Becoming a Translator?

"What is this?" Joseph asked, knitting his brows. Joseph did not have much of an impulse to put unknown things into his mouth; from this, it was clear that before his transmigration, he was certainly not a foodie from the "Big-Eating Province."

"Let me tell you. This crystalline liquid is the very nectar that the Goddess of Youth, Hebe, served to Zeus, the King of Gods who wields the thunderbolt. It is a divine gift bestowed by the Muse upon her followers... Come, try it. It can bring you all sorts of dreams and inspiration, letting you forget every sorrow." Armand replied in an exaggerated tone, as if reciting The Cid.

"Enough, Armand. You aren't on stage, and you aren't performing The Cid. Speak plainly: what exactly is this?" Joseph's tone grew impatient.

"Ah, you mortal man. Endless treasures lie before you, yet you have no eyes to see them," Armand continued in that operatic voice. "Do you love gold? With this, the treasuries of Ali Baba and Alexander will burst open before your eyes. Do you love fantasy? Drink it, and the infinite cosmos and the deep, dark oceans will open their arms to you. Are you keen on power? Imbibe it, and you shall become Caesar, become Augustus, become Alexander. Is that not tempting enough?"

"What is it, exactly?" Joseph asked, frowning. He knew well that this era was one where various psychoactive substances were commonly abused.

"Have you ever heard of the Saracens?" Armand asked.

I have certainly heard of them, and I even know about Assassin's Creed, Joseph thought, but said, "Of course, of course I have."

"Then you must also know of the Old Man of the Mountain who sought to assassinate Philip Augustus. Legend has it that he ruled over a fertile valley, flanked by towering mountains—his legendary name comes from this. It is said that in that mysterious valley, he had a garden where, according to Marco Polo, he grew a certain celestial herb.

"His chosen ones, those assassins, only had to consume it to ascend to paradise in advance. After witnessing the supreme joy of paradise, they all believed that by serving the Old Man, they could enter that paradise forever. So, whoever the Old Man ordered them to kill, they would kill. Even if they had to trek to the ends of the earth, to the golden apple tree Heracles once visited; or face torture, or even beheading, they feared nothing, for they believed it was merely a way to ascend to the paradise they had briefly visited. My friend, the key to that paradise is right before you now."

"Indian hemp!" Joseph said.

"Exactly, that's the stuff!" Armand said with an exaggerated grin. "Well, do you want to try it?"

"No, no," Joseph said quickly. "Armand, you know that when it comes to food and drink, I have always been very resistant to these strange, exotic things."

"Sigh, Joseph, how much joy your life will miss out on because of that! However, perhaps you don't really need these, as you never lack sparks of inspiration. Besides, your attitude toward food is somewhat similar to my uncle's," Armand said. "Hmm, what is your father's illness?"

"It's not certain yet," Joseph said sorrowfully. "But the doctor suspects a tumor in his stomach, causing constant ulceration and bleeding. In short, it is extremely dangerous, and the doctors have almost no way to treat it. They estimate he won't last long. Perhaps soon I will have to leave school and return to Corsica."

"Will you come back?" Armand asked.

"I hope to," Joseph said. "Who would want to leave Paris? It's just that, you know I have several brothers and sisters. The sisters are one thing, but the brothers all need to study, which is no small expense. If something really happens to my father, as the eldest son, I must step up and shoulder the family's responsibilities."

"Joseph, you aren't even fifteen yet," Armand said. "Even if you wanted to work, it's a bit early. You still have a year until graduation. If you drop out now, it's not only a pity, but the salary you could get by finding a job now versus finding one after graduating and getting your certificate would be vastly different.

"Perhaps the salary you could earn by dropping out a year early wouldn't even be half of what you could get by gritting your teeth and finishing that last year. Your family is noble... of course, I know there is a big difference between Corsican nobility and French nobility... you know, I mean the economic difference, not anything else. But nobility is nobility after all; even poor nobility is only poor relative to other nobles. So, I think your family can surely find a way to hold on for one more year."

