Once again, the citizens of the British Empire were craving a sense of national pride.
"Did you hear?! Hanslow Jin's name was featured in a German scientific paper!"
At first, everyone was ecstatic. Wow! A Great British writer conquering even the field of science! Who wouldn't be thrilled by such patriotic pride?
"Really?! That's amazing! So, what's the paper about?"
"Well... I'm not sure?"
The excitement died down surprisingly fast.
No wonder, Röntgen's paper was too difficult for the average middle-class person or the general public to understand.
"X-rays? What's that?"
"You can see bones through muscles? Good heavens. How grotesque."
"So what's the use of it? Can it detect monsters like in novels?"
"This... needs too much preparation. Forget it!"
In this era, it was hard for ordinary people to even encounter such papers. And even if they did, what would they do with it?
The paper was filled with unfamiliar technical terms and twisted logic. To make matters worse, the same sentence was repeated multiple times in this particular paper—at least, I thought I wasn't losing my mind...
Even if they could somehow understand it, acquiring experimental tools like Crookes tubes or barium to coat cardboard for generating X-rays was an impossible task for the busy public.
─So, what's the gist of it?
─Dunno.
The inevitable conclusion was, "Don't try to understand. Just feel the moment!" That was the fate of this knowledge.
As a result, the British public quickly lost interest.
Instead, they focused on the immediate realities of going to work the next day, this month's paycheck, and the arrival of the new year in 1896.
However, the academic world was paying attention.
─Honestly, with the 'Baring Scandal,' we let it slide since it was already a famous story. But this?
─How did he know? Did he somehow travel to the future?
─Come on, that's impossible. Hanslow Jin was already famous. People always said his stories felt strangely realistic. There were even rumors he was a researcher all along.
─Remember? There were whispers about him running his own lab, where he secluded himself, focusing solely on writing and research, and that's why his true identity wasn't known.
Eventually, they came to one conclusion.
─It couldn't be, but...
─What if this isn't the only thing?
What if—just maybe—there was something hidden beyond this? Something that could be realized in the real world?
Gradually, the British academic community started paying attention to Vincent Villiers, DawnBringer, and the ongoing series Doctor Dickter's Bizarre Adventures.
Peter Perry was too much of a fantasy, too focused on the fantastical, but... those three novels? They seemed to have quite a bit of realism, didn't they? And they were set in modern-day Britain, no less.
Naturally, a conversation began—slowly, very slowly—about studying and exploring the inventions from Hanslow Jin's stories.
People even began suggesting that they should scrutinize not just Hanslow Jin's works but other novels as well. Sales of sci-fi classics like The Time Machine and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea began to skyrocket.
Of course, some tried to put a stop to it.
"If we are to realize those flights of fancy, we must first uncover some new truths."
This subtle critique came from none other than William Thomson, 1st Baron Kelvin, president of the Royal Society. A great scientist who had achieved the transatlantic submarine telegraph cable, he wanted to keep younger scholars from becoming too engrossed in such unrealistic fantasies.
It was typical of a man who, while a scientist, had also rejected the theory of evolution. Yet... precisely because of that—it didn't work.
"Baron Kelvin has vouched for it! It's possible to make it a reality!"
"We'll discover those new truths! From now on, our lab will research the alchemy from DawnBringer! First, mix silver and copper and heat them!"
"Get all the guys who went on vacation back to the lab! What? A girlfriend? Are you dreaming? Graduate students don't have girlfriends! Tell them to get back here now!"
"What? He was hinting at failure? Telling us to give up because it's unrealistic? Coward! If you're going to give up that easily, why become a scientist at all!? Just go get a job at a company, idiot!"
Thus, like the Knights of the Round Table searching for the Holy Grail, scientists began chasing the science in those novels.
Of course...
"Damn it, damn it! Curse you, Hanslow Jin!!"
"Hahaha, how's it going? Let me know if you find anything!"
"But professor, this is too...!"
"You want to write good papers, don't you?"
"...I'll do my best, professor!"
The ones who were truly excited were those who already had their doctorates and nothing better to do. Meanwhile, those still struggling, namely graduate students, could only suffer in silence as their workload increased.
And this trend spread elsewhere.
"Hmm, brother? Have you heard the latest news?"
"Oh, about Hanslow Jin? Of course. But why?"
"Well, if that's possible... maybe we should give this a try too?"
"Hmm, but it's a completely different direction from what we've been researching so far. And this is Peter Perry we're talking about. It's a fairy tale."
"But doesn't it seem doable? What do you think, third brother?"
The third of the five siblings pondered for a moment before responding.
