Chapter 14 – Cliffhanger (3)

New York, Upper New York Bay harbor.

Nelson Wayne, a New Yorker, visited a place he didn't usually frequent. Standing idly on one side of the pier, he clenched and unclenched his cane, glancing eastward beyond the sea.

It looked like he was ready to jump in, a sure suicide.

However, none of the police or dockworkers controlling the harbor thought of stopping him.

Of course, it wasn't that they particularly wished for Nelson's death or respected his freedom to jump in.

There were just too many 'Nelsons' at the harbor that day.

Nelson Wayne looked around. His comrades were gathering in small groups, looking similar.

He noticed that many of them called each other by their last names. It wasn't because they weren't close, but because so many of them were named Nelson or Nell, making it hard to distinguish between them just by their first names.

Wayne chuckled. A name is a form of individuality, and individuality is a trait that makes a person unique. Therefore, he disliked anything that was common.

Nelson Wayne felt the same way. He had always disliked the common name Nelson.

However, as he grew older and accumulated what could be called refinement, he began to understand his father, who had given him the name Nelson. He had no choice but to understand.

Even he had recently given his newborn daughter a unique name, "Iruril," which was now becoming common, even though it was not found in the Bible.

And just as his father had done, he stood at this pier, waiting for the passenger ship coming from England... Wait a minute!

"It's coming!! It's coming!!"

Someone shouted. Nelson Wayne whipped his head around so quickly it felt like it might snap.

It was true.

On the eastern horizon, a familiar passenger ship was slowly coming into view.

Stay calm.

Nelson Wayne steadied himself. As a respected doctor in New York's high society, he had to remain calm and maintain his dignity...

But that composure dwindled as the passenger ship approached, and his eyes filled with bloodshot veins.

Should he just run for it? He was contemplating this when—

"I can't take it anymore!!"

"Hey!! Nelson!"

"How many Nelsons are there here? Move!!"

One Nelson, eyes ablaze, ran toward the dock. He shouted at the slowly docking passenger ship.

"Did you bring it!?"

The other Nelsons' eyes flared up. That sneaky Nelson! How dare he try to read the book before the others!

"That bastard is so sneaky!!"

"Unforgivable!!"

"Move!! I need to get my copy too!!"

"To hell with it!!"

Eventually, the dam burst. The Nelsons surged toward the passenger ship, shouting at the disembarking passengers.

"Is Peter dead?!"

***

"Look at this, Samuel. American reason has hit rock bottom."

In a laboratory on South 5th Avenue in Manhattan, New York.

Nikola Tesla, the lab owner, handed a newspaper article to his mustachioed best friend, Samuel, with a look of disgust.

Samuel, lounging on the sofa, glanced at the newspaper with a look of curiosity.

The numerous Nelsons gathered at the New York harbor and their craze over the British novel series.

To Tesla, all this fervor seemed like pure fanaticism.

"This is the end of the world. Fairies? How can a novel with such unscientific and irrational themes become so popular?"

"They're children's books. The subject doesn't matter. By that logic, I also wrote an unscientific alternative history novel, didn't I?"

"Ah, but that was a fable! In a fable, anything goes, whether animals talk or gods deceive woodsmen!"

"Well, that's true."

Samuel chuckled as he looked at his friend.

Samuel himself was often seen as a troublemaker with anger management issues by most people, but compared to the passionate genius scientist in front of him, he prided himself on being relatively good at social interactions.

Of course, what their mutual acquaintances thought of both of them was something neither would ever know.

"Anyway, this is a national disgrace. To think that this is a British novel. This country boasts about its independence, but honestly, I don't see it that way at all."

"Well, that's true."

As a writer and a scientist, they both highly valued the power of culture.

Firstly, as a nation, then economically, and ultimately, culturally, they believed the United States needed to establish an independent identity to truly claim it was independent from Britain.

But that was far from reality.

Even Britain could be considered third-rate culture compared to Europe, and the fact that America couldn't even shake off this third-rate culture showed how far it was from true independence.

Many Americans still thought no one in the world was higher than the Queen of England.

Tesla grumbled.

"If this is how it is, I don't know why I even bothered immigrating here."

"That's something I, a native, should be saying, shouldn't it?"

"You became an American out of necessity. I chose this country."

"Well, that's true."

Both Samuel and Tesla were enamored with the ideals of liberalism and democracy that the United States promised. Whether that was by birth or by choice.

But in reality, liberalism was only for the wealthy, and democracy was for the WASPs (White Anglo-Saxon Protestants).

