The next day, Parisian newspapers were almost entirely dominated by a single name.
The front-page headline of Le Figaro read "Thomas Edison Lights Up Paris," accompanied by a woodcut illustration of the twenty-seven-ton "beast" generator, with every line filled with reverence for industrial power.
The article declared that Edison's demonstration "not only captivated our eyes but also conquered our imagination of the future."
It further emphasized that the five-day declaration of light marked the transformation of the electric lamp from a "novelty toy for the rich" into a "practical invention soon to enter countless homes."
Le Petit Journal, with a more popular and sensational tone, depicted the shock and ecstasy of the on-site audience witnessing "another sun" rise within the Palace of Industry.
They dedicated an entire page to an illustration of the "lighthouse" composed of twelve hundred incandescent lamps, whose glow seemed to emanate from the paper.
The report repeatedly emphasized the figure "120 hours of continuous lighting," shaping it into an undeniable symbol of reliability and implying that Edison's system would be the only choice for Paris to become a "city that never sleeps."
The commentary in Le Temps, though more cautious, remained optimistic.
The article analyzed the potential social changes brought by Edison's system—extended working hours, altered urban nightlife, improved public safety.
and argued that the French government should actively intervene to seize the opportunity presented by this technological leap.
Le Gaulois even directly appealed:
"It's time to seriously consider incorporating Edison's patents into the national strategy! We cannot fall behind America in the race for electricity."
An optimistic mood permeated the city of Paris.
All day long, in cafes, salons, and the stock exchange, people were discussing Edison, electric lights, and the tangible light of the future.
Parisians were once again collectively enchanted by novelty!
Rumors spread like wildfire.
Well-informed sources confidently stated that the International Electrical Exposition's judging committee had reached a consensus to award the highest honor, the "Gold Medal," to Thomas Edison.
Furthermore, whispers from certain ministerial offices suggested that the French government was discussing a massive acquisition of Edison's electric lamp system patents and the establishment of France's first national central power plant.
Their goal was for Paris to be the first to achieve complete electrification.
Capital's tentacles also keenly sniffed out opportunities, with some bankers and industrial magnates beginning to privately contact Edison's representatives to discuss potential collaborations.
Thomas Edison, in just a few days, stood at the threshold of conquering one of Europe's most important markets.
Amidst this almost one-sided storm of public opinion, only Le Petit Parisien mentioned in a report:
[It is understood that in the east side exhibition hall on the second floor of the Palace of Industry at this International Electrical Exposition, "Sorel-Tesla Electric" has an exhibition area.
This exhibition area has been covered by mysterious black cloth for over a week and its contents will be unveiled tomorrow.
Mr. Lionel Sorel, will surely bring us a unique display different from traditional industry.]
For most readers, the name "Lionel Sorel" was certainly well-known—after all, it had been less than three weeks since his commanding address in front of the Palace of Justice.
But a writer, a playwright, venturing into electricity?
This sounded more like a dilettantish hobby born of a literati's curiosity, or some kind of performance art.
Electricity belonged to names like Edison, Siemens, and Gramme; it belonged to steel, coils, carbon filaments, and precise calculations… far removed from novels, scripts, and aesthetic contemplation.
Consequently, this news did not attract much genuine attention and was quickly drowned in the wave of reports about Thomas Edison and his "Tower of Light."
The day passed quickly, and the International Electrical Exposition remained bustling.
On the ground floor of the Palace of Industry, Edison's exhibition area was still the center of the crowd.
The massive generator hummed deeply, like a tireless heart, causing the twelve hundred incandescent lamps above to emit a steady glow, illuminating the entire hall as if under daylight.
Visitors looked up, their faces filled with awe and reverence.
It had become a landmark, a miracle, a declaration that "the future has arrived!"
In the relatively quiet exhibition hall on the second floor, some curious citizens, having satisfied their curiosity about Edison's "beast," began to wander to other stands.
Among them, a few recalled the brief news item in Le Petit Parisien.
With a "no harm in looking" attitude, they strolled towards the "Sorel-Tesla Electric" exhibition area.
In addition, some of Lionel's loyal fans from the literary and art worlds were also waiting here.
They had not come for electricity, but to support their beloved writer and see what new field he was attempting this time.
A small group of people gradually gathered in front of the exhibition area, slowly forming a circle that completely surrounded the stand.
This stand was also quite large, covering an area almost the size of a small house, though its height was less than an adult's chest, and its surface was flat, unlike Edison's "Tower of Light," which was almost level with the second floor of the Palace of Industry.
Then, they were surprised to find that it wasn't just Lionel Sorel himself standing in front of the exhibition area, ready to give a presentation.
Around him, a significantly influential small "art salon" had gathered: Émile Zola, Guy de Maupassant, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Claude Monet…
These figures, renowned in their respective fields, were now gathered at an electrical exposition filled with copper wires, ceramic insulators, and machines, appearing almost like exhibits themselves.