"Well, alright. Let's give it a shot."
***
"And that's how it happened, author."
"... Good grief."
I put my hand to my forehead as I listened to Maria's words at the Bentley Publishing House, where I had come after hearing the news.
Well, I had already realized that the world of the Anglo-American Empire was complex and bizarre, but this is a bit too much, isn't it?
"Of course, I might have written it without thinking."
Living in England has made me realize that no matter how much they talk about the Belle Époque, the good old days, or the pinnacle of human progress—this is still a somewhat uncivilized past.
For instance, did people in the 17th century in China or the 15th-century Aztec civilization not value life when they practiced human sacrifice or cannibalism? No, they just hadn't been convinced by a strong enough reason to stop these practices. It was merely the inertia of society saying, "Let's keep doing what we've always done," the so-called conservatism.
The British Empire, with all its pomp and circumstance, isn't much different.
They still use Paris Green, an arsenic-laced dye, because it's cheap and pretty, and they mix lead into wine to make it sweeter.
It wasn't for nothing that I avoided drinking the wine Gustav Eiffel offered, using the excuse of the children. Merchants in this era will literally sell poison if it makes a profit.
So lately, I only keep the highest-quality wines at home, or I just stick to whiskey. Fortunately, Mr. Miller surprisingly enjoys it too, saying it's more to his taste.
Anyway, while it depends on the field, the general common sense of this era is bound to be a little behind mine. It's simply the gap of 'future knowledge'... this much I can understand.
But scientists should be different.
Who could have imagined that such chaos would break out over X-rays?
"The University of Westminster, which consulted us on cultural studies during Peter Perry, reached out again. They were wondering if you could share anything related to X-rays..."
"A writer is just a writer. What would I know? I have nothing to offer."
Sure, when it comes to folklore, I've picked up bits and pieces of the occult that I use as material. But how could I handle science? I have enough knowledge to write a story, but in terms of expertise, I can't even compare.
Let me say it again: I'm a pure liberal arts person.
"… You're really not conducting any research on the side?"
"Ah, I told you, no!"
Ugh, really! Am I that untrustworthy?
How honest I've been so far...
Just then, memories flashed through my mind—of Peter Perry burning at the wicker man in front of the publishing house, and how I managed to resolve it. And the time with Vincent Villiers, or when I started the weekly serialization.
… Okay, yes, I did mess up back then. I haven't exactly lived a purely honest life, but still!
"I have no expertise in this field. So whether it's Westminster, Cambridge, or Oxford—if any scientific inquiries come in, do not forward them to me! Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Haha, please calm down, writer. This just means you wrote so realistically, doesn't it?"
"Well... yes, you're right. I apologize for yelling, Maria."
"No worries. I'm sorry for doubting you, writer."
In any case... this isn't exactly a bad thing.
Sales have significantly increased, and it's beneficial to gain recognition among intellectuals, even though they're not the primary audience for popular literature. It could give me a free pass when conducting research, for example.
Wait a minute, what if...
"Bentley, could we possibly take advantage of this situation?"
"How do you mean?"
"You know, like when Newnes made all that money off DawnBringer and the booby trap set with Kid Kevin?"
"Ah, yes, indeed."
Why not try it with Bentley Publishing too?
Honestly, if we can get endorsements from renowned scientists, it would sell much better than if we just marketed it normally, wouldn't it?
You know, like those Dr. O cookies or the Helibak Copter yogurt drinks.
Hmm, what should we do? Peter Perry is already finished, so we'd need to tie it in with the play for synergy. Vincent Villiers is too modern, which is tricky.
Yes, Doctor Dickter might be the best fit—but it's still missing something.
In that case, the first move I can make right now is...
"That person, huh."
Well, there's no other choice.
It's all for the money.
***
London, Kingston upon Thames.
"What? Hanslow Jin, the author?!"
─Yes, that's right. The author.
What is this? Gabriel?
H.G. Wells felt as though he were experiencing some sort of divine revelation, as if he had been called upon by a celestial being.
─If you're busy, just let me know. I'll explain it to him...
"No! No, please! I'd be honored to meet him! I'll definitely be there!"
─… Understood. Please come to the publishing house as soon as you're ready.
"Yes, thank you! Thank you so much, Mr. Melville!"
The call with his editor ended.
Wells tried to savour the electric thrill of excitement for a moment, but soon thought it would be a waste of time.
"Isabel! Where's my suit?!"
"Here it is, dear."
"Thank you, my love."
Wells lightly kissed his beloved wife on the lips. But even at that moment, he wasn't thinking of her.
His god was calling him.