February 1st, Washington Capitol Building.
Smoke filled the House of Representatives hall under the dome.
Today was the first reading and debate for the Railway Safety and Standardization Act.
The gallery was packed.
There were representatives from railway companies, bankers, and reporters with stenographer's notebooks.
John Garrett sat in the first row of the left gallery, his face ashen.
Beside him sat several Congressmen from Maryland, his last line of defense.
Meanwhile, in the VIP section on the right, Felix's representative—Anna Clark, vice president of the Argyle Charitable Foundation—sat poised.
She wore a dark purple velvet gown and a black veil, through which her gaze coldly watched the battlefield below.
"Silence! Silence!"
The Speaker of the House struck his gavel.
"Now, I invite the proposer, Congressman Buckley from Ohio, to speak."
Buckley was a short, stout man, but with Argyle's money fueling him, his voice was louder than anyone else's.
He walked to the podium, waving a copy of The Daily Truth in his hand.
"Gentlemen!" Buckley's voice echoed under the dome, "Look at this photo—a train derailed on a broad-gauge track. Just last week, right near our capital!"
(That was actually a photo of an old accident from three years ago, doctored by Fowler, but no one would care.)
"Why unify the gauge? Is it for aesthetics? No! It's for lives!"
Buckley passionately waved his arms.
"Imagine our children sitting on a train, only to be thrown off the tracks at a turn because of that damned, non-standard broad gauge. This is murder! This is a trap set by greedy railroad magnates to monopolize territory."
"The B&O Railroad claims it's for carrying capacity. That's a lie! They want to prevent other companies' cars from entering their network; they are building a state within a state!"
A buzz of discussion erupted below.
"Objection!"
Senator Smith of Maryland stood up; he was an old friend of Garrett's.
"Mr. Speaker, this is slander! The B&O Railroad has the lowest accident rate in the entire country! It's common physics that broad gauge is more stable! This bill is not only unconstitutional, but it's also endorsing certain large trusts that own standard-gauge networks!"
Smith pointed at Buckley.
"Everyone knows that Argyle controls all standard-gauge railways. If this bill passes, he will be the sole winner! This is the true monopoly!"
Both sides began to argue fiercely.
Garrett listened from upstairs, sweating profusely.
He knew that rational debate was useless now. It was a confrontation of emotions.
Just then, an elderly man in military uniform walked into the hall.
It was Secretary of War Stanton.
The entire room fell silent.
Stanton walked to the podium.
He didn't shout; he merely took out a document.
"This is the War Department's assessment report. During the previous rebellion (referring to the Civil War), due to the non-uniform railway gauges in the South compared to the North, our supply trains had to unload at the border and transfer goods by horse-drawn carriage. This delayed military opportunities and led to the senseless sacrifice of thousands of Union soldiers."
"Gentlemen," Stanton scanned the room.
"Although it is peacetime now, we must not forget the lessons learned. A unified railway network is the cornerstone of national defense. If the British or French attack tomorrow, are we to lose the war because of a few inches' difference?"
"As Secretary of War, I strongly recommend the passage of this bill."
This was a bombshell.
It elevated railway gauge to the level of national defense, to the level of "patriotism."
This instantly turned all opponents into unpatriotic individuals.
Senator Smith opened his mouth, but no words came out.
In a country that had just experienced a bloody civil war, no one dared to bear the stigma of hindering national defense.
Garrett slumped into his chair.
He lost.
He lost on the grounds of "righteousness."
Anna revealed a faint smile behind her veil.
This was what Felix had taught her: when you want to steal someone's wallet, it's best to first accuse them of being a thief, or accuse them of being a traitor.
...
The voting began.
"Aye."
"Aye."
"Nay."
"Aye."
As the votes were called out, Garrett's heart sank little by little.
The final results were in.
21 votes in favor, 85 votes against.
The gavel fell.
"The Railway Safety and Standardization Act has passed the House of Representatives and will be transferred to the Senate for deliberation!"
Although there was still the Senate hurdle, everyone knew that its passage in the Senate was only a matter of time, because the President of the Senate was vice president Thomas Clark.
Even if Garrett could delay it for a few months, the deadline of 1872 hung over his head like a Sword of Damocles.
Garrett stood up, staggering as he walked out of the hall.
In the corridor, he met Anna.
Anna stopped and gave a slight curtsy.
"Mr. Garrett, today's debate was splendid."
Garrett looked at the woman, his eyes filled with hatred.
"Tell Argyle," Garrett gritted his teeth.
"He only won this round, but don't expect me to kneel. The B&O Railroad still has its foundations. Even if I melt down all the locomotives, I can still change the gauge."
"Of course," Anna said softly.
"You can certainly change it. But that will require money. A lot of money."
"I hear B&O's stock fell 1% in New York today. Bankers don't seem too optimistic about a company facing massive renovation expenses."
"If you need funds..."
Anna took a business card from her handbag; it was the card of Tom Hayes, president of Patriot Investment Company.
