Rising and walking to the fireplace to look at the leaping flames, Felix seemed to see the grand blueprint for the next hundred years.
"After all, in the eyes of those old European aristocrats, we are always upstarts.
But in the history of all human progress, the name Argyle will be bound together with those great discoveries.
Those scientists who receive the prize will thank us in their papers; those politicians who win the Peace Prize will become our natural allies on the international stage.
This is the highest-level totem that money can buy."
Looking at her husband's ambitious back, Catherine felt her blood boiling as well.
She was a person who pursued medical progress, so she understood the significance of this fund to the scientific community better than anyone else.
"Then, when will we begin announcing it to the public?"
"Of course, the sooner the better."
"However, before announcing this news, there is still one matter that needs to be confirmed.
Catherine, what is the current progress of the university being prepared?"
Mentioning the university, a proud smile appeared on Catherine's face.
"Everything is ready, Felix.
We are just waiting for you, the true investor, to cut the ribbon."
Catherine walked over to the desk, took out a stack of exquisitely bound design blueprints and on-site construction photos from the drawer, and handed them to Felix.
"According to your original plan, Argyle University is located in an extremely scenic valley plain in Upstate New York.
It is far away from the filth of the Lower East Side and the hustle and bustle of Wall Street.
Over the past year, thanks to electric lights, the construction team has been working twenty-four hours a day.
Currently, the Gothic-style main administration building, two large comprehensive teaching buildings, and the dormitory area that can accommodate over a thousand students have all been completed."
Felix flipped through the photos.
The buildings in the photos were magnificent and solemn, their masonry exterior walls exuding a strong sense of history, completely hiding the fact that they were newly completed buildings.
"What about the laboratories?"
This was what Felix cared about most.
In this era of the outbreak of the Industrial Revolution, theory had to be transformed into money-making technology.
"That is precisely where the most money is spent."
Catherine smiled with a bit of heartache.
"However, the family's Central Laboratory, along with Umbrella Pharmaceutical Company and General Electric Company, each sponsored an independent experimental building.
We also customized top-tier microscopes from Germany's Zeiss company and imported a complete set of physical analysis instruments from Britain.
We even installed a latest steam generator for power testing.
Without exaggeration, the experimental conditions of this university are top-notch even if placed in Europe."
Looking at the instruments gleaming with a metallic luster in the photos, Felix nodded with satisfaction.
With this fertile soil, the next thing to do was to go to Europe to poach those most expensive'seeds'.
"Buildings and equipment are just an empty shell.
The soul of a university is the people standing on the podium."
Felix put down the photos, walked over to the sofa, and sat down.
"Currently, America's domestic educational resources are too scarce.
Although those Ivy League schools have some heritage, their teaching concepts are too outdated, mostly remaining in theology and classical literature.
What I want is not pastors who only know how to recite the Bible, but engineers and scientists who can invent new explosives, improve the efficiency of steam engines, and extract new medicines."
"This is why I urgently need to roll out the 'Argyle Science and Peace Prize'; these two plans are a set of perfect combination punches."
Catherine knew that Felix had already said this last time.
"Using awards as bait to attract European scholars is indeed a good idea."
"Of course."
Felix snapped his fingers.
"Europe has just seen the end of wars and its economy is depressed.
Many talented scholars can't even afford kerosene for their laboratories.
We will stun them with a fifty-thousand-dollar prize.
When those top European scientists come to New York and stand on the podium, we will take the opportunity to lead them to visit the newly built Argyle University."
Felix's voice was full of confidence.
"As long as we provide them with the best laboratories in the world and offer salaries three or even five times higher than European universities.
Those aging scholars might be unwilling to leave their homeland, but what about the ambitious young students and assistants under them who urgently need to make a name for themselves?
I believe they will swarm toward America like sharks smelling blood!"
"As long as we poach these people, within ten years, Argyle University will become the world's top holy land for science and engineering.
And all patents and technologies researched by them will be given priority for absorption by the various industrial companies under the Argyle Family.
This is a true technological monopoly!"
Catherine listened and nodded repeatedly.
This overbearing tactic of forcibly reversing the world's technological center with money was very much Felix's style.
"So, how should the timeline be arranged?"
Catherine took the notebook and prepared to take notes.
Pondering slightly, Felix immediately set the tone.
"It is now February.
You immediately arrange for the Legal Department of the foundation to cooperate with the News Media Company to translate all documents into major European languages such as English, French, and German."
Then he raised his index finger.
"March 1st.
I want the newspapers of the News Media Company to publish the news of the establishment of the 'Argyle Science and Peace Prize' on the front pages simultaneously in major cities across America, Britain, France, and Germany.
Write the huge bonus of fifty thousand dollars in the most eye-catching position, and I want the whole world to discuss this topic in March!"
He raised his second finger.
"On the same day the news is released, send official invitations to those top scholars on the Intelligence Department's list, inviting them to become members of the inaugural selection committee, and advance that ten-thousand-dollar stipend.
After receiving their replies, immediately publish the list of judges in the newspapers to firmly establish its authority."
Finally, he raised his third finger.
"As for the first award ceremony, it can be scheduled for the last week of May."
Felix's eyes flashed with infinite expectations for the future.
"May is a good season; by then, the roses in Long Island should be in full bloom.
In early May, we can have the most luxurious ocean liners invite those judges from Europe to New York first to determine the winners, and then invite the winners to come.
On the night of the award ceremony, we will officially announce the establishment of Argyle University to the whole world, and present them with professorship appointment letters on the spot!"
"Build momentum in March, catch the net in May."
Catherine quickly wrote down these key time nodes in her notebook.
"This will definitely be a historic grand event."
"Indeed."
Felix leaned against the velvet sofa, looking at the warm firelight in the fireplace.
The capitalist behemoth, Argyle, was finally going to shed the last muddy spots of barbarism from its body and put on that gorgeous cloak named "Civilization and Progress".
On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, those European aristocrats and capitalists who were still immersed in the old rules had no idea at all.
A superstorm strong enough to forcibly relocate the world's academic center to America had already quietly taken shape in this castle on Long Island.
Inside the underground printing plant of the News Media Company, rotary presses emitted a deafening roar.
The thick smell of ink mixed with the scent of machine lubricating oil, filling the entire spacious workshop.
Victor Fowler stood beside a newly stopped printing press, holding a front-page proof of the New York Tribune that was not yet fully dry.
As the general manager of the News Media Company, he personally went down to the printing workshop today just to ensure that the task assigned by the boss would go without a hitch.
"Mr. Victor, the layout has been completely proofread."
Editor-in-chief Barnaby walked over, holding a rag used for wiping hands.
"The typesetting of this manifesto occupies two-thirds of the entire front page. There are no advertisements or other news, only this notice from the Argyle Family to the scientific community."
Victor looked at those bold and enlarged black lead types on the newspaper, and the corners of his mouth couldn't help twitching.
"Oh, my dear Barnaby, you have worked in this industry for thirty years. Have you ever seen any newspaper use such a large layout to publish a foundation notice without any political purpose?"
"Never, sir. Not to mention the numbers on this."
Barnaby leaned in to take a look at those numbers and shook his head repeatedly.
"Five million dollars as a base fund, taking out hundreds of thousands of dollars each year to award prizes. The single-item prize is fifty thousand dollars. Even those invited judges can get a ten thousand dollar allowance. Good lord, when I saw this manuscript yesterday, I thought the typist typed an extra zero."
Victor folded the proof and patted it on Barnaby's chest.
"There is no printing error. These are the exact words of the boss. The family wants to prove to all of America, no, to the entire world, that our respect for science is priceless. Start all the printing presses! I want this newspaper to fill the newsstands on every street corner of New York before sunrise!"
The roar sounded again.
Tens of thousands of newspapers were spat out from the machines like snowflakes.
Six in the morning.
The sky over Manhattan had just taken on a grayish-white glow.
"Extra! Earth-shattering extra!"
Newsboys waved the newspapers in their hands, shuttling through Wall Street, Broadway, and the surroundings of various universities in the cold wind.
"The Argyle Family announces the establishment of the Science and Peace Foundation! Five million dollars in huge funds to promote human progress! Fifty thousand dollars for a single prize!"
