SGB Chapter 361

## Chapter 361: The Dawn of Human Chatrooms

“Anything new in London lately?”

“Hmm… London is still London, not much has changed. But there’s been quite a bit of news coming from the Royal Society.”

“News from the Royal Society?” Arthur lit his pipe and asked, “Don’t tell me Mr. Faraday didn’t get the Copley Medal?”

“Of course not,” Tennyson chuckled, “Mr. Faraday was elected unanimously.”

Arthur joked, “Alfred, that’s not news. If Mr. Faraday had been rejected, that would be news. You might not know what Mr. Faraday’s paper ‘On the Laws of Electromagnetic Induction’ means to the scientific community. It’s like the Duke of Wellington’s Battle of Waterloo. So, after he unveiled that paper, it was only a matter of time before Mr. Faraday won the Copley Medal, the highest honor of the Royal Society. Thankfully, the Royal Society’s Academic Committee didn’t disappoint us, they finally got this multiple-choice question right.”

As Arthur finished speaking, Dumas, who was standing by the window, pulled open the curtains and pointed at a strange machine connected by insulated copper wires. “Is this some new invention? The wires connected to it are ridiculously long, stretching from the second floor of the editorial office all the way to the westernmost edge of Fleet Street. Where on earth is it going?”

“Ah! You mean that thing?”

Tennyson got up and explained, “Actually, I don’t know what it’s for either. When Wheatstone came to the editorial office to set up this machine, he just told me he was going to use it to measure the speed of electricity. But since the speed of electricity is incredibly fast, he had to keep extending the wires. As far as I know, the other end of this machine is in a small house four kilometers away.”

Arthur couldn’t help but retort, “Couldn’t he just do this experiment at the Royal Society? He’s setting up the experiment in two such distant locations, how does he plan to calculate the transmission time?”

Tennyson replied with a smile, “I asked him the same question initially. But Mr. Wheatstone told me he also set up a similar facility at the Royal Society. However, he was worried that the wires would be too close together and cause electromagnetic induction, leading to errors in the experiment. So, he spent his own money to set up a new instrument outdoors. As for calculating the transmission time, before each experiment, he would come and synchronize his watch with mine. We agree on a time to energize the circuit, and when the time comes, I turn on the electricity here.”

Dumas looked out the window at the endless wire, the French fat man who occasionally paid attention to the latest scientific developments couldn’t help but ask, “But I remember electricity is instantaneous, isn’t it? When you turn on the electricity here, it should react immediately over there.”

Tennyson nodded, “Actually, Mr. Wheatstone’s final measurements are basically consistent with the idea that the speed of electricity is instantaneous. I tried to persuade him to give up, but Mr. Wheatstone never gave up. Recently, I heard he’s started thinking about using a new method to measure the speed of electricity.”

“A new method?” Dumas asked curiously, “How does he plan to do it?”

Tennyson shook his head, “He explained it to me, but I didn’t understand it very well. Anyway, it has something to do with a rotating mirror and the duration of an electric spark.”

Dumas was extremely curious about the experimental method, while Arthur’s focus was entirely on the machine.

He pointed at the instrument and said, “Since our Mr. Wheatstone has decided that this thing is useless, let him send someone to dismantle it someday. Having this thing around is really affecting the aesthetics of the editorial building.”

Upon hearing this, Tennyson quickly intervened, “We can’t dismantle this thing.”

“Why not?”

Tennyson stepped forward, pointing at the instrument panel with two small magnetic needles, and said to Arthur, “What do you see here?”

Arthur leaned down and looked closely. He then noticed that the diamond-shaped instrument panel was carefully marked with 26 small holes, each with a label from A to Z.

Even though Arthur had never used this thing before, he could still guess its true purpose.

Arthur’s eyebrows jumped, “Telegraph?”

Dumas also exclaimed, “Mr. Wheatstone mentioned this to me before. I didn’t expect him to actually make it?”

Tennyson smiled shyly, “I’ve been using this machine to chat with Mr. Wheatstone to relieve boredom these days. Although the translation work is a bit troublesome, for me and Mr. Wheatstone, there is no invention that can compare to this machine that allows us to chat without meeting in person.”

Arthur pondered for a moment, staring at the simple telegraph machine. He suddenly asked, “Can I use this thing to talk to Charles now?”

Tennyson looked up at the sky outside the window, “It should be fine. Usually, Mr. Wheatstone is already working in his private laboratory at this time.”

Arthur nodded slightly, “Okay, send him a message for me, saying that you seem to have discovered a new method to measure the speed of electricity, and ask him to come to Fleet Street immediately.”

Upon hearing this, Tennyson couldn’t help but show a hint of embarrassment, “But Arthur… isn’t that a lie?”

“It’s alright,” Arthur leaned back in the velvet chair behind the editor-in-chief’s desk, his arms crossed behind his head. “When he gets here, you can just say I sent the message.”

“But…” Tennyson took out a thin booklet from the drawer, “You don’t know our codebook. If the message really came from you, he’ll definitely see through it at a glance.”

“There’s a codebook?”

Dumas took the book and flipped through a couple of pages. The密密麻麻的字符(densely packed characters) made his head spin. He asked, “This machine is only used by you and Mr. Wheatstone, why do you need to encrypt your communication?”

