The Alchemy of Air
Archduke Franz Ferdinand had his attendants quickly assemble a makeshift stage, and I began an unscheduled speech. The eyes of thousands of people gathered on me. While the majority looked as if they had simply come out for a picnic, among them I could see genuine scholars from academia, businessmen who saw the potential for nitrogen fertilizer and gunpowder production, soldiers, and politicians.
Do those people really come here knowing how dangerous this is?
Giving the speech itself wasn't difficult. I had given countless speeches while promoting the Stahl-Ferdinand Model.
"Good afternoon, everyone. I am Marx Stahl, the developer of penicillin and the director of the Stahl-Ferdinand Research Institute."
A thunderous round of applause followed.
"About five hundred years ago, scientists like myself clung to alchemy. It was a foolish attempt to process dirt or air to turn it into gold. Now, five hundred years have passed, and the dawn of the twentieth century has broken. We are no longer in a position to dismiss alchemy as mere fantasy."
I took a deep breath and continued.
"We will make explosives out of thin air. We will multiply a global population of one billion eightfold. What would the medieval people of five hundred years ago think if they saw us today? We are wizards. And because of these discoveries, you will live truly magical lives."
It was a short speech, but the crowd, having caught a glimpse of humanity's leap forward, showered me with unreserved cheers.
"We dream of the impossible. Humanity will march forward."
The moment I stepped down from the platform, the experiment began in a solemn atmosphere. Everyone swallowed hard, watching intently. The steam engine roared like a wild beast, building high-pressure conditions inside the reactor.
"Inject hydrogen gas! Inject nitrogen gas!"
Simultaneously, massive amounts of hydrogen and nitrogen gases flooded into the reactor. Under such high pressure, the stubborn bonds of nitrogen would surely break, forcing them to bind with hydrogen. I squeezed my eyes shut. What if it explodes here? It would be an explosion of unprecedented scale.
No explosion occurred. Then...?
Soon, the workers channeled the newly generated gas into a condenser packed with ice.
"D-did it work?!"
The scholars and I had already caught a glimpse of success. The gas passing through the condenser made a rushing, watery sound—a clear sign of successful liquefaction. And the moment a worker uncorked the collection vat, an indescribably pungent, acrid odor wafted over the audience. It smelled remarkably like urine. A foul-smelling liquid poured into the vat.
No one spoke. At the miraculous sight of urine being created from thin air, who could easily find their words? As if caught in slow motion, the spectators, scholars, and soldiers all blinked slowly. And then...
"I-is this..."
"Did it work?"
"It worked! It actually worked!"
"It's a miracle! A miracle!"
"He made urine out of thin air!"
"Whoaaaaa!"
The terrifying silence was shattered by a deafening roar of cheers. Having witnessed the miracle of creating a byproduct of life from the very air they breathed, the crowd completely forgot about the threat of an explosion.
"Your Imperial Highness. What do you think?"
"Ha... Haha... This actually works?"
"How many times did I tell you, Your Highness? It was bound to succeed."
"You are... a madman."
Archduke Franz Ferdinand, who was about twenty years my senior, had legs that were visibly trembling. But one couldn't blame his weak thighs. Countless chemists in the crowd were also struggling to stand.
Miraculous Chemist
The moment the experiment concluded, reporters who had come to watch the explosion show swarmed me like a flock of hornets. No, it wasn't just reporters. Scholars rushed forward as if begging for answers.
"Did you utilize Le Chatelier's principle?"
"The catalyst! What catalyst did you use?"
"The yield doesn't seem that high. Have you tried running the experiment under high-temperature conditions?"
The experiment was a resounding success. On top of that, the publicity was massive. It was a stroke of completely unintended good fortune. Thousands of people had witnessed the synthesis of liquid ammonia from hydrogen and nitrogen gas with their own eyes. But actually, it wasn't over yet.
"Wait a minute... what about the explosion?"
"We want explosions!"
"Explosion! Explosion! Explosion!"
"The alchemy was great! But when are you going to show us the explosion?"
"Waaah! Daddy, you said you'd show me an explosion, not how to make pee! I want an explosion!"
Shortly after, there was a minor hiccup as the crowd, having watched the ammonia show, grew angry and demanded their promised explosion.
"...We have some leftover hydrogen gas, right? Just set it on fire. They're on the verge of rioting."
I lit the remaining hydrogen gas to put on a spectacular explosion show. Only then did the satisfied crowd disperse. Heh, art is an explosion! A few explosion-crazed spectators suffered major burns, but hey... I did warn them, didn't I?
It wasn't all bad. As it turned out, the dangers of hydrogen gas weren't widely known to the public. Thanks to this, in addition to being the miraculous chemist who synthesized ammonia, I also gained the title of the first chemist to warn of the dangers of hydrogen gas.
And while the scientists were completely obsessed with the ammonia synthesis, to those who didn't know the practical uses of urine synthesized from gas, it was easy to mistake the ammonia show as the sideshow and the hydrogen explosion as the main event. I had overlooked that.
Most of those who witnessed Stahl's experiment were military figures. And they weren't just from the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Spies from the surrounding Great Powers—the Russian Empire, the British Empire, the German Empire, and others—were also paying close attention to Stahl's research.
"A method using nitrogen from the air? Go investigate immediately!"
"I don't know much about chemistry, so I won't be able to gather much detailed information."
"It doesn't matter. As long as we know it's possible, that's enough. Our scientists will figure out the rest."
