In A Thousand Years

by Emile Calvet

  “What’s that, if you please?”

  “This: a body suspended in a fluid is only at equilibrium when its weight is equal to that of the fluid displaced.”

  “If the weights are equal,” Gédéon riposted, with a certain assurance, “they’re not different.”

  “I said a body at rest, not a moving body. In the latter case, I can convince you by an argument so banal that it will be within your range.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “An eagle weights four or five kilograms, but only displaces ten grams of air. Now, at all times, I think, eagles have been able to fly.”

  “Obscure, but true,” Gédéon concluded.

  At that moment the travelers went into the avenue leading to the river. Ten minutes later, the majestic sheet of water unfurled before them.

  They had been walking for some time, following the magnificent pathway that bordered the left bank of the Seine in the direction of the current, when their eyes progressively made out a sparkling line traversing the river eight hundred meters downstream. Soon, as their gaze plunged obliquely across the river, they were able to count fifteen supporting arches, beneath which the sheet of water was flowing slowly.

  “It’s the sight of that bridge, which one might believe to be constructed out of a single diamond, that has rendered our young man epileptic,” said Terrier.

  “What do you think of that bridge of ice, in midsummer?” exclaimed Gédéon, who was ten paces ahead.

  “Ice? You mean glass, I think,” said Antius.

  “That’s evident enough,” said the physicist.

  Curious to see the astonishing work that was resplendently displayed before them at close range, the travelers increased their pace. They had not gone a hundred meters when the crystal bridge, to their great astonishment, suddenly lost its transparency and took on the scarlet tint of rubies.

  “What do you think of that change of décor?” the young man asked his companions.

  “Nothing yet,” Antius replied, while the silent physicist sought an explanation for the phenomenon.

  Soon afterwards, the bridge threw off a last gleam of red and suddenly glittered with the green fires of emerald.

  “My word—one might think that a rainbow were gradually unfolding its girth over the river,” said Gédéon.

  “I’ve finally solved the puzzle,” said Terrier, coming to a halt. “We’re in the presence of a mass of iridescent glass, which takes on different hues as one’s viewpoint shifts. That curious phenomenon was observed for the first time toward the end of the 19th century, and was due to certain perturbations accidentally produced in a molten flow. Today, they make use of that remarkable property.”

  The three men resumed their march and saw all the colors of the solar spectrum gleam before them in turn. Ten minutes later, they found themselves at the end of the bridge and were able to admire all its details.

  The causeway was covered with a thick layer of rubber, and their tread suddenly became soft and elastic.

  The architectural marvel presented, in its entirety, a particular character of simplicity, heightened by lines of irreproachable elegance. The parapets seemed to have been cast in a single piece, for no juncture could be seen from one bank to the other.

  In the middle of the bridge, a man who was placidly watching the water flow told them that they were on the Pont Neuf, a monument cast on the spot, which still retained its name even though it was already two hundred years old.

  “It was proposed to cast glass houses,” he added, “but we’re not yet in the fortunate era when the well-behaved can brave all gazes.”

  “That’s the first misanthrope we’ve encountered in this world,” said Gédéon, in a low voice.

  The marveling travelers passed on to the right bank and went back along the river. The heat was overwhelming. The effluvia of the hot air were visible along the course of the avenue, and a bleak silence reigned over the motionless foliage.

  Antius suggested to his companions that they rest momentarily. The three men let themselves fall on to a bench on the promenade.

  A few electric carriages rolling silently along the causeway, laden with panting passengers, were the only things moving in that torrid panorama.

  After a pause of half an hour, the strangers, continuing on their way, came into an unfamiliar quarter. They had been walking for an hour amid incessantly renewed magnificence, when Antius, sponging his forehead, leaned back against a gigantic chestnut tree.

  “We’re a long way from the school,” he said. “Besides which, under this burning sky, we’ll be forced to walk slowly, so we ought to retrace our steps.”

  “My throat’s damnably dry,” said Terrier. “How about you, Gédéon?”

  “I feel as if my chest is full of hot coals,” the young man replied. “My God, I’d like to run across a licorice-water seller!”

  “It seems to me,” said Antius, “that I can see a café on the left hand side of that boulevard, and, although we ought to exercise an extreme moderation in using the money confided to us, we ought not to hesitate to take some refreshment.”

  The proposal was adopted. Ten minutes later, the three travelers were sitting at a table in the shade in front of a luxurious establishment whose terrace was ornamented by a triple row of exotic plants. The presence of a few palm trees, imprisoned in rectangular boxes full of vegetable earth, had suggested to the café-owner the simple and logical idea for his sign, on which the words PALM TREE CAFÉ could be read in flamboyant letters.

  A customer who had preceded the travelers by a few minutes and had taken a place some distance away pressed an electric button fixed to the side of the table in front of him. A young woman appeared n the threshold. At a signal from the client she went back inside and came back with a laden tray.

  “That’s extraordinary,” said Gédéon “Waiters are girls now.”

  “What shall we have?” asked Antius. “We mustn’t ask for things that no longer exist and make ourselves seem ridiculous.”

  “The simplest thing is to ask for information,” Terrier suggested.

