"With a wave of my finger and a flick of my dik
One zap from me will kill you quick
So get on your knees to suck and blow
But not right now I've got to go"
- Nikola Tesla to Thomas Edison circa 1880
____________________________________
New York, Hudson River docks.
A drizzling autumn rain fell from the sky. The docks were under the highest level of militarized martial law. Hundreds of armed Vanguard Security personnel had established three cordons. No one, including patrol officers from the Port Authority, was allowed to approach.
Three ocean-going cargo ships flying the flags of the Metropolitan Trading Company were quietly docked at their berths.
Felix Argyle, dressed in a black windbreaker, stood at the end of the pier. Tom Hayes and George Templeton stood behind him, one to his left and one to his right.
The cargo ships' steam winches emitted a dull roar. Massive crane arms lifted heavy pine crates reinforced with iron sheets from the lower holds.
The wooden crates were placed steadily onto flatbed wagons on the dock. As the wagons' load increased, their wheels sank deep into the muddy water.
"Boss, the first batch."
Hayes held a manifest in his hand.
"Six million dollars in gold bars cashed out from the London spot market. Five million dollars in weapon deposits paid by the Prussian War Department. And three million dollars in physical gold prepaid by the French for the poseidon."
Templeton adjusted his glasses and added.
"A total of fourteen million dollars' worth of physical gold. Additionally, the mortgage documents for the Louvre artworks and colonial concessions have already been locked in the Imperial Bank's underground vault."
Felix looked at the wooden crates.
"Transport this gold directly to the underground vault of the Empire State Building. George, prepare to expand the vault's capacity." Felix turned around.
Templeton nodded and took notes.
"Boss, with such a massive cash reserve, how should we use it next? Continue investing in Chicago grain futures?" Hayes asked.
"We can invest some, but I think the period of war profiteering won't last much longer. Future profits need to be steady and sustainable." Felix walked toward the carriage parked outside the cordon.
"Pour the money into the domestic market."
Felix sat in the carriage, and Hayes and Templeton followed him inside.
"Tom, keep an eye on Westinghouse Electric. That madman Edison is surely trying to find a way to solve the problems with Alternating Current."
"Intelligence from the Intelligence Department says they're stuck on insulation and transformer core heating. More importantly, they don't have an AC motor. Carnegie's steel rolling mills can't use their power at all," Hayes reported.
"They won't be able to build it in the short term." Felix's fingers tapped on his knee.
"The theoretical model for the AC motor is in Graz. Edison is just a craftsman good at trial and error; he lacks the higher mathematical derivation skills. This is the window of opportunity for General Electric to completely crush them."
Felix looked at Templeton.
"George, set aside a million dollars. Establish the 'General Electric Home Appliance Subsidy Fund'."
Templeton was stunned for a moment, not quite understanding.
"Home appliance subsidies? Boss, our primary customers right now are factories. The profit margins in the residential market are too thin. The cost of running a power line to Greenwich Village would take years to recover through electricity bills."
"You've miscalculated, George."
Felix's gaze became incredibly deep.
"Factories use electricity to reduce costs; they'll scrutinize every kilowatt-hour. But the middle class uses electricity for vanity and enjoyment. I'm going to pour five million dollars into this, running lines for free to all middle-class families in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia with an annual income of over two thousand dollars."
Felix held up a finger.
"Not only will we waive the initial installation fee, but our appliance factory in New Jersey has already mass-produced the first batch of twenty thousand desk Electric Fans. They cost ten dollars to make and sell for fifteen. Now, we change our strategy."
"As long as residential users sign a five-year network agreement with General Electric, the Electric Fan is free."
Hayes sucked in a breath of cold air.
"Giving away twenty thousand fans for free? Boss, that's a net loss of two hundred thousand dollars. And the cost of laying the wires..."
"Give them away!" Felix's voice left no room for doubt.
"Use this five million in hard cash to smash through the middle-class threshold. Let them get used to a cool breeze in the summer and electric lights ten times brighter than gas lamps at night. Once General Electric plugs are in their homes, they'll never be able to leave this network."
"This is a monopoly of habit, which is far more terrifying than a monopoly of capital." Felix leaned back against the seat.
"While Morgan and Edison are pulling their hair out over a transformer in Pittsburgh, I want every family on the American East Coast to hear the hum of General Electric fans. By the time they figure out Alternating Current, they'll find that my Electricity Meter is already hanging on the wall of every house."
