The Devil Who Dotes on Her Brother's Thesis (2)

"At least for now, I haven't found any mathematical issues. His few little tools are also quite excellent," Laplace said. "It's just that using waves to explain light still leaves many phenomena difficult to account for. For instance, what properties must the ether possess to transmit fluctuations as fast as light? Furthermore, if he interprets light as a transverse wave, why are there no longitudinal waves in the ether?"

"Ah, my friend, your questions are truly too numerous, and not a single one is a problem that can be solved in a short time—or even, I feel, one we shall see the answer to in our lifetime," Lavoisier said. "This is indeed a major problem for the wave theory. This thing called ether is simply too unique; it is almost as inconceivable as God. It transmits light at an incredibly fast speed—I mean, if light is a wave—which implies it must be extremely rigid, far more so than diamond. It fills the entire universe and is so rigid, yet it offers no resistance to anything in the universe; it doesn't obstruct the movement of even the most minute dust—in fact, we currently cannot find any resistance originating from the 'ether' at all. It is truly a headache... Ah, my friend, I suggest we stop thinking about that damned 'ether' for the moment. Our current knowledge and means are far too distant from it. For us to study it now is like a kitten that has just been weaned trying to figure out how to catch a whale."

"Monsieur Lavoisier, a whale is not a fish," Laplace laughed.

"I know that, of course," Lavoisier laughed as well, "but... but the kitten doesn't know that."

"Indeed, the kitten doesn't know," Laplace said. "In fact, aren't we just kittens ourselves? We don't know either."

"Therefore, I have always believed that experiment comes first. All theories must ultimately be tested by experiment; at least his calculations were verified quite well by that 'Bonaparte Spot.' As for whether there are other explanations for the 'Bonaparte Spot,' 'Double-slit Interference,' and 'Newton's Rings' from a particle perspective, that will be up to others," Lavoisier said. "But even if he is ultimately wrong on this issue, the error itself has value."

"I agree with that," Laplace said. He then lowered his head to look at the paper and added, "I will come up with a new explanation. But for now, please allow me to finish checking the calculations in this paper. Then we shall take it together to show Monsieur Monge, Coulomb, and Condorcet..."

However, with Monge and Coulomb, the situation took a turn.

"To be honest, those few mathematical tools in this paper are very interesting, and there are even more interesting things later on. If only this paper had honestly discussed mathematics, it would truly be worth..." Monge frowned. "But he used it to prove such an absurd viewpoint; this is really..."

"If he were willing to revise this paper, that would be fine," Coulomb also said.

"We should invite him to talk, let him revise this paper, and then we can give him the prize money," Laplace glanced at Lavoisier and added, "After all, those few little tools alone are actually worth six hundred francs."

"This is not a question of six hundred francs," Monge said. "It is that he would actually hold such a strange claim—that light is a wave! If the ether that transmits it existed, it would have smashed us into powder long ago! If such an absurd thing were to win a prize, we would become a laughingstock! Unless he revises this paper properly and removes those unnecessary things, I oppose awarding him the prize money."

"I feel that issuing the prize money now is not rigorous; after all, this does not count as truly decisive evidence. I mean, there should be other, better explanations for those two experiments. I think we should be more cautious on this issue..." Coulomb said.

"Oh, come off it, Coulomb! Do you have a better explanation? Or have you found a loophole in his argument?" Condorcet glared. "The wave theory does indeed have many unresolved problems, such as the ether issue you mentioned. But can one say the particle theory has no problems? If nothing else, how does the particle theory explain Double-slit Interference and the 'Bonaparte Spot'? One of the meanings of science is to discover the unknown and raise questions. Raising questions, especially valuable ones, is sometimes even more important than reaching conclusions! Since the birth of science, how many times have we seen old concepts and views overturned? But can we say those now-overturned concepts and views were valueless? Even if the viewpoint in this paper is eventually proven to be a complete fallacy, even if you, Coulomb, come up with a new explanation tomorrow morning that completely overturns his insights, can't this fallacy itself inspire thought and reveal truth? Therefore, even if it is a fallacy, it has value. What's more, it might not even be a fallacy!—Is Sir Newton beyond doubt? Is this still the spirit of science? If such a paper cannot win, that would be the disgrace of the Academy!"

