Wonder of the Worlds

by Sesh Heri

  For Tesla, the fair had begun, and he was ready for it. He stood alone upon his stage observing the crowd’s reaction to the exhibits. He had prepared for this moment and now went into action. He turned back to his control board and began closing more knife-switches in rapid succession. Each switch closure would produce a slight spark, and the rapid production of sparks made some in the crowd turn their heads away from the Columbian Column and toward Tesla’s stage. Some of the crowd began nudging their neighbors, and so more people began looking toward Tesla. The electrical devices on Tesla’s stage had come to life. They were spinning, rolling, undulating, shifting—here, there, everywhere. Tesla stood amidst a me- chanical maze that looked as if it might take flight any second—or explode. The crowd began moving toward Tesla’s stage. Tesla stepped forward and held his arms out wide. More people came forward, filling the open space in front of the stage. And then those further back, and those near the entrance, began hurrying forward too, because that is the way we are, we human beings. Tesla must have been a sight for all those people to behold. He stood six feet and some inches tall, and on this day he was wearing cork-bottomed shoes, which brought his height closer to the neighborhood of seven feet. To most of the people in the crowd, Tesla must have seemed a giant, but a smiling giant dressed in formal white tie and tails. Tesla had his black hair parted down the center of his head and combed to a brilliantine sheen. His forehead was high, his nose hawk-like, and beneath it, a neatly trimmed mustache edg- ing perfectly white teeth. The proportions of his legs and arms were long and stretched out, but his limbs were powerful and sinewy.

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  Tesla snapped his fingers and a ball of lightning appeared at his fingertips. He tossed the ball into the air and it disappeared. The crowd gasped involun- tarily; they had not expected magic. Tesla snapped his fingers again, produc- ing another glowing ball. He tossed it in the air, snapped his fingers again, and tossed a second ball after the first. Now the audience saw Tesla juggling three balls of light—then—four! The balls sped in a high arc over Tesla’s head, around and around. Suddenly, Tesla clapped his hands together. The balls vanished! The onlooking crowd broke into astonished applause. They were not sure of what they had just witnessed. Was it a magic trick, a demonstration of science, or some kind of supernatural power? The applause faded and was replaced with murmuring voices. Tesla held up his hands and said:

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you have just witnessed the effects of one of my latest inventions, the transmission of electrical power through etheric space without the use of wires of any kind. And please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Nikola Tesla. I am an inventor of electrical machines, generators, motors, transmission systems, and many other devices. Please allow me to welcome you to this special preview of the Columbian Exhibition of 1893, our World’s Fair!” Tesla bowed slightly and the crowd broke into applause again. Tesla held up his hand, and said: “This fair is the first of its kind. There have been attempts at world’s fairs before, beginning with the London fair of 1851. But those predecessors were only attempts; they only held out a vision of what might be. Here, today, we show the reality of what is. Four hundred years ago, Christopher Columbus made a voyage. It was not a pilgrimage of faith, but a quest informed by knowledge. Since that time, the world has moved forward, continuing the quest of Columbus, a quest informed by—and in search of—knowledge. Here in this land discovered by Columbus we have built the beginnings of an indus- trial civilization. It is now for us to complete the task and embrace all that it means. And what does our industrial civilization mean? What is the goal at which we have been aiming? It can be summed up with one word: freedom— freedom from the tyranny of our fellow man, freedom from the tyranny of limited time and space, freedom to be all that we can be, all that we were meant to be, all that we should be. To that end, I present for your inspection today my latest inventions available for your immediate use, the greatest of which is my polyphase or alternating current system of electricity.” Tesla spoke in his high-pitched voice which carried out over the heads of the crowd and resonated and echoed far into the exhibit building. The crowd stood transfixed. Tesla said, “Allow me to direct your attention to the left of the stage.”