In a cheap apartment near Columbia College, young physics lecturer Caleb Shaw was shivering with cold.
Adding the last two pieces of coal to the stove with only half a sheet of iron, his monthly salary was barely enough to pay the rent and buy some basic experimental consumables.
The newsboy's shouts coming from the street made Caleb frown. He pushed open the window, dropped two cents, and bought a newspaper from the newsboy's hands.
Closing the window, he rubbed his frozen hands and cast a casual glance at the front page.
With just one glance, his gaze could no longer move away.
[To the explorers and pioneers of all humanity:
The Argyle Family deeply understands that the rotation of gears and the sparks of electric current are the true driving forces pushing civilization forward.
To express our highest respect for pure science and truth, the Argyle Family Charitable Foundation will inject five million dollars to officially establish the 'Argyle Science and Peace Foundation'.
This foundation establishes five awards: physics, chemistry, physiology or medicine, literature, and peace.
It is selected once a year.
We do not ask about nationality, background, or belief.
As long as your discovery can bring welfare to humanity, the Argyle Family will present you with a single-item prize of fifty thousand dollars.
Science has no borders, and truth deserves a heavy reward.]
Caleb widened his eyes, and his breathing became rapid.
He stared fixedly at the words "fifty thousand dollars", feeling as if his brain had been struck by a sledgehammer.
"Fifty... thousand dollars?"
Caleb muttered to himself, his voice shaking.
He grabbed his coat, rushed out of the apartment without even buttoning it up, ran all the way, came to the door of his mentor Professor Nathaniel Brooks's office, and pounded heavily on the door.
"Professor Brooks! Have you seen today's newspaper?"
The old professor opened the door, holding a cup of hot tea in his hand and looking at the panting Caleb.
"Calm down, Caleb. Even if the earth is going to explode tomorrow, you must first tidy up your collar. What happened?"
Caleb rushed into the office and laid the New York Tribune flat on the professor's desk.
"Take a look. The Argyle Family... that man has created a science prize. A prize of fifty thousand dollars! Professor, my annual salary is only eight hundred dollars. Fifty thousand dollars is enough for us to replace all the instruments in the entire physics laboratory with the latest European models, and we can also hire ten assistants!"
Professor Brooks put on his reading glasses and bent over to carefully read the front-page notice.
As the reading deepened, the old professor's wrinkled hands also began to tremble slightly.
He was not dazzled by the money, but rather shocked by the extremely strong sense of importance conveyed behind this notice.
In America of this era, businessmen only cared about how much railway stocks could rise, and politicians only cared about ballots.
No one cared at all about those scholars staying in laboratories smelling pungent chemical reagents.
Science in America was nothing more than an appendage of Europe.
"We do not ask about nationality, background. As long as your discovery can bring welfare to humanity..."
Professor Brooks softly read out this sentence, his eye sockets unexpectedly a little moist.
"Is this really something written by that ruthless Argyle?"
Caleb still felt somewhat incredible.
"He is notoriously cold-blooded. Would he be so kind as to take out five million dollars to do science?"
"No matter who wrote it."
Professor Brooks took off his glasses and struck the table heavily.
"As long as the money is real! After all, the reputation of the Argyle Family is still universally recognized throughout America. Caleb, didn't you see the small print below? To ensure fairness, they will also invite the world's top scholars to form a selection committee, and each judge will be given a ten thousand dollar allowance!"
"A ten thousand dollar allowance..."
Caleb swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
"This is simply smashing people with gold bars. Aren't they afraid of going bankrupt?"
"What are you thinking, how could the Argyle Family possibly go bankrupt."
Professor Brooks paced back and forth in the office, his tone excited.
"This is a smart move. They are using money to forcibly pull the world's attention from Europe to America. Caleb, go organize our experimental data on electromagnetic induction. If this award is real, we must strive for it. This is not for money, this is to prove that our scholars in America are no worse than those snobbish fellows in Europe!"
Throughout New York, there were not a few scholars who fell into fanaticism and shock like Caleb and Professor Brooks.
Not only the academic circle, but the financiers of Wall Street were also very surprised when they saw this newspaper.
Five million dollars in cash frozen as a fund—what kind of terrifying cash flow would be required to support this?
Felix used this extremely aggressive way of scattering money to show all competitors his bottomless financial strength.
And this was merely the beginning of this storm.
While the streets of New York were still arguing endlessly over the huge prize of fifty thousand dollars, the vast communication network of the Argyle Family was already running at full speed.
Urgent telegrams radiated in all directions at the speed of light along copper wires densely spread across the American continent.
Boston, Chicago, Philadelphia, and even San Francisco far away on the West Coast—newspaper offices in all major cities received the original text of this announcement at the exact same time.
The News Media Company had long since cleared channels everywhere; whether it was large newspapers or local tabloids, within three hours of receiving the telegrams, they halted other pages currently being printed and jammed this announcement onto their front pages.
As Boston was the city with the strongest academic atmosphere in America, the reaction here was particularly fierce.
In a high-end private club that only hosted top tycoons and Ivy League alumni, several industrial tycoons were gathered on the sofa by the window smoking.
Horace Abbott was the owner of a large textile mill, and he shook his head repeatedly as he held a copy of the Boston Globe.
"Has Felix Argyle gone crazy? Five million dollars! If this money were used to build a railway, it could lay tracks all the way from New York to Texas! And he is actually going to give it away to those daydreaming nerds?"
Jasper Finch, an old-school shipping merchant sitting across from him, sipped a glass of port wine, his eyes revealing deep apprehension.
"Horace, you only see the five million on the ledger, but you don't see what this money buys. Do you think he is doing charity?" Jasper sneered.
"He is buying a reputation, and he is buying the future."
"Reputation? Does the Argyle Family even care about reputation?" Horace curled his lips.
"Everyone actually knows how they solved the strike in San Francisco. Since they already used such bloody methods, what reputation is left to speak of?"
"Perhaps precisely because of that, he needs to use this method to whitewash it." Jasper pointed to the headline on the newspaper.
"Look at the phrasing, 'Argyle Science and Peace Foundation'. Peace! A war profiteer talking about peace. But as long as this prize is issued for a few years, his name will be printed in textbooks all over the world. Those scientists who took his money will become his most loyal defenders. Europeans will no longer be able to curse him as an uncultured nouveau riche. He is using dollars to forcefully build a temple for himself in the cultural and scientific fields of this country."
Horace fell silent for a long time after listening.
He had to admit that this capital game standing on the commanding heights of civilization was far more brilliant than mere commercial dumping.
Meanwhile, this storm did not stay local to America.
Cruise ships of the Metropolitan Trading Company set sail from New York Harbor with piles of newspapers, heading north to Montreal in Canada, and south to Mexico and several major trading ports in South America. In less than a week, the intellectual class across the entire American continent had heard about this crazy prize from Wall Street.
But all this groundwork was nothing more than an appetizer in Felix's eyes.
New York, the top floor office of the Empire Bank Building.
Frost placed the thick summary report on the desk.
"Boss, the domestic public opinion response is exceptionally good. Not only the academic circle, but even some Democratic Party legislators are publicly praising your generosity, saying that you are contributing to the civilization process of the United States."
"Domestic praise is meaningless; they are just saying a few nice words for the sake of money."
Without glancing at the report, Felix stood in front of the huge world map, his gaze crossing the Atlantic Ocean and locking onto that ancient continent.
"Now the real center of science is in Europe, and the real challenge is also in Europe. Those old aristocrats and self-righteous scholars are full of prejudice against us. Perhaps they will think our money carries the stench of copper. Has George Templeton in London been notified yet?"
"The instruction has already been sent over through the transatlantic submarine cable," Frost replied.
"Mr. George replied that he has already gathered his media agents in Europe and is preparing to launch the first wave of offensive."
"Tell him not to care about spending money."
"Within half a month, I want every university laboratory in Berlin, Paris, and London to be discussing the figure of fifty thousand dollars."
...
On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, the City of London.
Inside the secret room of the London branch of the Argyle Empire Bank, George Templeton was sitting at one end of the table.
Sitting in front of him were two brokers who held immense sway in the European media circle.
