Joseph's face lit up with excitement as he greeted them one by one. But when he faced Laplace, he couldn't help quietly clenching his fist and pummeling him in his mind. That was also the wish that science and engineering students of later generations universally hurried to make when they stared helplessly at a difficult exam question, looked out the window, and happened to see a shooting star streak past.
Joseph hadn't had the chance to beat Laplace up back then. Now the damned man was standing right in front of him, yet Joseph still couldn't lay a hand on him. All he could do was greet him with boundless enthusiasm. "Mr. Laplace, I've read some of your works. They've inspired me a great deal. I'm so lucky to meet you!" As he spoke, he reached out with both hands and seized Laplace's, just as a certain president had clasped Macron's hand: first he squeezed hard, then abruptly pulled the other man toward himself, making Laplace stumble and nearly fall.
"Mr. Laplace, it's such an honor to meet you. There are so many things I'd like to ask you about, for instance..." Joseph said, smiling broadly and gritting his back teeth, as he squeezed Laplace's hand with all his strength in both of his own.
"Ah... Mr. Bonaparte... Mr. Bonaparte... You really... Let's sit down first, and then... then we can... talk..." Laplace's right shoulder had hiked up high. He tried to pull his hand free as he spoke in halting bursts.
"Ah, Mr. Bonaparte, let's sit down and talk. You're so enthusiastic—you might be hurting Pierre's hand." Seeing Joseph's exuberance and Laplace's face twisting in pain as he gripped his hand, Lavoisier couldn't help wanting to laugh. Still, he called Joseph to a halt.
"Huh?" Joseph feigned astonishment, then released Laplace's hand as if shocked by an electric current. He kept apologizing. "Mr. Laplace, I'm terribly sorry, so terribly sorry. I'm just so excited to meet you... This is... You're not hurt, are you...?"
Laplace flexed his right hand, then asked, "Mr. Bonaparte, how can you be so strong?"
Pain and hatred gave me strength. But Joseph said, "I often help Father Jean-Jacques with carpentry, so my hands may be a little stronger than most."
"That's not just a little stronger," Laplace said. "But let's not discuss that now. You know, we read your paper. Mr. Lavoisier and Mr. Condorcet were both impressed by it. But your paper attempts to overturn a theory that enjoys broad support and is backed by a great many experimental observations. That's a serious matter, and everyone thinks it best to proceed cautiously. So Mr. Lavoisier and Mr. Condorcet, along with several others, hope to speak with you in person about your paper..."
"To be honest," Condorcet said with a gentle smile, "Mr. Bonaparte, your paper is one of the finest we've seen in years. Never mind anything else—the mathematical tools you use alone would be enough to win you the competition. But some people don't quite agree with your conclusion. Well, at least Coulomb and Monge aren't fond of it. They're on their way here, and they may have a whole host of questions for you. You should be prepared."
"Mr. Condorcet, please just call me Joseph," Joseph said. "I thought about this before writing the paper. To be honest, when I reached that conclusion, I worried I might have made a mistake. That's exactly why I wrote the paper: so I could discuss the question with others."
"Ha ha, young people these days are something else," Lavoisier said. "Joseph, you mean you're ready for this? Well, there's no need to be nervous. Actually..."
He had only made it halfway through his sentence when the door to the small sitting room swung open.
Joseph saw several more people come in and quickly stood up.
Everyone else stood as well. Leading the group was His Highness Louis Philippe Joseph, Duke of Orleans, whom Joseph had once met in a café. Two men in military uniforms followed him: one older, in his fifties, and the other a little shorter, with a bronzed face and bright, keen eyes beneath a pair of thick eyebrows.
"Your Highness, what brings you here?" Condorcet asked.
"Ah, Mr. Condorcet, I happened to be passing by today. I'd originally come to visit Monge. When he told me what was going on here, I realized that the Mr. Bonaparte at the center of the debate might be a young man I know, who shares my name, Joseph. So I came to take a look. And as it turns out... Joseph, it really is you." As he spoke, Duke Charles walked over and held out his hand to shake Joseph's. Laplace stared wide-eyed at their joined hands, but...
