These past two days, the entire New York business and labor market has been amazed by the actions of Argyle & Co. Foods.
The city's biggest land agent arrived personally by carriage at the factory gates early in the morning.
He brought the deeds to the two plots of land Felix Argyle wanted, along with the humble greetings of the former owners.
Catherine, authorized by Felix Argyle, negotiated with the renowned agent.
"Good morning, Mr. White."
Catherine placed a cup of coffee in front of the agent.
"Of course, good morning, beautiful Miss O'Brien."
Mr. White's face was wreathed in smiles.
"Your boss, Argyle, is truly a man of action. He only expressed interest yesterday, and today he wants to complete the transaction. Honestly, in my twenty years of work, I have never seen such astonishing boldness."
"Boss's time is precious, and he doesn't like to waste energy on pointless haggling, Mr. White."
"Could you tell me how much the two landowners are asking for?"
"This much." Mr. White held up eight fingers.
"Eight thousand dollars. They know that your company urgently needs land right now. So..."
"So they want to take advantage of the situation?" Catherine interrupted him.
"Mr. White, you should know that during wartime, cash is worth far more than land. And those two plots of land, one is an abandoned lumber mill, and the other is a burned-down warehouse; they are practically worthless. If it weren't for us, I'm afraid no one would be interested in them for ten years."
"You can't say that. Location, location is the most important thing."
Catherine scoffed at this. What was so good about the location? It was just next to their own company, that's all.
"In that case."
"Then please go back and tell those two gentlemen. The final offer I am authorized by Felix Argyle to make."
"Is six thousand dollars, cash. The transaction can be completed this afternoon."
"If they agree, then everyone is happy. If they don't agree..."
A hint of disdain flashed in Catherine's eyes.
"Then please tell them that Argyle & Co. Foods does not welcome extortion. There are other lands available for purchase around here, so they can just let their land rot there. I have other matters to attend to, Mr. White, please make yourself at home."
After saying this, Catherine stood up, preparing to leave.
Cold sweat broke out on Mr. White's forehead due to Catherine's assertiveness.
He knew that the young lady in front of him was not bluffing.
"Wait... I... I will communicate with them."
In less than an hour, Mr. White returned.
His face showed a hint of defeated frustration, as well as awe for the way Williams Company conducted its business.
"Six thousand dollars, Miss Catherine."
At the same time, outside the factory gates, the spectacular scene of thousands of people applying for jobs was also underway.
Miller, with his ten security guards, maintained order with loaded firearms.
Thousands of men, pouring in from all corners of New York, eager to find work, jammed the entire street in front of the factory.
Jones personally served as the chief recruitment officer.
"Next!"
He shouted loudly at the crowded people.
A man who looked strong but whose eyes were a bit shifty squeezed to the front.
"Want to work?"
"Ye... yes, sir."
"Where did you hang out before?"
"The docks... sometimes, I also helped people, watched over places." The man answered vaguely.
"Alright, you can go." Jones waved his hand impatiently. "We don't want gang members here."
"You..."
The man still wanted to argue, but when he saw Miller turn to him with a cold stare and the Colt revolver on his hip, he wisely shut his mouth.
"Next!"
An honest-looking man, who seemed like Smith the Blacksmith, stepped forward.
"What did you do before?"
"Blacksmithing, sir." The man answered honestly. "The war came, and many small blacksmith shops closed down."
"Very good. It seems you have strength and understand machines."
Jones drew a circle next to his name.
"You're hired. Go over there and find Miss Catherine's assistant to register your information."
"Thank you! Thank you, sir!" The man's face turned red with excitement.
All day long, Jones and Miller were like two efficient screening machines.
They rejected everyone who looked like a hooligan, a drunkard, or a slacker.
Finally, from a crowd of nearly a thousand, they selected two hundred new employees who best met Felix Argyle' requirements: strong, healthy, and with clear eyes.
That night, Felix Argyle' office was brightly lit.
He, Smith the Blacksmith, and several of the latter's proud disciples were gathered around a huge design drawing, engaged in a final discussion.
"Boss."
Smith the Blacksmith, an old man who, under Felix Argyle' money and respect, had completely come to see himself as a part of Williams Company, pointed at the drawing and said.
"Your four-line parallel design is simply too crazy. It requires a steam boiler five times larger than the current one, and the pipes needed would wrap around the entire factory three times!"
"I know, Smith."
Felix Argyle raised his hand to press down, signaling him to calm down.
"But think about it, once it's built. Our output will be four times what it is now. We'll be able to produce over ten thousand cans in a single day. This will be unique in all of America."