Frenchman Louis DuPont was a behind-the-scenes shareholder of multiple mainstream newspapers in Paris; German Klaus Weber controlled several large publishing institutions in Berlin and Munich.
George pushed two leather suitcases filled with pounds sterling in front of the two men.
"Gentlemen, here is fifty thousand pounds of operating funds. I want you to buy the front pages of all top newspapers in France and Germany. No matter how high they ask, smash them directly with money. If their editor-in-chief thinks this is a commercial advertisement and refuses to publish it..." George's mouth curved into a ruthless smile.
"Then buy the controlling stake of that newspaper office with money, and then kick that editor-in-chief out."
Louis DuPont opened the suitcase and took a glance. Although he was used to money, such a direct way of throwing money still gave him a bit of a shock.
"Mr. Templeton. The French are very proud. We just lost the Franco-Prussian War, and the current social sentiment is very sensitive. If we directly publish an announcement where Americans look down from above, it might arouse the disgust of the academic circle. They will feel this is a condescending handout."
"Mr. DuPont is right," Klaus Weber also echoed.
"Germany's current academic circle is extremely rigorous; they value honor more than money. How should we package this announcement?"
George leaned back in his chair and shook his head.
"You are wrong. The boss put a lot of thought into the wording of the announcement. When you are typesetting, you can avoid emphasizing America's wealth. It should be packaged as a pilgrimage of the New World to the wisdom of the Old World. Use vocabulary full of respect to translate this announcement."
George leaned forward, his gaze fixed tightly on the two men.
"Remember, emphasize that this is a 'gift to all of mankind'. Do not write it as charitable relief, but write it as a supreme tribute to truth. European scholars are indeed proud, but pride cannot feed them. Laboratory test tubes need money, and eating also needs money. When they see the figure of fifty thousand dollars and then see our flawless respect, they will find the perfect stepping stone for themselves."
DuPont and Weber looked at each other, seeing the complexity and awe in each other's eyes.
This set of psychological manipulation tricks calculated the weaknesses of human nature down to the very bone.
"Understood, Mr. Templeton. Tomorrow morning, the printing presses of Paris and Berlin will turn for the Argyle Family."
DuPont closed the suitcase and stood up.
An unprecedented invasion of culture and capital was officially unveiled in the heartland of the European continent.
Berlin, the capital of the German Empire.
The biting cold wind of early spring still blew fiercely, sweeping across the Unter den Linden and stirring up a flurry of dust.
In an old and chilly experimental building at Berlin University, Dr. William Koch was wearing a frayed gray coat, standing in front of the lab bench.
His hands were frozen red as he carefully stirred the chemical reagents in a beaker with a glass rod.
Koch was an exceptional chemist, but he was now facing a severe problem—funding.
Ever since the end of the Franco-Prussian War, the financial budget of the German Empire had leaned almost entirely toward military and heavy industry.
For a scholar like him engaged in basic chemical research, applying for funding was harder than ascending to the heavens. The research funds allocated to him by the university were not even enough to buy a box of high-purity nitric acid.
"Doctor, should we continue heating? There is only a tiny bit of coal left."
His young assistant, Felix, walked over rubbing his hands, his tone revealing a sense of helplessness.
"Turn off the alcohol lamp, Felix. The purity of the reagent is not enough, and the reaction has failed again."
Koch sighed and put down the glass rod, his eyes filled with exhaustion. He was not only a scientist, but also a father of three children.
Last week, his wife even pawned a silver necklace from her dowry for him, barely managing to pay off the laboratory's debts.
Just then, the door of the laboratory was pushed open.
A uniformed postman walked in, holding an exquisitely crafted, heavy letter and a copy of that day's Berlin Daily.
"Dr. Koch? There is an international registered letter for you here. Also, I think you should take a look at today's front-page newspaper."
The postman placed the items on the table and turned to leave.
Koch picked up the newspaper with a frown.
He rarely read newspapers normally, let alone those flashy front pages.
But today, the front page of the Berlin Daily did not publish Chancellor Bismarck's blood-and-iron speech, nor did it publish military exercises; instead, it published a notice in a solemn, almost pilgrimage-like tone.
Felix leaned over to read along with him.
"My God..."
Reading the German translation above, Felix's eyes grew wider and wider.
"'Argyle Science and Peace Foundation'... A single prize of fifty thousand US dollars? Doctor, fifty thousand US dollars converted into our marks is a full two hundred thousand marks! This money is enough to tear down our broken experimental building and rebuild it ten times!"
Koch's breathing also became rapid.
Two hundred thousand marks.
For a scholar who had to carefully calculate even buying coal, this figure was simply an oracle from heaven. But the rigorous nature of a German scholar in his bones allowed him to retain a shred of reason.
"Could this be a scam? American businessmen love to brag; how could they possibly pull out so much money for the scientific community?"
Although Koch said this with his mouth, his gaze was still locked tightly onto those words.
"Doctor, quickly look at that letter. The postmark is from New York!" Felix pointed at the letter on the table.
Koch picked up the envelope.
The paper quality of the envelope was extremely high, printed with the gold-stamped crest of the Argyle Family. He carefully tore open the seal and pulled out several sheets of paper from inside.
The first was a German invitation letter written in exceptionally fine phrasing.
[Respected Dr. William Koch: Your outstanding contributions in the field of chemistry are like a beacon illuminating the fog of human ignorance. The Argyle Foundation sincerely invites you to become a special selection committee member for the inaugural Chemistry Prize. Your wisdom is the cornerstone ensuring the fairness of this award.]
Tucked beneath the invitation letter was a thin slip of paper.
Koch took out that slip of paper and glanced at it, struck as if by lightning, freezing completely in place.
That was a sight draft issued by the Berlin branch of the Argyle Empire Bank, with the amount written in extremely clear characters: ten thousand US dollars (approximately forty thousand marks). Attached next to it was a note explaining that this was an annual allowance for serving as a judge, and asking the doctor to kindly accept it.
"Doctor... what is this?" Felix looked at Koch's trembling hands.
"Ten thousand US dollars..."
Koch's voice was hoarse.
He felt that the lofty academic pride he had always adhered to had become so fragile in front of this draft.
This was not a bounced check, but genuine, hard-cash sincerity.
The Americans did not use a condescending tone; they used "hire" and "respect". They sent the money directly to his laboratory bench.
"Felix."
Koch gripped the draft tightly and took a deep breath.
"Go light the alcohol lamp. Buy the best reagents and coal. Tomorrow, I will go to the branch to exchange this money. I want to write a reply to New York telling them that I accept their invitation."
The same scene was happening not only in Berlin, but also in Paris.
In a smoke-filled café on the banks of the Seine River.
Professor Armand Lefebvre, a famous French physicist, was fiercely arguing with several colleagues.
The defeat in the Franco-Prussian War cast a shadow over France's academic circles as well, and everyone felt an unprecedented sense of frustration.
On the table lay a freshly purchased copy of Le Figaro.
"This is simply an insult!"
An elderly professor with a goatee angrily slapped the newspaper.
"That American named Argyle thinks he can buy the wisdom of all of Europe with a few stinking coins? What scientific heritage do they have? They are merely a bunch of bandits panning for gold in the West. I will absolutely never apply for this damn award!"
Professor Armand did not speak.
In his coat pocket quietly lay an invitation letter identical to Dr. Koch's, along with that draft for a ten-thousand-dollar allowance.
He looked at the righteous and indignant elderly professor and spoke in a calm tone.
"Jean-Paul. Your laboratory had its gas supply cut off last month due to unpaid bills. And several students have already changed careers to work as maintenance workers in factories because they couldn't afford to eat. When you talk here about France's academic dignity, can it feed your students? Can it allow your experiments to continue?"
The old professor's face flushed red, yet he couldn't utter a single word for a long time.
Armand picked up the cup of cheap black coffee in front of him and took a sip.
"Honor is great, but honor cannot be used to manufacture microscopes, nor can it be used to buy uranium ore. The Americans are indeed arrogant, but the conditions they offer are something the current government simply cannot provide."
Armand took the invitation letter out of his pocket and placed it on the tabletop.
"They invited me to be a judge and paid a ten-thousand-dollar allowance in advance. I have decided to accept. Not only that, I will also write letters to recommend several of my students to apply for this award."
