curie established France’s first military radiology center, equipping 20 mobile X-ray machines and outfitting a field hospital with 200 X-ray machines. Over the course of the war, one million injured soldiers were treated using X-ray technology.)
“A remarkable woman,” Charles remarked sincerely.
Tigani hummed in agreement but shrugged. “It’s a pity, though. It seems the citizens of France don’t agree.”
“Don’t agree?” Charles looked at Tigani in surprise. “Why?”
Tigani turned to Charles, his face puzzled and surprised. “You’ve never heard? Every Frenchman knows about this.”
“Oh,” Charles replied. “I don’t pay much attention to the outside world, except for reading.”
Tigani rolled his eyes, clearly thinking Charles had been overly sheltered by strict parents.
“It happened about three years ago,” Tigani explained. “Madame Curie wrote a love letter, which was published in the Paris News. That’s how people learned of her affair with Professor Langevin, who was her late husband’s student.”
Charles chuckled lightly. “That’s all?”
It was merely a student-teacher romance.
But Tigani added, “Professor Langevin was a married man.”
Charles was momentarily speechless—he hadn’t heard that part before.
Tigani raised a hand. “Then rumors started to spread. Many believed their relationship began before her husband’s death. Some even claimed her husband committed suicide because of it. There were even wilder conspiracy theories.”
Charles sighed inwardly. He seemed to understand why Madame Curie always appeared so lonely and melancholy in photographs.
Taking a sip of milk, Charles shook his head and lamented, “The French are strange people. They elevate a promiscuous woman like Harley, yet they can’t tolerate even a small blemish on someone like Marie.”
And this was supposedly free-spirited, romantic France!
Tigani paused, seemingly realizing that Charles had a point.
After thinking for a while, Tigani offered a barely plausible explanation: “Perhaps it’s because people hold scientists to a higher standard, just as they do with you.”
Charles slammed his empty cup onto the table, glaring at Tigani. “Is that why you brought Harley to my bathroom?”
Tigani froze, caught off guard that Charles would bring up that incident.
“Damn it!” Tigani smacked his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of it then? I should have brought some reporters and cameras. I missed a perfect headline!”
Charles threw the remainder of his bread at him—this glib fellow.
But Charles understood. It wasn’t just because Madame Curie was a scientist. It was also because she was a woman, and this era still harbored deep discrimination and prejudice against women.
“General.” At that moment, a guard jogged up to Charles to report, “Someone wishes to see you—a man from America. He claims to have important information about the Germans.”
Charles’s first thought was of the “Lady in White,” a network of mostly civilian members from various countries.
But then he reconsidered. The “Lady in White” wouldn’t act so recklessly. Approaching directly would risk exposure.
“Let him in,” Charles ordered, his curiosity piqued.
Tigani, however, was cautious and asked the guard, “Was he searched?”
“Yes,” the guard replied. “He’s unarmed and carries nothing suspicious.”
...
Charles had the man brought into the conference room. No matter how he looked at the white-haired old man before him, he didn’t seem like a spy.
“You may speak now,” Charles gestured at him. “What do you want to tell me?”
“Well, General,” the old man seemed nervous. He wrung his hands and swallowed. “Two years ago, the Titanic hit an iceberg and sank. Ever since, I’ve been... pondering something. Here’s my idea...”
Charles was taken aback. The Titanic sank two years ago? It felt so recent.
“This has nothing to do with the Germans, does it?” Charles joked. “Are you going to claim it was sunk by them?”
“No, of course not.” The old man’s face flushed red. After hesitating a moment, he finally admitted, “I’m sorry, General. I don’t actually have any information about the Germans.”
This might just be a fan, Charles thought, using the pretext of intelligence to get an autograph.
“Where’s your notebook?” Charles asked.
The old man looked confused. “What notebook?”
“Where should I sign?” Charles pulled out a pen from his drawer. “Next time, don’t use this method.”
The old man stared for a moment before realizing. “No, no, I’m not here for an autograph.”
“Then what is it?” Charles asked, a bit embarrassed.
“I’m...” The old man paused, took a deep breath, and seemed to steel himself. “I’m Fessenden, General. I research radio waves. For the past two years, since the Titanic sank, I’ve been working on a method to detect icebergs underwater. Recently, I applied for industrial rights for the ‘echo sounder.’ It can detect icebergs two miles away. I thought it might be useful to you.”
Charles’s eyes widened instantly.
A radio expert?
An “echo sounder” capable of detecting icebergs two miles away? Wasn’t this the precursor to sonar?
How could such talent just deliver itself to his doorstep?!