Chapter 577: Sorry, Mr. Mendel
"Twenty years?!"
Joseph's face darkened instantly. Twenty years from now, the outcome between France and Britain would already be decided—what use would improved sugar beets be by then?
He immediately held up three fingers.
Achard misinterpreted the gesture, waving his hands earnestly. "Your Highness, I'm confident it won't take 30 years to..."
"No, three years," Joseph interrupted, fixing his gaze on him. "I'm giving you three years, along with all the resources you need. Deliver a new variety of sugar beet."
"This..." Achard hesitated, his face troubled. "Your Highness, perhaps you're unfamiliar with breeding techniques. It requires extensive trials and takes an incredibly long time. Even with 50 acres of experimental land and ample funding, three years simply isn't enough."
As he spoke, he glanced pleadingly at Brisson, the master biologist nearby.
Brisson nodded, cleared his throat, and said, "Your Highness, even if Mr. Achard were extraordinarily lucky and managed to produce high-yield beet seeds in the first year, it would take at least 8 to 10 generations of cultivation to stabilize the desired traits—possibly even more.
"Moreover, there's a risk of losing traits during this process, which would force us to start over. So, I believe 20 years is indeed a reasonable estimate."
"Wait," Joseph interjected, surprised. "You're saying it takes 10 generations to stabilize traits?"
"Indeed, Your Highness," Brisson confirmed.
"No, no," Joseph said, leaning forward. "You group seedlings with different traits, crossbreed them, record the inherited traits of the parents, estimate the potential combinations of genetic factors in the offspring, and then isolate and observe the traits. Even considering recessive genes, it should only take two or three generations to determine if you've achieved the desired hereditary characteristics..."
As he spoke, Joseph noticed the biologists' expressions shift. They looked as if they'd been struck on the head with a stone.
Joseph's heart sank. Uh-oh. Mendel hasn't been born yet, has he? And the theory of inheritance doesn't exist either. No wonder breeding new varieties is such a struggle for them.
Brisson broke the silence, cautiously asking, "Your Highness, what is this 'inheritance' you mentioned?"
Achard, paying close attention, added more questions: "And 'genetic factors,' 'recessive genes,'—what do these terms mean?"
Joseph took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, made the sign of the cross, and began his well-practiced performance.
"Thank the Lord for His divine inspiration. This knowledge is a gift from above."
After Achard and the others followed suit with their own crosses, Joseph continued.
"Inheritance refers to the mixing of traits from both parents, which are then passed down to their offspring. Conversely, all traits present in the offspring must come from their parents."
Achard pondered this and quickly raised an objection. "But Your Highness, white-stemmed and yellow-stemmed beets can produce red-stemmed offspring..."
"Exactly. That's where the concept of 'recessive genes' comes into play."
Joseph grabbed a pen and paper, gesturing for the biologists to gather around. Drawing upon his high school biology knowledge, he inwardly apologized to Mr. Mendel.
"This represents genetic factors, which are more accurately called chromosomes. However, that's a bit complicated, so let's stick with 'genetic factors.'
"All organisms inherit genetic factors from both parents—half from each. These factors determine every trait expressed by the organism.
"Some traits conflict with each other. For instance..."
He pointed to Aymond, who was standing nearby. "A person can't have both single and double eyelids simultaneously.
"If both parents contribute single-eyelid factors, the offspring will definitely have single eyelids. Conversely, if both contribute double-eyelid factors, the result will be double eyelids.
"But if one parent contributes single and the other contributes double, the outcome depends on which is the dominant gene and which is recessive.
"Here's the answer: double eyelids are dominant. So in the scenario I just described, the child will have double eyelids because dominant genes are expressed while recessive ones are not."
The biologists looked both confused and skeptical. Joseph patiently started from the basics, explaining the foundational concepts of inheritance. By the time night fell, he had finally circled back to the topic of dominant and recessive genes.
The youngest among them, Achard, adapted to the new information most quickly. Suddenly, he clapped his hands in excitement.
"I understand, Your Highness! So red coloration in beets is a recessive gene, overshadowed by white or yellow genes.
"If white and yellow beets each carry a red gene and happen to pass it to their offspring during crossbreeding, red beets will emerge! And that also explains why red beets appear so rarely!"
"Exactly," Joseph affirmed.
Brisson and Bosc, now deep in thought, began applying the Prince's theories to past breeding challenges. To their astonishment, many previously inexplicable problems now made sense.
These concepts of "genes" and "recessiveness" might not be the Prince's imagination after all!
Achard pressed on, connecting the dots: "So, when aiming for yellow traits, I can't just cross two yellow beets—they might carry recessive genes. Statistically, I need to group the offspring and... wait, I need to calculate..."
He grabbed paper and pen, sketching equations as he muttered to himself. "No wonder stabilizing traits was so hard before—it's because recessive genes were interfering..."
Soon, Achard looked up with a mix of excitement and determination. "Your Highness, with your theory as a guide, it might truly be possible to cultivate sugar beets with 12% sugar content within three years!"
Joseph nodded with satisfaction. "It's getting late. Let's have dinner. Tomorrow, I'll explain the principles of 'segregation' and 'independent assortment.' They should help you further refine your breeding process."
One Week Later
After a full day of intensive genetics lessons, Achard left the Tuileries Palace both exhausted and exhilarated.
That morning, Leroy had personally informed him of his reevaluation by the Talent Committee. Achard was now officially invited into the program as a D-grade talent.
For a scholar without any prior major academic achievements, D-grade was practically the highest rank possible.
As he approached the carriage assigned to him by the committee, Achard spotted his compatriot, August G.K. Bach, waving and jogging toward him.
"What brings you here?" Achard greeted him with a slight bow. "Would you like a ride back?"
Bach hesitated before finally speaking with a grim expression. "I think... perhaps you should change hotels."
"Why? What's happened?"
"Well," Bach said awkwardly, "Miss Marianne's brother left a message for you at the inn. She's getting engaged next week..."
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