"Alright, is everyone here?"
The next day,
Liston gathered the elite members of London College, including myself, in the lecture hall.
Though technically a classroom, it was almost always empty since students were more often assigned to dissection rooms, practical training, or actual medical practice rather than lectures.
The empty lectern and student desks stood ready, fully prepared in their own way.
"Where's the microscope?"
"Here."
I had brought Lord Damian's microscope.
Considering this single item was worth the price of a decent carriage, handling it required extreme caution.
Of course, at this point, worrying about caution seemed a bit late—I had already taken it to Paris and back.
This wasn't the microscope I was familiar with but a more portable version, making the trip possible.
"Good. What about the miasma?"
"Here. Ugh. Ugh… this is…"
Blundell responded to Liston's question.
He was pinching his nose with a gloved hand, clutching a clean white handkerchief in the process.
In his other hand was water collected from the Thames.
Just looking at it was enough to know—it was far from auspicious.
'Worse than Paris… No matter how I look at it.'
For one thing…
Was it because of the population?
The water was murky.
In fact, come to think of it, wasn't London's population nearly three times that of Paris?
Paris had 600,000, while London had over 2 million.
By the early 19th century, London already housed 2 million people—no wonder it was the heart of the British Empire. The problem was that, despite the explosive population growth, infrastructure hadn't improved at all.
"Alright, shall we take a look?"
"Do we really need to examine this? It's just a lump of miasma."
"Tsk tsk! My friend, didn't you learn anything from the water-drinking experiments? The essence of an experiment lies in comparing before and after results! Here, I even brought an artist."
"Ah… I see. Well, then, I suppose we must."
Come to think of it, there was an unfamiliar face in the room—must've been the artist.
Hard to say if he was being paid properly.
The man looked completely frozen.
"Ugh…"
Blundell plugged his nose with cotton to block the smell before carefully transferring small amounts of Thames water.
Since a white background would make observation easier, he poured the water into a white dish.
Almost instantly, the dish turned murky.
"Now then…"
Starting with Blundell, each of us took turns examining the water under the microscope.
It teemed with unidentifiable microorganisms.
The fact that people survived drinking this was nothing short of miraculous.
"Good. Now it's your turn."
"Ah, yes."
"Look closely—you'll need to draw it."
"Ugh…"
The last to observe was the artist.
I wasn't sure if he was a real artist, but since he had brought paints and pencils, it seemed likely.
In any case, with Liston's help (or whatever it was), he was made to observe the miasma.
"Wh-what is this… What is this?"
"What do you mean? It's disease-causing miasma!"
"But how could—"
"No need to overthink it. Can you draw it or not?"
"I-I can draw it."
"Good. If you want to stay alive, you'd better do it well. Understood? I'll be watching."
"Y-yes. Understood. I'll keep that in mind."
There seemed to be some backstory there.
I had no desire to pry, nor any reason to, so I didn't press further.
In truth, everyone else seemed to share the sentiment, so the experiment resumed immediately.
"Alright, now everyone take out the disinfectants you've brought."
"Haha."
Blundell confidently retrieved something from below.
"Ugh!"
The moment he opened the lid, a stench assaulted us, making everyone recoil in horror.
Even Liston flinched, so of course, I did too. Blundell looked utterly wronged by my reaction.
"What's the problem? You made this!"
"F-Form… Ah… solution."
I almost blurted out "formaldehyde."
Of course, anyone would panic if a Group 1 carcinogen was suddenly shoved under their nose.
"This is so potent… Haha. Actually, last night I took one of the rats I caught here back home."
"A rat?"
"Yes. A rat."
"Why… why would you take it?"
His next words were enough to make even Liston stutter.
Why would he take a rat…?
Under everyone's bewildered stares, Blundell rummaged in his bag and pulled out—
The rat.
More precisely, a rat pickled in formaldehyde.
"I wanted to try this."
"It's dead. Horribly dead."
"Well, rats are pests, aren't they? Just big miasma carriers. Right?"
"That's… Well, I suppose so. I hadn't thought of that."
I was about to correct him—That's not how it works—when Blundell continued.
"It died in less than a minute after I submerged it. You know rats are good swimmers, right? So it didn't drown. It just… died. Do you think miasma could survive this?"
"It wouldn't stand a chance. Alright, pour it into the dish."
"Heh, looks like I'm taking first place, huh?"
Did he not realize rats and humans were both mammals?
Apparently not.
Still, I didn't correct him right away.
'The others' methods won't be much better… right?'
Repeating myself over and over wasn't my style.
So I stepped back and waited.
In any case, the experiment continued.
"Alright, here's what I brought."
Next was Liston's turn.
He produced hydrochloric acid, sulfuric acid, and phenol solution—also known as carbolic acid.
The sharp stench stung my nose, forcing me to cover it.