"Ah, Joseph, when I met you last time, I thought France might have gained another playwright. I never expected we'd gained a mathematician instead. But Mr. Monge seems to disagree with some of your views and would like to discuss them with you. Of course, I don't understand any of this. I'm just here to watch the show." The Duke of Orleans released Joseph's hand, then added, "By the way, Joseph, let me introduce my two friends."
He pointed to the older man. "This is Mr. Coulomb, an authority on electricity." Then he pointed to the shorter, younger man. "This is Mr. Monge, an authority on geometry."
Joseph hurried over to greet Coulomb and Monge. Duke Charles found himself a chair and sat down. "You know, I don't know much about science, but I'm very interested in it. Monge, you have quite a few questions for Joseph. You can begin now."
Monge was a straightforward man. At those words, he immediately said, "Mr. Bonaparte, in your paper you concluded that light is a transverse wave, and your mathematical argument is impressive. But you should know that all waves travel through a medium. If light really is a wave, then what properties would this medium, this luminiferous ether, need to have? Have you considered that?"
Joseph had been ready for this question. In later history, the many objections raised against the "luminiferous ether" had been the main weapon particle-theory supporters used against the wave theory.
"This is how I've thought about it..." Joseph began.
Joseph knew that the so-called "luminiferous ether" would eventually be discarded by scientists. But he couldn't simply claim that the ether didn't exist at this point in time. That would require many scientific discoveries and experiments as a foundation. So all he could do was answer Monge with some of the conjectures that supporters of the wave theory had made before then.
"The question of the ether's rigidity is also related to the speed of light. I've conceived an experiment that could measure the speed of light more accurately. Since Earth is constantly moving, it should also be moving relative to the ether. That means the speed of light measured in different directions might vary..."
"A more accurate way to measure the speed of light?" Condorcet perked up.
"We'd use a rotating octagonal mirror..." Joseph explained. The method he described was Michelson's rotating-prism method. It was relatively simple, and its measurements were reasonably precise.
As Joseph described his experimental design, he casually picked up a sheet of paper and a pen and began sketching the equipment needed.
Joseph instinctively drew the equipment using the familiar modern method of three-view projection. The moment Monge saw his drawings, however, his eyes widened.
"Mr. Bonaparte, where did you learn to draw this way?" Monge asked.
"Huh?" Joseph was startled. He had assumed this kind of drawing technique was common. But seeing Monge's unusually grave expression, he immediately realized that perhaps this method of drawing hadn't even been invented yet.
"I just came up with it myself. I thought it made drawings clearer and easier to understand. Is there a problem with it?" Joseph said.
Monge thought for a moment, then replied, "Mr. Bonaparte, you may not know this—but no, you certainly don't. I began using a similar drawing method nearly twenty years ago. But because it's of great military importance—I'm sure a man as clever as you can understand why—it's been kept strictly secret. It can only be taught at military academies, and every officer who learns it must swear never to share the technique. I told my superiors at the time that before long, someone else might independently develop something similar, just as Newton and Leibniz had independently invented calculus. But since your drawings are so similar to the classified method, I'm afraid your discovery must also be kept secret. Mr. Bonaparte, you haven't taught this method to anyone else, have you?"
"I've only taught this technique to my brother Napoleon. He's a first-year student at the Paris Military Academy. Well, he's good at math, too."
"First year? First-years haven't studied descriptive geometry yet," Monge said. "Mr. Bonaparte, you should remind him not to share this technique."
"Is that so?" Duke Charles said, suddenly interested. "Monge, science should belong to all humanity. Keeping it secret like this doesn't seem right."
"Your Highness, this isn't my decision. It's the government's. I can only obey," Monge replied. Then he turned to Joseph. "Mr. Bonaparte, this discovery should have brought you honor and status. But now you must conceal it. It's a necessary sacrifice for France. I hope you can understand."
Joseph nodded. "I understand. Science has no borders, but scientists have nationalities."
"Just as Leibniz's calculus and Newton's calculus differ in many ways, I imagine your drawing method also differs from Monge's," Coulomb suddenly said. "Could you tell us about your method?"
Before you continue