"You have only one task, and that is to turn what's on the drawing into reality, exactly as it is."
Smith the Blacksmith looked at Felix Argyle, at the persistence in the young boss's eyes.
"Alright, well, you're the Boss, so leave it to me."
After everyone else had left, Catherine entered Felix Argyle' office with a cup of hot milk.
"Felix, still busy?"
Since that night, her address, when no outsiders were present, would always become more intimate.
Felix Argyle rubbed his tired brow and responded, "Yes, there's too much to do. I really need a few days off. Did the negotiations go smoothly?"
Catherine's face broke into a smile. "Very smoothly."
"I knew you could do it, Catherine. Now the land is acquired, and Jones has recruited enough excellent workers. Smith the Blacksmith has also made a military pledge, and the company will develop rapidly very soon."
She walked behind him, extending her slender fingers to gently massage his temples.
"Don't push yourself too hard." Her voice was very soft.
Felix Argyle closed his eyes, enjoying this rare moment of warmth.
"I have no choice, Catherine."
"The ship we're on is too small. And the war, the waves of this ocean are too big. So I must turn it into a true steel battleship before the first giant wave hits."
"You will succeed."
Catherine's tone was full of confidence.
"Of course." Felix Argyle opened his eyes and held her hand.
Looking at Catherine's blue eyes, which sparkled like jewels under the lamplight.
"Because I'm not fighting alone."
----
New York, along the East River.
The vast land Felix had purchased was now a huge and bustling construction site.
Two hundred newly recruited workers, under Supervisor Jones's booming shouts, were sweating profusely as they laid the foundation for the new factory building.
Yes, that's right. The new workers' first task wasn't the production line, but helping with the construction of the new factory building alongside the construction company.
Smith the Blacksmith's team, on the other side, was clanging away, forging the massive steam boilers and copper pots needed for the new production line.
The entire Argyle & Co. Foods was immersed in a fervent atmosphere of frantic expansion to meet the military's huge order.
However, in the center of all this commotion, on the top floor of the three-story office building, Felix's office was unusually quiet.
There were no blueprints or financial reports on his desk.
Only a stack of the latest chemistry journals and scholar directories, collected from various libraries and colleges in New York.
Catherine walked in softly, carrying a cup of black tea.
"Felix."
"Smith the Blacksmith's side has sent a report; the installation of the first new steam boiler is complete. Supervisor Jones asked me to ask if you'd like to personally inspect it?"
Felix didn't look up, responding casually.
"No need. Tell Jones that I trust his and Smith's professional judgment."
"He will be fully responsible for the inspection process."
Catherine placed the coffee on the table and, with some curiosity, glanced at the chemistry molecular formula journals Felix was reading, which she couldn't understand at all.
"Felix, why have you suddenly become interested in chemistry?"
Felix, smelling the aroma next to him, couldn't help but look up at Catherine, "Not interested, darling, don't stand there, come sit down quickly!"
With that, he adjusted his chair backward, revealing his thigh. Seeing this, Catherine was no longer as shy as before and directly sat sideways on it.
Embracing the beauty in his arms, Felix then continued.
"I feel a crisis."
"A crisis?" Catherine was somewhat puzzled, "Isn't the company's business going smoothly now?"
"Yes, everything is going smoothly, just like a train speeding down the tracks."
"But darling, have you ever thought, what if one day, a wall appears at the end of the tracks? What do we do then?"
"A wall?"
"Exactly."
Felix snapped his fingers and then pointed to the busy construction site downstairs.
"Everything we're doing now—expanding the factory, recruiting workers—is just adding more carriages to our train, making it run faster and carry more.
But we are still just a company that produces canned meat."
"And the military's latest letter, do you remember it?"
"Of course, I remember. They hope we can develop canned fruit."
"Yes, canned fruit."
Felix's tone became serious.
"This is the wall I see."
"Preserving fruit and preserving meat are two completely different concepts. The acidic substances in fruit will slowly react chemically with iron cans.
High temperatures will severely damage its taste and nutrition. If we use our current high-temperature steaming method to make canned fruit,
all we will get is a can of unnutritious, sweet jam."
"This is a technical barrier, Catherine."
Felix said word by word.
"A barrier that all our existing experience cannot overcome. And whoever can break through it first will get a fat piece of cake in this feast of military supply."
"So, you mean..."
Catherine finally understood.
"Exactly." Felix nodded, "While Jones and his team are building 'muscle' for my business, I must find its next 'brain.'"
"A brain that truly understands science."
He handed Catherine a list he had personally compiled.
"These are a few names I've filtered out from all the information I could find over the past few days."