The carriage traveled smoothly through the rain, heading toward the Empire State Building.
A week later.
New York, the neighborhoods around Fifth Avenue.
General Electric carriages crisscrossed the streets.
Uniformed workers carrying ladders and cables knocked on the doors of brownstone residences one by one.
Overwhelming advertisements appeared in the newspapers.
"A gift from Mr. Argyle! Say goodbye to the sweltering summer! Sign a five-year electricity agreement and receive General Electric's latest Indoor Breeze Maker for free!"
It was a crushing blow from a higher strategic level.
The middle class had originally been deterred by the high initial installation fees for wiring.
But now, free wiring combined with a fifteen-dollar Electric Fan that felt like high-tech equipment...
It was a temptation no respectable family could refuse.
The business office was absolutely swamped with applicants.
Vincent Thorne and his salesmen were signing so many contracts every day that their hands were growing weary.
Greenwich Village, at the home of Archibald Vance.
Mrs. Vance sat on the sofa; the brass Electric Fan on the coffee table in front of her was emitting a steady hum, blowing a powerful, cool breeze.
Several of her socialite friends sat around her, tea cups in hand, their eyes full of envy.
"This is simply magic, Mrs. Vance. No soot, no noise. This breeze is as clean as the wind on a Long Island beach," one socialite exclaimed.
"You've come at a good time; you can go apply for one now," Mrs. Vance said proudly.
"General Electric is doing installations for free now. My husband says Mr. Argyle is practically doing charity. He's brought that magical power, which used to be only for factories, right into our living rooms."
"I'll have my husband go sign the contract tomorrow. The gas lamps have ruined my new wallpaper; I've had enough of them," another socialite agreed.
In an era without air conditioning, the comfort brought by an Electric Fan was revolutionary.
And behind the hum of every fan, the glass-covered Electricity Meter on the exterior wall turned tirelessly.
It recorded every kilowatt-hour of energy consumed, as well as General Electric's progress in binding the American populace firmly to its chariot.
In the Central Laboratory, Professor Richard Colton stood before a wooden cabinet as tall as a man, holding a circuit diagram covered in corrections.
On the front of the cabinet, two hundred brass jacks were neatly arranged.
Above each jack was a white bone-plate label marked with a number.
Several female operators in uniform sat on wooden chairs before the cabinet. They wore extremely crude metal headsets and had Carbon Transmitters hanging around their necks.
Heinrich White pushed open the door and entered the communications station.
"Professor Colton, the boss wants a progress report." Heinrich walked to the front of the cabinet.
"It's already finished, Manager White."
Professor Colton turned around, his eyes showing exhaustion but extreme excitement.
"The First-Generation Manual Telephone Switchboard, with a capacity of two hundred lines. The Matrix Relays in the back all use Pure Silver Contacts. Crosstalk noise has been reduced to a minimum. Even if two hundred lines are in use simultaneously, they won't interfere with each other."
Professor Colton pointed at the female operators.
"We are currently conducting full-load simulation tests; you can listen for yourself."
Heinrich picked up a spare receiver and held it to his ear.
A small red light on the cabinet suddenly lit up; this was the call signal generated by a simulated user cranking a telephone generator.
A female operator immediately inserted a connection cord with a brass plug into the jack below the red light.
"Telephone Exchange, which gentleman would you like to connect to?"
The operator asked into the Carbon Transmitter in an extremely professional and soft voice.
(The voice of a simulated user came from the other end: "Connect to number forty-five.")
The operator skillfully picked up the plug at the other end of the cord and accurately inserted it into the jack labeled "45."
"The line is connected."
Heinrich heard clear dialogue through the receiver.
No electrical noise, no intermittent stuttering. It was like two people talking across a table.
Heinrich put down the receiver and nodded with satisfaction.
"Well done, Professor. This machine can be moved to Manhattan at any time." Heinrich took out a notebook.
"Attorney Pierce from the Legal Department returned from Washington yesterday. We've run into trouble regarding the patent for this communication technology."
Professor Colton froze for a moment.
"Trouble? We developed the Carbon Transmitter and the silver-contact switchboard independently. Who could cause trouble for us?"
"Alexander Bell from Boston," Heinrich sighed.