Tennyson shook his head, “We don’t use the codebook for secrecy, but for more convenient and efficient communication. Although this telegraph machine has 26 letters, it would be too troublesome to transmit one letter at a time. So, Mr. Wheatstone and I designed a code system that allows us to communicate using abbreviations.”

As he spoke, Tennyson pointed to a line in the codebook, “For example, here, AD stands for your name, Alexandre Dumas. CW stands for Mr. Wheatstone’s name, Charles Wheatstone.”

Arthur asked while pouring tea, “So, I’m AH, right?”

Dumas, who had been studying the codebook, couldn’t help but smile at this.

The French fat man said, “That’s half right. Because AH has two meanings in this codebook.”

“Really?” Arthur took a sip from his teacup, “What’s the other one?”

Dumas turned the codebook around and said to Arthur in a loud voice, “Ass Hole.”

The Red Devil couldn’t help but burst into laughter. He put his arm around Arthur’s shoulder and said, “My dear Arthur, why did you have to ask that?”

Arthur put down his teacup and said, “It seems Charles is truly wicked. Perhaps he should also contribute to ‘The Englishman’, not many scientists can use puns so fluently.”

Tennyson was embarrassed, “Arthur, Mr. Wheatstone didn’t mean to target you, it’s just a coincidence.”

“Whatever,” Arthur didn’t care, “As long as he can help me set up a telegraph machine connecting to all major police stations at Scotland Yard, Ass Hole is Ass Hole.”

Hearing this, Tennyson could only pray silently for Wheatstone, hoping that Arthur would at least contribute some money to the telegraph project.

To avoid further awkwardness, he took the initiative to change the subject.

“By the way, there’s some other news at the editorial office, a few things about you.”

“About me?” Arthur suddenly remembered what Owen had mentioned to him about Edgar Allan Poe, “Could it be that some young man who wants to write detective novels has come to you?”

Tennyson replied with a smile, “You’re right. One of your supporters wants to get an autograph from you. If he has the chance to meet you, that would be even better.”

Dumas couldn’t help but frown, “Who is this guy? An autograph is one thing, but why does he have to meet him? Who does he think he is? We are literary creators, not circus performers.”

Seeing Dumas’s dissatisfaction, Tennyson quickly explained, “If it were some rude person making this kind of request, I would have kicked him out. But… Arthur’s supporter is a bit special, and it was Mrs. Shelley who came to submit her manuscript and asked for him, so I really couldn’t refuse.”

Arthur instantly caught the keyword. He pondered for a moment, “Mrs. Shelley? Hmm… that’s indeed difficult to refuse.”

Dumas also caught the keyword and fell into thought, “She? Hmm… refusing a lady is indeed un-gentlemanly.”

Tennyson added, “I heard from Mrs. Shelley that since we recommended her ‘Frankenstein’ to the theater to be adapted into a stage play, there have been many more people asking her to adapt novels into scripts. Plus, with the help of the editorial office, the整理出版工作(compilation and publication) of Shelley’s posthumous works has been smoother.

So, she can now better focus her life on socializing. The other day, after a long absence from the Bluestockings Society, she participated in their reading salon again. If you go to a Bluestockings event someday, you can send someone to give her a heads-up, she will bring your little fan along.”

“So, who is it?” Dumas winked at Tennyson and nudged his shoulder, “Alfred, are you going to keep this from me?”

Tennyson couldn’t help but laugh, “Alexander, it’s not that I’m not telling you, but I don’t know what’s going on either. Mrs. Shelley just told me that the young lady is not in good health and can’t even go out often. If not for this, she would never have made such an unreasonable request that you go and meet her.”

Arthur heard that even Mrs. Shelley had said so, and knew that he couldn’t refuse this matter.

He nodded, “In that case, I’ll have someone notify her the next time I attend a Bluestockings event. Next time Mrs. Shelley comes to submit her manuscript, please let her know. Also, please tell her as clearly as possible that due to my busy schedule and the cholera epidemic, I might not be able to attend the next Bluestockings event until the next social season.”

Tennyson, having settled a commission, breathed a sigh of relief and nodded, “No problem, that’s only natural, I believe Mrs. Shelley will understand.”

As he spoke, Arthur suddenly turned to another matter.

“Speaking of which, has Mr. Bernie Harrison been to the editorial office lately?”

“Harrison?” Dumas raised an eyebrow, “Why would he come to the editorial office?”

But before he could finish speaking, Tennyson said, “There was indeed a Mr. Harrison who came to the editorial office recently to see you. If I remember correctly, it was just a few days ago, not long after the Liverpool shooting. As soon as he arrived at the editorial office, he started to complain to me, saying things like ‘I really didn’t kill anyone’, ‘This has nothing to do with me’, and other frightening things.

But I really didn’t know what he was talking about. He saw that I didn’t understand, so he told me that you made him understand and asked him to come to ‘The Englishman’ editorial office. I told him to calm down, but he just couldn’t. We talked for a long time, and in the end, he realized that I really didn’t know anything. So, he told me to notify you when you come back, and he would come to you personally to clarify everything.”

(End of Chapter)