Chapter 2256 - 265: Sir Arthur Said: Let There Be Light_3

Arthur squinted his eyes.

Wheatstone didn’t care and continued to perform. He slowly walked to the window, turning his back to Arthur, and suddenly raised his voice: "And what about me? I’m still here, entangled with Gauss’s correspondence, three-dimensional space, and natural laws."

He spun around abruptly, spreading his arms: "How narrow-minded I am! How selfish!"

Arthur finally couldn’t hold back and spoke: "Charles..."

"Don’t interrupt me!" Wheatstone raised his hand to stop him, his expression painful: "Let me finish. You’re right, Arthur, not everyone has the privilege or fortune to be accountable only to the truth. Some people... are destined to be accountable to the people!"

Arthur took his pipe out of his mouth and slowly exhaled a puff of smoke: "If you’re trying to satirize me, you might as well be straightforward."

"Satire?" Wheatstone said in surprise: "How could that be? I’m reflecting on myself. Look at me, how lucky I am. I have no hearings to attend, no Queen waiting for my response, no police work waiting for my decision. My only trouble is... worrying about how to wind the next set of coils."

"Charles, let me put it bluntly, if you keep talking like this, careful I punch your glasses off."

As soon as the words were out, the sound of Arthur’s fist clenching tightly followed.

Wheatstone’s theatrically expressive face immediately froze.

He paused for a beat and then sensibly took a small step back, his voice instantly regaining reason, as if the satirical person singing an aria just now had never existed.

"Look at you, can’t you handle things more steadily?" Wheatstone’s tone suddenly became gentle and reasonable: "Arthur, remember, you’re not just anybody now; you’re a representative of Britain’s police system, a symbol of order, law, and public reason. You know, the police are an embodiment of justice."

"Who told you that?"

"No one, that’s my own interpretation."

"Then I don’t acknowledge it."

Faced with such a rogue, Wheatstone was momentarily at a loss, so he attempted to leverage moral law to compel him: "But whether you acknowledge it or not, police can’t go around beating innocent citizens, right?"

"You’ve reminded me." Arthur slowly poured a cup of tea: "Given that, which gang do you plan to let smash your glasses tonight? By the way, a new group has taken over Whitechapel recently; they’re a bit reckless and not great at controlling their strength, wouldn’t recommend them."

Wheatstone suddenly remembered that this biggest black cop in England also had the ability to command rogues.

Wheatstone barely hesitated.

"Alright, alright, I was wrong."

His speed of admitting fault was astonishing, as quick as a sliding resistor adjusted countless times on the lab table: "We can pretend none of that whole segment just happened."

"Wise choice." Arthur nodded, finally easing his fist, then sighed: "Charles, I never quite understand, why do you always make such a spectacle every time we meet? We’ve known each other for seven or eight years, right? Can’t we just have a normal friendly chat like regular friends?"

"Regular friends?" Wheatstone seemed to hear some ludicrous definition: "Are you serious?"

"Of course." Arthur looked up at him: "Whenever something good happens, haven’t I always thought of you? Charles, search your conscience, since we’ve known each other, have I ever treated you poorly?"

Wheatstone’s response was a laugh of incredulity: "Your idea of something good is pinning my name alongside Gauss, Humboldt, Arago, and Faraday on the Royal Society’s bulletin board? That’s not support; it’s public humiliation."

After saying this, Wheatstone, who often walked by the river and constantly got his shoes wet, suddenly sensed something off.

He reflexively took a step back: "You’re not... planning something shady you want me to help with, are you?"

"How could that be?" Arthur immediately denied, his tone sincerely unsettling: "I’m a candidate for the Royal Society, a responsible natural philosophy researcher; please watch your wording. I already said, Charles, you’re lined up with Humboldt and the others because you deserve it. If you successfully complete the task assigned to you during Her Majesty’s coronation, who knows, you might even get a noble title."

Wheatstone’s glasses slipped slightly down his nose: "You might want to clarify a bit."

Arthur smiled and opened his arms: "Come on, Charles, it’s not that hard. I just need you to light up a beam at a certain point during the coronation ceremony, that’s all."

Wheatstone blinked.

"What beam?"

"Electrical light."

The air fell silent for a moment.

"Are you mad?!" This was Wheatstone’s first reaction: "That thing can’t possibly be used for illumination. It’s unstable, glaring, and consumes resources incredibly, and most importantly..."

Arthur interrupted: "Most importantly, even with the latest Daniel Battery, it can’t guarantee long lighting periods."

Wheatstone paused: "You already know where the technical difficulties lie, don’t you?"

"Of course I know." Arthur nodded: "So I don’t wish to light up the entire Westminster then, nor do I ask for it to last for several hours. I just need thirty seconds of electrical light, no more, no less."

Wheatstone frowned: "But what’s the point of that? A thirty-second electric arc has no practical illumination value."

"If considering from a wide-ranging civilian use perspective, that’s indeed so." Arthur chuckled: "However, if this beam can light up during Her Majesty’s coronation, it would be highly symbolic."