Chapter 238: The Age of Steam (6)
Paris, the center and capital of France.
The Eiffel Tower, the thing that would later instantly come to mind whenever people thought of Paris, did not yet exist, but the Seine, famed even in later ages, was already flowing on and on.
And so Paris, a city where seven hundred thousand people lived without even apartments, was spending another peaceful day, just like any other—
…or rather, it was not.
On the first day the unprecedented new form of public transportation in human history, the bus, was unveiled to the public.
Wasn’t it said that anything new was difficult, complicated, and chaotic at first?
Just as that saying went, all across Paris, from early morning onward, the city looked like a marketplace.
“Line up! Form a line and board in an orderly fashion!”
“Argh! Which bastard stepped on my foot?!”
“Gyaaah! Somebody grab me! I’m being swept away!”
“Senioooor!”
“See you later, Shosanna!”
Getting your feet stepped on in the crowd was nothing unusual, and it was not rare at all to see people swept away somewhere by the crush of bodies.
—Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
“Full! Full! Passengers who could not board, please wait for the next vehicle!”
“What do you mean by that?! I’ve already missed three of them, and you’re saying I have to miss another one?”
“Shut up and take my money!”
“Kiiieeeek!!!”
Fuck.
The bus conductors from Ears of the Nation, who had come to work for their first day with neatly pressed uniforms and name tags, their hearts full of excitement, were already shoving back the surge of people with hollow eyes after only thirty minutes on the job.
“Senior, does this make any sense at all? This is several times the crowd we expected!”
“Yeah, I feel like I’m going to die too. But what can we do? The higher-ups said if we just grit our teeth and endure for the next week, things should stabilize after that.”
“Then shouldn’t we just hire more people?”
“And if it stops being this busy after a week? Are you going to personally fire however many workers become unnecessary?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“Then instead of grumbling, lean on your spot and rest for a moment. The next stop is just ahead.”
—Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!
Just as he said, the bell signaling arrival at the next stop rang out.
Facing the murmuring passengers inside the carriage, he raised his conical speaking horn and shouted,
“This stop is Le Patillon, Paris 7th Arrondissement, Le Patillon. The door for exiting is the rear door. The front door you entered through is for new boarding passengers, so please use the rear door.”
“Damn, it really is warm inside. This is amazing.”
“And the fare is cheap too. One sou per ride?”
“…I’ve decided. If I can commute this warmly and comfortably, then two small coins is cheap. From now on, I’m taking this.”
So as one day passed, then two, then a week, then a month, taking the bus to work early in the morning instead of walking along the freezing roads gradually stopped being something novel and amazing and became everyday life.
In the early nineteenth century, Paris was slowly, little by little, changing into the future we know.
Because of Guillaume.
Late March, 1804. Evening.
Paris, Chamber of Commerce.
As befitted the Chamber of Commerce, which acted as the elder of French industrialists, merchants, and banks, its entrance had been splendidly crafted in the architectural style that had become fashionable recently.
And once they had even installed gas lamps purchased from Ears of the Nation, the area around the Chamber of Commerce had become so bright one could scarcely tell whether it was eight in the morning or eight at night.
In front of that Chamber of Commerce, I was lying limply across the automobile seat like one of those slime toys children played with, muttering,
“…Mr. Florian.”
“Yes, President.”
“Do I really have to go in person?”
Weren’t these things the kind of event where the president or chairman sat grandly in a massive private chair, while the vice president, vice chairman, or maybe a secretary attended in their place?
“President. I trust you are not seriously calling that speech?”
“Sigh, of course I was joking. I have to go. Naturally I have to go.”
But come to think of it, wasn’t this exactly what I paid regular wages for? Wasn’t it? Wasn’t iiiit?
“President.”
“Yes?”
“After working with you for nearly twenty years, I’ve awakened a certain ability. Do you know what it is?”
“What is it?”
“I may not know much else, but I’ve become able to roughly tell what sort of thoughts are running through the head of the creature known as Guillaume de Toulon.”
“Wow. That’s a little scary.”
“It is to me too. If someone living somewhere hadn’t dumped all the leftover work on me after setting up a bus system and a few automobile depots—route planning, hiring, and everything else—I would have handled this sort of troublesome and secondary social activity myself.”
“I diiidn’t duuump leftovers on you.”
“…Ho. That is a very brave statement.”
No, really. How much did I even make him do?
What was it… draw up the Paris bus routes, then while he was at it, handle the training and staffing needed for them, and while he was at it, look into whether we could export them to England too.
Okay. Fine. I admit it. I did dump some leftovers on him.
“Ahem. Even so, I am the President. I can’t possibly pay attention to every tiny detail.”
“Is that really something to say in front of the man who has only gone home twice in the past month?”
“…In some eastern country long ago, I heard the king made a minister over seventy keep working until two weeks before his death. Compared to that… Mr. Florian?”
“……”
It was cold. That icy gaze flew at me and lodged in my chest. Had this been how Caesar felt with Brutus by his side?
“……Go home.”
“Thank you, President.”
Only then did Mr. Florian beam brightly and vanish into the darkness in an instant. Damn it.
The moment I stepped down from the automobile, dragging my tired legs, people from the Chamber of Commerce came out and stuck themselves right to my side as if they had been waiting for me.
“Your Excellency, you’ve finally arrived! Everyone has been waiting!”
“If I was late, you should have started without me.”