The café fell silent.
Complex gleams flashed in the eyes of several young scholars; they knew how realistic Professor Armand's words were.
Faced with the brutal pressures of survival and research, very few people in science could truly refuse the golden olive branch thrown from across the Atlantic Ocean.
Once the virus of capital was implanted, it would spread among the crowd at a terrifying speed.
As those top scholars in France and Germany who received invitation letters successively remained silent or secretly cashed the drafts.
This cultural offensive meticulously planned by the Argyle Family finally broke through the defense line of the European continent and swept toward that island nation—the British Empire, which was the most arrogant and fancied itself the center of world science.
London, Piccadilly, home of the Royal Society of the British Empire.
This academic sanctuary with a history of more than two hundred years has witnessed the brilliance of countless scientific giants such as Newton and Boyle.
The wooden floors here seemed to be engraved with the British Empire's undisputed hegemony in the scientific world.
However, today, an unprecedented and fierce argument broke out in the conference room on the first floor of the Society.
At the head of the conference table sat Sir Edwin Hastings, a senior fellow of the Royal Society.
He was a traditional old-school British scholar with greying sideburns and a gold-rimmed monocle on the bridge of his nose.
At this moment, he slammed a copy of The Times onto the table, so angry that his mustache was trembling.
"Absurd! Simply sheer arrogance!"
Sir Edwin's voice echoed in the conference room.
"This nouveau riche from America, this Felix Argyle reeking of copper stench, actually attempts to use five million dollars to define the world's scientific standards? Who does he think he is? God? Our Royal Society is the only benchmark in the scientific world!"
Seeing this, the dozen or so elderly fellows sitting around the conference table hurriedly nodded in agreement.
"Precisely. What do Americans know about science? They only know how to build those crude steam engines and murderous muskets. An award piled up with money is a complete blasphemy against pure science!"
"I heard that a few spineless fellows in France, Germany, and Austria have already accepted their invitations to be judges? It's a complete disgrace to European scholars."
In the eyes of these old fellows, scientific honors should be medals personally awarded by the king or queen, not checks written by a Wall Street businessman.
Accepting such an award was tantamount to acknowledging that American capital was superior to Europe's academic traditions.
But at the end of the conference table, a young scholar in his early thirties frowned.
His name was Arthur Penhaligon, the youngest physics researcher in the Royal Society and a recognized genius.
His research in electromagnetism had reached an extremely critical bottleneck, but because his research direction was too avant-garde, the old men of the Society had rejected his funding applications for three consecutive years.
"Sir, please forgive me for speaking bluntly."
Arthur finally couldn't help standing up to speak; although his voice was not loud, it made the entire conference room quiet down.
"We are here talking about honor and tradition. But the fact is, the other side of the ocean offers more than just a fifty-thousand-dollar prize. According to the detailed announcements in the newspaper, the Argyle Family invested heavily in New York to establish a brand-new university equipped with the world's top experimental equipment. They are even willing to fully fund promising research projects."
Arthur looked at Sir Edwin with the sharpness of a young man in his eyes.
"Our Royal Society certainly has a deep foundation, but can foundation be eaten as food? Can the medals issued to us by His Majesty the King buy the high-pressure generators urgently needed in the laboratory? We use ten-year-old instruments in the basement and even have to pay for wires out of our own pockets. Yet the Americans are willing to pile handfuls of gold on the lab benches. What qualifications do we have to laugh at them?"
"Arthur! Watch your words!"
Sir Edwin slammed the table fiercely and scolded sharply, "Are you accusing the Society of treating you unfairly? Scientific research has always been an impoverished yet great cause. Have you also been dazzled by that dirty money?"
"If it allows my research to continue, I don't care whether the money is dirty or not. The advancement of science requires money, sir. This is an indisputable fact."
Arthur stared unyieldingly at this academic giant.
"Honor is the cloak of you old men, but laboratory data is the life of us young people. I refuse to participate in this meaningless and arrogant boycott."
After speaking, Arthur directly pushed back his chair, picked up his coat, and strode out of the conference room amidst the shocked and angry gazes of the old fellows.
After leaving the Royal Society, Arthur did not go home.
He called a carriage and headed straight to Lombard Street in the City of London.
He was going to verify something.
Pushing open the glass doors of the London Branch of Argyle Empire Bank, Arthur directly stated his identity and purpose to the lobby manager.
In less than five minutes, he was respectfully invited to the president's office on the second floor.
George Templeton received him personally.
"Mr. Penhaligon, the youngest physics star of the Royal Society. I've long admired your name."
George smiled and offered him a seat, personally pouring him a cup of coffee.
"Mr. Templeton, I don't like beating around the bush."
Arthur said bluntly as he sat on the sofa.
"I saw the announcement in the newspaper; leaving aside the fifty-thousand-dollar prize for a moment, what I care more about is whether the Argyle University mentioned in the announcement and the experimental equipment you promised are real, or just a lie to create hype?"
George was not angry; he loved dealing with pure scholars like this.
He turned around, walked to the safe, took out a thick folder, and placed it in front of Arthur.
"Mr. Penhaligon, businessmen never lie; we only care about contracts. This is the construction blueprint of Argyle University and the original procurement lists from major European precision instrument factories. You can take a close look."
Arthur opened the folder.
With just a glance, his breathing became heavy.
That was not a casually drawn sketch, but an extremely professional architectural construction drawing.
And the long strings of German and English on those procurement lists clearly listed the top optical instruments and electromagnetic equipment he had dreamed of owning.
"This... this is incredible. You bought Carl Zeiss's entire year's microscope production?"
Arthur pointed at the list, his voice trembling.
"As long as it can be bought with money, the Argyle Family is never stingy."
George held his coffee, leaning against the desk.
"Mr. Penhaligon, I know what those old gentlemen at the Royal Society are thinking. They think we are buying a reputation. But in fact, we are buying the future."
George's voice was full of temptation.
"The boss has instructed that any top scholar willing to come to America will receive an independent laboratory and unlimited research funding, in addition to a generous salary. There is no need to suck up to bureaucrats or write lengthy application reports. As long as your theory has value, the Imperial Bank's checkbook is open to you at any time."
Arthur closed the folder, his palms full of sweat.
Because he knew that he could no longer resist this temptation.
"If I plan to go to New York, when can I leave?"
Arthur raised his head, his gaze resolute.
"In May, before the award ceremony of the inaugural Science and Peace Prize. We will arrange a first-class cabin on the most luxurious ocean liner for you."
George reached out his hand.
"Welcome to the New World, Professor Penhaligon."
Arthur's defection was not an isolated case.
Over the next week, the threshold of George Templeton's office was almost trampled flat.
Those young scholars who were squeezed out in the Royal Society and those experimenters whose progress was stagnant due to funding problems came knocking one after another.
The British Empire's proud academic city walls began to disintegrate from the inside under the bombardment of five million dollars and top laboratories.
And those arrogant old scholars who clung to tradition like Sir Edwin still denounced them in the newspapers, but they discovered to their horror that the smartest students and assistants under their command were applying for visas to America one by one.
The wind direction had completely changed.
When large batches of telegrams were sent from London, Paris, Vienna, and Berlin to New York.
Felix, sitting on the top floor of the Argyle's Building, was calmly looking at these harvested fruits.
"Boss, the receipts from Europe have been tallied."
Frost stood excitedly in front of the desk.
"Twelve world-class academic giants have accepted the invitations to be judges. At the same time, more than a hundred young scholars from various fields have expressed their intention to come to America in May for a visit or even directly join Argyle University."
"The net has tightened."
Felix threw the telegram in his hand into the wastepaper basket.
"Those old nobles think they control the center of the world. But they forgot that the center will shift."
"Focus all our energy on the award ceremony in May. In New York, right in front of the whole world, I want to firmly place this crown called 'Highest Honor in Science' on the head of the Argyle Family."
Austrian Empire, the physics laboratory of Graz University of Technology.
The air was permeated with a pungent odor of ozone.
On the wooden workbench in the center of the laboratory sat a bulky Gramme Direct Current generator.