"Mr. Argyle is willing to help. Acquire some of your 'non-core assets.' For example... shares in a certain steel mill."
Garrett stared at the business card as if it were a venomous snake.
"Heh..."
He took the card, then threw it away and turned to leave.
Anna wasn't angry.
She watched the business card flutter to the carpet, to be stepped on by passing pedestrians.
"You'll pick it up," Anna said to his retreating back, "when winter gets colder."
...
That evening. New York.
Felix was in the General Electric laboratory, watching Heinrich White debug a new motor.
Frost walked in, bringing news from Washington.
"Boss, the House of Representatives passed it."
Felix nodded, not even taking his eyes off the motor.
"What was Garrett's reaction?"
"He was furious and rejected our acquisition offer."
"As expected."
Felix picked up a screwdriver and adjusted the motor's carbon brushes.
"Old-school Gentlemen always value dignity more than life. But he'll soon find out that dignity doesn't feed you."
"Begin step two."
Felix straightened up and wiped his hands.
"Inform Miller. His 'Mine Disaster Investigation Team' in West Virginia can now act. Since Garrett is still holding out, we'll cut off his supply of goods."
"Also."
Felix pointed to the humming motor.
"White, when will the electric fan be available?"
"Next month, Boss," White answered honestly.
"Although it's a bit noisy, the airflow is strong."
Felix smiled, "Then send one to Mr. Garrett when it's ready, addressed to Baltimore."
"Attach a card: 'Hope this helps you cool down.'"
"He'll need it in the coming hot summer."
Outside the window, New York's night sky was stained crimson by the power plant's chimneys.
And hundreds of miles away in Pittsburgh, Carnegie had just received a telegram from Washington.
He looked at the message, "Bill Passed," feeling as if he'd been struck in the chest by a heavy hammer.
The B&O Railroad was on its own. He couldn't help them.
His transportation line would be temporarily cut off.
"Andrew..." his brother Tom looked at him in despair.
"What do we do? Without the B&O, our coal can't come in, and our steel can't go out."
Carnegie was silent for a long time.
He walked to the unfinished blast furnace, touching the cold brick wall.
"If there's no path on land..."
Carnegie looked up, his eyes showing a desperate madness.
"Then we'll take the waterway, and if the waterway is also blocked..."
"Then we'll blast open this mountain!"
"Contact Drexel, I need to see him."
The British Empire, London.
A thick yellow smog shrouded Fleet Street.
Joseph Swan pushed open the heavy wooden door of his underground laboratory in the Newcastle district, covered his mouth and nose with a piece of linen stained with graphite powder, and coughed violently a few times.
His laboratory resembled a medieval alchemist's den.
Long wooden tables were piled with glass tubes, mercury vacuum pumps, bundles of cotton thread, and Grove battery packs emitting a pungent acidic smell.
Swan walked to the workbench and picked up the glass bulb he had just fired yesterday.
Inside the glass bulb, a carbonized strip of paper hung between two copper wires.
He connected the copper wires to the positive and negative terminals of the battery.
"Sizzle..."
The paper strip instantly emitted a blinding orange light, but it lasted for less than five seconds before a puff of black smoke rose inside the glass bulb. With a soft "pop," the glass shattered, and the carbonized paper strip turned to ash, scattering across the tabletop.
Swan closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his aching nose.
"Another issue with the vacuum level."
He muttered to himself, his voice tinged with an irrepressible exhaustion.
"As long as even a trace of oxygen remains, the carbon filament will burn. This is the limit of the mercury pump; it can't suck the air any cleaner."
The doorbell rang abruptly at that moment.
Swan ignored it, but the person outside was clearly impatient and began pounding on the wooden door.
"Hey, Joseph, open up! I know you're in there!"
Swan helplessly walked over and unlatched the door.
A man dressed in a sophisticated grey tweed overcoat and wearing a top hat squeezed inside.
Furthermore, he carried a wooden crate tightly wrapped in moisture-proof oilcloth.
This was Arthur Cavendish, a transnational trader who frequently traveled between Liverpool and New York, and one of Swan's sponsors for his technical research.
"Oh, I must say, Arthur."
Swan watched as the muddy water from the other man's boots soiled the floor.
"If you've come to press me on the progress of that electric light device, I'm afraid I must tell you it still needs time."
"Time? Bullshit!"
Cavendish slammed the wooden crate onto the workbench, took off his top hat, and revealed a face flushed with excitement.
"We don't have time, Joseph. The British Empire doesn't have time either. Those Yankees have already put the sun in a bottle!"
Swan, seeing him so agitated, was somewhat bewildered.
"Hey man, what nonsense are you talking about?"
Cavendish didn't waste words; he pulled out a short knife from his waist, pried open the iron nails of the wooden crate, and revealed the straw inside used for shock absorption.
Then, he carefully lifted an object from deep within the straw and held it out to Swan.
It was a glass light bulb in the shape of a perfect teardrop.