"They are top-tier chemists in New York, and even the entire Federation."
Catherine took the list.
On it were three names, along with their detailed background information.
The first was Professor Silliman from Yale College, highly respected and a doyen of American chemistry.
But next to his name, Felix had drawn a cross in red pen.
"Why?" Catherine asked.
"Because he is too famous and too wealthy," Felix explained.
"We can't hire someone like him. He won't condescend to work for a food company for money."
The second was Professor Chandler from Columbia College. Young, promising, and with an active mind. But next to his name, Felix had drawn a question mark.
"Professor Chandler has strong academic abilities. However, I've checked his background. His family has marital ties with some shareholders of the Eastern Railroad Alliance. I don't want to plant a nail that could explode at any time in our core technology department."
Catherine's heart was filled with awe.
Then this person really couldn't be used, otherwise, it could bring disaster to the company at any time.
Finally, her gaze fell on the third, and last, name.
Dr. Aris Thorne, Associate Professor of Organic Chemistry at Columbia College.
"He's the one."
Felix's finger pressed heavily on that name.
"Why him, boss?" Catherine asked, "Doesn't the information say that many of his theories are highly controversial in academia?"
"Controversy represents innovation, Catherine."
An unusual glint appeared in Felix's eyes.
"Those old-fashioned conservatives cannot bring us any breakthroughs. I've read a few of his papers on food fermentation and organic denaturation.
Although some of his views seem very bold now,
in my opinion, he is the only one who has truly touched upon the essence of 'food science.'"
Felix smiled, pointing to a small line of text in the material.
"And, look here."
"The Columbia College Board of Trustees just last month rejected Dr. Thorne's proposal to apply for funding to establish a new independent organic chemistry laboratory. The reason given was that his research direction lacked practical commercial value."
"A talented genius, suppressed by reality and lacking funding."
Felix looked at Catherine, saying word by word.
"Tell me, Catherine, is there a more suitable candidate than him?"
"I understand."
"You want to buy him, and his brain, together."
"Not buy."
Felix corrected Catherine's statement.
"It's an investment."
"Catherine, I need you to go to Columbia College yourself. Go see this disheartened Dr. Thorne. Bring him my respect, and an offer he cannot refuse."
"Tell him that Argyle & Co. Foods is willing to fully fund the establishment of a chemistry laboratory for him, one that is better than what he applied for from the Board of Trustees."
"In this laboratory, he will have relatively unhindered research freedom. He can research any topic he is interested in, but there are prerequisites."
"That is, he must first help the company research what is needed, and for anything researched in the laboratory, he only has the academic right to publish the results; the commercial use rights belong to the company."
Columbia College, located in uptown New York, was like an ivory tower isolated from the world.
Ancient ivy climbed the red brick walls, and the air was filled with the tranquil scent of books, grass, and knowledge.
This was a world entirely different from Felix's factory, which was full of steam and sweat.
Catherine arrived at the college gates in a private carriage that, while not luxurious, was very respectable.
She politely asked the gatekeeper for the location of Dr. Aris Thorne's laboratory.
"Dr. Thorne?"
The gatekeeper, an old man who had worked there for half his life, scrutinized the distinguished young lady before him with a peculiar look.
"Madam, he's in the basement of the West Wing Annex. Do you need him for something? I must warn you, it's not a place for someone as respectable as you. Sometimes, some... strange smells come from inside."
"Thank you for the warning, I'm just visiting an old friend."
Catherine smiled and handed him a silver coin.
Only after finding the basement laboratory did Catherine understand what the gatekeeper's words meant.
A complex smell, a mixture of sulfur, alcohol, and some unknown organic fermentation, wafted out from under the door.
She gently knocked on the door.
There was no response from inside.
Only the crisp sound of glass instruments clinking together.
She knocked again.
"The door's unlocked!"
A very impatient, scholarly and hoarse voice came from inside.
"If you're here to collect a bill, just slide it under the door!"
Catherine pushed the door open.
The sight before her made her pause slightly.
This laboratory was even more chaotic than Felix's original basement workshop.
The floor was piled high with all sorts of books and manuscripts.
Shelves along the walls were filled with strangely shaped flasks and stills, many covered in a thick layer of dust.
And in the center of the laboratory, a man in a white lab coat stained with various colors, with hair as messy as a bird's nest, and wearing thick glasses, was intently staring at a boiling green liquid.
Clearly, he was Dr. Aris Thorne.
"Hello, Dr. Thorne," Catherine said.
Dr. Thorne didn't even turn to look at her.
"I told you, just leave the bill on the table," he said, his eyes fixed on the flask.