And so, they all stole the fact that ammonia could be synthesized from nitrogen and hydrogen under immense pressure. In truth, there was barely anything to steal. Newspapers in Vienna, Budapest, and Prague were already screaming headlines about "Ammonia Production Under Overwhelmingly High Pressure."
"Director Stahl, is this really alright?" Franz Ferdinand asked. "Penicillin is still a long way from commercialization, so we can let that slide. But nitrogen fixation is something that can be utilized immediately. It's a technology directly linked to national security."
"It is fine, Your Highness."
"Why?"
"I've had the idea itself for several years. The real issue is making it work."
Every scientist knew that even if an idea was simple, countless obstacles arose when trying to realize it in practice. Sure, let's say ammonia is produced under high pressure. They also took the idea of creating high-pressure conditions by simply making the reactor incredibly thick and rigid. But what catalyst were they going to use?
While Stahl had solved this using his future knowledge cheat code, foreign scientists would have to bash their heads against the wall for at least several months to figure it out. And in heavy industry, being the first to occupy the market was everything.
This is completely different from penicillin, which is a one-hundred-percent 'future technology'. No matter how much they hate me, they'll line up to get their hands on this technology.
This time, I had absolutely no intention of sharing the patent. Well, come to think of it, with a technology this crucial, spies would try to steal it even if I didn't share the patent.
And in the process, Stahl realized just how absurd the scientific common sense of the early twentieth century was. Soldiers had always been conservative when it came to new technology. The idea of winning a war through new weapons only became mainstream around World War II. From ancient Egypt to World War I in 1914, the outcome of wars was never decided by better weapons or more advanced technology. It was decided by logistics, tactics, and diplomacy. Therefore, it was only natural that the incompetent brass—some of whom wore their heads merely as ornaments—lacked any scientific foresight.
Meanwhile, at the Imperial Army Headquarters...
"This technology will change the future of the battlefield."
"Indeed. Although other nations are already moving quickly, since this technology originated in our homeland, we must lead the field."
"Contact Director Stahl immediately. Ask for his consultation on 'that technology'."
"Yes, sir! I will ask about the ammonia right away—"
"No, not that. The hydrogen!"
"...?"
Perhaps this was why the military placed far more emphasis on 'logistics' rather than 'new technology'. For the useless brass, who possessed zero scientific knowledge, it might have been better to just stick to logistics. Ammonia? Sure, it could produce plenty of gunpowder and food. So what? The prices of gunpowder and food would drop. Great. That was where the brass's train of thought stopped.
But hydrogen explosions were different. First of all, they looked spectacular. In the minds of the brass, vivid scenes of using hydrogen explosions to instantly breach trenches and charge into enemy lines were already playing out.
It has to be flashy and eye-catching! That's what gets you promoted!
Of some comfort, the German Empire, which excelled at war, and Britain and France, which excelled at science, had already finished their evaluations of hydrogen and left it as mere paperwork. However, in countries where the military was a complete mess—such as the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Russian Empire—they began to pay far more attention to the hydrogen explosion than to ammonia.
"With that kind of explosive power, it's far stronger than most artillery!"
"It must be much more powerful than cannons."
"Even in our Russian Empire, Director Stahl of penicillin fame is well-known. A man like him wouldn't have organized an explosion show for no reason."
Of course, looking into the very distant future, this wasn't entirely absurd. Though the principles were completely different, hydrogen—as a fuel for nuclear fusion—would eventually be used to make hydrogen bombs. It would also become the fuel for various rockets and engines, and the actual power of a hydrogen explosion was indeed beyond imagination. However, there was a reason why no one in the twenty-first century weaponized hydrogen explosions directly. An untimely science fair had broken out among the generals.
"What if we have soldiers charge with hydrogen tanks strapped to their backs? They can throw them and detonate them."
"Ah, similar to classical grenadiers."
"I hear hydrogen is extremely light and used in hot air balloons?"
"Then how about floating hydrogen in balloons, crashing them into the ground, and unleashing the explosive force!"
"...Is this for real?"
Upon receiving these proposals, Stahl couldn't help but smack his forehead. He was especially dumbfounded by the fact that such idiotic suggestions came exclusively from the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the Russian Empire—the losers of World War I.
No wonder they lost the war...
Of course, a thought did cross Stahl's mind: Wait, would this actually be decent for breaching trenches? But did the German Empire lose World War I because of trench warfare? No, they lost because they ran out of food and gunpowder.
"Director Stahl, what do you plan to do?"
"What does it look like to you, Your Imperial Highness?"
"The fact that our Imperial Army is utterly hopeless hits me right in the chest."
Still, what could he do? For now, Stahl organized a team to research the weaponization of hydrogen. Although Stahl didn't know much about warfare either, the visual impact of a hydrogen explosion was undeniable, and its explosive power was unmatched by the standards of this era. With enough desperate tweaking, it might not be entirely useless.
Well, at least I achieved my primary goal... so it's fine, right?
The military had begun to show interest in 'hydrogen,' and once they actually started producing massive amounts of gunpowder, the story would change.
"More importantly, it is time to start gathering investors."
"Surprisingly, the steel magnates are showing a lot of interest. Whether it's Wittgenstein or Rothschild."
"Hmm... all corporate giants."
Stahl pondered how to structure the terms of the contract. Milking a single well-developed technology for all it was worth was, after all, his specialty.