Formaldehyde was a Group 1 carcinogen, but hydrochloric and sulfuric acids could kill you if mishandled.
"Hydrochloric and sulfuric acids! Naturally, they'll be potent."
"They have to be. The pure solutions can kill people."
"So how do you plan to use them?"
"Dilution, of course. Half and half should do."
"Sounds reasonable. We'll have to test it."
"Well, there'll be plenty of chances. Anyway, I'll pour it now."
Phenol was also quite toxic, but hydrochloric and sulfuric acids were so striking that I was left speechless.
Soon, each solution was poured into separate dishes.
A hissing sound followed.
I think Liston muttered a quiet "Oh, fuck."
If the ceramic dish had a well-glazed, tightly coated surface, it might hold for a short while. But if the glaze was chipped, corrosion was inevitable.
Nothing but glass bottles could withstand these chemicals for long.
Or maybe those plastic containers from Breaking Bad or something.
"I brought sulfur."
Alfred presented sulfur.
"Mine is this."
Joseph produced mercury.
"Solid disinfectants. Hah, quite creative, aren't they?"
"Exactly!"
Liston and Blundell lavished praise on them.
Even in the 21st century, I'd never seen professors like these.
Had they taken some genius creativity training or something?
No matter the idea, they loved it.
"Mercury—a traditional remedy."
"This would be easier to apply than solids, wouldn't it?"
"Exactly. And the smell… Hmm. No smell at all. That's… a huge advantage."
"Now that you mention it, it is. Mercury doesn't have a taste either, right?"
"Hahaha! That's true!"
Since sulfur had already been praised, it was only natural that mercury received even more acclaim.
What stunned me more was that Liston knew the taste of mercury.
'Well… he did try feeding people Thames water… mercury isn't that far-fetched.'
This was an era where people insisted on trying things firsthand.
Liston perfectly embodied that spirit, so it wasn't surprising.
"I… I didn't prepare anything. I was going to get mercury, but Joseph already did."
While I was lost in thought, everyone's attention shifted to Colin.
He waved his hands in embarrassment, likely feeling like he hadn't put in enough effort.
Personally, I didn't blame him—this wasn't something worth stressing over.
But since others seemed ready to scold him, I quickly pulled out what I had prepared in advance.
"Wh-what is this?"
"This… What is this strange thing?"
Even after seeing hydrochloric acid, sulfuric acid, and a rat pickled in formaldehyde, this was what shocked them.
Honestly, I had been just as stunned when I first saw it.
Was his name Lugol?
He was a friend of Dr. Jean-Pierre and, as thanks for our contributions to cholera treatment, had given this to me.
He called it a tuberculosis remedy, but I recognized it immediately.
"Iodine tincture."
"Iodine…?"
"It's brown—looks quite dangerous."
"Almost like blood…"
"Pye would've loved this."
Iodine.
The ancestor of the red liquid treated as a cure-all.
I couldn't believe it already existed in this era.
But for disinfection…
Wait, they were using all these other bizarre substances instead?
'Well… it doesn't look as potent at a glance.'
People in this era loved things that looked strong, didn't they?
Phenol had once been the undisputed king of disinfectants—no coincidence there.
In comparison, iodine seemed a bit… feeble.
Even its smell was mild.
It lacked the mystique of mercury.
But that was fine.
We were here to experiment.
Would it hold up in sterilization power against those heavy hitters?
'It has tremendous oxidizing power.'
It steals electrons from sulfur in amino acids, breaking bonds. For amino acids like arginine, histidine, lysine, and tyrosine, it disrupts nitrogen and hydrogen bonds.
This destroys protein structures, making survival impossible for microorganisms.
"I'll pour it in now."
"Good. Let's see."
With that thought in mind, I added iodine to the dish.
Fizz.
Meanwhile, the hydrochloric and sulfuric acids Liston had poured earlier had already corroded the dish and were now eating into the desk beneath.
"Agh! What do we do about this?!"
Only then did Liston realize the situation and start panicking.
"Just clean it—AAAH!"
Blundell carelessly touched it and burned his hand.
Luckily, it was minor—thanks to his gloves.
"Would this… work on humans?"
I asked, staring at Liston (who was despairing over the melted desk) and Blundell (who was blowing on his fingers).
Both shook their heads frantically.
They looked a bit pitiful, but I wasn't done.
"And this… wouldn't humans end up the same way?"
I pointed at the gruesome rat corpse still lying on the desk.
They both nodded solemnly.
Joseph murmured, "Ah, that makes sense."
Alfred quietly acknowledged it too.
If possible, I wanted to debunk the rest—but for sulfur, mercury, and phenol, I had no immediate counterarguments.
Ah, wait—just got one.
"Hey hey, it's gonna burn!"
Sulfur was out.
Now the remaining contenders were mercury, phenol, and iodine.