83: Chapter 83 Edison's Green Hat is on Delivery
Of course, Lin Tian was not at all worried that The British would face any catastrophic disaster.
The Boers, with their mere hundreds of thousands of people, could at most make The British Empire bleed a little; it was impossible for them to knock The British Empire down.
The two sides were worlds apart in terms of population, industrial foundation, and education level.
Even if The Boers held the most advanced rifles manufactured by the Lin Tian Arms Company, at most, they would just harvest a few thousand more British soldiers' heads compared to actual history.
But that was enough. As long as The British were made to bleed profusely, this global troublemaker could quiet down for a few more years before the outbreak of World War I.
The world could also be a bit more peaceful for a few days.
Turning our attention back to New York.
Since being kicked out by Morgan at the banquet, Edison had welcomed the unluckiest and darkest month of his life.
Without Morgan, his major benefactor, to back him up, the capital chains of the electrical and mechanical companies under Edison's name were completely severed.
Even his most precious laboratory was struggling to make ends meet.
Engaging in R&D was like throwing money into the water; it was by no means a small sum.
In the past, with Morgan providing a safety net behind the scenes, there were investments when needed and loans when requested; he could just reach out and get piles of cash.
But ever since the scandal of him throwing a tantrum at the Morgan estate and being thrown out spread throughout New York, the bankers and financial tycoons who used to be polite to him had all changed their attitudes.
Although no one dared to tell him to get lost to his face, the indifference and disgust in their eyes were just like looking at a pest.
Edison was at his wit's end and could only rely on his past savings to tough it out.
But relying on savings was by no means a long-term solution.
Currently, his power plants were losing money year after year, and light bulbs weren't selling; he was barely scraping by just by selling a few broken printing presses and old-fashioned telegraph machines.
To survive, he had to thicken his skin and look for money everywhere.
Wall Street, New York City Bank.
The lobby manager looked at Edison, who was sitting opposite him, and said in a cold tone: "I'm sorry, Mr. Edison, but instructions from above state that not a single cent of a loan can be approved for you!"
This was already the nth time he had been shut out, and Edison's eyes were filled with despair.
Who knew the manager wasn't done yet; he deliberately pointed out the window: "Turn right outside and there's a newly opened Wells Fargo Bank. You can go try your luck; maybe they'll show mercy and lend to you, heh!"
Listening to the manager's sarcastic mockery, Edison was so angry his lungs were about to explode.
Who in New York's high society didn't know that Wells Fargo Bank was Lin Tian's property?
Given the mortal enmity between him and Lin Tian, even if he starved to death on the street, he would absolutely never beg that Chinese boy.
The manager was clearly making fun of him.
Edison was overcome with rage, grabbed the glass ashtray on the table, and smashed it hard onto the manager's head.
The manager's head instantly bloomed, blood streaming down, and he covered his head, shouting: "Security! Quick, call security!"
A few hours later, Edison had to spend money to hire a lawyer to bail himself out of the police station.
Just as he walked to the entrance, a group of reporters who appeared from nowhere surrounded him completely.
"Mr. Edison, is it true that you went crazy because you couldn't borrow money and cracked the bank manager's head open?"
"Mr. Edison, I am a reporter for the Worker's Daily! I heard your factory has been in arrears for two months of wages; when do you plan to pay?"
Facing the barrage of cameras and microphones, Edison roared like a mad lion: "Get lost! I don't have a financial crisis! I am the great man who invented the light bulb, the messenger of light for all mankind!"
After roaring, he pushed the reporters aside, scrambled into his carriage, and fled in panic.
The next day, the front pages of all the newspapers in New York were all about him.
Even The New York Times didn't let go of this hot topic.
The New York Times published a sharp article: "Great inventor Edison falls into a debt crisis! Investigations reveal that the electrical companies under his name have been suffering huge losses for years. Faced with the Alternating Current promoted by Mr. Bruce, Edison's Direct Current has long since become discarded trash."
"Yet this stubborn inventor is still holding on, even going so far as to electrocute cats and dogs to smear Alternating Current. The former King of Inventors doesn't even have the courage to admit defeat; how pathetic and lamentable!"
Other newspapers were even more ruthless, exposing Edison's dark history of stealing his employees' patents completely.
They even published scandals about his factory stopping wage payments and workers preparing to sue him collectively.
Edison, sitting in his apartment eating breakfast, looked at the huge stack of subpoenas sent by the court, got so angry he tore the subpoenas into shreds, and slammed the table, roaring wildly:
"A bunch of shameless vampires! Using my money to do research, the patents are obviously mine!"
His roar directly frightened his newborn son in the cradle, making him wail.
His young wife Mina, whom he had married less than two years ago, picked up their son with heartache to soothe him, then turned her head and complained: "Thomas, stop shouting! This month's water bill and the wages for the three servants need to be settled!"
Edison took a deep breath and pulled a handful of bills from his pocket.
He originally wanted to count out two hundred dollars to hand over, but hesitated for a moment and finally pulled out only one hundred dollars.
"Everyone is asking for money lately. Let's just fire two servants!"
"If we fire the servants, who will take care of the child? I still have to go to church for services every week!" Mina frowned as she took the money.
"What church, don't go anymore!" Edison shouted irritably.
Mina did not back down: "Before we got married, you swore you would never interfere with my faith!"
The three servants in the house cost thirty dollars a week in wages.
One hundred dollars was simply not enough for expenses, not to mention paying utility bills and buying groceries.
From who knows when, the once glorious King of Inventors had been living a tighter life than a beggar.
Edison painfully pulled out another one hundred dollars and threw it on the table, dropped his knife and fork, and slammed the door as he left.
When he arrived at the laboratory, a bunch of researchers were also listless, slacking off and wasting time.
Edison gave them another big scolding.
He felt that these people were all being influenced by the newspapers.
Recalling back when he invented the light bulb, how many sleepless nights he had spent testing materials.
Now these idiots didn't even have half the drive he had back then.
In his view, the current bad luck was just a low point in his life.
As long as he could get the new project, the "Nickel-Iron Alkaline Battery," done, he would definitely be able to make a comeback.
In the electrical field, he had actually already conceded defeat in his heart.
He simply couldn't beat Lin Tian and Rockefeller.
So he turned his focus, eyeing the automotive industry, intending to find a breakthrough in chemical batteries.
He firmly believed that as long as he could develop an electric car, he would definitely be able to return to his peak and slap the faces of those who looked down on him.
If Edison had been born a hundred years later, he might have really become a new energy vehicle tycoon.
Setting aside Edison, who was dreaming of a comeback.
On the other side.
The young and beautiful Mina was sitting in church attending services.
Sitting next to her was a very handsome foreign young man.
As soon as the prayer ended, the young man flashed her a charming smile that could kill: "Beautiful lady, may I have the honor of knowing your name?"
Mina looked at the stunningly handsome face in front of her, her cheeks flushed slightly, and she replied in a low voice: "My name is Mina Miller."
"I am Piero, a painter from Paris, France!"
The young man seized the opportunity, his words honeyed, "I just arrived in New York and already encountered a perfect woman as elegant and noble as you. Please forgive my abruptness; may I paint a portrait for you?"
Mina, who had never seen such a romantic approach, was stunned on the spot: "I... this..."
Before she could say the words of refusal, Piero directly took her hand and gently kissed the back of it.
"I shall take that as your consent, beautiful and moving Ms. Mina!"