When it came to eloquence, there were truly few in the Academy who could surpass Condorcet, and Coulomb was naturally no exception. Knowing he could not win a debate against Condorcet, Coulomb simply shut his mouth and said nothing.

Seeing that Coulomb was silent, Condorcet turned to Monge: "Monge, what do you think?"

Monge's status in the Academy was less influential than Condorcet's, and his linguistic ability was far inferior. However, Monge was a very stubborn man, so he replied: "Until I have spoken with him face-to-face, I cannot agree to award him the first prize."

Then he shut his mouth and said nothing more. Condorcet knew Monge's character and realized this was the greatest concession he could make, so he said nothing more, instead turning to Laplace: "Laplace, what about you? What is your take?"

Laplace looked at Condorcet, then at Monge and Coulomb, and said: "I think... based on those few mathematical tools alone, this paper could win the first prize... but I also feel that there are areas where he is not rigorous enough, and I also agree that we should invite him to talk."

Condorcet looked at Laplace and couldn't help but shake his head. Laplace's talent was beyond doubt, but his character was truly somewhat weak and fickle.

"Then let it be so. We shall invite this Monsieur Bonaparte here. We will talk to him, and then we will award him the first prize," Condorcet said. He paused slightly and added, "Does anyone here still feel that someone capable of writing such a paper is not qualified to receive such an award?"

Everyone fell silent. Condorcet looked around and said: "Very well, then that is settled."

Although the Academy was located in the city of Paris, the efficiency of the postal service in this era was quite low, and it was not until three days later that Joseph received the invitation. In fact, he had already learned of this news from Armand two days prior.

Now that he had received the invitation, Joseph made some preparations, took the letter, changed into a formal suit that he might not wear even once a year, and boarded a public carriage (mainly to avoid getting too much dust on his leather shoes) and headed toward the Louvre.

The Louvre is located on the north bank of the Seine River and was first built in the twelfth century, making it one of the oldest royal palaces in French history. During the time of Louis XIII, Richelieu founded the Royal Academy of Sciences and housed the institution within the Louvre. By the late reign of Louis XIV, riots frequently occurred in Paris. Louis XIV expanded the Palace of Versailles outside the city and moved there. From then on, the Kings of France no longer resided in the Louvre, but the Academy of Sciences remained there.

Upon arriving at the entrance of the Louvre, Joseph got out of the carriage, straightened his clothes, and walked toward the gate. This was not Joseph's first time at the Louvre; in his previous life, as a tourist, Joseph had visited it. The Louvre of that time was one of the four great museums of the world, housing various precious artifacts. But the Louvre of this era was merely a palace, and of the famous "Three Treasures of the Louvre" of later generations, only the Mona Lisa was housed there at this time.

Joseph walked to the gate of the palace—in later generations, the entrance to the Louvre was that postmodern glass pyramid. But at this time, such a thing did not exist. The gate of the Louvre was still a standard, ordinary gate.

Joseph walked to the entrance and presented the invitation to the gatekeeper. The gatekeeper put on his reading glasses, lowered his head to look at the invitation, and without looking up, peered at Joseph through the gap above his spectacle frames, then said: "Monsieur Bonaparte, please wait here for a moment. I need to verify the situation."

Joseph nodded, waited briefly outside the gate, and soon saw an attendant wearing a red coat and a wig walk over, open the door, and say to Joseph: "Is it Monsieur Bonaparte? Please follow me."

Joseph followed the attendant into the Louvre. The attendant led Joseph through one hall after another, finally stopping in front of a small reception room.

"Monsieur Bonaparte," the attendant turned around, bowed to Joseph, and said, "Monsieur Condorcet, Monsieur Lavoisier, and the others are waiting for you inside."

After saying this, he pulled open the calfskin-covered door and signaled for Joseph to enter on his own.

Joseph walked in and saw that three people were already seated in the room. Seeing Joseph enter, the three stood up. One of them, a thin, middle-aged man with a high forehead, said: "Is it Monsieur Joseph Bonaparte? I am Lavoisier. This is an Academician of the Academy of Sciences, my friend Monsieur Condorcet, and this is my friend Laplace."

Joseph exchanged greetings with each of them. Condorcet was sturdier than Lavoisier, with a broader face. He smiled gently at Joseph, appearing to have a relatively mild temperament. The other, younger man with a slight aquiline nose was the mathematician Laplace, who had once struck fear into Joseph in his previous life.