  “Without seeming to do so,” Gédéon added. We don’t want to give a posthumous performance of La Cagnotte at the Théâtre du Palais-Royal.”35

  “Mademoiselle,” Antius said to the young woman, who came over, carrying an ornate cotton napkin. “What beverages are the most popular in this heat?”

  “At present, Messieurs, there’s a strong demand for iced lemon syrup with essence of vanilla.”

  “Serve us some, if you please.”

  The young woman came back with a tray containing three large goblets hollowed out from enormous rubies.

  “It wouldn’t be prudent to break a glass here,” observed the professor.

  “This stone is doubtless manufactured artificially today,” Antius remarked.

  Gédéon raised the beverage to his lips.

  “I warn you that there’s a good fluxion of the breast at the bottom of that glass,” said the doctor, stopping him.

  After a few minutes’ rest, the travelers began to imbibe the delicious liqueur slowly.

  A group of customers, streaming like the gods of the sea, came to sit down nearby. “What a crushing temperature!” one of them exclaimed, while his neighbor orders a beverage identical to the one the strangers had.

  “Yes, but we’re finally going to have a cool spell,” said another. “The Académie des Sciences has made arrangements for us to have rain within twenty-four hours.”

  Gédéon started. The two scientists pricked up their ears.

  “Do the members of that scientific body now perform incantations like negro sorcerers?” asked the young man.

  “Shut up and listen,” said the doctor brusquely, in a low voice.

  “It’s been decided that twenty aerostats will go up into the higher regions this evening, and each furnish fifty formidable explosions of nitroglycerine in the middle of the vapors, which won’t take long to resolve into rain. The effect ought
to extend over a circle of at least thirty square myriameters.”

  “This time last year,” a fourth recounted, “they determined torrential rain that lasted for two days.”

  “Meteorological conditions have been considerably modified here,” the first resumed. “Once, it seems, before the deviation of the Gulf Stream. Paris was covered in snow in winter.”

  The physicist started, and attracted the attention of the customers. “Monsieur,” he asked, taking off his hat to the person who had just spoken, “can you tell me what the average temperature is in this region?”

  “Sixteen point eight degrees, Monsieur,” his interlocutor replied, bowing.

  “So it’s gone up six degrees in a few centuries?”

  “Yes, Monsieur, since the change in the direction of the Gulf Stream, which now bathes the coasts of France and permits warm sea-baths to be taken in the month of January.”

  “Thank you,” said Terrier. Pensively, he murmured: “So nature has also had its revolutions?”

  A few moments later, a young man of intelligent and alert appearance came to sit down beside them. While unfolding a newspaper as big as a coaching-entrance, the newcomer ordered iced sherry from a second young woman, who had just appeared in the doorway.

  “Monsieur,” Antius suddenly asked the young city-dweller, who was already scanning the first page, “is service in public establishments habitually provided by young women?”

  “Yes, Monsieur,” the young man replied, nodding his head. “All labor that does not require a measure of physical strength is generally confided to the fair sex.”

  “One more question, if you please?”

  “I’m at your disposal,” said the young man politely, putting down his paper.

  “We’re strangers, and, wishing to conform to the customs of the land we’re visiting—a principle that ought to be the first rule of conduct for a voyager—we’d like to know whether it’s usual to give service staff a tip.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re doing me the honor of asking, Monsieur,” said the young man, seemingly astonished.

  “Isn’t it customary to give a small gratification to people who serve you?”

  “That procedure would extremely hurtful, Monsieur, and I advise you not to employ it anywhere on the continent. Everyone here rightly considers themselves to be equal to everyone else, and would blush to be paid twice for a service.”

  “Thank you, Monsieur.”

  The young man resumed his reading, then, short afterwards, threw the price of his beverage on the table, bowed to the strangers and left.

  “It’s time to go,” said Antius, hearing five o’clock chime on a large electric clock set above the entrance door.

  Gédéon pressed the ivory button and the young woman appeared. The doctor rummaged in his pocket and, after a few nervous twitches, suddenly seemed extremely embarrassed.

  “We’ll be in a pretty pickle if you’ve lost the purse,” said the young man.

  Obliged to devote himself to a maneuver familiar to distracted individuals, the scientist began to empty his pockets. He brought out, in succession, a handkerchief, a portfolio, an agenda, a spectacle-case, two pamphlets and a catalogue.”

  “It isn’t with those antediluvian items that you’re expecting to pay the bill?” exclaimed his nephew, anxiously.

  “Monsieur,” said the young woman, in a most amiable tone, “don’t worry about having forgotten your money; you can settle your bill next time you come this way. In addition, if you have need of any funds to continue your walk, the establishment’s till is at your disposal.”

  “Thank you, my child, and I’m very obliged to you,” the doctor replied, warmly, and then added: “But I’m now out of difficulty”—and he exhumed the wallet, one of whose metal fitments had become attached to the inside of his pocket.

  The bill having been easily settled, the travelers set off toward the boulevard gain. With the aid of a few directions given to them by passers-by with perfect urbanity, they set off for the school.

  They went across the river again.

