After bidding farewell to the coastline of Lisbon with its lancholic sea breeze and ancient legends, the Queen Victoria plunged her steel hull entirely into the vast, boundless embrace of the Atlantic Ocean.
The ten-day transoceanic voyage was both monotonous and a trial for the spirit.
Upon the sea, there was nothing but the eternal, unchanging azure and the occasional seabird skimming past.
Both ti and space seed infinitely stretched and diluted across this endless expanse, creating an illusion of being utterly forgotten by the entire civilized world.
During this isolated journey, Ethan devoted most of his ti to encrypted telegraph communications with intelligence contacts worldwide, weaving that invisible web of resources for Julian far in the East, and for their own impending battle in North Arica.
anwhile, Lin Jie imrsed himself completely in adaptive training with the [Serene Heart Type III] and in studying the spiritual frequency research materials obtained from the Munich branch.
He began attempting to understand and analyze the equilibrium within his own body using a more scientific and data-driven mindset.
Lin Jie even constructed a preliminary mathematical model for the "frequency output power" of his [White's Airspace], based on the theoretical frawork Schneider provided. It was rough, yet held epoch-making significance.
On the morning of the eleventh day of the voyage, when a grey silhouette tinged with the scent of steel and smoke appeared on the horizon.
They had arrived.
The United States of Arica, New York.
As the Queen Victoria slowly sailed into New York Harbor, hailed as the "Crossroads of the World."
Even Lin Jie and Ethan, long accustod to grand spectacles of all kinds, found themselves involuntarily awestruck by the "steel jungle" before them, pulsating with raw ambition and frenetic vitality.
Skyscrapers reaching for the clouds grew like wild things upon the narrow strip of Manhattan Island.
On the streets below, horse-drawn carriages, early automobiles belching black smoke, and the clanging electric streetcars laid by Edison General Electric mingled together, forming a torrent of steel, noise, and chaos.
And above, a dense web of electrical and telephone wires stretched across the sky like the city's imnse neural network, connecting every corner in a manner brimming with "modern" sensibility.
Here, one could not see London's heavy, historical atmosphere shrouded in coal smoke and fog.
Nor could one see Lisbon's lancholy and desolation belonging to the twilight of a golden age.
Here, there was only the future!
A future built on pragmatism, a future holding money and efficiency with a religious fervor!
"The Gilded Age..."
Leaning against the ship's railing, Lin Jie gazed at this "New World" that felt both familiar and alien, murmuring the precise term from his previous life's history textbooks.
It was the best of tis.
It was the worst of tis.
Wealth gushed like a fountain from the stock exchanges of Wall Street, nurturing countless myths of overnight riches.
While poverty spread like a plague through the overcrowded, immigrant- and cri-ridden slums of the Lower East Side.
This was an era of "Behemoths."
Whether it was Rockefeller's "Standard Oil," or Carnegie's "Steel Empire."
Or perhaps...
Lin Jie's gaze shifted into the distance, towards the imnse bronze statue towering on Liberty Island, appearing particularly magnificent in the morning light, having been erected not long ago.
The Statue of Liberty.
In his mories from his previous life, this was undoubtedly the most famous and symbolic landmark of the United States of Arica.
It was a gift from France, the first glimr of hope seen by countless immigrants crossing the ocean in pursuit of the "Arican Dream."
Yet, as he focused his gaze, an absurd chill born of historical alteration gripped his heart!
Because what that sacred statue held aloft in her raised right arm was not the torch of eternal liberty burning in his mory.
It was a colossal glass lightbulb, composed of hundreds of glaring incandescent bulbs.
That bulb stubbornly emitted a stark, aggressive white light even in the morning sun, proclaiming to the world an absolute illumination belonging to electricity.
On the base of that enormous bulb, a line of text engraved in a flamboyant font was particularly conspicuous. Its massive, comrcially-advertising lettering was even more attention-grabbing than the solemn expression on the goddess's face.
"Edison General Electric Company."
Lin Jie closed his eyes. He could already imagine that behind the bulb, the "ntor of Light" shrouded in countless halos was gazing down upon this city he was about to illuminate with a look that surveyed all creation.
This, was Thomas Edison's "Empire of Light."
Before setting foot on this land, leveraging his family's imnse influence in North Arica, Ethan had booked the Presidential Suite on the top floor of the Waldorf Astoria weeks in advance, boasting the best city views.
However, when their luxurious carriage bearing British consulate plates stopped before the hotel's entrance.
They were greeted with an apologetic, yet firm, "bad news."