As the hand crank was turned rapidly, friction was generated between the copper coils and magnets inside the machine, and dazzling blue sparks constantly burst from the commutator with a crackling sound.
"Stop! Stop quickly! The brushes are going to burn out again!"
Professor Jakob Pöschl shouted, slapping the edge of the workbench, and shook his head repeatedly as he looked at the smoking commutator.
This authority on physics, with his thick, graying beard, was still full of complaints about the Direct Current generator before him.
Standing beside the crank was a young student with an extremely emaciated face. It was Nikola Tesla.
Tesla let go of the crank, his brows tightly knitted as he looked at the smoking machine.
"Professor, the design of this machine itself has fatal flaws."
Tesla's voice was low, carrying a slight Serbian accent.
"During the commutation process of Direct Current, fierce friction and sparks will inevitably be generated between the brushes and the commutator. This not only consumes a massive amount of energy, but is also extremely unsafe. We must find a generator that does not require a commutator."
Professor Pöschl picked up a rag to wipe the engine oil off his hands, and glanced at this student of his who was both his proudest and most headache-inducing.
"Do not need a commutator? Nikola, are you thinking about your ridiculous Alternating Current concept again."
The professor snorted coldly and walked over to his lecture podium.
"I have told you many times, the current direction of Alternating Current constantly changes, and it simply cannot drive any practical motor. It is like a madman pulling back and forth at both ends, unable to do any useful work. Direct Current is the future; this is the consensus of the scientific community."
Tesla stepped forward, his eyes revealing a nearly paranoid fanaticism.
"No, Professor. As long as a Rotating Magnetic Field can be designed, using two-phase or three-phase Alternating Current to generate a phase difference, the rotor of the motor will naturally rotate along with the magnetic field. There is absolutely no need for damned brushes to forcibly change the current direction. This is absolutely feasible in mathematical and physical logic!"
"That is just an illusion in your brain!"
Professor Pöschl deepened his tone; he did not want to continue entangling on this topic.
"Science requires physical objects, Nikola. The day you actually build a motor without a commutator, come and overthrow my theory."
"At least for now, Direct Current is universally recognized by the world, and America has already begun applying it in factories. Even Germany and France have started introducing general Direct Current equipment."
The professor sat down in his chair, picked up the long-since-cooled black tea and took a sip.
"However, speaking of illusions and madness. What happened this morning is even more outrageous than your Alternating Current concept."
Professor Pöschl pulled today's New Free Press out from under the messy draft papers and threw it directly on the desktop.
"Take a look at this, this is the farce put on by that upstart across the Atlantic Ocean. What do they think science is? Potatoes that can be bought and sold in the stock exchange?"
Tesla was puzzled; it was rare to see the usually rigorous Professor Pöschl lose such a big temper over news in the newspaper.
He picked up that newspaper.
In the most prominent position on the front page, a notice occupying a huge amount of space directly caught the eye.
"To the Explorers of All Humanity: The Argyle Science and Peace Foundation is Officially Established"
As soon as Tesla's gaze swept across the title, his heart suddenly missed a beat.
"Mr. Argyle…"
He recited this name silently in his heart.
Quickly reading the main text of the notice.
A foundation fund of five million US dollars, with five awards: physics, chemistry, medicine, literature, and peace.
What made him feel most suffocated was the number printed in bold: a prize of fifty thousand US dollars per category.
"Fifty thousand US dollars."
Professor Pöschl sarcastically calculated the accounts next to him.
"According to the current exchange rate, this is equivalent to a full two hundred thousand Austrian gulden. The total annual funding of us at Graz University of Technology is not even a tenth of this figure. This American named Felix Argyle is simply smashing gold bricks into the faces of European scholars."
Hearing the full name "Felix Argyle", Tesla's fingers holding the newspaper tightened abruptly.
Of course he knew this name.
He even understood what this name represented better than the vast majority of scholars in this world.
Two years ago, it was precisely this man who, through secret channels, had Mr. Timmy find him who was still struggling hard in his hometown.
Not only did he pay his expensive tuition fees, but he also sent him to Graz University of Technology and arranged for dedicated personnel to take care of his life.
Even for the Alternating Current he envisioned, Mr. Argyle was extremely supportive of it.
In Tesla's heart, Mr. Argyle was not only a sponsor, but also a totem who possessed advanced vision and could understand his inner crazy ideas.
"Professor, do you think this is a farce?"
Tesla suppressed the excitement in his heart, trying his best to make his voice sound calm.
"Isn't it?"
Professor Pöschl spread his hands.
"Scientific research requires foundation, hundreds of years of accumulation, just like the Royal Society in London and the Academy of Sciences in Paris. What does America have? Besides knowing how to build railways and make machine guns, they can't even run a decent physics journal. Now they suddenly pull out so much money, it's nothing more than wanting to buy the reputations of a few down-and-out scholars to decorate their storefronts full of copper stench."
Speaking of this, the professor shook his head.
"However, I heard that a few old guys at the University of Vienna have already been tempted. After all, the notice says that as long as you go to be a judge, you can get a ten-thousand-dollar stipend. Ten thousand dollars… This is enough to make many people forget what academic backbone is called."
Tesla looked at those few lines of declaration in the newspaper about "regardless of nationality, regardless of origin, only inquiring about truth". He knew that this was definitely not some upstart's show; this was the horn blown by that man preparing to change the rules of the world.
"Professor, what if this award is real? If they are truly willing to invest so much capital to promote the development of science, isn't this the gospel of all humanity?" Tesla asked back.
Professor Pöschl glanced at him and sighed.
"Nikola, you are still too young. A capitalist's money is never taken for free. Alright, today's experiment ends here. Clean up the laboratory, and we will discuss the commutator problem tomorrow."
The professor picked up his coat and walked out of the laboratory shaking his head.
Tesla remained alone in the empty laboratory. Looking at the familiar name on the newspaper, he felt the blood in his body boiling. He had always wanted to know what kind of empire that boss far away in New York was going to build, and now, he saw the tip of the iceberg.
He was in no mood to clean up the waste on the experimental workbench.
Tesla grabbed his coat, stuffed that copy of the New Free Press into his pocket, and strode out of the gates of Graz University of Technology.
The early spring streets of Graz still carried a chill, but Tesla was completely unaware. He sprinted down the street, crossed several blocks, and headed straight for the apartment where he lived.
He wanted to see his guardian immediately.
He wanted to know the truth of all this, and what role he was playing in this grand plan.
A two-story townhouse on the outskirts of Graz.
The environment here was very quiet, far from the hustle and bustle of the city center.
Tesla pushed open the iron gate of the courtyard, walked quickly up the steps, and heavily knocked on the oak door.
The door was soon opened.
The person who opened the door was a medium-built man wearing a gray vest.
He was around forty years old with very sharp eyes, but instantly showed a gentle smile when he saw Tesla.
His name was Klaus. On the surface, he was a local import and export trader in Graz, but his true identity was the head of the Austrian Empire branch of the Argyle Family Intelligence Department.
For two years, he had been acting as Tesla's guardian, taking care of this genius on whom the boss placed high hopes.
"Nikola? Why are you back from the laboratory so early today?" Klaus stepped aside, letting Tesla into the house.
"I just brewed some coffee. Would you like a cup?"
Tesla walked straight into the living room.
Then he pulled the somewhat crumpled copy of the "New Free Press" from his pocket, laid it flat on the living room coffee table, and pointed to the announcement on the front page.
"Mr. Klaus, is the report on this... true?"
Tesla panted heavily, his eyes staring at Klaus.
Klaus glanced at the newspaper, picked up the coffee pot, poured a cup of black coffee for Tesla, and handed it to him.
"Drink a sip of coffee first and calm your breathing."
Klaus sat down on the single sofa opposite and took out his pipe to light it.
"The content in the newspaper is of course true. Not only is it true, but this announcement being able to simultaneously occupy the front page of the "New Free Press" and other mainstream Austria newspapers is also the result of us fueling the fire behind the scenes."
Hearing these words, the hand holding the coffee cup trembled slightly.
"You have a dedicated department in Austria responsible for these?"
"Nikola, you know nothing about the boss's strength."
Klaus exhaled smoke, his tone carrying undisguised pride.
