Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 296 George Bernard Shaw of "Edison's Telephone"

By 1880, the London Underground had been in operation for nearly 20 years, making it the world's oldest subway system, although it currently only has one line, the Metropolitan Line.

Lionel decided to experience this early achievement of the Industrial Revolution, so he wrapped his coat tighter and walked toward the station entrance.

Through a downward staircase, Lionel entered London's underground world.

The ceiling was a semi-circular arch, blackened by coal smoke, and the gas lamps on the walls cast a dim yellow glow. The air was filled with the damp smell of coal ash.

The station was quite crowded, mostly with office workers, business people, laborers, housewives, and maids...

Lionel followed the instructions and headed to the ticket window.

Passengers at the window state their destination, and the ticket seller tears off the corresponding ticket from a stack of different colored ticket books, collects the money, and gives change.

When it was Lionel's turn, he bent down and tried to look through the small window.

Without looking up, the ticket seller asked, "Where to, sir?"

Lionel asked, "I'm staying at the 'Sussex Hotel,' which stop should I get off at?"

The ticket seller skillfully tore off a pale yellow ticket: "Farlington Street Station, 4 sections, 4 pence."

Lionel handed him the change, took the ticket, carefully put it away, and followed the flow of people to the platform.

The platform was also blackened by the soot from the gas lamps and steam locomotives.

The walls were covered with various advertising posters: soap, tea, tranquilizers, mummy powder, and theatrical performances.

Soon, a muffled rumble grew louder as it approached, accompanied by the grating sound of metal scraping against metal, and a steam locomotive slowly pulled several wooden carriages into the station.

The carriages looked like miniature versions of ordinary trains, with signs on the doors saying "First Class" or "Second Class".

Lionel had bought a second-class ticket and entered a second-class carriage with most of the other passengers.

The interior of the carriage features long, hardwood benches where passengers sit facing each other.

The lights were dim, and the smell of steam and coal smoke was stronger. With a bang, the car door closed.

The whistle sounded again, the train jolted violently, and began to slowly start moving, with Lionel swaying slightly along with it.

The train quickly entered the dark tunnel, with the brick and stone arches rushing past the window, and the wheels making a rhythmic "clanging" sound.

Lionel leaned back in his seat, observing the passengers around him: some had their eyes closed in rest, some were reading newspapers, but most were just staring blankly out the window…

Amidst the interplay of light and shadow, a sense of disorientation washed over him again. He felt as if he were sitting on Beijing Metro Line 1, and it seemed that an electronic female voice would announce at any moment: "Train has arrived at Gongzhufen Station. Please take your belongings with you and allow passengers to exit first before boarding..."

……

"This bus is headed to Alderman's Gate, stopping at Portland Street, Euston Square, King's Cross, Mooregate..."

The subway conductor shouted loudly at the junction of the carriages, startling Lionel from his reverie.

------

The next morning, Lionel arrived at the office of Good Words magazine as agreed.

He now has the highest priority at this magazine, and the secretary at the editor-in-chief's office immediately stood up when he announced his name.

“Dr. McLeod instructed that you can come in anytime you arrive.” With that, he opened the door for Lionel.

This was Lionel's first time here.

The editor-in-chief's office was filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, crammed with books and document bags, and permeated with the smells of cigars, paper, and ink.

Dr. Norman McLeod sat behind his large desk, and a young man was speaking to him with his back to the door.

Norman MacLeod's face lit up with a radiant smile when he saw Lionel enter: "Ah! Our great creator has arrived!"

The young man turned around and bowed to Lionel, who was unusually tall and thin and had a wide, bucket-like chin.

Upon seeing the visitor, the young man prepared to leave: "Please rest assured, if it malfunctions in any way, please be sure to notify us immediately."

"We will send someone to provide on-site service at any time!" It was only then that Lionel noticed something new on Norman McLeod's desk.

It was a machine made of brass and wood, with a stand supporting a horseshoe-shaped earpiece, a crank, and a separate microphone.

Lionel blurted out, "Telephone!?"

Norman McLeod looked surprised: "You recognize this thing?"

The young man also stopped and stared at Lionel.

Lionel nodded: "I've heard a little about it..." Come to think of it, the telephone should indeed have been invented by now.

This era can be described as an "invention explosion," with all sorts of new gadgets emerging one after another. You can't possibly remember them all, but you can still recognize them when you come across them.

Norman McLeod joked, "This guy says this thing can chat with people thousands of kilometers away as if they were face to face."

Hopefully, it won't be like the 'perpetual motion' inkwell I bought last month, which turned into a pile of scrap metal after only three days.

The young man didn't take Dr. McLeod's teasing to heart; instead, he thought Lionel might be a potential client.

After all, not everyone can inspire such enthusiasm from the editor-in-chief of "Good Words".

He took a business card out of his pocket and handed it to him: "Sir, if you need anything, you can contact us at 'Edison Telephone Company' anytime."

I am George Bernard Shaw, the business manager.

George Bernard Shaw… Lionel murmured the name to himself, then looked at the young man’s chin, finally confirming that it was not someone with the same name.

He accepted the business card and shook hands with him politely: "Mr. Xiao, it's a pleasure to meet you. I am Lionel, Lionel Sorel, from France."

George Bernard Shaw's eyes lit up: "Mr. Sorel? Mr. Sorel of 'The Old Guard,' 'Hometown,' and 'Letter from an Unknown Woman'?"

Lionel smiled and nodded.

George Bernard Shaw was momentarily at a loss for words: "Mr. Sorel, I actually enjoy writing too, but it's all rather poorly written..."

Lionel patted him on the shoulder: "It's okay, as long as you persevere, you will definitely succeed!"

George Bernard Shaw visibly became excited: "Really...really?"

Lionel replied sincerely, "Of course, although I haven't seen your work yet, your eyes have already told me about your talent."

George Bernard Shaw was almost in tears: "The reviewers at Capman Hall said my work was too conservative..."

Lionel offered a few more words of encouragement before George Bernard Shaw left the office with tears in his eyes.

Lionel sat down opposite Norman MacLeod, who chuckled and asked, "How did you come to the conclusion that the young man has literary talent?"

Lionel shrugged: "Didn't you notice his cuffs? They're badly worn and stained with a lot of ink. He must do a lot of writing and painting every day."

He mentioned so many of my works, but notably omitted "A Study in Scarlet," which suggests that he pursues a relatively serious literary concept.

A promising mid-level manager at Edison Telephone Company, who also loves literature so much—if he keeps writing, he's sure to make a name for himself!

Norman McLeod looked at Lionel with skepticism: "Were you just 'reasoning'? Can he really write that?"

Lionel said without hesitation, "How about we bet that George Bernard Shaw will shake Britain and even the whole of Europe in the future!"

Norman McLeod's competitive spirit was ignited: "Okay! Let's bet!"

Lionel pulled out a £1 gold coin and tossed it to Norman McLeod: "When he becomes famous, you'll have to give me an extra one."

Norman McLeod solemnly placed the gold coin into a small velvet box: "It's a deal! But I think you're going to lose!"

He might publish some minor works, but they will shake Britain…

Lionel didn't refute, but simply smiled: "Let's talk about 'A Study in Scarlet'..."

(End of this chapter)