“Oh, come now, how could we possibly do that when Your Excellency had not yet arrived? Come, come, please go right in!”
White mustache, expensive-looking suit—wait, isn’t that one from our company?
Anyway, when I followed him inside, dozens of people who looked bourgeois just from one glance were chatting away inside a rented banquet hall.
“Come now, everyone, pay attention! The guest of honor has arrived! It is His Excellency Guillaume de Toulon, Controller-General of Finance!”
“Oho! Your Excellency, welcome!”
“My heavens, that Guillaume is here.”
Ah, I hate it when all the attention turns this way. This Guillaume is an outsider by nature.
“Your Excellency, Your Excellency! I have a truly excellent business idea—”
“I’m sorry, but not now while you’re drinking. If you could come later, when you are completely sober, to the Secretariat at our headquarters and tell them there, I’d appreciate it.”
“Your Excellency! If you would just lend me ten thousand livres, I swear I will never forget this kindness and will repay it tenfold!”
“Oh, wonderful. Since we are at the Chamber of Commerce, you should borrow it from the Chamber of Commerce.”
“Your Excellency, my cousin’s daughter is very virtuous…”
“I have a lover.”
“Ha ha, really, Your Excellency’s personal attendance leaves us at a loss for words. We always send you invitations, yet you only ever send a representative.”
“…I’ve simply been very busy.”
Wow, what a roundabout way of saying you were offended. Are you perhaps from some cadet branch of the nobility?
Ah. That’s me.
I’m tired already. I want to go home, drink cognac, and sleep.
“Your Excellency, are you all right? Your complexion looks poor.”
“Yes, well.”
“This way, please. We’ve prepared a good room in advance.”
The elderly middle-aged gentleman came closer to me as I wore a sour expression and quietly said,
“Rather than being troubled by those riffraff, why not rest a little in the room?”
“Hm.”
When I followed him deeper into the building, I found a room about twice as large as the others.
And the moment I stepped inside, what greeted me was an endless stream of requests for handshakes.
“A pleasure to meet you, Your Excellency! I run a small cloth shop…”
“I deal in timber…”
“Your Excellency, I am…”
“A pleasure to meet you. I’m Guillaume.”
Judging from one glance, they all looked like men who made obscene amounts of money, yet they were awfully humble.
“What kind of gathering is this?”
“Ha ha, simply a social circle where, when one has good information too precious to keep to oneself, one shares it with the others.”
Yes, of course. Naturally.
“And why exactly was I brought to such a ‘good’ gathering?”
“If I say it is because these old men wished to hear a few pieces of wisdom from Your Excellency, whose hand is like that of Midas and who has succeeded in business yet again, would that suffice as an explanation?”
Hm. A lie right from the start.
Very skilled at speaking words they don’t sincerely mean. Noted.
“I’m sorry, but I’m a former soldier, so I prefer directness.”
“No, no. We truly do wish to hear Your Excellency’s insight, and that is why we invited you.”
“That’s right. Why would we look at Your Excellency unfavorably? You are practically our benefactor.”
“…Me?”
“Indeed, indeed.”
They nodded and said to me,
“Was it not Your Excellency who protected the French economy from those men who could do nothing except recite useless legal provisions?”
Well… that was true, I suppose. I had blocked insane policies like the Maximum Price Law.
“The buses are the same. Now that workers arrive at fixed times, beginning work has become easier.”
That was true too. Now they all rode the bus and got off right on time.
…Huh? Come to think of it, maybe I am kind of amazing?
“And that’s not all. Since commuting time has decreased, it’s good because we can make them work more!”
“…Hm?”
“To achieve maximum efficiency at minimum cost—is that not the first principle of business?”
“If England has Adam Smith, then it would not be an exaggeration to say France has His Excellency Guillaume de Toulon.
Adam Smith’s free market competition! His Excellency Guillaume’s efficiency! Are not those two the very cornerstones that will lead the future?”
“Even now, every time I see the convenience meals Your Excellency made, I marvel! To gather scraps that no one valued and turn them into a fine product—that is the very height of efficiency, is it not?”
“Uh, uh, yes?”
Why is the tempo of this conversation like this?
“Now, now, I understand everyone has much they wish to say to His Excellency, but I hope you have not forgotten why this gathering was arranged in the first place.”
“Ah, my apologies. I became too excited.”
“Ahem. I’ve shown myself in a rather unpresentable manner.”
The middle-aged gentleman who had brought me here smiled in satisfaction and offered me the seat of honor.
“For today, it will be enough if you simply observe. Is not the process of first coming to understand something the important thing?”
“Ah, yes.”
Once I sat down, they all took their seats as well.
“Yes, then. What are everyone’s plans going forward?”
“Our factory intends to keep daily wages at one livre and ten sous.”
“Hm. In that case, I don’t think our friends in the textile mills will be too pleased.”
“What can be done? That was the wage level we set at the beginning. Well, if we simply keep it there for about ten years without raising it, that should suffice.”
“Then that wouldn’t be so bad. If the men below see that wages at the neighboring factories remain the same, they won’t have much reason to rebel, will they?”
This was a scene I had read about many times somewhere before.
This wasn’t just company owners gathering together to gossip behind people’s backs.
This was collusion.
A trust, you sons of bitches.
“You people are all insane.”
At my single sentence, the room fell silent in an instant.
What are you staring at? You think you did something admirable?