  Six o’clock was chiming on the main building as they set foot in the courtyard. Herber came to meet them and accompany them to the dining room, where his wife was giving her final instructions. The afternoon’s excursion served as the topic of conversation at dinner.

  The schoolmaster gave them some very interesting details regarding the crystal bridge.

  “From the viewpoint of solidity,” he said, “that work of art is superior to all the others of the same kind, because it really is formed from a single homogeneous piece. In consequence, the methods of the 27th century engineers who constructed it have been conserved in their integrity to the present day. As the blocks of glass are brought together, the faces that are to be juxtaposed are only separates by fine platinum mesh, which the passage of a electric current brings to white heat in a matter of seconds. The glass melts superficially, the metallic fabric is removed, and the two planes in the fluid state are in contact. The conjuncture is thus absolute.

  “That employment of glass renders immense services, because it permits indestructible bridges to be built over gulfs that had previously defied all the efforts of human genius.”

  At the request of his guests, the schoolmaster then explained the variation of the Gulf Stream, the warm and vivifying current that runs obliquely across the Atlantic. Its direction had been gradually tilted eastwards, and had significantly raised the temperature of Western Europe.

  “The sea, always warm on the coasts of France, bathes over an extent of three hundred leagues a brilliant chain of villas drowned in perpetual verdure. Winter, which is no longer anything but an astronomical expression, has fled conclusively before a mild and luminous spring. On Sundays, several convoys of balloons, loaded with passengers, depart for all parts of the coast, which has become a true suburb of Paris.

  “Why hasn’t this miraculous city been chosen as the capital of the world?” asked Gédéon, whose imagination was stimulated to the highest degree by all these marvelous stories.

  “Paris, my young friend, is still the capital of the nation—or, if you prefer, of France,” Herber replied. “It could even have obtained for us the honor of which you speak, but, obedient to the highest considerations of order from the general point of view, we proposed Constantinople ourselves as the seat of central government, and that generosity won us the sympathy of all peoples, who compete in proclaiming our intellectual superiority, without hesitation. We are still the primary representatives of the Latin races that, with regard to the abstraction and expansion of ideas, have thus far been the soul of humankind.”

  The strangers, absorbed by the reflections engendered in their minds by these political upheavals, remained silent.

  The harmonious voice of Madame Herber extracted them from their meditations. “Messieurs,” the young woman said, displaying a basket full of enormous clusters of muscat grapes that she had just brought to the table, here are a few specimens of the vines of the high plateaux of the Sudan. They were bought this morning at the fruit-market—but these Messieurs haven’t visited the Market yet.”

  “I can put myself at their disposal to take them there tomorrow morning, if they’re curious to visit our great gastronomical warehouse,” the schoolmaster proposed.

  The voyagers accepted the offer gladly.

  After the meal, the visitors went down on to the lawn of the main courtyard. The conversation, which lasted for a long time, was interrupted by a courier from Guillaume Dryon, who brought Herber and his guests an invitation for Thursday evening.

  “We’ll go straight there when we come out of the session at the Institut,” the schoolmaster said.

  Having arranged the departure for the excursion to the Market for nine a.m., Herber bid his guests goodnight, and they returned to their apartment.

  XXIV. The Market

  The next morning, as nine o’clock was chiming on the clock of the school museum, the strangers, refreshed an
d in god spirits, gathered at the balustrade overlooking the square saw their host walking toward them at a rapid pace.

  They went to meet him. Herber offered them his hand.

  “We’ll have fine weather for out stroll,” the schoolmaster said, pointing at the sky, whose dazzling blue was uninterrupted by any cloud.

  The four men went down the monumental staircase and were soon on the lawn.

  To escape the fiery torrents that the sun was pouring in to their heads, the travelers walked beneath the shady crowns of the giant trees forming the Museum plaza.

  Myriads of brightly-plumaged birds were stirring in the branches, sometimes descending to perch in a familiar fashion on the benches of the promenade, in spite of the presence of a large number of citizens reading the morning papers.

  “The Globe won’t keep my custom for long,” said one of them as the travelers were passing by.

  “Is it ill-informed on some matter?” asked his neighbor.

  “I don’t accuse it of anything as serious as that, but this morning it’s giving me yesterday’s news, which everyone knows.”

  “Today’s readers are less tolerant than those of old,” observed Gédéon, in a low voice.

  “I congratulate them,” Antius replied, in the same tone.

  Herber and his guests turned into an avenue that made a rather wide angle with the one by which they had arrived three days before.

  A few moments later, one of the gigantic public carriages they had seen on the first day came toward them at top speed. At a signal from the schoolmaster, the driver cut off the current and the six wheels, suddenly imprisoned by metal brakes, skidded along the highway.

  Herber and his guests went to the back of the vehicle and climbed up on to the platform via a footstep covered in a thick layer of gutta-percha. Silently, the machine moved off again.

  Preceding his friends, the schoolmaster showed them, one after another, the dispositions of the first two floors, principally reserved for women, children and old people. After having walked around the circular galleries of those sections, almost deserted for the moment, they went up to the top platform, sheltered by a large awning of striped fabric, under which a few passengers were installed. The travelers went to sit down on benches covered with thick cushions of padded leather.