by Paul Vibert
And on this slope, sometimes deceptive but always consoling, which is leading us to the clear vision of victorious and liberating science, permit me not to stop again and to believe in the omnipotence of your tenacious genius in research, and let me hope that after having found he means of photographing individuals across the sea at 5000 leagues, you will also find them means of enabling us to see, of showing us their smiling and living faces.
Permit the belief that one day, you will finally be able to set us before the magic mirror and allow us to converse with our American brothers, whose tangible and real image will be reflected before our eyes.
Before realizing the second part of this program, however, try to realize the first—which is to say, long-distance photography, across the oceans. Either I am much mistaken, or the Röntgen rays ought, by logical deduction from the facts, lead you to the realization of that great scientific hypothesis; but I want to believe that this hypothesis will soon become, thanks to you, tomorrow’s fecund reality, and that is why a modest economist is permitting himself to address this open letter to you.
If my belief in you is excessive, forgive me, for that is my excuse, and your self-respect ought not to be offended.
Yours, etc.
Author’s note: Since this was written, my experiments with regard to Mars have victoriously demonstrated that these hopes will indeed be tomorrow’s fecund reality.
II. A fantastic application. The electric soul. Why not?
I believe that I have explained abundantly here, and to some extent elsewhere in the press, over the last twenty-five years, that light, heat and electricity are a triple and unique phenomenon revealed in different forms, according to the milieu, the ambiances, in which it is required to manifest itself.
The Röntgen, X- or dark rays, the polarization of light, the luminous fountains whose droplets capture and store light, the aerophiles118 that reveal to us the almost complete darkness at 70 degrees of frost at an altitude of 15,000 meters and prove to us that in the void of space there is neither light nor heat but only the dark and cold electric fluid, which only becomes warming and luminous on contact with air, appear to form a bundle of such striking proofs in favor of my theory that it seems to me to be absolutely needless to insist on it further.
Moreover, it’s no longer general data about which I want to talk today, but about an entirely new and perhaps possible application of the marvelous discovery of Röntgen rays, which are surely a most palpable demonstration of the universal existence of electricity, as the unique agent of the universe and the absolute absence of tangible light and heat outside our atmosphere. And yet they exist, that light and that heat; they are transmitted to us by the sun, but invisible and impalpable, since, a few kilometers above our heads, there is darkness and intense cold—probably 282 degrees below zero, according to the most rigorous calculations.119 We are, therefore, once more—as ever—confronted by electricity, and it is conclusively demonstrated this time that light, heat and electricity, in our atmosphere, are merely three different manifestations of the same unique and mysterious fluid.
Thus, I had made my scientific calculations when I had the good fortune, a few months ago, of forming a close friendship with and illustrious scientist in the retinue of Li-Hung-Chang,120 while the celebrated ambassador was in Paris.
Naturally, we touched, somewhat at hazard, on all sorts of subjects in our intimate conversations on what I shall call the transcendental philosophy of the sciences, and I had already had the opportunity to explain enthusiastically to the young but illustrious mandarin my theories of electricity as the unique agent of the universe, and tell him that electricity appeared to play a considerable role in epidemics, about its terrible influence on microbes, that a storm had been able to make cholera disappear from Paris as if by magic some fifty years before and that, finally, that even chemical reactions, which always produce heat, are probably electrical phenomena and that life itself—especially the infinitely small—seemed to be a series of chemical transformations operated under the influence of the currents of the mysterious and imponderable fluid.
At that time, I confess, I did not think that Monsieur Gréard121 would give me full support and approve my theories so clearly at the Sorbonne, in the presence of the President of the Republic, by pronouncing the following words:
“Where untested and incomplete speculation once described the multiplicity and apparent incoherence of the phenomena of nature, modern science discovers a little more every day of the unity of the principle of life; it is heading toward those summits of which d’Alembert spoke, from which the universe would appear to humankind as a single point and a unique verity.”
That is quite clear, and I shall refrain from adding a single word to the affirmation of the eminent Academician, for fear of weakening its impact with unnecessary commentary.
In our quotidian conversations, however, my Chinaman always came back to his unique preoccupation: the suppression of distance.
“Yes, we have the telegraph, the telephone, we have ships that travel much more rapidly, quadruple-expansion steam-engines, perhaps a direct road from Paris to Peking, across Europe and Asia, I hear, but the journey will still be long.” And he added, sadly: “What point is there in deluding myself? Once I’ve gone, you won’t ever come to see me in China.”
“Perhaps,” I told him.
“How?”
“It’s quite simple. A week ago, we spent all day talking about Röntgen rays, didn’t we?”
“Indeed.”
“Well, given that those rays are certainly electrical…”
“Agreed.”
“Perhaps they will succeed in discovering in the human brain that which we call the soul—the principle of intellectual life, which must also be a fluid, forming part of the great mysterious whole of the universe—and making contact with it. Are you following me?”
“Avidly.”