  The crowd turned to look. Tesla closed a switch on stage and down below in a row of exhibits something began to move. It was an egg rolling around in

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  circles on what appeared to be a metal drum. A closer look would reveal that the egg had been copper-plated. The copper-plated egg rolled faster and faster, circling the edge of the drum head. Then it lifted up on its pointed end and began spinning on its long axis and whirling about in circles like a toy top. The crowd gathered about the exhibit of the spinning copper egg, trying to catch a glimpse of it over the shoulders of other people.

  Tesla said, “This is my answer to the challenge of Columbus to balance an egg on its end. I do it with electricity and magnetism to create a veritable whirlwind!” Tesla continued to speak, describing to the crowd several other electrical devices in the display below, most of them meant for use in the home. The crowd’s interest intensified with every passing moment. It was beginning to sink in on them. Electricity was no f light of fancy, no mere scientific fiction to be marveled over at a fair; very soon it was going to begin lifting the burdens of their daily lives, re-shaping the form and pattern of their hours and days, liberating them from carrying and fetching, waiting and wanting. Electrical machinery was real, and it was here to stay. What could be better?

  Tesla finished his lecture to strong applause. He bowed and swept his arms out to either side of the stage, gesturing at all of his strange machines, as if they were fellow cast members in a play. As the applause of the crowd began to die down, Tesla heard a voice shout. Then he heard it again, and he made out what it was saying: “Fraud!”

  Tesla dropped his hands to his sides and stepped forward, peering down into the crowd. “Fraud!” the voice shouted a third time. The crowd grew quiet.

  The man to whom the voice belonged stepped forward, and the crowd stepped aside to let him by. The man who had shouted was one of those three strangers dressed in black and wearing those spectacles that looked like they had been made out of glass from a patent medicine bottle. This man, who I will call “Bottleglass,” was tall, about the same height as Tesla. Bottleglass brought a gloved hand up to his long beard and stroked it as he looked around at the people in the crowd. The people around him stepped back further, and children moved away and clutched at their mother’s dresses. Bottleglass took a stance with his legs spread apart, looked up, stretched out his right arm, pointed his finger directly at Tesla, and said: “You’re a fraud, Tesla! Thomas Edison says your new-fangled contraptions are going to electrocute the whole country!” Tesla’s eyebrows went up in amazement. Bottleglass did not look like an Arkansas farmer, but that is exactly what he sounded like. Tesla’s amazed expression lasted only for an instant. He suspected this was some kind of absurd stunt concocted by the directors of General Electric. He decided to play along with it.

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  “Does he now?” Tesla replied coolly to Bottleglass. “Yessiree, Bob!” Bottleglass said. “That junk will fry you dead!”

  Tesla said, “Allow me to prove otherwise,” and he reached out and closed a switch. A rectangular metal platform on the f loor of the stage began to hum and glow with a blue halo of electricity.

  Tesla said, “One million volts of electrical power are coursing through the plate at this very moment.” Bottleglass said, “It’s a trick! Ain’t no electricity going through that.” “You don’t believe me?” Tesla asked. Bottleglass stood in silence.

  Tesla said, “Then come up here and stand upon the plate!” “No!” Bottleglass shouted. “Why not?” Tesla asked.

  Bottleglass looked around the crowd. Then he said, “I see it now. It’s shootin’ sparks. I ain’t about to get up there.” “Why?” Tesla asked. “Afraid of a little shock? Must you force me? Must I always do everything—myself?”


  Tesla stepped toward the plate and lifted his foot up over its surface. Gasps were expelled from the crowd, followed by a f lurry of whispers. A man in the back of the crowd shouted, “In the name of God, man, don’t do it!” Tesla stepped upon the electrified platform in a single, swift motion, and in that instant was enveloped in a literal sheet of fire and lightning. The sheet expanded outward in a horrific spiked nimbus, orange-red at its points, yellow and white around the surface of Tesla’s body. Tesla stood immobile inside the nimbus while bolts of electricity crawled and undulated over him like writhing white snakes. A woman screamed, triggering a wave of panic which swept over the crowd. Several men pushed their way to the front of the now shouting, surging crowd, then stopped one by one as they each realized in their desperate helplessness that they could go no further. The air surrounding the nimbus was as hot as a furnace. Everyone was certain that Tesla was being roasted alive before their eyes.