"The Argyle Family's layout in Europe is far more massive than what you see in the newspapers. The Imperial Bank and News Media Company are just surface signboards. To cooperate with the promotion of this award, we not only bought the pages, but also secretly visited several top scholars in Vienna and Graz, personally delivering the judges' invitation letters and a ten-thousand-dollar allowance to their desks."
Tesla remembered Professor Pöschl's words and asked in shock.
"Did you really give the money away?"
"Of course, real gold and silver. Those old professors initially put on lofty airs, but after seeing the bank draft of the Imperial Bank, not a single person refused." Klaus smiled.
"Just as the boss said. Science requires loftiness, but scientists need to eat."
Tesla sat down on the sofa and took a sip of the bitter coffee, feeling his brain much clearer.
"Why did Mr. Argyle do this? Five million dollars... This sum of money is enough to build an army."
"This is the biggest difference between the boss and those misers in Europe." Klaus leaned forward, looking at Tesla.
"Europe's financial conglomerates spent a hundred years to accumulate their current wealth. They only know how to guard their own coal mines and shipping routes. But the boss used less than ten years to complete their century-long journey. Because the boss knows that in the future world, whoever masters the most cutting-edge technology masters the power to make the rules."
Klaus pointed to the announcement on the newspaper.
"This award is just a bait. The boss's true purpose is to attract the smartest brains in the whole world to America. Right in New York, the grand-scale Argyle University has been completely completed. There are the world's most advanced laboratories and unlimited research funding."
Speaking of this, Klaus paused, his eyes turning solemn.
"By the way, Nikola, there is something I want to talk to you about."
Tesla raised his head, meeting Klaus's gaze.
"Actually, the boss specifically mentioned you in the coded telegram."
Klaus stood up, walked to the desk, and took out a document.
"The boss intends to officially announce the opening of Argyle University to the whole world at the first award ceremony in May. Let me tell you, theoretical study in Graz is already enough. He hopes you will take your family to America as soon as possible."
Tesla suddenly stood up, his heartbeat sounding like beating drums.
"You mean go to America?"
"Yes, go to New York."
Klaus handed the document to Tesla.
"The boss has specifically reserved an independent physics laboratory for you in Argyle University. You can go there to continue studying or start research directly. No mentor will force you to study boring Direct Current, and you can toss and turn your Alternating Current concept in your brain to your heart's content. Research funding will be fully allocated by the Argyle Central Laboratory."
Tesla's hands were trembling.
Looking at the document in his hand, it listed the detailed itinerary and his settlement conditions in New York.
In Graz, he was mocked by professors and treated as a madman by classmates because of his idea of Alternating Current. Despite having a mind full of genius concepts, he had to apply to the school for half a month just to buy a few pieces of high-purity copper wire.
And now, that man far across the Atlantic Ocean directly smashed a world-top laboratory and unlimited funds in front of him.
"Mr. Argyle... Does he really believe I can succeed?"
Tesla's voice was somewhat choked with emotion.
"If the boss didn't believe you, he wouldn't have let us find you two years ago." Klaus patted his shoulder.
"The boss is a businessman and never invests in things without value. He has taken a fancy to your brain. Now, it depends on whether you are willing to completely unleash the potential of this brain on the land of America."
"Of course... I am willing!"
Tesla answered without any hesitation, resolutely.
"I've long had enough of these rigid dogmas in Europe. When are we setting off?"
"Late April. We will arrange the best steam passenger ship to send you and your family directly to New York Harbor. During this time, handle your matters in Graz." Klaus smiled with satisfaction.
Tesla tightly grasped that document, his fighting spirit burning unprecedentedly in his eyes.
He was going to meet that legendary man.
To light up the entire night with Alternating Current in that new world named America.
Time entered late March.
With the complete fall of the European academic circle, this scientific storm whipped up by the Argyle Family did not stop there.
Riding on the ocean freight ships of the Metropolitan Trading Company from the Suez Canal of the Mediterranean, and following the ocean currents of the Atlantic Ocean past the Cape of Good Hope, it began to spread toward the more distant Asia.
Those bundles of newspapers and brochures, mixed among the cargo of cotton cloth and kerosene, were unloaded at various unfamiliar ports.
What kind of ripples would this huge bonus of as much as fifty thousand dollars stir up on this ancient land that was in the alternation of the old and the new, yearning for self-improvement and reform?
Everything had just begun.
In early April, Yokohama Port, Japan.
In this country that had experienced the Meiji Restoration just a few years ago, Yokohama had already become one of the busiest open ports in the Far East.
Steamships from various countries were docked in the port, and on the shore, Japanese people wearing traditional kimonos brushed past Westerners in suits, making the collision of the old and new eras appear particularly intense here.
A freighter of the Metropolitan Trading Company flying the Stars and Stripes slowly docked.
American merchant Caldwell stood on the deck, directing the sailors to unload crates of Argyle flour, various canned goods, and Umbrella pharmaceuticals from the ship.
He was the senior agent in charge of the Japanese shipping route for the Metropolitan Trading Company, and also a shrewd and capable fellow.
"Be careful! Don't drop those crates of carbolic acid disinfectant. These are hot commodities right now!"
Caldwell shouted loudly.
On the dock, a middle-aged Japanese man wearing a slightly oversized black suit and round-framed glasses was walking quickly.
His name was Hiroki Ito, and he was a physics instructor at the newly established Tokyo Kaisei School (the predecessor of the University of Tokyo).
In this era urgently in need of absorbing Western knowledge, scholars like Ito who understood both English and science were extremely valued assets of the country.
"Mr. Caldwell! Welcome to Yokohama."
Ito walked close and greeted him in fluent but accented English.
"Oh, Professor Ito. Long time no see."
Caldwell smiled, walked down the gangplank, and shook hands with Ito.
"The batch of experimental equipment you ordered is all in Cabin Number Three. I personally supervised the loading, and not a single piece is missing."
"Sumimasen. Thank you so much, this equipment is too important for our teaching." Ito breathed a sigh of relief.
After checking the cargo manifest, Caldwell pulled a stack of slightly frayed newspapers from his portable leather bag and handed them to Ito.
"Professor, these are newspapers brought over from New York and San Francisco last month. I know you scholars are very interested in news from across the ocean. There's big news this time."
Caldwell smiled mysteriously.
Ito took the newspaper, and the one right on top was the New York Tribune.
He stood in the wind on the dock and lowered his head to take a look.
Just with this single glance, his entire body was frozen in place as if under a body-binding curse.
The notice about the "Argyle Science and Peace Foundation" on the front page of the newspaper struck his brain like lightning.
"Fifty thousand dollars..."
Ito pushed up the glasses on the bridge of his nose, muttered a phrase in Japanese subconsciously, and then raised his head to look at Caldwell.
"Mr. Caldwell, are the numbers on this printed incorrectly? Fifty thousand dollars for a single prize category?"
"Of course... Absolutely no mistakes. In America, no one dares to joke with the reputation of the Argyle Family." Caldwell shrugged.
"This matter has spread like wildfire in Europe and the Americas. I heard that many well-known professors from Britain and France have already received invitations to go to New York to serve as judges. A stipend of ten thousand dollars a year, ha... What a bunch of lucky old guys."
Ito felt his breathing become difficult.
In the Japan of 1872, although the Meiji government vigorously promoted "increase production and promote industry, civilization and enlightenment," the national treasury was extremely strapped.
Fifty thousand dollars, converted into Japanese currency, was equivalent to over fifty thousand yen.
This sum of money was even enough to establish a brand-new national university in Tokyo or purchase a small steam warship.
And now, this was merely a private prize awarded to a single scientist!
"This is incredible... What kind of person is Mr. Argyle anyway?" Ito murmured to himself.
He frequently heard the name of the Argyle Company in his teaching, because the Typewriters, telegraphs, and some chemical reagents used by the school were all produced by them.
But he never expected that this business empire would actually stretch its tentacles into the purely scientific field.
Caldwell patted Ito on the shoulder.
"Professor, this notice clearly states regardless of nationality or background. Scholars from Asia are equally eligible to apply. If you have any inventions that can change the world, you might as well mail your paper to New York to try your luck. Even if you don't get the fifty thousand, seizing this opportunity to exchange ideas at Argyle University in New York would also be a rare chance."