“Suppose that we succeed, with the aid of Röntgen rays, is finally knowing what the soul is—the mind, the intellectual fluid of human beings. There is no reason why we cannot then succeed in its scientific domestication—if I might put it thus—and sending it wherever we wish, with the aid of transmitting wires.”
“But then one would die.”
“No, for the operation would take place very rapidly, and the suspension of life would be imperceptible; the heart wouldn’t have time to stop.”
“I no longer understand.”
“That would be the rapid resolution—or, rather, the suppression—of journeys, since my soul could be in Peking instantly, in your family.”
“How?”
“Suppose the achievement were realized; in consequence, agencies would be founded in all the great cities of the world for hiring bodies to souls wanting to travel rapidly. You want to arrive right away in Peking or Japan; you get in touch with an agency, and immediately, for a day, a week, a fortnight at the most, it puts your brain in communication with the brain of some poor devil in China or Japan by electric cable, and you immediately exchange your souls, you electrical fluids, and you enter into the body you have hired for a determined time. There are many poor people who would be happy to earn a living that way, by hiring out their body temporarily to lodge the soul of someone who needs to travel rapidly—without losing a minute, one may say—from one end of the world to the other.”
“But if he’s a drunkard he will damage my body in the interim.”
“No, for very strict contracts will be signed; payment will only be made after each party has been reintegrated with his personal envelope. Then again, my dear chap, you can always have the individual lodged in your skin monitored; there would be expert surveys, if necessary, like those for apartments.”
“Your idea is, in truth, very seductive.”
“Isn’t it?”
“But all the same, if you’re young, handsome and distinguished, and your soul is lodged for a month in the skin of some street-porter, that would be disagreeable.”
&n
bsp; “It’s a petty inconvenience, and one could always have a photograph of one’s own body about one’s person by way of compensation. You see, though, that when we are firmly convinced that our soul, our intelligence, is only a form of fluid—which we shall discovered with the aid of Röntgen rays—and that one can send it across the world by means of wires or electric cables, changing residences, which is to say bodies, at will, it's obvious that the question of distance will be suppressed and solved at the same time.”
“But it will be very expensive.”
“Why? There are so many idlers who would be happy to hire out their bodies in order to live and do nothing—and then there’s competition, my dear chap.”
“That’s true—you’ve thought of everything.” And the young Chinese mandarin fell into my arms, weeping with joy. “I’ll tell the Emperor about your idea, when I return to China.”
Since then I haven’t heard any further mention of him. Is he an ingrate, or has he lost faith in my idea?
Author’s note: We have seen that I was eventually victorious, and how I resolved the great problem practically by means of my “soul-ticket” system.
SCIENTIFIC APPLICATIONS
Modern Ballistics
I. A monster cannon. A new means of defense.
On the coasts and at the frontier.
A surprising discovery.
Every time there is a war on the surface of the globe which makes a noise and enthralls public opinion, you can be sure and certain that a quantity of more-or-less practical inventions will immediately surge forth, and even more chimerical projects.
Those who are unfortunately old enough to have witnessed the war of 1870 will remember how, every day, two or three inventors and fifty lunatics presented themselves at the Ministry of War in order to identify a means of immediately reducing the Prussians to dust. On an smaller scale, obviously—the war being distant and not affecting us directly—recent events in South Africa have produced the same effect, and I want to relate here a conversation I had with a very serious inventor who has submitted a new project for a monster cannon, which, I confess, I found very seductive.
After the preliminary compliments, my engineer-inventor continued in these terms:
“You’re not up to date, you say, with the curious and complex problems of ballistics; permit me not to believe that—and in any case, your work in astronomy and cosmogony has prepared you admirably to listen to me and understand me…”
I only had to bow as a gesture of protest. He continued:
“You’re not unaware that in recent years, without going back to the Greek kalends, ballistics as it has been understood since remotest antiquity no longer exists. That’s easy to understand; take the slingshot of the primitive inhabitants of the Balearic Islands, the boomerang of the Australian savage—when there still were any—the ballista of the ancients and even flintlock rifles; there was nothing there but problems of ballistics, that’s agreed. On the day, however, when rifled barrels, smokeless gunpowder and high explosives were invented, one after another, a host of new problems arose, of force, resistance, the expansion of gases, etc., which brought physics, chemistry and dynamics directly into play. Dynamite put cracks everywhere in its scientific domain, even the exact sciences sometimes being powerless to give us all the required formulae immediately.”
“That’s very true.”
You see, don’t you, that it will not be long, in the current state of science, before shells can no longer be loaded with explosives, in case they burst. I’m not concerned here with material considerations of enormous expense—for the cost of a cannon shot is insane—but the impossibility of going any further, of making larger machines that fire heavier loads over greater distances. The last word of modern artillery seems to have been said, for the time being.”
“That’s my opinion.”
