A New Weapon Takes Flight
The Wright brothers, famous as the world's first airplane inventors. They were staples of children's biographies, weren't they?
By now, the Wright brothers were likely suffering from a massive headache brought on by endless lawsuits and patent theft. This was common knowledge, frequently reported in the newspapers of the day. There was no need to even dig into my memories of the future.
I immediately sent a love call to the Wright brothers. It would have been ideal to send a letter under the name of the Stahl-Ferdinand Research Institute or even the military, but...
"Hmm. It might be useful to acquire a few for reconnaissance."
"But would they really be worth the cost?"
"We're already strapped for cash investing in armored tractors and armored cars. Do we really need to pour our budget into a useless toy?"
"Indeed. Wouldn't Count Zeppelin's airships or even hot air balloons be better?"
It was already hard enough to squeeze out investments for tanks and armored cars. These military bureaucrats had no intention of investing in airplanes unless we put on a show of shooting down an airship or a hot air balloon.
Tsk, it can't be helped. I'll have to bring them in through a detour via the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative.
To be honest, I didn't have massive expectations for airplanes either. At best, they would be at the level of World War I aircraft, and aviation wasn't a field I could easily improve with my 21st-century chemical knowledge.
The military's stance wasn't entirely wrong. At this stage, airplanes were far more valuable for reconnaissance than actual combat power. What the brass wanted was cost-effectiveness on par with cavalry, armored cars, or even bicycle infantry.
So, the airplanes we built just needed to fly fast and stay in the air for a long time. Honestly, did they even need to be durable? Would the barbarians of Russia, Italy, or the Ottoman Empire even be able to comprehend the concept of an airplane?
"Pleasure to meet you. I am Marx Stahl."
"Are you not Representative Stahl? The inventor of penicillin and synthetic ammonia? Your fame, Representative Stahl, has spread far across the Atlantic."
"Haha, is that so? Still, I believe the inventor of the very first airplane will be remembered far longer in history."
"...The inventor of the first airplane..."
The one who had crossed over to Hungary was the younger brother, Orville Wright. Was his older brother handling the lawsuits back home? Orville Wright looked far more like a pure engineer than a businessman. Look at him. The moment he heard the words "inventor of the first airplane," his eyes sparkled.
"More importantly, for what purpose does the Hungarian Agricultural Cooperative wish to invest in airplanes?"
"Well..."
I couldn't exactly tell him they were weapons of war, could I? The Wright brothers were one thing, but the Emperor's watchful gaze was terrifying.
"They are for land surveying. We intend to take aerial photographs to map and survey the land with absolute precision."
"What a brilliant idea! I had never thought of that. Using airplanes for industrial purposes to create precise maps..."
"Haha, indeed."
Well, it wasn't a complete lie, so it was fine. We would fly over Hungary's vast farmlands, of course, but we would also take plenty of photos of our borders with Russia, Serbia, and Italy. And while we were at it, we could do a bit of recreational shooting from the cockpit. Wouldn't that be grand?
"So, do you intend to 'purchase' our airplanes?"
"No. We wish to build an airplane factory on the outskirts of Budapest."
"Well, about that..."
Orville Wright hesitated. He was already suffering from a massive headache over the airplane factory they had established in France. They had built a factory there as a condition for receiving investment, but as a result, their aviation technology had been completely leaked. France had now nearly succeeded in developing its own aircraft. Consequently, the Wright brothers had traded their proprietary technology and an entire market for a mere pittance. It wasn't a widely known fact, but with a little investigation, it was easy to see that the Wright brothers had been swindled.
"We cannot authorize licensed production in Hungary. You see..."
"I understand your concerns regarding technology leaks perfectly. That is precisely why I requested to meet you in person instead of just sending a letter."
"Pardon?"
"Simply move here, to the Austro-Hungarian Empire."
"Excuse me?"
"Establish your company here. Within five years, the skies over Hungary—and indeed, the vast plains of Europe—will be filled with airplanes built by you and your brother."