Ito tightly gripped the newspaper and bowed deeply to Caldwell.
"Honto ni arigatou, thank you very much for bringing this news. For those of us who yearn to explore the truth, this is no less than an earthquake."
Bidding farewell to Caldwell, Ito didn't even take a rented carriage. He hurried all the way to the train station and caught the earliest train back to Tokyo.
That same evening, in a Japanese-style tavern in Tokyo.
Hiroki Ito gathered all several of his colleagues teaching at the Kaisei School and the university's South School. Among them were Dr. Nakamura, who engaged in medical research, and Professor Takahashi, who studied geology.
Under the dim gas lamp, Ito spread out that newspaper flat on the low table in the middle of the tatami mat, and translated the notice on it word for word into Japanese.
The tavern's private room fell into a prolonged dead silence. There was only the occasional sound of wooden clogs coming from the street outside.
"Masaka, fifty thousand dollars..."
Dr. Nakamura's hand holding the sake cup stopped mid-air.
"The annual research funding allocated by our government to the entire medical institute is less than one-tenth of this prize money. Has Western capital really grown to such a massive scale?"
Professor Takahashi appeared even more excited.
"Isn't this precisely the opportunity for us to prove the abilities of Japanese scholars to the world? For these past few years, I have been studying the frequent earthquake patterns and strata structures of the Japanese archipelago. This kind of unique research absolutely cannot be done in Europe and the Americas! If I organize and translate my paper into English and mail it to the selection committee in New York..."
"Takahashi-kun, calm down." Ito interrupted him, but his own voice was also trembling slightly, "For an award of this level, the competitors are definitely long-established leading figures in Europe. Our research foundation is too thin."
"The thinner the foundation, the more we must fight for it!" Dr. Nakamura slammed down his sake cup heavily, "We cannot forever remain just followers and translators of Western science. As long as there is a glimmer of hope, we should showcase our research achievements. Even if we don't win the prize, it can let those across the ocean see our efforts in medicine and geology."
Looking at the fanaticism in his colleagues' eyes, Ito knew that this notice had successfully ignited an unquenchable fire in the hearts of these Asian scholars who were eager to prove themselves.
Not just Japan.
At the same time, further south in Siam (Thailand).
Inside the royal palace in Bangkok, several royal scholars sponsored by King Rama V also obtained the same newspaper from the hands of a British merchant.
Although Siam's modernization process was fraught with difficulty, these young aristocrats who had previously studied abroad in Europe, stimulated by this huge prize money, began to enthusiastically discuss their rudimentary research on tropical plant extracts and agricultural improvements, fantasizing about using these earth-scented discoveries to knock on the door of that scientific sanctuary in New York.
This fund, amounting to as much as five million dollars, was like a giant boulder thrown into a stagnant pool, and the ripples it generated were spreading with unstoppable momentum toward Asia's largest and oldest empire.
There, a group of brilliant minds suppressed for centuries by the eight-legged essays and the imperial examination system were about to welcome a shock that would subvert their worldview.
In April, the Jiangnan region had already begun to experience the continuous drizzle of the plum rain season.
Inside a humble teahouse outside Shiliupu Wharf, Shen Cong was sitting on a somewhat wobbly long bench, drinking inferior coarse tea while snacking on a dish of fennel beans.
Shen Cong was nearing forty years old, wearing a faded blue cloth long gown, and the queue at the back of his head was somewhat withered and yellowish.
He was a typical failed imperial scholar, having taken the provincial examinations several times in his early years without passing.
But unlike those pedantic scholars who read blindly, he had possessed an extremely strong interest in Western natural sciences (physics and chemistry) since childhood.
A few years ago, he came to Shanghai, and relying on his self-taught English foundation, secured a job at the translation bureau affiliated with the Jiangnan Arsenal, specifically responsible for translating Western chemistry and machinery books into Chinese.
Although it was an unrated job, it allowed him to come into contact with the most advanced industrial knowledge in the world at that time.
"Brother Shen, what are you daydreaming about? The tea has gone cold."
A middle-aged man wearing gray cloth short-jacket walked over and sat down at the table.
His name was Li Ming, a mechanic responsible for steam engine maintenance in the arsenal, and also one of Shen Cong's few close confidants.
Shen Cong came back to his senses, pulled a squarely folded piece of paper from his bosom, and carefully spread it out on the table.
"Brother Li, come take a look at this. This is a leftover page of a Western newspaper that I asked a fellow townsman working at the Metropolitan Trading Company to find from the foreigners' wastepaper basket when I went to the foreign concession yesterday. I translated it into our language overnight."
Li Ming leaned over to take a look; it was densely filled with translations written by Shen Cong in minute regular script.
"'Argyle Science and Peace Foundation'? This foreign name is really a tongue-twister. What is this thing? Is it a notice from foreigners opening a money shop to lend usurious loans?" Li Ming asked, puzzled.
"No, it's not a money shop."
Shen Cong's eyes revealed a complex mix of yearning and a deep sense of frustration.
"This counts as a reward. A great American tycoon took out five million silver dollars to set up this fund, specifically used to reward scholars who have made major inventions in natural science, chemistry, and medicine."
Shen Cong pointed at a line of characters on the translation, his fingers trembling slightly.
"As long as one wins the award, the prize is fifty thousand silver dollars!"
"Fifty thousand silver dollars?!"
Li Ming was so startled that he almost fell off the long bench.
Usually repairing machines in the arsenal, he only made a dozen or so taels of silver in salary a month after working himself to death.
Fifty thousand silver dollars amounted to tens of thousands of taels of silver. That was enough to buy an entire street of storefronts in Shanghai.
"Brother Shen, have these foreigners gone mad? Spending so much silver to reward people who tinker with jars and cans? In our Great Qing Empire, aside from placing first in the imperial examination to become a high-ranking official, who would give silver away for nothing to artisans?"
Li Ming lowered his voice, feeling that this matter was simply too absurd.
"This is the gap between us and the foreigners, Brother Li."
Shen Cong let out a long sigh, his tone full of desolate sorrow.
"The bigwigs in the imperial court talk every day about the Classics, History, Philosophies, and Belles-Lettres, and the Four Books and Five Classics. People like us translating Western science in the translation bureau are, in their eyes, merely artisans of clever devices and strange skills who cannot make it to the grand stage. But look at the Americans; they treat people who study these subjects as true heroes and support them with real gold and silver. No wonder their strong ships and powerful guns could beat a path to our doorstep."
Shen Cong picked up the icy cold tea and drank it all in one gulp.
"Brother Li, over the past two years, besides translating, we have also done quite a few experiments ourselves. That steam engine condenser valve you improved—I calculated that it can save nearly twenty percent of coal. And the new primer formulas for gunpowder that I extracted. When we take these things to show the bigwigs at the arsenal, they don't even bother to glance at them, knowing only to buy high-priced defective products from the British."
Shen Cong grabbed Li Ming's wrist, his eyes turning fiery.
"This notice is written clearly—nationality and background are not questioned. Why don't we give it a try? Write our research in English and mail it to New York. Even if we don't get those fifty thousand silver dollars, as long as we can let the foreigners see that our Great Qing Empire also has people who understand natural sciences, it will be worth it!"
Li Ming was infected by Shen Cong's attitude, but still hesitated somewhat.
"But Brother Shen, New York is a hundred thousand miles away. Even if we write it out, how do we mail it over? The imperial court's post stations certainly don't deliver Western letters."
"I've thought about this." Shen Cong lowered his voice.
"The ships of the Metropolitan Trading Company come to Shanghai to unload cargo every month now. Their representative named Hughes recently found Lu Zhaoting as an agent here in Nanshi. I heard that the Metropolitan Company is very generous in buying people's hearts. We can seal our manuscript, entrust it to my fellow townsman, spend a little silver to go directly through the internal postal route of the Metropolitan Trading Company, and it will definitely be safely delivered to New York."
Two intellectuals struggling at the bottom of the massive feudal empire made a decision in this gloomy teahouse that would change their lives forever.
Meanwhile.
New York, the top-floor office of the Empire Bank Building.
