Chapter 26
Episode 26: Pasteur, At Last (2)
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Imperial Academy, Dean of the Department of Healing.
Fredolin Fisher.
He was flipping through the latest papers published in the symposium journal. What kind of papers came out this time to have him so engrossed in research funding?
Even though the Department of Healing is large, it’s not like there are thousands of professor healers around—so if he wanted, he could review them all personally.
As long as they don’t pile up, that is. Even with the volume, it’s only a few per day at most.
“Mr. Moritz, have you seen this?”
“What is it, Professor?”
“This new professor already submitted three papers—on microscopes, bacteria, and epidemic dysentery.”
“Ah, it’s quite the topic these days.”
“Was it?”
“You remember the recommendation letter from the Imperial Palace? Some people say he’s clumsy, others that his skills are rock solid.”
“I should take another look then. What’s your opinion on the paper? Is it good? Or nonsense?”
“Well, I think there are some holes in it—leaps in logic, if you will. But the content itself looks promising.”
The dean of the Department of Healing flipped through the paper again.
“Disease-causing microscopic particles? This must’ve drawn a lot of flak from fellow professors, but isn’t it correct?”
“It seems to be a minority opinion. He claims experimental proof.”
“Oh ho.”
“They say he also found a solution for epidemic dysentery. According to documents sent by Lord Lapis to both the symposium and the academy.”
A mysterious newcomer, pushed into place by higher-ups. New theories, groundbreaking experiments, and now the academic world is buzzing.
“Interesting. I’ll have to visit next time.”
“Yes, sir.”
I need to see the face of this professor who’s challenging academia single-handedly. Sure, the content might be wrong—it’s probably a young professor who barely earned their doctorate—but still, the ambition deserves praise, the dean thought.
Still.
The academic community doesn’t care about connections or status. Even an imperial healer must provide experimental evidence to back their claims.
****
Pasteur, Pasteur, Pasteur.
I imagine many people are tired of hearing that name. I get it, but we’re far from done.
Denial of spontaneous generation, proof of germ theory, pasteurization of milk, vaccine principles, silkworm cultivation methods—this guy has accomplished so much.
It can’t be helped.
We’ll probably hear Pasteur’s name for another ten years. Just looking at history, wasn’t his name plastered on every milk carton?
“In fact, this experiment we’re doing is just to show others. We already know, right? Because we use the principle when preparing culture solutions.”
Istina sighed.
“This… is tough.”
“The experiment itself is simple though.”
Preparations are complete.
Now, all that’s left is to present Pasteur’s experiments and papers. Borrowing some research, esteemed seniors.
And, the lecture hall.
Today’s class was prepared with extra effort.
The lecture hall was bustling with undergraduates as usual. Thankfully, there were no rude professors trying to hijack someone else’s lecture today.
Phew. If the academy had known what I planned to teach today, my class would’ve been packed again.
Two swan-neck flasks sat beside the podium—large enough to be seen even from the back of the lecture hall.
I looked around the room.
“As I mentioned before, how do we prove that mold and decay aren’t caused spontaneously or by smell, but by microscopic particles in the air?”
Istina in the front row was watching me.
Students need repetition to understand, and more importantly, they must reach conclusions themselves. They need to grasp the logical structure of the experiment.
“First, we need to construct a hypothesis in a falsifiable form. Any suggestions?”
Silence.
“Oliver, take a guess.”
“Decay in food occurs due to contact with microscopic particles in the air, i.e., other organisms.”
“Good.”
I wrote Oliver’s statement on the board.
The chalk broke once.
“So, this hypothesis goes against societal and academic norms. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, so we need a logically flawless experiment.”
“We could induce decay under controlled conditions and compare the results.”
Istina nodded in agreement from the front row.
“We need uncontaminated samples—some exposed to airborne particles, others not.”
“A positive experimental group with active researcher intervention and a control group for comparison would be ideal. Specifically…”
I scanned the room again.
After a moment, Amy raised her hand.
“Yes, Miss Amy?”
“Um, sterilized food should be separated into two groups—one exposed to air, the other not!”
“Correct.”
The experiment design is complete: divide sterilized food into two groups—one exposed to air, the other not—and induce decay.
“Design is done. Before starting, let’s review the assumptions used in the experiment.”
“Assumptions?”
Istina scratched her head at the front. But these are necessary for a successful experiment.
“First, the process of sterilizing the food. Boiling and applying purification magic should be enough to eliminate bacteria, right?”
Murmurs.
“Professor, wouldn’t that affect the success or failure of the experiment? Should we consider it?”
From a student’s perspective, it might seem unnecessary to bring this up now since it could refute my experiment.
But that’s not how the scientific method works.
“That’s true, but the purpose of the experiment is to test falsifiable propositions. It’s hard to do science if we fear falsification.”
These assumptions need examination because, within our experimental design, they aren’t yet falsifiable propositions.
So, let’s revisit.
“If we boil meat soup and apply purification magic, we assume it eliminates microscopic particles. Logically sound, but still an assumption that needs verification.”
The lecture hall buzzed with scribbling sounds.
“Second, what method can prevent the movement of dust and microscopic particles in the air without blocking airflow itself?”
Pasteur sealed the swan-neck flask’s opening with water. Allegedly, this allows gas to pass while trapping floating particles.
A hand rose from the back.
“Water. Gases can pass through, but particles will be caught in the water. That’s why you brought the swan-neck flask, right?”
Impressively smart for an undergraduate.
“Very goo- What are you doing here, teacher?”
“Listening to the lecture.”
One of the royal healers, Violet.
She’s here again.
“You’ve been showing up a lot lately, Violet. Don’t you have work to do?”
“Yes.”
Well… Sitting around playing poker in the palace infirmary isn’t as productive as this. I sighed softly and resumed writing on the board.
“Anyway, our second assumption is that water will allow gases to pass while filtering out particles.”
This makes sense and is likely correct, but it hasn’t been experimentally verified yet.
We need to address it.
“As you can see, this experiment relies on two major assumptions. We need to keep these in mind whether the experiment succeeds or fails.”
I put down the chalk and looked around the room. Time to begin the experiment.
****
We spent quite a few days discussing this, but further explanation isn’t needed. Actually performing the experiment only took a few minutes.
And… it’s complete.
“In a few days, we’ll check. If the sample not exposed to airborne particles doesn’t decay while the exposed one does, our hypothesis is proven. Only that scenario among the four possibilities.”
The students nodded.
“That’s all for today’s class. Great job, everyone. See you later to check on the flasks.”
Click. I set the chalk down. The students filed out as usual.
****
As always, I left the lecture hall with Istina. Hopefully the experiment works, but there’s no guarantee.
The supposedly sterilized meat soup might still contain bacteria or contaminants, or the control group might not decay, yielding no meaningful results.
Ultimately, we won’t know until we try. From my previous tests, the meat soup attracted fruit flies after a day or two, preventing much mold growth.
“Will the experiment go well?”
“No guarantees.”
“Right, I heard they’ll publish the cholera paper. Papers are being sent outside the academy too, including the microscope one.”
“Lucky break.”