Joseph shook his head and said, "My friend, our family's economic situation is more serious than you imagine. The poor nobility you speak of are the poor nobility of France. But the poor nobility of Corsica are even poorer than the poor nobility of France. You know, Corsica has just experienced war, and war has caused tremendous destruction to wealth. Furthermore, at first, France did not recognize the noble status of Corsican nobles. Although it was conditionally recognized later, obtaining this recognition cost money. And it cost a lot of money. It almost drained our family dry. So today, our family is much poorer than you imagine."

"Alright, alright," Armand said. "But I still think... by the way, how is your English?"

"Not bad, perhaps even slightly better than my French," Joseph replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Aren't you short on money?" Armand said. "Someone asked me to find someone to help translate the poetry and plays of Shakespeare and Milton. The pay is good, not much less than what you'd get by dropping out to work. Hmm, in fact, your studies don't cost much, and if you live frugally enough, you might even have a little left over. If you do this kind of work while attending school, and have your family be a bit more thrifty, holding on for a year shouldn't be a problem. After a year, you'll graduate and have the chance to earn much more money than you can now."

Joseph knew that what Armand said about someone asking him to find a translator for Shakespeare and Milton was likely not the whole truth. The reality was most likely that someone had asked Armand to translate these things himself.

"Armand, this was requested of you, wasn't it? If I take it, wouldn't I be stealing your money?" Joseph said.

"Hey, I'm so busy these days, where would I find the time for such things? Look, I have to enjoy the nectar of the Goddess of Youth, Hebe, and simultaneously deal with my entire company of mistresses... Heavens, where would I find the time for such boring tasks? If I spent my youth at a desk, my mistresses would surely run off to the beds of Fabio or some other lad I don't know. It's just that the person who asked me is a friend, and I couldn't easily refuse. If you're willing to do it, you'd truly be liberating me!" Armand replied in an exaggerated tone again.

Armand was handsome, came from a good background, and his family was wealthy, so he was indeed very attractive to women. He himself often liked to compare himself to Don Juan, so one could indeed often see different women around him, but as for having a whole company of mistresses, that was definitely bragging.

"Then thank you very much," Joseph replied sincerely. "Also, do you think that after I graduate, I could go be an assistant to your uncle?"

"What? Be his assistant?" Armand's eyes widened. "Ah, my friend, with your level of mathematics and natural philosophy, that would certainly be no problem. However, I do not suggest that you go be an assistant to my famous uncle after you graduate."

"Why?" Joseph asked.

"If you were under no economic pressure, being his assistant wouldn't be bad; you could learn a lot. But you might not know that my uncle... ah, he is my elder and the pride of all France, so I shouldn't really say anything about him. But except for Jesus, no one is perfect. My uncle is the same, from a certain perspective... Have you read Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice?"

"I have," Joseph nodded.

"In some respects, he is somewhat similar to Shylock in that play. So, if you are under economic pressure, being his assistant is not a good choice," Armand said with a wry smile.

"So that's how it is..." Joseph echoed.

Joseph knew that Armand's uncle, Lavoisier, was one of the greatest scientists in France, but he also knew that Armand was likely not slandering his own uncle. Lavoisier was filled with a thirst for wealth. Thus, even during the Great Revolution, even knowing that as a noble he was not favored by the ruling Jacobins, he still risked tax farming, hoarding, and speculation, and was ultimately sent to the guillotine to have his head chopped off because of it.

At the time, the great mathematician Lagrange lamented, "It took France a hundred years to grow such a brilliant head, but they chopped it off in only a second." But even Lagrange, who said this, did not believe that Lavoisier had not done the things the Jacobins accused him of.

"Actually, with your ability, plus the reputation of the Lycée Louis-le-Grand, finding a suitable job won't be difficult," Armand said. "For example, it would be quite easy for you to become a priest in a black robe. Of course, theoretically, being a priest requires giving up many things, but in reality, it's a different matter. You know, many popes have kept mistresses. Pope Alexander VI might even have... with his own daughter... truly... enviable!"

"You beast!" Joseph said quickly.

"Thank you for your high praise," Armand replied shamelessly.