“Yes, but like any inventor, I was—and this will make you laugh—haunted by two ideas: firstly, of finding cannons much more murderous, for I think that’s the best way of avoiding war…”
“How right you are, and how I share your opinion. The greatest philanthropist of all, who would merit a massive golden statue, would be the man who can find a means of annihilating an army in five minutes, for that would render war virtually impossible…”
“Obviously. My second idea was to serve my country usefully. Well, Monsieur, after long research, not only in ballistics but most of all in problems of motion and force, such as statics and dynamics, in association with physics and chemistry, display them to us, I have succeeded in inventing a cannon much more powerful than all known cannons, which can rain death upon an army or a fleet ten leagues out at sea.
“Then you’ve also obtained long ranges?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“You can send a cannonball enclosing an enormous mass of dynamite or some other high explosive forty kilometers?”
“Ten thousand kilograms, if you wish.”
“What is the length of your canon, then?”
“Between five hundred meters and twelve kilometers—it depends.”
And as I started in surprise, looking at him in bewilderment, he slowly deposited his cigar in a little Japanese ash-tray and put his hand on the table.
“I’m not mad. Listen to me, and you’ll understand. I’ve just told you, though, that it was necessary for me to find a means of vanquishing all the difficulties of force, resistance, gas expansion etc. Well, I shall construct my cannons in the Pyrenees, the Alps, and on the heights of Ingouville to defend Le Havre. First, I make a long tunnel under the mountain, directed toward the frontier or the sea; I line it with a triple layer of mortar and millstone grit, itself lined with strong hoops of cast steel, and in the interior, I place a series of enormous thick hoops, riveted and welded together, also in cast steel. That is my canon, and its strength of resistance is such that I can load it with any charge I wish. It can’t explode, or the mountain would explode with it.”
“I’m beginning to understand—but how do you launch the cannonball?”
“Pardon me; I no longer have a cannonball but a small cart which is closely fitted to the rifled tube, all the way through, with the exactitude of a clockwork mechanism.”
“But how can you obtain enough velocity without heating up your cannonball-cart in its long trajectory through your cannon—five hundred meters to twelve kilometers, you say?”
“It’s quite simple. You’re familiar with the principle of the hydraulic railway train, moved along the rails by water; its theoretical velocity is almost unlimited, because the force of resistance is almost nullified. Well, my cart is based on that principle, except that I shall replace the water with refined neatsfoot oil, and with my charge I thus obtain an enormous velocity and force, since, as I have had the honor of telling you, I can launch ten thousand kilograms of high explosive forty kilometers out to sea, from Le Havre, for instance.”
“That’s admirable.”
“Wait—that’s not all. To increase the velocity and initial force of my projectile further, to diminish the resistance in the barrel of my monster cannon, I create a vacuum by means of very powerful machines, the tube being sealed—and it opens automatically at the moment when the shot is fired. I believe I’ve thought of everything, you see, inasmuch as is humanly possible. I shall attempt to improve it even further.”
“And you expect to build many of these?”
“I’d like to begin with our great ports.”
“An excellent idea—but what do you think each cannon shot will cost?”
“That depends on the length of the installation. Let’s say, if you wish, in round figures, between 325,000 and 775,000 francs.”
And as I seemed a trifle alarmed, my knowledgeable and amiable inventor judiciously made the remark that one must never be niggardly in matters of national defense.
II. The Klondyke.
A practical means of sending supplies by means of artillery.
A marvelous application of ballistic
s.
On Monday March 28, 1898—let’s be precise—all the newspapers published the following fallacious information without turning a hair:
“Yesterday, at midnight, the members of the Varicle122 expedition left for America from the Gare Saint-Lazare by the transatlantic train, bound for the Klondyke. Monsieur Varicle is taking an aerostat constructed by Monsieur Mallet,123 which is named Paris-Alaska. The explorers will depart from Juneau for the mining center by means of this aerostat, which they can steer at will into the eye of the wind. They will send news by means of carrier pigeons that have been acclimated in Juneau for two months.”
There is no need to add that these people were hoaxers, and that nothing more has been heard of them since.
Fortunately, I have had an infinitely simpler and more practical idea for renewing the supplies of the unfortunate gold-seekers, and as I’m not asking anyone for anything, I want to offer it to my contemporaries immediately.
Follow my reasoning carefully; it’s as simple as any, and, I think, a work of genius.
From the port of Juneau, where on disembarks, to the center of the gold-bearing deposits of the Klondyke—which is to say, the very capital, Dawson City—is twenty or thirty days’ march, depending on the weather. It’s between six and seven degrees—let’s say seven, if you want to be specific—which is only 175 ordinary leagues, which isn’t a matter of drinking the sea, but only of sucking the ice, generally speaking—and crossing it!
On the other hand, it’s necessary not to lose sight of the fact that there are always more than thirteen degrees Centigrade of frost in that Satanic region from the first of September to the thirty-first of May, when it’s not even longer. In January 1896, for example, lovers of cold measured 56.5 degrees below zero—congratulations! We can, therefore, always count during those nine months of an average of more than twenty degrees of frost.