Outside the window, the spring sunshine was bright, and the trees in Central Park had already sprouted fresh green leaves.
Felix sat behind a spacious desk.
The originally empty area on the desk was now piled high with letters and packages like a small mountain.
Frost, leading two secretaries, was sweating profusely as he classified and registered these letters.
"Boss, it's crazy. It's simply too crazy."
Frost pushed up his sliding glasses, holding a letter with the Royal Society's stamp in his hand.
"Starting last week, hundreds of letters from Europe have been delivered to the building every day. Some submit theoretical research papers, and some apply to teach at Argyle University. Just now the doorman said that even a few down-and-out scholars from Germany have already bought third-class tickets themselves and rushed downstairs to our building to demand to see you."
Holding a coffee cup, Felix looked at those mountainous piles of letters, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile of total control.
"This shows that the weight of fifty thousand US dollars is far heavier than those illusory academic titles. Open those letters, filter out the theories and technologies of real value, and throw the garbage into the shredder."
Felix stood up and walked over to the map.
"It is now April, and there is only one month left until the May award ceremony. Has the list for the selection committee been finalized?"
"It has been completely finalized."
Frost picked up a list.
"Twelve leading figures in the European physics and chemistry circles have all accepted our stipends and confirmed in their reply letters that they will arrive in New York on time. However..."
Frost hesitated for a moment and pulled a somewhat yellowish kraft paper bag from the very bottom of the letter pile.
"These past few days, besides the European letters, we have also received some things mailed from Asia. There are a few from Japan, and even one mailed from Shanghai, Qing Empire. They were all forwarded through the internal postal route of the Metropolitan Trading Company. They are also here to apply for the awards."
Felix raised his eyebrows slightly, turned around, a trace of surprise flashing in his eyes, but it was immediately replaced by a deeper ambition.
"Asian scholars? It seems our commercial network in the Far East has incidentally shipped our cultural bomb over there as well."
Felix walked back to the desk and reached out to pat those letters converging from all over the world.
"Open all the doors. Whether they are European leading authorities or Asian nobodies, as long as they have brains and technology, I want to make them all flow into this New World."
Felix walked to the window and overlooked the bustling Wall Street.
"In May, I want New York to become the heart of the entire world. I want everyone to know who is controlling the pulse of the future."
The Atlantic Ocean's breeze in late April still carried a hint of biting chill.
A luxury steamliner belonging to the White Star Line slowly sailed into a deep-water berth in New York Harbor amidst the sound of the ship's horn.
The deck was crowded with European passengers who had just endured half a month of tossing at sea.
Dr. William Koch tightly gripped the railing of the ship's side, looking with shock at the city growing wildly ahead.
In his line of sight, Manhattan's coastline was occupied by dense cranes, smokestacks, and scaffolding.
The air was filled with the smell of soot and engine oil.
There were no heavy, classical Prussia buildings like those in Berlin nor Paris's artistic tree-lined avenues, only an unmasked and brutal industrial power.
"Dr. Koch, please follow me. The family's private car is already waiting below."
A young man wearing a black formal suit and an Imperial Bank badge on his chest walked up to Koch, respectfully taking the shabby leather suitcase from his hand.
This young man was a guide specially transferred from the London branch to accompany these European judges throughout the trip.
Koch nodded and followed the guide down the gangway.
As soon as he stepped onto the dock, he immediately felt an extremely high efficiency never experienced in Europe.
There were no tedious customs interrogations and arrogant port officials.
The guide simply showed a document stamped with red sealing wax to the dock supervisor, and they were directly guided to two spacious and comfortable four-wheeled carriages.
Yes, it was that simple...
"Where are we going now? A hotel?"
Koch sat into the carriage, looking at the hurried New York City citizens outside the window.
"Of course not, Doctor."
The guide sat opposite him and handed over the hot coffee that had been prepared long ago.
"The boss thinks the hotel environment is too noisy and not suitable for scholars to conduct rigorous evaluation work. We have prepared special accommodations for you and your colleagues, right on the edge of Uptown Manhattan."
The carriage moved smoothly along the cobbled streets, and after about forty minutes, it drove into a quiet area surrounded by tall iron fences.
When Koch saw the scene before him through the carriage window, his eyes couldn't help but light up.
Between the meticulously leveled lawns and the forests that had just sprouted new green, more than thirty brand-new two-story wooden villas were distributed in an orderly manner.
The designs of these villas were extremely elegant, each with an independent garden and a spacious porch.
At this moment, on the central square of this villa area, Felix was leaning on a cane, listening to the report from Arthur Hamilton, general manager of the Federal Real Estate Company.
"Boss, all the judges' villas have been completely finished." Hamilton held the blueprints in his hand, pointing to the buildings exuding the scent of fresh pine wood.
"From foundation leveling to topping out, and then to internal pipeline laying for thirty-five detached villas, we only used twenty-one days in total."
Felix looked at the neat wooden houses and nodded with satisfaction.
"Not bad, what about the interior facilities?"
Hamilton detailed them as if counting his own treasures.
"Completely according to your requirements."
"Each villa is equipped with an independent heating system and a flush toilet, as well as the latest indoor electric lighting wiring. All furniture is directly customized from the best factories over in Boston. To ensure the working efficiency of the judges, the second floor of each villa has been specially converted into a spacious reading room, and the bookshelves and desks are all top-grade black walnut."
"Twenty-one days."
Felix turned his head to look at Hamilton.
"Arthur, your efficiency in construction certainly did not disappoint me."
Hamilton smiled modestly.
"After all, you said that time is money. As long as enough funds are given, those construction workers can work in two shifts, day and night without stopping. These timbers were transported directly from the western forest farms via the Union Pacific Railroad. For this project, the Federal Real Estate Company transferred more than half of the skilled carpenters in Manhattan."
Just as the two were talking, Dr. Koch's carriage stopped at the edge of the square.
Koch got out of the carriage, and looking at the young and highly oppressive man before him, he immediately guessed the other's identity.
"Mr. Argyle?"
Koch stepped forward and bowed slightly.
Felix turned around to look at this German scholar with considerable achievements in the field of chemistry, a smile appeared on his face, and he took the initiative to extend his hand.
"Dr. Koch, welcome to the New World. Are you still used to the storms along the way?"
Koch grasped that strong hand, feeling the confidence in the other's words.
"Thank you very much for your hospitality, Mr. Argyle. The comfort of this journey exceeded my imagination. Only..." Koch glanced at the surrounding villas.
"You said in the notice that it is just an evaluation work. But the accommodations prepared like this look like you want us to live here for a long time."
"Scientific judgment requires absolute focus. Those research manuscripts and papers from all over the world require you to spend a lot of time to distinguish true from false."
"Hotel rooms cannot store mountains of materials and are prone to leaks. These villas can be regarded as temporary offices prepared by the Argyle Foundation for everyone. When the evaluation ends, this place will be directly donated to the foundation as a research office for visiting senior scholars every year. Therefore, Doctor need not have any psychological burden."
After hearing this, Koch was secretly shocked in his heart.
To build more than thirty luxury villas from the ground up for just over a month of evaluation work?
This kind of domineering style of spending money like water truly struck down his psychological superiority as a European scholar in front of capitalists.
"Er... Your generosity to science is awe-inspiring." Koch said sincerely.
"I am just putting money where it belongs most." Felix turned around and waved at Frost standing in the distance.
"Edward, take Dr. Koch to Villa No. 7 to rest for a while. Tonight we will hold a welcome dinner in the main building. Tomorrow morning, the evaluation work will officially begin."
As more and more carriages drove into this area, Professor Armand Lefebvre from France, several former members of the Royal Society from Britain, and top scholars from other countries successively moved into these wooden houses exuding the fresh fragrance of pine wood.
Night fell, and the main building of the villa area was brightly lit.
This group of scholars who were hostile to each other in their respective European countries due to fighting for funding were now holding top-grade French champagne in their hands, eating top-grade steaks transported by the Metropolitan Trading Company, and their conversations with each other became exceptionally harmonious.
Money, at this moment, became the best lubricant to smooth out academic prejudice and national hatred.
However, they did not know that this lavish dinner was merely a little sweetener before the Argyle Family closed the net.