They stepped out of Le Bon Marché with the rest of the crowd.
The noise hit first. Footsteps. Voices. Carriages slowing at the curb. Vendors calling from the edges of the street. The wide facade of the building loomed above them, its stonework already half-lit by the fading sky.
People were gathering in front of it.
Not browsing. Not passing through. They stood facing the building, heads tilted up, attention fixed forward. Couples. Families. Workers still in their coats. Children pressed close to the front, held back by adults’ hands.
Elisabeth slowed.
"What’s going on?" she asked.
Napoleon II didn’t answer right away. He guided her gently through gaps in the crowd, one hand raised again, signaling direction. People shifted without protest. Someone stepped aside. Someone else leaned back to let them pass.
They stopped near the center, far enough to see the entire facade.
Mounted above the main entrance was a large clock. It was almost six in the evening.
"But the building is already lit. We saw electric lamps inside. Outside too." She gestured at the streetlights. "What’s different?"
Napoleon II smiled faintly. "You’ll see."
A murmur rolled through the crowd. Someone near the front pointed up at the clock.
The minute hand clicked into place.
Six o’clock.
A man in a dark coat stepped forward onto a small platform near the entrance. He raised one hand.
"Gentlemen and ladies," he called through microphone. "Thank you for gathering with us this evening."
Elisabeth leaned closer to Napoleon II. "Is this like an announcement?"
"In a way."
The man continued, his voice steady. "Tonight, Le Bon Marché presents something new. Something we believe marks the next step forward."
Elisabeth scanned the facade. Thin glass tubes traced the outlines of windows and arches. She hadn’t noticed them before.
The man raised his hand again.
"We will begin the countdown."
A pause.
"Five."
The crowd echoed it.
"Four."
Elisabeth felt her chest tighten, anticipation she didn’t expect.
"Three."
She glanced sideways at Napoleon II. He was watching the building with a calm expression.
"Two."
Someone near the back laughed nervously.
"One."
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.
Then the facade came alive.
Light surged through the glass tubes all at once. Not the soft yellow of electric bulbs.
Color.
Lines of red traced the arches. Blue framed the windows. Green ran along the cornices. The light was sharp and steady, brighter than anything around it. It didn’t flicker. It didn’t dim.
The crowd gasped.
Children shouted. Someone clapped. Hats were lifted without thinking.
Elisabeth froze.
Her breath caught.
"It’s... brighter," she said. "And different."
The colors reflected off the stone, off faces, off the street itself. Shadows sharpened. The building looked taller, cleaner, unreal.
"What is this?" she asked.
Napoleon II leaned slightly closer so she could hear him over the noise.
"Neon lighting," he said.
She stared at the glowing tubes. "Neon?"
"A gas," he continued. "Sealed inside glass. Electrified. It produces light without heat."
It was one of the inventions made from the Ministry of Science and Technology.
A lot of modern technologies were born in that ministry thanks to the huge funding it got from the government, accelerating research in every field that Napoleon II himself guided.
Neon had always been there. In the air. Diluted beyond notice. Hidden behind nitrogen and oxygen, ignored because no one had the tools or the know-how to separate it.
Cold was the real barrier.
Once mechanical refrigeration became reliable, the rest followed naturally. Air could be compressed. Compressed air heated. Heat could be stripped away in stages. Compression. Cooling. Expansion. Again and again. Each cycle drove the temperature lower.
At a certain point, air stopped behaving like air.
Oxygen condensed first. Then nitrogen. Both liquefied and drained away, collected for their own uses. What remained was a trace fraction, rare gases that refused to react, refused to bind, refused to disappear.
Neon.
This is why the decade was called the decade of miracle science, because a lot of modern technology was introduced between 1814 to 1829. Engineers and scientists from foreign nations, with thirst for knowledge and discovery, flocked to the ministry of science and technology in droves, and became citizens of France.
And that neon lighting didn’t stop there. Since it’s the month of December, aside from Le Bon Marche, different stores had their own neon lighting that lit up the city of Paris.
The crowd didn’t quiet down right away.
People talked over each other, voices overlapping. Some laughed. Some pointed. A few simply stood still, staring up at the facade as if it might change again if they looked long enough.
She turned slowly, taking in the people around them. Faces lifted. Mouths open. Children tugging at sleeves, asking questions adults didn’t know how to answer yet.
A man near them shook his head. "Imagine this on every street."
"Or in shops," another said. "You wouldn’t miss them at night."
"Paris will be brighter," someone added, half joking, half serious.
"So this is why everyone gathered," she said.
"Yes. So, what do you think? Beautiful right."
"It is indeed beautiful. This trip had been joyful, full of explorations. It felt as though there’s more to come," Elisabeth said in a dreamy tone.
"This is the wonder of science, I am glad that you appreciate it. It makes me happy when someone like you enjoys humanity’s ingenuity."
Elisabeth blushed.
"Come," he said. "We’ll leave the crowd to its excitement."
They walked away from the facade.
Elisabeth kept looking around, as if afraid she might miss something.
"You planned this well," she said.
"I planned the order," he replied. "The city did the rest."
They turned onto a narrower street lined with tall buildings. Warm light spilled from tall windows. Inside, people sat at small tables, glasses catching the glow.
Napoleon II slowed in front of a building with a discreet sign and heavy doors.
"We’ll have dinner here," he said. "One of the better kitchens in this district."
Elisabeth looked up at the entrance.
"A famous place?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. "And a good way to end the evening."
He reached for the door, holding it open as the sounds of Paris softened behind them.