"Pierce found an application submitted by Bell at the Patent Office. Bell applied for a broad patent for 'transmitting sound signals through changes in electric current.' He not only applied for an electromagnetic induction transmitter but even included the concept of using variable resistance to transmit sound."
Professor Colton frowned.
"Concepts are concepts, and physical objects are physical objects. If he can't build a Carbon Transmitter, his telephone won't be commercially viable."
"Yes, but he has the legal upper hand." Heinrich closed his notebook.
"The boss has already given the order. Transport this switchboard and one hundred commercial telephones equipped with Carbon Transmitters to the Empire State Building in New York immediately. We are going to force our way into network operations."
New York, Empire State Building.
A wing of the first-floor lobby, originally a warehouse for sundries, had now been completely cleared out. Soundproof cork boards were installed on the walls.
The two-hundred-line switchboard cabinet was placed in the center of the room. Hundreds of insulated copper wires were brought in from outside the building and densely connected to the back of the cabinet.
The "New York Central Telephone Exchange" was officially established.
Felix sat in his top-floor office, a brand-new walnut telephone set on his desk.
Legal Director Benjamin Pierce sat in the chair opposite him, his expression solemn.
"Boss, Bell's partner, Attorney Gardiner Hubbard, will arrive in New York tomorrow," Pierce reported.
"They have registered the 'Bell Telephone Company.' Hubbard has talked tough, saying that if we dare to push General Electric's telephones onto the market, he will immediately apply for an injunction from the Federal Court and sue us for infringement."
Felix picked up a cigar from the table and struck a match.
"Hubbard is a smart man. He knows Bell's electromagnetic transmitter is too quiet to be commercially viable. It seems he's not coming to New York to sue us." Felix blew out a puff of smoke.
"He's likely here to negotiate terms; they probably want our Carbon Transmitter as well."
Pierce adjusted his glasses.
"How should we respond? Under patent law, he does indeed hold the original concept patent for the telephone. If we go head-to-head, the judge might favor him."
"There's no need for favoritism; the law is just a bargaining chip." Felix stood up.
"Take him to the Telephone Exchange for a look tomorrow. Let him understand the gap between concept and reality."
The next morning.
New York, Empire State Building.
Gardiner Hubbard carried a black leather briefcase as he strode into the building.
He wore a long black coat often worn by old-school New England aristocrats, his expression cold.
Pierce met him in the lobby.
"Mr. Hubbard, Mr. Argyle is waiting for you."
Pierce made a gesture of invitation.
Hubbard did not follow Pierce toward the elevator but stopped in his tracks.
"Pierce, we are both lawyers. Let's not beat around the bush; your Carbon Transmitter infringes on the Bell Company's core patent. I'm here today to demand that Mr. Argyle cease all commercial infringement regarding the telephone."
"Take a look at this before we talk about infringement."
Pierce didn't argue; he simply pushed open the door to the "Telephone Exchange" in the lobby's wing.
Hubbard walked inside.
He was instantly stunned by the sight before him.
A massive wooden cabinet.
Twenty female operators in neat uniforms. Brass plugs moved rapidly between jacks. The crisp sound of call bells rang out one after another.
"Connecting to seventy-two Wall Street."
"Lines are full, please wait."
"Connecting to the credit department of the Imperial Bank."
This was a communication hub in operation, completely transcending any laboratory concept.
In the Boston laboratory, Hubbard had only seen Bell connect two rooms with two wires. He had never imagined that telephones could be woven as densely and orderly as a railway network.
"Mr. Hubbard, this is a General Electric switchboard. Two-hundred-line capacity. It is currently connected to one hundred and fifty large companies and banks in Lower Manhattan."
Pierce stood beside him, introducing it in a calm tone.
"Mr. Bell's original patent in your hand is indeed wonderful, but it is just a toy. Without our Carbon Transmitter, your telephone's sound won't travel three blocks. Without silver-contact switchboards, your customers could only pull a single wire to connect with one other person."
Hubbard's face turned pale.
The legal barriers he was so proud of seemed so hollow and powerless in the face of Argyle' absolute industrial manufacturing and system integration capabilities.
"Take me to see him."
Hubbard gripped the handle of his briefcase.
Top-floor office.
Hubbard sat opposite Felix.
"Name your price, Mr. Argyle."