The bottom had a threaded brass base, and inside the glass, a black filament in a perfect U-shape was steadily fixed to two metal lead wires.
There was no blackening or shattering; the craftsmanship was as precise as a Swiss watch.
"What is this?"
Swan's pupils constricted instantly. He snatched the bulb and held it up to his eyes, examining it closely against the faint daylight outside the window.
"An electric lamp," Cavendish panted.
"Something I saw at a General Electric showroom in Manhattan, New York. They say it'll sell for a dollar later. I bought it on the black market for a high price. To smuggle it onto the ship intact, I spent hundreds of pounds bribing customs and those Vanguard Security 'vicious dogs'."
"One dollar?" Swan's voice was trembling.
"Damn it! That's impossible. The sealing process of this base... how did the wires pass through the glass without breaking the vacuum? The expansion coefficients of glass and metal are different; it would definitely leak air after heating!"
"Platinum wire was used as a transition section."
Cavendish pointed to the details at the bottom of the glass.
"The expansion coefficient of platinum is almost identical to that of glass. This was the solution the engineers over there came up with."
Swan felt a wave of dizziness.
A problem he had struggled with for three years had been solved by someone else using such a simple and direct physical property.
"Quick, connect it to the power source."
Cavendish pointed to the battery pack on the workbench.
"If you don't believe it, see for yourself."
Swan's hands were somewhat uncooperative.
He used wire strippers to prepare two lead wires, wrapping them around the brass base and the bottom contact of the bulb.
Then, taking a deep breath, he connected the other ends of the wires to the Grove battery pack.
There was no explosion or black smoke.
The U-shaped carbon filament (actually carbonized bamboo filament, though Swan couldn't tell the material yet) instantly lit up.
It was an extremely stable and pure golden-white light.
It dispelled the gloom of the basement, illuminating Swan's pale face and the mountain of failed prototypes in the corner.
Swan stared fixedly at the light-emitting body, his eyes stinging with physiological tears, yet he refused to blink.
One minute passed.
Ten minutes passed.
Half an hour passed.
The bulb was still glowing, its brightness not diminishing at all.
Crucially, the glass shell was merely warm.
"Oh my God... dear Lord."
Swan slumped into his wooden chair, the lead wires slipping from his hands and cutting off the power.
The basement fell back into darkness, but the glowing U-shaped mark remained on his retina.
"How long is its lifespan?" Swan asked hoarsely.
"According to reports from my informant in New York, the lifespan of this mass-produced bulb exceeds three hundred hours of continuous lighting."
Cavendish paced back and forth by the table, his leather shoes making a rapid tapping sound on the floor.
"But that's not even the most terrifying part, you know? Joseph."
Cavendish pulled a crumpled copy of The New York Daily Truth from inside his coat.
"That man named Felix Argyle has just founded a company called 'General Electric.' They're not just planning to sell these glass bulbs; they're also digging up streets in the centers of New York, Boston, and Washington to lay thick copper cables. They're even building power plants!"
"Construction has already begun on New York's Pearl Street Station. The White House and the Astor Estate have completely abandoned gas lamps. Soon, Manhattan's nights will be as bright as day."
Swan buried his head in his hands, fingers digging deep into his hair.
As a researcher in this field, he knew better than anyone what this implied.
The principle of electromagnetic induction was discovered by Faraday, and the prototype of the arc lamp was also developed by Europeans.
Europe possessed the world's top universities and its brilliant physicists.
But in the race to transform "electricity" into a "commodity," they had been completely left behind by an American upstart who used to only flip food, medicine, and weapons.
"How far ahead are they?"
Cavendish stopped in his tracks and stared at Swan.
Swan looked up, his eyes hollow.
"If we only look at the craftsmanship of this bulb, we are three years behind. But if we include the DC generator arrays and underground power transmission networks they've already put into operation..."
Swan gritted his teeth and spat out a despairing number.
"Ten years. In the process of electrical industrialization, General Electric has left Europe behind by a full decade."
Cavendish slammed his fist onto the table, making the glass tubes rattle.
"The United States of America, that desolate land of exiled convicts and Puritans. They've actually gotten ahead of the British Empire!" Cavendish said through gritted teeth.
"If we don't fight back, within five years, every street in London might have to pay money to New York!"
"Fight back?" Swan gave a bitter laugh.
"We need funding. The mercury pumps need improvement, and we need to find carbonized fibers more durable than paper. This will require thousands of experiments. All my savings are gone."
"Money is not an issue."
Cavendish grabbed the bulb and carefully placed it back into the oilcloth-wrapped crate.
"Put on your formal attire, Joseph. Shave your beard clean."
"Where to?"
"To the Carlton Club."
Cavendish straightened his tie, his expression solemn.
"To meet those lords who control England's coal mines, steel, and steam engines. And the cabinet officials."
"We're going to take this fire stolen from America and throw it into their teacups. Let them see that if they don't pull out pounds to support us, their steam empire will be burned to ashes by this tiny glass bulb."