Orville Wright hesitated to give an immediate answer. And understandably so. The Wright brothers had not even properly completed high school. They spoke no Hungarian, let alone German. We were barely communicating using the broken English I had learned in my past life. It would be a massive burden for him to abandon his homeland and relocate to Central Europe.
I continued to throw offers that the Wright brothers could not possibly refuse.
"If you have read the newspapers, you would know that Hungary is practically run by an organization called the Agricultural Cooperative. We will establish the Agricultural Cooperative Aviation Company as its subsidiary."
"An Agricultural Cooperative Aviation Company?"
"As such, a massive amount of investment, on par with a state budget, will flow into the company. Are you afraid of technology leaks? Every single time an airplane designed by you takes to the skies, a mountain of cash will be funneled straight into your pockets."
"Well, money is..."
Orville Wright was still hesitating. So, money alone wouldn't sway him. Everyone dreams of making a fortune, but in truth, wealth is merely a secondary goal. Sure, making money is great, but what comes next? Money is simply another tool to acquire honor and power. If you are rich, people will look up to you regardless of your character. If you spend enough money, anyone will dance to your tune.
I firmly grasped Orville Wright's hand.
"In truth, whether we sign a contract or not is of little importance."
"What?"
"My true purpose was simply to lay my own eyes upon the giant who was the first in human history to conquer the skies."
The eyes of the naive engineer, which had been filled with resentment and weariness, suddenly flashed with light.
"If you refuse, there is nothing I can do. However, I too am a scientist and an engineer. I simply cannot bear to watch a genius engineer suffer under the weight of slander and black propaganda. In lieu of a partnership, please sell us a few of your airplanes."
"Did you not say earlier that you would not purchase them?"
"Consider this a gesture of goodwill. I, too, wish to experience flight. However, you must promise me that the proceeds will be used strictly to fund your legal battles."
"..."
Orville Wright, looking deeply moved, was treated like royalty by the Agricultural Cooperative before returning to the United States shortly after.
And then, a few months later...
The Wright brothers arrived at the Budapest Agricultural Cooperative, empty-handed and ready to work.
The Wright brothers had been successfully recruited! It was the historic moment the first airplane factory was built in Hungary.
Meanwhile, in Italy. Dandy men clad in black shirts marched through the streets of Rome, brandishing rifles. The vast majority of them were young, reformist military officers, and the Italian generals had never authorized their march. In other words, it was practically a coup d'état. Yet, it wasn't quite a coup either. It was closer to a military parade masquerading as one. After all, at the very top of this Blackshirt hierarchy stood King Vittorio Emanuele III. No one could stop them.
And so, the Blackshirts arrived before the royal palace. A dapper young man named Benito Mussolini barked out a command with booming vigor.
"Battalion, attention!"
They fell into formation with flawless precision.
"Present arms to His Majesty the King!"
Once the salutes were raised, the poet Gabriele D'Annunzio stepped forward as their representative and made a grand declaration to the King.
"We are not traitors. We, the Blackshirts of the Italian National Revolutionary Party, have come to petition Your Majesty, the heir to the great kingdom that unified Italy. A filthy organization threatening our nation and kingdom, known as the Naples Agricultural Cooperative, has emerged in Naples. Yet, the parliament and the corrupt capitalists, far from taking the initiative to suppress this threat, deliberately ignore the cooperative's existence for their own gain. No, they are even colluding with them to plot treason! We beg of you, Your Majesty. Permit our Italian National Revolutionary Party to march down to Naples."
For the King of Italy, this was not a bad deal. The national revolutionary parties of Russia and Serbia didn't even bother to hide their treasonous nature. Driven by boundless nationalist sentiment and boiling public discontent, they possessed enough power that they felt no need to compromise with their monarchs. But the Italian National Revolutionary Party was different. They were a group composed primarily of powerless youths and low-ranking officers. From the King's perspective, he had just acquired a private army he could wield at his whim.
The Blackshirts, who had staged their armed demonstration in front of the palace for three days, marched from Rome to Naples without facing a single obstacle. And there, as if they were actual soldiers, they rode their horses and brutally trampled and slaughtered the peasants of the Naples Agricultural Cooperative. This was the "March on Naples," the very event that brought the Italian National Revolutionary Party to power.
