It was an ordinary morning. Shire sat at his desk eating the bread brought by the orderly, without washing his face or brushing his teeth after getting up.
This seemed unhygienic, something Shire would not have done before.
But after returning from the Gelibolu battlefield, experiencing trenches filled with blood-covered soil that reeked of manure and the stench of corpses in the air, he no longer cared.
Tijani held up a newspaper toward Shire and said, "It’s amazing, isn’t it? You can actually see people’s bones!"
"What?" Shire, mouth full of food, mumbled a reply.
Tijani handed the newspaper to Shire, pointing at a picture: "This, Madam Curie’s invention."
Shire paused when he heard "Madam Curie," his chewing slowed involuntarily.
Of course, Shire knew who Madam Curie was; he had grown up hearing her name. He just hadn’t realized that Madam Curie lived in the same era as he did.
Shire turned his attention to the newspaper and saw the headline: "The ’Little Curie Family’ has helped over a hundred thousand injured soldiers and provided proper treatment."
In the picture was a car with Madam Curie sitting inside, her gaze slightly melancholic.
Upon reading the content, Shire learned that the car was Madam Curie’s invention, equipped with a radiation device that could be driven to field hospitals to take X-rays of injured soldiers. Madam Curie called it the "Little Curie Family."
(The image above shows Madam Curie in her radiological vehicle; during World War I, she established France’s first military radiology center, equipped with 20 mobile X-ray machines, and outfitted a field hospital with 200 X-ray machines. A total of 1,000,000 injured soldiers were treated with the help of X-ray equipment during the war.)
"A great woman," Shire sincerely sighed.
Tijani responded with a "Hmm," agreeing, but then shrugged: "It’s just a pity that the French citizens don’t seem to recognize her."
"Don’t recognize?" Shire looked at Tijani in surprise: "Why?"
Tijani turned to Shire, a look of confusion and surprise on his face: "You haven’t heard? Every French person knows."
Shire responded with an "Oh": "I rarely pay attention to external matters, apart from reading books."
Tijani rolled his eyes, clearly indicating that Shire’s strict parents were to blame.
"It seems to have been three years ago," Tijani explained: "Madam Curie wrote a love letter, which was published in the ’Paris News.’ People then learned that she was involved with Professor Lang Zhiwan, who was a student of her late husband."
Shire chuckled lightly: "What’s the big deal!"
It’s just a student-teacher romance.
But unexpectedly, Tijani added: "Professor Lang Zhiwan was a married man."
Shire was momentarily speechless; he had not heard this.
Tijani raised his hand: "Then rumors spread. Many believed the affair started before her husband’s death, with some even saying her husband committed suicide because of it. The most exaggerated rumors suggested a conspiracy."
Shire sighed inwardly, understanding why Madam Curie always appeared so lonely and melancholic in photos.
Taking a sip of milk, Shire shook his head: "The French are strange; they idolize Hari, who is available to all, but cannot tolerate such a small blemish in Mary."
This is the indulgent, romantic France!
Tijani was taken aback, seemingly finding Shire’s point reasonable.
After thinking for a while, Tijani gave a barely acceptable explanation: "Perhaps people’s expectations are higher for scientists, just as they have high expectations for you."
Shire slammed his empty cup on the table, glaring at Tijani: "So, did you call Hari to my bathroom?"
Tijani was stunned; he didn’t expect Shire to connect it to this.
"Damn!" Tijani slapped his forehead: "How didn’t I think of that? I should’ve brought some reporters and cameras that day; I missed a headline opportunity!"
Shire threw the leftover bread at him, this smooth-talking guy.
But Shire understood; it wasn’t just that Madam Curie was a scientist; it was because she was a woman. There was still serious discrimination and prejudice against women in this era.
"General." At this moment, a guard jogged up to Shire to report: "Someone wants to see you, an American. He says he has important intelligence about the Germans."
The first thing Shire thought of was the "Lady in White," an organization mostly made up of civilians from various countries.
But he reconsidered and felt something was off. Members of the "Lady in White" wouldn’t be this reckless; seeking him out directly was almost exposing their identity.
"Let him in," Shire ordered, still puzzled.
Tijani was cautious and asked the guard: "Was he searched?"
"He was searched," the guard replied. "He doesn’t have any weapons or anything suspicious."
Shire brought the man to the conference room. No matter how he looked, this old man with white hair didn’t seem like a spy.
"You may speak now," Shire nodded at him. "What do you want to tell me?"
"Well, General," the old man seemed nervous, rubbing his hands and swallowing before speaking: "Two years ago, the Titanic hit an iceberg and sank. Since then, I’ve been thinking about something. My idea is this..."
Shire was a bit surprised; the Titanic sank two years ago? It felt so recent.
"It has nothing to do with the Germans, right?" Shire joked. "Are you saying they sank it?"
"No, of course not," the old man turned red and, after hesitating, he answered: "Sorry, General. I don’t actually have any intelligence about the Germans."
Maybe he’s a fan, Shire thought, pretending to provide intelligence just to get an autograph.
"Where’s your notebook?" Shire asked.
The old man looked puzzled: "What notebook?"
"Where should I sign?" Shire took out a pen from the drawer: "Don’t use this method next time."
The old man was stunned before he reacted: "No, no, I’m not here for an autograph."
"Then what is it?" Shire felt a bit embarrassed.
"I am..." The old man paused, then took a deep breath as if he had made up his mind: "My name is Fusenden, General. I study radio waves. For the past two years, because of the Titanic sinking, I’ve been researching methods to detect icebergs underwater. Not long ago, I applied for industrial property rights for the ’Echo Detector,’ which can detect icebergs from two miles away. I believe it could be useful to you."
Shire’s eyes widened instantly.
An "Echo Detector" to detect icebergs, and from two miles away? Isn’t this the prototype of sonar?
How did such a talent just come to him?!