"...My deepest apologies, Lord Redgrave." The hotel manager, a Frenchman in a tailcoat with slicked-back, powdered hair, bowed deeply to Ethan. "The suite you reserved is temporarily unavailable due to unexpected internal circuit maintenance."
"Circuit maintenance?" Ethan's brow imdiately furrowed. "Why wasn't I given any prior notification?"
"It was most sudden, and we are terribly sorry." The manager's face contorted into a smile uglier than a grimace. "But please rest assured, we have arranged an equally luxurious Ambassador Suite for you on the other side of the hotel, and all expenses for your stay will be covered in full by the hotel."
This seemingly sincere compensation offer, however, caused Ethan's face to darken.
He understood this was no re accident.
No hotel would dare change their reservation without prior notice and a reasonable explanation.
Unless...
Unless there was a "new guest" that even the Waldorf Astoria's board of directors could not afford to offend.
Ethan's gaze swept past the French manager's shoulder, scanning the hotel's opulent lobby.
And there he saw a group of n in black suits, their expressions severe.
And at the center of that group, a middle-aged businessman who looked like he'd stepped right off the cover of *The Wall Street Journal*.
On that businessman's chest, a pure gold tie pin clearly bore an emblem of a lightning bolt intertwined with a lightbulb.
"Edison General Electric Company..."
Ethan slowly uttered the na, his expression simring with anger.
This was a blatant show of force!
A public provocation from the electrical behemoth of the New World towards the aristocratic lion of the Old World!
The Brotherhood of Light was declaring to them, in this characteristically Arican-arrogant fashion.
This was New York.
This was *their* turf!
"Let's go."
Ethan ultimately chose not to make a scene.
On the ho ground of such a behemoth, any impulsive action would only play right into their hands.
Ethan gave one last look at the businessman laughing and chatting with the hotel directors, firmly committing that "successful man's" face to mory.
Then he turned and re-boarded the carriage.
But they soon realized this was rely the beginning.
Over the next few hours, they beca the city's most unwelco "plague."
Every top-tier restaurant, private club, and even opera house box Ethan had reserved through family channels was, without exception, cancelled last minute for a bizarre variety of "unexpected reasons."
Overnight, New York's high society had closed its doors to the surna "Redgrave."
They were isolated.
Pushed out from the illuminated side of the city by the tentacles of the behemoth known as the Brotherhood of Light, which were everywhere yet moved with silent subtlety.
"Our ntor of Light is pettier than we imagined." Inside the carriage, Ethan looked out at the prosperity that no longer belonged to him and smiled self-deprecatingly.
Lin Jie remained silent, his mind pondering a deeper question.
How had the Brotherhood of Light grasped their movents with such pinpoint accuracy?
Their North Arican trip was, after all, I.A.R.C.'s highest-level secret.
Apart from Sir Henderson and a select few in the North Arican branch, no outsider should have known.
Unless there existed one, or even multiple, traitors within I.A.R.C. itself!
This thought sent a chill down Lin Jie's spine.
Finally, after being "politely" turned away by all of New York's high society.
Lin Jie and Ethan had no choice but to head to their final, and only, destination for this journey.
Lower Manhattan, a private detective agency hidden among crowded apartnt buildings and noisy streets, disguised as a branch of the "Pinkerton National Detective Agency."
This was the safe house provided for them by the I.A.R.C. North Arican branch.
The man who greeted them looked like a classic "New Yorker" straight out of a Sherlock Hols story.
He was young, sharp, wore a poorly-fitting tweed jacket, had an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth, and spoke with the rapid-fire speed of a chattering Maxim gun.
"Oh, God, you're finally here! Na's Phineas, you can call Finn. Mr. Morgan has been waiting for you forever, though he won't admit it, I know he's about to chew his cigar to bits. Honestly, you Brits are just too darn slow!"
Talking a mile a minute, he led the two through an office cramd with files, filing cabinets, and eavesdropping equipnt, and opened a hidden door concealed behind a bookcase.
Behind the secret door lay an underground base saturated with a strong "science-side" aesthetic.
None of the mystical or classical decorations found in London's Underground City were visible here.
Gone were the softly glowing spiritual crystal lamps, replaced by rows of incandescent bulbs from Edison's company, emitting a harsh white light.
Gone were the etheric voice-pipes for long-distance communication, replaced by the latest Bell telegraph machines clicking away crisply.
Even the central intelligence analysis unit had transford from an alchemical difference engine powered by spiritual crystals into an electrical analyzer composed of countless vacuum tubes and relays!
This place was like a "future" version of Arthur's laboratory.
Brimming with the deconstruction of mystery and a fanatical worship of science.
"Welco to the New World."
Phineas declared, spreading his arms wide.
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