  One of the men at the edge of the stage shouted, “We’ve gotta do some- thing! It’s cooking him!” Another man shouted, “It’s killing him! Somebody turn that damn thing off! Smash it to hell!” At that Tesla raised his hand and shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentlemen! Calm yourselves! Calm yourselves! I am in no danger! No danger! I am safe! Do you hear? Safe!” The crowd began to settle down, their jaws going slack in amazement. Tesla waved his arms up and down inside the electrical inferno.

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  “One million volts of alternating current,” Tesla shouted, “one million volts passing—not through me—but over me—like a gentle f low of warm water—noth- ing more!” Now the crowd was very quiet, for now they were observing something even stranger yet: Tesla was spinning his hands about rapidly, pivoting them at his wrists. In a moment, a glowing ball of fire, much brighter than the ones Tesla had created earlier, seemed to condense and form upon the palm of his hand. Tesla said, “My alternating current system of electricity has lit every pit and pinnacle of this great fair. And tomorrow, ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow, it shall light your homes!” Tesla threw the ball of fire. The brilliantly glowing ball f lew across the exhibit hall and crashed against a bank of knife-switches on the wall. The crash jarred one of the knife-switches from its open position; the blade dropped, closing an electrical circuit which lit the model of a house on the side of the stage. The crowd exclaimed a collective “Ah!”

  Tesla spun his hands again, forming another ball of fire, and said, “It shall light your farms!” Tesla threw the second ball of fire. It sped through the air and crashed against another knife-switch on the far wall, closing it—this time lighting the model of a farmhouse and barn. Tesla spun both his hands now, forming two more balls of fire. He said, “It shall light your cities!” Tesla threw the third ball. Its crash closed a switch that lit the model of a city.

  Tesla said, “It shall light the whole, inhabited world!” and he threw the last ball. The brilliantly glowing ball of fire sped above the heads of the crowd, up into the open space of the exhibition building, clearing Edison’s giant light bulb atop the Columbian Column, and rocketing on upward toward a knife- switch attached to one of the building’s steel arches. The ball of fire crashed against the knife-switch in a shower of sparks. A gigantic globe of the world hanging from one of the steel arches blinked on, glowing with blue electric light. Around its equator, Tesla’s name f lashed on, spelled out by the glowing line of electric light-tubes. The glowing globe began to rotate above the heads of the crowd. The people below burst into wild applause, whistling and cheering and throw- ing their hats into the air. Tesla waved and bowed inside his electrical nimbus. Then Tesla looked down among the people and saw that Bottleglass was gone.

  That afternoon, after leaving the offices of the Daily News, Hall and I made our way along State Street and looked in the store windows. The idea was to allow Hall to figure out where to go to shop for his wife’s wish list. Instead, our talk was all about the typesetting machine, what it could do, what it was going to do. I was feeling low before I saw those Linotypes. But now I felt a new vigor

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  that ran through me from head to toe; I could not stop talking, and, as for walking, I was ready to go anywhere afoot.

  We worked our way back to the hotel to freshen up. Hall wanted to go to Rector’s for dinner, but I was undecided. We finally wandered across the street to the Monadnock Building and ended up having dinner in a restaurant off the main lobby. We got a seat by a big window with a view of the street so we could watch people go by in the twilight. The world took on a kindlier aspect, even a beauty. The people passing by were smiling and laughing, and I recalled with a faint surprise that “my calling” was that of “humorist.” I had felt very little humor lately. But this day had been a good day. I had met and dealt with Paige without scalping him or strangling him. Here was an accomplishment. I had worked on Adam’s Diary until I had got it to suit me. Here was an accomplishment of some substance. And I had seen a Linotype and been thoroughly unimpressed. Here was sublime triumph! After dinner, Hall and I returned to our hotel. At the desk in the lobby, I requested that a decanter of hot scotch be sent up to us. In short order it arrived, rolled in on a serving table. I gave the bellman two bits, and began pouring Hall and myself drinks. I had turned on only one electric light over the writing desk when we came in, and now I decided to leave the room in half darkness so that I could see out over the city beyond the windows. We put two armchairs by the bay window and sat down in them. I lit up one of my cigars, and all seemed right with the world. I watched the carriage lamps move along on the street below, coming and going, all so orderly, and quiet, and complete. Hall did not complain about my cigar, he was enjoying his scotch so well, I suppose, or maybe he was just getting used to my smoke.