"Damn it, just a little more. The temperature still isn't stable enough. If only I had a constant temperature oil bath..."
"Perhaps we can provide you with one, Doctor," Catherine said calmly.
This sentence finally got a reaction from Dr. Thorne.
He spun around abruptly, his eyes, slightly unfocused through thick lenses, warily scrutinizing the unwelcome guest who seemed so out of place in this chaotic environment.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Catherine O'Brien," Catherine introduced herself. "I'm here to visit you on behalf of Argyle & Co. Foods."
"Food company?"
Dr. Thorne's face showed clear disdain and annoyance.
"I'll say it again, I have no interest in how to make your sausages last a few more days. Please leave my laboratory immediately and do not disturb my work."
"I think you misunderstand, Doctor, I'm not here for sausages."
Catherine's tone became somewhat peculiar, but still composed.
"I'm here to discuss some issues regarding enzymatic browning and the non-putrefactive decomposition of organic matter in anaerobic environments."
Catherine spoke two professional chemical terms that would leave any layman utterly confused.
And these two terms were the core keywords in Dr. Thorne's recently controversial paper on food preservation.
Dr. Thorne was completely stunned.
"You've read my paper?"
"Yes, Doctor."
"My boss, Mr. Felix Argyle, read it and then asked me to study it. He believes that your paper, which the College Board deemed 'lacking practical commercial value,' is the greatest masterpiece in the field of food science this century."
"He believes that your theory is the only key to solving a multi-million dollar problem."
Dr. Thorne, a genius who had been suppressed for many years because his theories were not understood by mainstream academia, at this moment, his defenses were easily breached by Catherine's words.
"Your boss..."
He adjusted his glasses, his tone becoming less sharp.
"From your introduction, he sounds like a canning merchant. Can he understand my paper?"
"Not only does he understand it, Doctor," Catherine continued, "but he sent me here precisely to turn your theory into reality."
She laid out Felix's proposal in full.
"...My boss, Mr. Argyle, is willing to fully fund, in his personal name, the establishment of a brand new, independent chemical laboratory for you."
"The scale of the laboratory will be better than what you applied for from the College Board. All equipment will be top-of-the-line, procured for you from Europe. Your research funding, as long as it's reasonable, will be approved."
Dr. Thorne's breathing began to quicken.
"In this laboratory, you will have relatively unrestricted research freedom. You can continue those studies on fermentation and the denaturation of organic matter."
"What's the cost?"
Dr. Thorne was a smart man; he knew there was no free lunch in this world.
"There are two costs, or rather, conditions."
Catherine's tone became businesslike and clear.
"First, before conducting your own research, you need to help our company solve some practical technical problems. For example, the long-term preservation of canned fruit, the purification of condensed milk, and so on."
"Second, and most importantly."
Catherine looked at him and said, word for word.
"Regarding intellectual property. For any research results you achieve in the laboratory, you will have the sole right to academic publication. You can write them into papers and publish them in any scientific journal. All academic honors will belong solely to you, Dr. Aris Thorne."
Seeing the satisfaction on Dr. Thorne's face, Catherine added.
"However..."
"All commercial usage rights for these research results will belong to Argyle & Co. Foods."
Dr. Thorne paced back and forth, an unprecedented internal struggle raging within him.
The college had given him honor and status.
But it was stingy with even a little funding for him to realize his dreams.
And this merchant's representative, he wanted all the 'golden eggs' that he might produce in the future.
But what the other party offered was the entire heaven that would allow him to hatch those golden eggs.
"He wants to own my inventions... but he doesn't want to own my name," he murmured. "He wants the gold, but leaves all the honor to the alchemist."
"Doctor, my boss is a businessman, but he deeply respects science," Catherine replied.
"He has no interest in academic prestige. He is only interested in using science to build an unprecedented commercial enterprise. And he believes that your mind can provide him with the most solid technical foundation."
After a long pause, Dr. Thorne stopped pacing.
He glanced at his kerosene lamp, then at the cracked distillation flask on the shelf.
"I'd like to meet this Mr. Argyle," he said hoarsely.
"Of course, no problem," Catherine smiled. "But before that, I need to know, Doctor, in principle, are you interested in our proposal?"
Dr. Thorne did not answer directly.
He simply walked to his blackboard, covered with various complex formulas.
Looking at those ideas that, due to lack of experimental equipment, could only ever remain in the theoretical stage.
Then he turned to Catherine and said with a firm tone.
"Miss O'Brien, please tell your boss."
"Archimedes said, give him a fulcrum, and he can move the entire Earth."
"And all I need now is a beaker that doesn't leak."