November 1910. A global catastrophe unfolded as madmen calling themselves the National Revolutionary Party seized power one after another like mushrooms after rain. What? The March on Naples?
At this rate, are we going to see a British National Revolutionary Party or a Paris National Revolutionary Party? This is driving me insane!
Just last month, I had witnessed Wilhelm II spewing nonsense like, "Marx's arguments are absurd, but if you examine them closely, there are some good points." It was a statement utterly unimaginable in the original history.
Eduard Bernstein, the leader of the German Social Democratic Party (SPD), had acquired the bizarre title of "Commander of the Prussian Metalworkers' Union Gendarmerie Battalion." Armed with that title, he was attacking German capital, confiscating it to the state and the military, and acting like a militaristic fascist—all while chanting Marx's name.
What on earth is going on?!
If so, what was to stop a fascist Britain or a fascist France from emerging? Did I... do something wrong?
Let's look on the bright side. Russia was already broken. Italy might be completely ruined now, but hey, doesn't Germany have extensive freedom of expression now? Hahahaha.
I was sure Comrade Vladimir Lenin would do well in Paris. But that wasn't what was important right now. A letter had finally arrived. The letter I had been waiting for over a decade, ever since I first fell into Europe in the 1890s!
The Nobel Committee. I was finally, finally going to receive a Nobel Prize! I hastily tore the letter open.
November 5, 1910
To: Marx Stahl, Vienna, Austria
Dear Mr. Stahl,
The Norwegian Nobel Committee presents its compliments and is pleased to formally convey the following decision:
On November 5, 1910, after careful deliberation, this Committee has unanimously selected you as the recipient of the 1910 Nobel Peace Prize.
...What? They weren't giving me the Nobel Prize in Chemistry for inventing nitrogen fixation? Or the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine for inventing penicillin?!
Our Committee highly commends your publication of The Art of Public Speaking, which has guided citizens in proper methods of self-expression, as well as your dedicated efforts to prevent police forces across various nations from attacking innocent citizens.
"Sigh, what on earth is this..."
I quickly racked my brain, trying to recall if anyone had ever won the Nobel Peace Prize, the Nobel Prize in Chemistry, and the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine all at once. Was it even possible to receive multiple Nobel Prizes? If not, hadn't I just wasted my Nobel Prize opportunity?
"What the hell is this...! No, I won't accept it! I refuse!"
What kind of joke was the Nobel Peace Prize anyway? Wasn't this the very prize awarded to Theodore Roosevelt for mediating the Russo-Japanese War at the cost of selling out the Korean Peninsula? Come to think of it, Woodrow Wilson, who invented that bizarre entity called the League of Nations, had won it too. Even Henry Kissinger, who ran amok in Latin America and laid the groundwork for turning South America into a haven for gangs, had received it.
I was already suffering from a massive headache because the world seemed to be warping in bizarre directions because of me. If I accepted this, it would absolutely cause a massive uproar.
I penned a furious reply.
To the Nobel Committee,
Armed rioters are currently engaging in street battles with clubs in Italy and Russia. In Yugoslavia, a bizarre group of psychopaths calling themselves the National Revolutionary Party has emerged.
To award a Nobel Peace Prize in such times is absurd; I cannot accept such an honor.
If this were in recognition of my invention of nitrogen fixation, which has saved countless souls from famine, I would gladly accept the Nobel Peace Prize. Of course, in that case, wouldn't there be a far more 'appropriate' prize for such an achievement?
I dispatched the reply with those exact words. When December 1910 arrived and the Nobel Prize ceremony commenced, I did not travel to Norway.
Of course, the best way for a Nobel laureate to become truly famous is to reject the prize. By refusing it, my fame skyrocketed to even greater heights.
And the Nobel Prize in Chemistry went to a German chemist named Otto Wallach.
Wait...
"I can't wait any longer! Give me my Nobel Prize in Chemistry! Give it to me right now!"