Onlookers exchanged bewildered glances and whispered to each other.
"Monsieur Zola? Why is he here too? Is electricity going to be written into his new work?"
"And Monet and Renoir! My goodness, have I come to the wrong place? Is there an Impressionist exhibition here?"
"What's going on? This is an electrical exposition! Are they going to generate electricity with novels and oil paintings?"
The murmurs were like water about to boil, and the news spread rapidly like oil dropped on water.
Reporters originally gathered at Edison's exhibition area or other technology stands keenly detected the anomaly here—the collective appearance of cultural celebrities at a technical exhibition was news in itself.
They immediately rushed over with their notebooks, followed by some sightseers, creating a sizable crowd around the "Sorel-Tesla Electric" exhibition area.
On the ground floor exhibition hall, Thomas Edison was surrounded by a group of French, British, and German engineers, receiving their compliments on the stability and practicality of the direct current system.
He was complacent and enjoying this moment of victory.
Just then, an assistant hurried through the crowd, came to his side, whispered a few words in his ear, and briefly reported on the situation upstairs.
Thomas Edison pursed his lips, revealing an expression of disdain.
He didn't even lower his voice, wanting everyone around to hear his evaluation:
"Artists? Writers? Electricity is science, it's engineering, it's the result of precise calculations and reliable materials! What business do paintbrushes and quills have here? It's simply grandstanding!"
He waved his hand, as if shooing away an annoying buzzing fly circling his halo of victory.
In his eyes, the exhibition upstairs, supported by literati and artists, was merely a farce, even a blasphemy against the spirit of industry.
He firmly believed that to ultimately determine market and technological direction, one had to demonstrate overwhelming industrial power, just as he did!
Meanwhile, in front of the exhibition area on the second floor, Lionel calmly scanned the gathered crowd, gave a slight nod, and then walked directly to the exhibit covered by the thick black cloth.
The crowd spontaneously quieted down, and all eyes—curious, skeptical, expectant—focused on him.
Lionel began:
"Gentlemen, ladies, thank you for coming here. These past few days, all of us have been discussing electricity, the changes it brings, and the future.
Yesterday, Mr. Edison wonderfully demonstrated how brilliant the light of electricity can be, making us believe that a world powered by electricity is indeed irresistibly coming our way.
But how to efficiently, stably, and economically transmit electricity to every distant corner that needs it?
Whether it's streetlights in neighborhoods, machines in factories, or the ceilings in our homes… this is the problem that truly needs to be solved in the age of electricity!
Today, what 'Sorel-Tesla Electric' is demonstrating is not just 'can a light bulb light up,' but rather 'how electricity should better serve cities and people.'"
As he spoke, he stepped aside, placed his hand on the edge of the draped black cloth, and then pulled it forcefully—the heavy black cloth slid down, like a theatrical curtain rising.
In an instant, gasps of surprise and admiration rose from the crowd, merging into a small wave of sound.
What appeared before them was not some oddly shaped machine with exposed coils and sparking wires, nor some magnified light bulb or switch, as most people had expected.
It was a massive miniature landscape model, not only exquisite but also astonishingly rich in detail!
It almost entirely occupied the entire fifty-square-meter exhibition area, featuring rolling mountains, winding rivers, and crisscrossing roads, strikingly an exact miniature replica of the entire city of Paris!
Plaster and fine wood cleverly sculpted the familiar undulating terrain of Paris's twelve arrondissements, with a "Seine River" intricately inlaid with silver foil running through the center of the model.
The river water shimmered, and numerous miniature bridges spanned it, each designed to recreate the original.
The main streets of Paris's various districts, famous squares, and iconic buildings—Notre Dame, the Panthéon, the Arc de Triomphe, Les Invalides, City Hall, the Opera House…
even including the Palace of Industry itself where they stood at that moment—were all recreated in miniature, painted and colored, appearing lifelike.
This was a real Paris, shrunk by magic!
The audience craned their necks, as if wanting to press their faces against the model to see every single detail, even hoping to find their own neighborhoods.
Exclamations of awe rose one after another, making the audience behind them itch with impatience.
At this moment, Lionel made an unexpected move: he silently took two steps to the side, pulled out Tesla, who was originally "hidden" behind him, and brought him to the center of people's attention.
Just as Tesla was feeling anxious, Lionel said to everyone:
"This is the creator of this masterpiece, the Chief Engineer of 'Sorel-Tesla Electric,' Nikola Tesla! I believe that at this special moment, he should be the one to press the switch!"
It was only then that everyone noticed a waist-high pillar standing in front of the miniature landscape model, with a red button on top.
Lionel turned to Tesla, his voice full of encouragement:
"Nikola, this is your moment."
Nikola Tesla was so emotional he almost cried; he hadn't expected Lionel to give such a prominent opportunity to him.
He stood next to the button and pressed it with a trembling hand…
(End of Chapter)