  Each of us took turns piloting the conversation along the shoals and eddies of the past. Hall spoke about the idiosyncrasies of the publishing industry, maybe spoke a little too much; for he revealed his ignorance about several aspects of publishing with which I was well acquainted. I could see that even at this late date Hall did not have a firm grasp on the idea of subscription pub- lishing. We both rehashed Webster’s many blunders. We trailed off from that subject and on to some other trivial matter which I don’t remember now until somehow I veered on to talking about the German language. Hall veered away larboard from that and on to the subject of his mother-in-law. I could see the conversation was rapidly deteriorating in quality, so I steered us starboard away from the dreary subject of Hall’s mother-in-law and on to something brighter and more cheerful—the bank panic. I said, “I couldn’t get anybody to sign a note in New York to advance me two cents. And now here is Paige blithely holding his hand out for seven thousand dollars.”

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  “I’m sure every penny of that seven thousand was spent legitimately,” Hall said. “That’s what scares me,” I said. “I’m going to have to make good on it. I’m bound by that damned contract to support the machine, and I have no idea how I’m going to come up with that extra money without making some per- sonal sacrifices.” “You could stop smoking cigars,” Hall said. “I said sacrifices, not crucifixions.” “You’ll think of something,” Hall said. “I hope so, for at this moment Webster and Company is sitting on the Mount Morris Bank volcano—and it could blow us sky high any second.” “I don’t want to think about the debt right now,” Hall said.

  I looked over at Hall. There was a look in his eyes I had never seen before, something close to despair. I suddenly realized that I was very wearing on him. I said nothing more, but just watched the scene on the street below. Finally Hall said, “Looks like Tesla’s not coming. I think I’ll call it a night.” “All right,” I said.

  Hall got up and went to the door leading to his adjoining room. He started to close the door, but then stopped and said, “You’ll think of something. I know you will.” Then Hall went out and closed the door. Hall’s last words were optimistic, but his tone was quiet and subdued, like he was trying to believe what he was saying.
I felt guilty. Hall was usually so optimistic and happy. But after several days of close association with me, it seemed that I was draining him of his hope and joy. Yet now I was the one feeling optimistic and sure. Perhaps a transfer of faith and hope had occurred between Hall and me. Hall had given and I had re- ceived. But had I taken too much? I sat there thinking about this for a long time. Then I lit up another cigar, and looked down on the street, not really thinking about anything, but just seeing and smelling and tasting and hearing and feeling. There were only my immediate feelings, no past, no future. I almost was my feelings, my feelings alone, without family, friends, or enemies. I felt like a fragment of a feeling f loating down a dark void, drifting, and lost to the world. Then there was a knock at the door.

  I staggered to my feet, went to the incandescent light knob, and turned it on. The room blazed with white electric light. I blinked and squinted, got my bearings, went to the door, and opened it. It was Tesla. He was wearing a derby and overcoat. “Mark, how are you?” Tesla asked, smiling.

  “Drunk, damned, and decimated,” I replied. “Come on in, Tesla. I’m hav- ing a hot scotch. Want one?” “Why, yes. I think I do,” Tesla said.

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  I went over to the table and began pouring drinks. Tesla took off his coat and threw it over the arm of a chair. He carefully sat his derby down on the writing desk. Tesla said, “I’m feeling in need of a little stimulation. Been speaking all day at the exhibit hall. Two morning lectures, and two in the afternoon.” “Putting on your electric show,” I said. “That’s some show.” “It has Edison’s attention.”