In the end, the United States was just a chick still struggling to break out of its shell. Samuel, as an American, felt this more acutely.

"Everyone claims to be descendants of Adam, but they say they can't give voting rights to slaves, Native Americans, or women? What kind of crazy people are these?"

Of course, this was Samuel's personal opinion, which others often deemed extreme.

Nikola Tesla was also open-minded, but he couldn't agree with his friend's views on this matter.

Instead, he agreed that at least Americans needed "enlightenment." Americans were much more ignorant than they had thought, and the ones leading the charge were fundamentalist Christian reactionaries like the YMCA.

Samuel spoke calmly.

"Rest assured. From what I can see, this writer is not someone who genuinely believes in such irrational things as fairies."

"What makes you say that?"

"The book alone makes it obvious."

Samuel grinned.

Those who didn't know any better taught that this book affirmed imperialism and Christianity and that it was a good novel to show to children. 

Even the fanatical reverend of that outdated Christian organization, the YMCA, Anthony Comstock, could not reject it. When he hesitantly admitted, "This book is clearly a product of satanic popular culture, but it also contains sincere Christian faith," it was so hilarious...

They still vividly remembered the time they laughed their heads off reading the newspaper article with his humiliating photo.

But was Hanslow Jin really such a backward writer who the imperialists and religionists worshipped? Absolutely not.

As a fellow writer, especially one of children's literature, Samuel could tell for sure.

"I can guarantee it. Hanslow Jin is one of my kind."

"What makes you say that?"

"The four fairies from different cultures and Peter, who comes from a completely different civilization, accept each other's cultures and embrace one another. And his sister, Portia Perry, is as active as her brother."

Samuel spoke calmly. 

This was to actively promote equality, one of the three great banners of human enlightenment.

"There's no doubt about it. Hanslow Jin is definitely an abolitionist, an anti-discrimination advocate, someone who believes in the power of reason, and someone who wants to advance the world."

"Well, I don't know if that's a good thing."

Tesla replied reluctantly. Samuel did not intend to delve deeply into that aspect. 

Tesla was a genius scientist deeply immersed in Enlightenment ideas, but he was also a eugenicist. 

To him, the idea of fairies being portrayed like humans, and even the human protagonist being influenced by these fairies, must have seemed like a mockery of human intellect.

But Samuel did not want to risk their friendship by picking at that point. Instead, he skillfully diverted the conversation.

"Didn't you admit it yourself? That some parts of the book can be explained scientifically."

"I never said that. I just said there were items described as fairy items that could indeed be reproduced."

Tesla spoke with a conflicted expression.

For example, the scene where nymphs communicate underwater not through sound, but through waves, deeply impressed him.

It was because it was so similar to the detection and distance-measuring device using waves that he was conceptualizing.

Not only that, but although it involved unscientific magic, breaking the enemy's sturdy weapons by shaking the ground or rapidly lowering and raising the temperature using resonant frequencies was highly scientific in its effects.

The source of energy might be unscientific, but the results it produced were quite scientific.

He also naturally integrated evolution by explaining the difference between drakes, which lacked wings because they lived underground, and wyverns, which had large wings because they lived on steep cliffs.

Even the descriptions of the massive water facilities and the electric devices distributed through AC in the dwarven capital... To be honest, they gave him chills.

It was because it depicted exactly the kind of city he envisioned with his ideal wireless power transmission technology being commercialized.

So, Nikola Tesla, too, couldn't help but feel that Hanslow Jin had substantial scientific knowledge and explained it well.

That's why he discreetly subscribed to and avidly read it every time.

"But still, I don't know."

Even so, he couldn't help but shake his head.

Samuel smiled slyly at him. He knew his friend's denial wasn't because he couldn't genuinely accept it, but because it was a childlike stubbornness typical of geniuses when it came to areas outside their expertise.

"How can you be so sure when you haven't met him in person?"

"Then I'll just have to meet him."

"What do you mean, my friend?"

Nikola Tesla saw his friend Samuel smirk. He took something out of his pocket and said confidently.

"The Bentley Publishing Company offered me a publishing deal in England. They want to feature in their magazine. I'm thinking of going to England to sign the contract myself."

"And meet the faceless author Hanslow Jin who never reveals his identity?"

"Exactly right."

"That's sly, Mark. Very sly!"

"Hearing that from you is the highest praise."

Samuel, or Samuel Langhorne Clemens, known by his pen name Mark Twain, smiled broadly.