I began my discourse almost at once. I disdained notes. I addressed the assembled students, (turned occasionally to speak to the professors, who almost at once began to show astonishment. It was as if Jesus had sat down with the Elders in the Synagogue. Indeed, I felt somewhat godlike. This was partly due to the effects, I suppose, of the cocaine. If I was not a Messiah to the Age of Science, I felt at least I might be His Baptist!
There was no denying the immediate effect of my words. I discussed the problems of Newtonian science in relation to modern knowledge. I discussed the most recent developments in the field of extra-strong materials, which would enable us to build entirely new types of machines: gigantic aeroplanes and airships. I drew their attention to the possibilities of rocket propulsion, as opposed to the limitations of the conventional internal combustion engine. I spoke of gas-operated aeroplanes. This would involve a system of super-heating by which certain gases could be brought to an appropriately intense temperature. I spoke of a kind of Gatling gun which could be operated by means of compressed air, which would shoot thousands of needles into the enemy’s ranks. Each needle could contain a hollow tip in which was concealed deadly poison. No matter where he was hit, the soldier would die almost at once. Failing that, a narcotic drug could be used and we should have wars without death. This would be far more efficient than gas canisters which anyway could be counteracted by means of gas-masks. I also described monster machines, a thousand times bigger than the largest tank. These could simply crush their way through the enemy lines, physically burying all who stood against them. I brought into question our whole understanding of current technological developments. I was about to go into more abstract matters, concerning electrical atoms, when Merkuloff - that jealous mental dwarf! - sprang up and cried:
‘I think we have heard all we need, Kryscheff!’
‘I have hardly begun,’ I said calmly. ‘There is much more.’
‘Sit down.’
I explained that they had not realised these were merely my opening remarks.
‘We realise all we want to realise.’ Evidently overwhelmed by his own conscience, knowing to what extent he had misjudged me, he was speaking gently. Perhaps he wished to spare my energies? At the time, however, I felt he was trying to thwart me.
‘If you are to award the appropriate marks,’ I said, ‘it is only fair I should give you a fuller picture. These are times when information itself is a weapon.’
The old man, Professor Vorsin, cut me off. ‘Possibly your ideas are of interest to an enemy? Any spy ...’ He gestured out into the hall.
I followed his meaning, but I had anticipated him. ‘That is the reason, your excellency, that I have made no specifications in this dissertation. If the government wished to see my plans, I should be happy to meet with the appropriate person at the proper time. I have only skimmed the surface here.’
‘We are much impressed,’ said Vorsin.
Merkuloff spoke. ‘You are dismissed from the hall, Kryscheff.’ Could the man still be envious? Was he determined to crush me. It was unbelievable. But I misjudged him, I think. I was not sympathetic to his own confusion. His senior forced him to resume his seat. Vorsin was plainly upset by Merkuloff’s attitude. He addressed me respectfully. ‘My dear Dimitri Mitrofanovitch, I am sure you have been doing a great deal of demanding work. But you have brought up so many fresh ideas that it is hard for us to digest everything at once.’
I nodded as I tried to hear what he said above the uproar from the hall. The students were acknowledging my genius. It was a great moment. I could see that the other professors, too, were stunned by my dissertation. I decided to ensure myself, there and then, of my future. ‘Can I therefore be certain of a diploma this year?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Vorsin. ‘We will make a Special Diploma for you.’
This was beyond anything I had hoped for. ‘A Special Diploma is not necessary, your excellency.’ I showed, I think, proper modesty and self-discipline.
‘It will have to be a special one,’ said Merkuloff, capitulating at last. Never have I experienced such wonderful elation. I had not really expected quite this success. It was very sweet.
‘Very well, your excellencies. I accept.’ I bowed to them. I bowed to the shouting, stamping crowd below. I raised a hand to silence them. ‘But I shall continue here at the Polytechnic, at least until I am offered a government post.’ I saw no point in crowing. They had had the grace to accept defeat. I would show grace in my victory.
‘Of course,’ said Merkuloff in a strained voice. ‘Next term, we shall sort all that out.’
‘And the Diploma? Is it to be presented before Christmas?’
I could guess there would be the usual red tape involved. I was not surprised when Professor Vorsin shook his head, ‘It will take time to prepare. We shall have it ready when you return.’