Hubbard gave up on legal intimidation and got straight to the point.
"How many shares must General Electric pay to obtain the license for Bell's patent?"
Felix sat in his leather chair, holding a cup of black tea.
"A license? You've got it wrong, Attorney Hubbard."
Felix set down his teacup. "I'm not buying a license; I'm buying it out."
Felix took out a document and pushed it across the desk.
"One hundred thousand dollars in cash to buy all the telephone patents in Bell's hands. The Bell Telephone Company will be dissolved. Bell himself can come to the Central Laboratory's Acoustics Department to serve as the director, with an annual salary of ten thousand."
Hubbard looked at Felix as if he were a madman.
"One hundred thousand dollars? To buy out an invention that can change the world? You're robbing us!"
"What changes the world is General Electric's power grid and switchboards. Not those two sketches he drew on paper."
Felix's eyes were cold.
"One hundred thousand dollars. If you refuse, I will use the patent barriers of the Carbon Transmitter to lock Bell's telephone in Boston. Then I'll spend two million dollars on lawsuits until you are bankrupt, and until Bell has to use his patent papers to start a fire for warmth."
"In this country, without the permission of the Argyle Family, not even a fly can make a sound through a wire."
Gardiner Hubbard looked at the document in front of him, which stated a buyout amount of one hundred thousand dollars, and frowned.
This was somewhat different from what they had imagined.
Benjamin Pierce stood to the side, fountain pen in hand, ready to hand it to the lawyer from Boston.
Hubbard did not take the pen.
Instead, he pressed his finger against the edge of the document and slowly pushed it back to the center of the desk.
"Mr. Argyle."
Hubbard leaned back against his chair, crossing his hands over his abdomen.
"One hundred thousand dollars. For a Massachusetts farmer, that's a fortune. But to buy out a patent that will change the way humanity communicates? You must be joking."
Felix sat in his leather chair, reaching out to pick up the black tea on the table and taking a sip.
"Heh... I think you're the one who hasn't grasped the situation. Bell's telephone can't even transmit across three blocks. That's not changing the world; it's just a toy for children. I'm offering a hundred thousand just to buy that single piece of patent paper." Felix sneered as he set down his teacup.
Hubbard let out a short laugh at those words.
"Haha, save the intimidation tactics, Mr. Argyle. I'm a lawyer. I spend my days in court dealing with people who try to call black white. This kind of pressure won't work on me."
Hubbard looked Felix straight in the eye.
"Before coming to New York, I took a trip to the Boston telegraph office. I reviewed some public business registration information and visited a few old friends in the banking business in Philadelphia."
Hubbard paused, observing Felix's reaction. Felix remained expressionless.
"We know what happened in Pittsburgh. George Westinghouse has built a new factory. Thomas Edison left your laboratory to go there. Andrew Carnegie is providing them with steel. And standing behind them is the master of 22 Broad Street in London, Junius Morgan."
Hubbard leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk.
"The Argyle Family is indeed powerful in this country. But you are not without enemies. The Morgan family's financial power in Europe, combined with the technology in Edison's brain and Carnegie's steel—they have formed an alliance. They are developing Alternating Current. They want to light another fire on this continent to burn down your Direct Current grid."
Pierce frowned and stepped forward.
"Mr. Hubbard. Your talk of the Argyle Company's competitors has absolutely nothing to do with Bell's patent case."
"It has everything to do with it, Pierce."
Hubbard didn't look at the lawyer, his gaze locked firmly on Felix.
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend. If the Bell Telephone Company takes this initial patent to Pittsburgh, and if we license it to Westinghouse Electric... guess if Old Morgan would be willing to pay ten times, or even a hundred times more than a hundred thousand dollars?"
Hubbard revealed his hole card.
"Morgan might also need a weapon capable of breaking your monopoly in the communications field. Our patent plus Edison's research capabilities... they could easily create an alternative that bypasses your Carbon Transmitter barriers. When that time comes, this telephone line connecting Wall Street won't be named Argyle anymore."
A brief silence fell over the office.
Felix looked at Hubbard; it seemed this old man from Boston had indeed done his homework.
He had correctly identified the total war brewing between General Electric and Westinghouse Electric and was trying to use that conflict to inflate the value of the Bell company.
"State your terms."
Felix didn't waste words or make threats.
