Chapter 104: Medicine No Longer Exists

Chapter 104: Medicine No Longer Exists

Lamarck continued, "I've seen potatoes being grown in the northeastern regions, like Metz, Lorraine, and around Besançon. Some villages there even use potatoes as a staple food. But in other places... The people of Toulouse won't even feed potatoes to their pigs; they say it would taint the pork."

Joseph felt a bit disheartened. He had finally found a potential way to alleviate the famine, but it seemed the French would rather starve than eat potatoes.

And from what Lamarck said, the nobility had accepted potatoes long ago. So why hadn't this influenced the common people?

Maybe widespread promotion through newspapers, pamphlets, and free tastings could help.

He recalled that Lamarck mentioned some people called potatoes "the devil underground," which suggested that superstition might be the main reason for their rejection. If that was the case, they would need the Church's help to promote it...

Joseph then asked Lamarck more about potato cultivation. As they talked, the carriage arrived at the entrance of the pharmaceutical workshop.

"Your Highness, it seems you're very interested in potatoes." Lamarck paused the conversation. "I can compile this knowledge and write it down for you."

Noticing Lamarck's eagerness, Joseph nodded, "Thank you very much, Count Lamarck. Now, let's begin making penicillin."

"Penicillin? Is that the name of this miraculous drug?" Lamarck quickly pulled out a notebook and began taking notes.

"Yes," Joseph replied, then stopped and reminded Lamarck, "Even this name must be kept secret. From now on, we'll refer to it only as Type One Antibiotic."

The words "penicillin" and "Penicillium" were too similar, making it easy to connect the two.

This strategic-level drug's information had to be kept completely confidential.

The door of the pharmaceutical workshop was opened by a royal guard—security for the place was now handled by them.

Joseph noticed the guard's crisp uniform and the musket slung over his shoulder. He frowned slightly and instructed the captain of the guard, Crexode, to have them switch to plain clothes to avoid attracting the attention of foreign spies.

As the carriage stopped in the open space within the workshop, Aymon quickly opened the door for the Prince.

"Thank you," Joseph nodded to his attendant, stepped out of the carriage, and looked around. The place had changed significantly since his last visit.

The ground was spotless. The workers' clothes and the tools in the workshop were immaculately clean, which was quite unusual for the 18th century.

Under a shed on the right, drying racks held various materials that needed to be air-dried.

Workers bustled around the workshop, some carrying materials, others loading finished products onto carts.

Most of the workers, however, were busy with various instruments, occasionally calling out data to the recorders nearby, who then reminded them of the timing. Now and then, a faint mist would drift by, briefly obscuring them.

Joseph nodded silently. It was clear that Lamarck had put a lot of effort into running this place. It was likely the most professional pharmaceutical facility in all of Paris.

He took a tour of the lab and confirmed that the workshop had the conditions necessary to produce penicillin.

He then turned to Lamarck and said, "Let's begin. First, please find some moldy items, the kind with a bluish-green color."

Though Lamarck was puzzled, he dutifully noted it down and left the room.

It seemed that the workshop's cleanliness was almost too good, as it took Lamarck over half an hour to return with a few moldy corn cobs and a moldy towel.

Joseph lowered his voice and said, "Now, I'll tell you the most important point—this Type One Antibiotic is actually the secretion of Penicillium, which can be extracted from these mold spots."

Lamarck's eyes widened in shock, but the Prince had already surprised him many times before. He didn't doubt Joseph for a moment and just kept writing in his notebook.

Joseph, recalling documentaries he had seen about penicillin, explained, "So the first step is to cultivate more of the mold. You can use corn, rice, or potatoes, make a thin paste, and place the mold on it. Then maintain a certain temperature—the exact number you'll have to determine through experimentation. After a few days, a large amount of mold will grow.

"Next, you need to prepare the bacteria to test the drug's effectiveness. For example, you can use sputum from pneumonia patients, put it in filtered broth or agar, control the temperature, and let it grow..."

"Wait!" Lamarck interrupted, having noticed a crucial point. "You're saying there are 'bacteria' in a pneumonia patient's sputum? Does this have something to do with pneumonia?"

Joseph slapped his forehead, realizing that while the medical community at this time knew about bacteria, they hadn't yet connected them to diseases.

He had to give Lamarck a quick, rough explanation: "Yes, there are disease-causing elements in the sputum, specifically certain bacteria."

"Bacteria? Are you saying bacteria cause illness?!" Lamarck was visibly excited. "No, this is completely different from the theories of miasma, humoral balance, or acid-alkaline balance. How do bacteria cause disease? How did you determine this? Is there a well-established theoretical framework..."

"Well, those theories about miasma, humors, and so on are all incorrect. As for the answers you're looking for, you'll find them in the drug you're about to create." Joseph stopped Lamarck's flood of questions. Explaining all these medical concepts would be time-consuming, and he didn't know much himself.

So it was better to wait until they had produced the penicillin, and let Lamarck see with his own eyes how it "purified" the sputum cultures, specifically the pneumonia bacteria. After observing how penicillin cured pneumonia patients, he would naturally understand the connection between bacteria and disease.

Lamarck's hands were trembling slightly. If what the Prince said was true, then everything he had learned about medicine would be completely overturned! In other words, the entire field of medicine as he knew it would cease to exist!

But if the Prince was wrong, then this miraculous Type One Antibiotic might just be a fantasy.

Neither outcome was something he wanted...

Lamarck suddenly pondered a philosophical question—if everything he had learned about medicine was wrong, did that still make him a doctor, or was he just a charlatan, a spreader of falsehoods?

He shook his head, forcing himself not to dwell on these thoughts that could drive him mad, and refocused on the drug. "Your Highness, what should we do next?"

Seeing Lamarck's pale face, Joseph sighed lightly and continued, "Carefully filter the Penicillium culture. The exact method of filtration will also need to be determined through experimentation.

"Since penicillin is water-soluble, we can use oil to extract the other substances from the filtrate, leaving only the part that doesn't dissolve in oil.

"Then purify it using activated charcoal..."

"Activated charcoal? What is that?" Lamarck was puzzled again.

"Oh, activated charcoal is made by heating wood in a metal container without air..."

(End of Chapter)

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