The scent of champagne celebrating the big order from "Sorel Electric" had not completely faded from the Menlo Park laboratory when, just three days later, another telegram from Paris was delivered to Thomas Edison.
However, this time, the content of the telegram brought not joy, but surprise and offended indignation.
The telegram was sent by Charles Ferguson, the general manager of the "Paris Edison Electric Light Company," and its content was brief but sufficient to make Edison frown:
Nikola Tesla, the young electrical engineer he thought highly of, had formally submitted his resignation!
Thomas Edison gripped the telegram paper and repeated, somewhat incredulously:
"Tesla? He's leaving?"
He had a strong impression of this young man from Austria—he had served as chief electrician at the Budapest Telephone Exchange and had improved many devices.
Although his ideas were sometimes too imaginative, even tinged with impractical obsession, he was undeniably a rare technical genius.
Edison's original plan was to have him gain experience at the Paris branch for a few years, familiarize himself with his direct current system, and then transfer him back to the American headquarters to join the laboratory.
This was a highly promising career path.
Edison muttered "Stupid!" and tossed the telegram onto the workbench cluttered with parts and blueprints.
He felt a sense of betrayed anger.
The "Paris Edison Electric Light Company" had provided Tesla with a platform and resources, and just when he was about to prove himself, the young man chose to leave.
Was it about salary?
Or was he misled by something else?
Paris was full of distractions and temptations; who knew.
Despite his displeasure, Edison's mood was merely one of confusion and slight disappointment.
The departure of one Tesla, though regrettable, was not enough to shake the foundation of the "Edison Electric Light Company."
He had gathered excellent engineers from Europe and the United States under his wing; he didn't lack this one eccentric young man.
He quickly put the matter out of his mind and focused on testing the filament of a new type of light bulb before him.
In his view, this was merely a minor interlude, a mistake made by an immature employee.
However, two days later, another telegram from Paris, like an axe, shattered the calm Edison had just regained.
This telegram was no longer Ferguson's routine report; every line screamed of panic:
"Emergency situation!
A total of eight senior electrical engineers and fifteen assistant engineers at the Paris company have collectively submitted their resignations!
The technical team is now paralyzed!
Request immediate instructions from headquarters!
—Ferguson"
Edison abruptly stood up from his work chair:
"What?!"
He could barely believe his eyes, bringing the telegram closer to read it again, word by word.
No mistake, not one or two, but almost all of them!
The entire engineer team of the Paris branch had been uprooted!
Rage instantly consumed Edison!
His face turned crimson, veins throbbing on his forehead.
This was no accident!
This was definitely a premeditated, targeted poaching operation!
Which damned competitor was it?
Was it Westinghouse, who had been fighting him over patents?
Or Ferranti, who was pushing alternating current in the UK?
Or some new company that had popped up in Germany?
They actually used such despicable methods to directly poach his talent pool!
Edison roared in the laboratory:
"Bastards! These perfidious bastards!"
His voice made the glass instruments rattle.
The surrounding assistants and technicians stopped their work, terrified—they rarely saw their boss so agitated.
Edison snatched up a pen and paper; he had to wire Ferguson back immediately.
His pen tip almost tore through the paper, every word seething with fury:
"Investigate!
Find out immediately who is behind this scheme!
Use all resources to find the enemy hiding in the shadows!
I want to know which company, which person! Find them, and then deliver the fiercest blow! No matter the cost!
Let them know the consequences of provocation!"
He felt as though he could already see the triumphant smile of the mastermind, which humiliated him more than ever.
The Paris market was his bridgehead for his European strategy, and the large order just received from "Sorel Electric" proved the immense potential for the proliferation of electric lighting.
Every inventor in the world knew that for any new invention, only by conquering Paris could it hope to conquer Europe.
At this critical juncture, having the technical team completely gutted was akin to having the command post wiped out by the enemy on the battlefield.
This not only meant the stagnation of the Paris business but could also affect the expansion into the entire European market, potentially shaking investor confidence in the "Edison Electric Light Company."
For the next few days, Edison could not focus on work, pacing the laboratory anxiously like a caged lion, waiting for news from Paris.
Names and faces of competitors flashed through his mind, and he analyzed their motives and capabilities.
He swore that once he found the culprit, he would use every commercial, legal, and public relations means at his disposal to completely crush them.
The ticking of the telegraph machine sounded again, breaking the suffocating silence in the laboratory.
Samuel Insull quickly handed the newly translated telegram paper to Edison.
Edison practically snatched it, his eyes eagerly scanning the text.
The sender was still Charles Ferguson, but the content of the telegram made Edison instantly freeze—
"Emergency investigation confirms that all engineers who resigned, including Nikola Tesla, have joined the 'Sorel Electric' Company.
Repeat, 'Sorel Electric,' the company we just signed a contract with. It is believed that the company is effectively controlled by the writer Lionel Sorel.
End.
—Ferguson"
"Sorel Electric?" Edison muttered the name.
The look of rage on his face solidified, then slowly fractured like ice struck by a hammer, replaced by a look of utter bewilderment.
Him?
The young writer he had praised just days ago as one who "understands the future"?
The "partner" who had just given him an unprecedented big order?
Edison looked down at the thin telegram paper in his hand, then up at his assistant, Samuel Insull.
The ambition to light up Europe, the betrayal of the technical team, the massive order, the potential enemy…
These initially unrelated threads were now eerily intertwined, and the connection point was a writer famous for plays and novels!
He used my lights to illuminate his stage and gain fame; then, he used my order as a bait or a smokescreen to poach all my engineers?
What was this all about?
Business competition?
What competitor gives an enemy a huge order worth over 100,000 francs before launching a commercial war?
For a moment, Edison was completely unable to grasp the logic behind this.
He had seen too many commercial conflicts, both overt and covert, but he had never heard of such an illogical maneuver.
A writer, instead of staying in his study writing, comes to steal electrical engineers?
This defied all his cognitive categories as an inventor and a capitalist.
He slumped back into his work chair, unsure how to respond.
Launching the "fiercest commercial blow" against a writer?
It sounded like a joke.
Stopping the order for 5,000 light bulbs?
That would mean breaching the contract and incurring huge financial losses.
He looked out the window at the sky over Menlo Park gradually darkening.
The electric lights in the laboratory emitted a warm glow, once a symbol of his confidence and glory.
After a long silence, Edison slowly spoke to his assistant waiting beside him:
"Wire back to Ferguson, tell him not to take action against 'Sorel Electric' for now. Also, start recruiting new electrical engineers immediately; for the time being, we will send a few people from America to cover for him."
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While Thomas Edison was wrestling with the order crisis, someone in Paris was also facing a "logistical crisis" due to the very same order.
(End of Chapter)