After all, the other party wasn't wrong. It was indeed possible for Old Morgan to support them in challenging him.
Hubbard sat up straight and adjusted the collar of his coat.
"The Bell Telephone Company merges into General Electric. We hand over all patent rights, drawings, and Bell's own employment contract."
Hubbard named his price with a lion's share demand.
"In exchange, we want thirty percent of the shares in the General Electric Company. Our three major shareholders—myself, Thomas Sanders, and Alexander Bell—will join the board of directors of General Electric."
Pierce gasped.
"Thirty percent?! You've lost your minds!" Pierce couldn't help but blurt out.
"General Electric currently controls the lighting networks of New York and Chicago, owns two large power stations, and has assets worth millions of dollars! You're asking for millions in assets for a piece of paper that only describes the principle of electromagnetic induction?"
"That piece of paper represents the monopoly rights to communications for the next ten years. It's worth the price!" Hubbard countered.
Felix raised his hand, stopping Pierce's reprimand.
Then he stood up, walked to the desk, and picked up the hundred-thousand-dollar buyout contract.
*Rip.*
Felix used both hands to tear the contract in half. Then he shredded it further and tossed the scraps into the wastebasket.
Hubbard watched Felix's actions.
"You refuse?" Hubbard asked.
"I not only refuse, but I also want to tell you that you've made three fatal mistakes."
Felix turned around, walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured a glass of whiskey.
"First, you overestimate Edison. And you vastly underestimate the arrogance of human nature."
Holding his glass, Felix pointed at Hubbard.
"Edison is an extremely conceited craftsman. But he just lost on the Carbon Transmitter. Do you think if you go to him with Bell's electromagnetic patent, he'll welcome you with open arms? He'll throw your drawings into the furnace. He would rather develop a completely new principle of sound transmission himself than ever work within a patent framework named 'Bell.' If you go to Pittsburgh, you won't even get through the front door of Westinghouse Electric."
The corner of Hubbard's eye twitched slightly.
"Second, you understand Old Morgan far too little," Felix continued.
"Morgan is a financier. He's throwing money into Pittsburgh right now to develop Alternating Current. What he wants is power—the industrial artery that will replace the steam engine. The telephone? In his eyes, that's just a toy for passing messages. He hasn't even monopolized the telegraph; why would he spend millions of dollars to buy your telephone patent?"
Felix walked back behind the desk, bracing his hands on the surface.
"Third, and the most foolish mistake of all. You have no idea what kind of monster General Electric actually is. You want thirty percent of the shares? Are you even worthy?"
Felix's voice was ice-cold.
"My power grid is laid with copper wire, steel towers, coal, and the sweat of countless workers. These past few days, we've sent out tens of thousands of Electric Fans and signed ten-year contracts with thousands of factories. General Electric is a war machine in motion."
"And you want me to hand over a third of the control of this machine to a poor Scottish scholar who teaches the deaf-mute to speak, a leather merchant, and a Boston lawyer who only knows how to wag his tongue? Ha..."
Felix drained the whiskey in his glass.
"If I agreed to that, every broker on Wall Street would think that Argyle has gone insane."
Hubbard fell silent.
The negotiation rhetoric he had prepared regarding Morgan and Westinghouse was stripped bare by Felix's analysis.
He realized that the chips in his hand were as light as a feather before this true capital predator.
"It seems the negotiations have broken down." Hubbard stood up and grabbed his briefcase. "We'll see you in court, Mr. Argyle."
"Sit down."
Felix's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable authority.
Hubbard stopped in his tracks.
"Pierce." Felix looked at his head of legal. "Go draft a new document."
"I'm going to establish a new independent company. The name will be the 'American Telephone and Telegraph Company' (AT&T)." Felix looked at Hubbard.
"This company will be independent of General Electric and will be specifically responsible for the layout and operation of the telephone network."
"The Bell company will merge into this new company, handing over all patents. And Bell will serve as the new company's technical director."
Felix gave his final offer.
"For the shares of the new company, I will take eighty-five percent. You three Bostonians will split the remaining fifteen percent. I will be responsible for providing all technical licensing for the Carbon Transmitter and Silver contact exchanges, as well as the initial startup capital for laying the nationwide telephone network."
Felix sat back in his chair.
"This is the final offer you'll get, Lawyer Hubbard."