I Became a Plague Doctor in a Romance Fantasy Novel

Episode 73. Summer Retreat, and the Conference (3)

Episode 73. Summer Retreat, and the Conference (3)

Professor Asterix, having said his piece, leisurely left the conference hall. He’d handed out the blue mold strain, but…

The conference had already lost all semblance of order. The conference facilitator and the next presenter were the only ones left scratching their heads with troubled expressions.

Of course, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. But I didn’t think it would be this much of a shitshow. The academy probably thought, that professor isn’t going to make a groundbreaking, conference-ruining discovery every time.

They were wrong.

Completely the opposite.

That last presentation might have been the most shocking presentation in the history of medicine. Maybe that’s why… people were abandoning ship left and right.

At least the ones leaving quietly were a blessing.

Some were shouting and arguing in their seats. The next presenter and the moderator tried to restore order, but the commotion just wouldn’t die down.

The blue mold strain that professor handed out in the conference room, it was like a fragment of the Holy Grail.

There were plenty of people calling Asterix a fraud, of course, but they weren’t calming the chaos; they were adding to it.

“Okay, everyone. Professor Asterix has left, so let’s move on to the next presentation—”

The moderator raised his hands. But hardly anyone was listening to him.

“Is that what’s important right now?”

“Are you serious? It’s probably just a stunt, some prop to ruin the conference!”

“Isn’t it logically sound that a mold could produce a substance that kills bacteria, competing with them? We need verification!”

The academy was divided. Those who believed antibiotics might exist and those who thought Professor Asterix was just a con artist.

Voices rose from both sides. The audience was already standing, ready to ask questions and get their vial of the strain. The chaos grew even worse.

“The most important things are the health of patients and their lifestyles. Only swindlers sell panaceas! This professor is no different!”

“Then you hand over your strain first, professor.”

“No, isn’t it necessary to verify how wrong he is? We need to grow it ourselves.”

“Look, professor. If we’re going to do the experiments like Professor Asterix said, why are you yelling and fighting now?”

“I’m just angry at this fraud!”

“That’s how it was when he announced the bacteria too, probably.”

“If that guy shows up, the whole conference grinds to a halt. Shouldn’t we ban him from entering?”

A rather sharp reply came back. The audience was a mess of people shuffling and arguing. The moderator pinched his forehead again.

“Professor Asterix, it’s been more than ten minutes since he left… it’s not him who’s paralyzing the conference, it’s us…”

The moderator sat down in a nearby seat. Jeez, could they even resume the conference today?

Asterix, that goddamn b*stard. If he was gonna do this, he could’ve at least stayed and taken questions. He set the whole place on fire and then just leisurely walked out.

Maybe he’s just got a weird personality, this guy. Regardless of his academic stance, he just seemed like a really strange person.

Caw-

The penicillin presentation was over. I don’t know what happened at Whitby’s conference hall after I left. Probably a complete disaster, right?

Here I am, at a cafe near Whitby Castle, with a view of the sea. Amy and I were sitting by the window.

A few seagulls flew by outside.

Actually, I call it a cafe, but it’s more like a tea shop. They do sell coffee, though, so it’s a cafe to me.

Amy was sipping her black tea. But she seemed pretty tense after the conference presentation. She was still anxiously looking around.

“You really messed things up back there…”

“What, at the conference?”

Amy nodded.

“Yeah.”

“That’s just how it is.”

“There’s no way that’s how it is, though, is there?”

Well. I thought about it. It usually turned out that way when I attended conferences. I mean, I’ve never been to a conference I *didn’t* attend, so.

I originally thought these kinds of conferences were a bit more free-wheeling, with people yelling and challenging each other’s presentations, but I guess not?

Amy hasn’t been to many conferences either.

“Um. Other professors and researchers, they’re people too, right? If something truly groundbreaking or desirable is floating around, that kind of reaction is inevitable.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. Plus, they were handing out strains.”

Amy tilted her head, and I don’t know how to put it, but the impact of the presentation is definitely important.

“There’s this thing called paradigm theory. It says scientific progress doesn’t happen gradually, or step-by-step…”

“Yes.”

“Right. So, people look at the world through a fixed framework called a paradigm. Even if there are one or two theories that break out of that framework, they’ll try to fit it back into the existing paradigm.”

“I guess so?”

“It’s not about saying what’s correct, right? You could come up with a correct theory, but it’s just a square peg half-jammed into a round hole.”

“A rough stone.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

It’s not about saying what’s correct. The key is to smash the existing theoretical paradigm to make room for a new paradigm.

It’s not that the existing paradigm is wrong and that’s why it needs to be smashed. The existing paradigm was likely the best answer based on what was known.

It’s just that we’ve learned something new, so the existing theory needs to change.

It’s just, the time for a generational shift has come.

“Then what’s important?”

“To not be trapped by the paradigm. To break down existing theories, and to ensure new theories can be used clinically and researched.”

Science is riddled with ‘what ifs.’

The Song Dynasty in China invented steam engines a thousand years ago. Hell, even the Romans in Egypt made similar contraptions before that.

But these civilizations never really used their inventions, never grasped their true potential, never industrialized.

They just thought they were neat and moved on.

In the Song Dynasty, and in Rome too.

If they had recognized the true value of the steam engine, if they had collaborated with the powerful to distribute it across the empire, to study it, history might have taken a different course.

It’s the same with penicillin.

“Ah. So, is that why you present things in that way? For maximum shock value?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s… unconventional.”

Even those who dislike me or don’t believe my theories… they’ll have to cling to my papers, if only to try and refute them.

Amy gazed out at the distant ocean.

“Most of academia is still debating germ theory. Before the textbooks are even revised, if a drug that can selectively kill bacteria starts clinical trials within a few years…”

“The paradigm won’t survive it.”

They’ll have to rewrite all the textbooks on healing and physiology from beginning to end.

“I’m so glad I found my way to your lab, Professor!”

Amy’s face lit up, and I nodded. The goal is to change the world in the way I can. For the best, as much as possible.

Meanwhile. Violet.

‘Time to skim some research funding.’

Violet, a royal healer. The Royal Medical Corps, though not large, treats patients in the palace and its surroundings, and conducts research too.

A peculiarity: not many people have access to the palace, so the number of patients they actually see is also limited.

Violet was sitting in a corner of a borrowed classroom at Whitby University for the day. With two other royal healers.

The royal healers were staring at moldy bread. The royal court had sent three healers to this conference. These were them.

“Thanks to this thing they gave out at the conference, I think we can get more research funding. I reported it that way to the court.”

Violet had received her sample of blue mold a few days early, but the conclusion was the same.

In Violet’s view, it was like this:

Under the guise of research, you could cut down on patient-seeing time, secure research funding, and demand more staff.

“But…is this real?”

Violet shrugged. Whether it was real or not, there was no way for Violet to know. They’d find out once they returned and did research.

“Well…Professor Asterix, I’ve probably worked with him the longest. We’ve been together since I joined the royal court. But, I’ve never seen him be wrong.”

This time too, it would probably be correct without any twist. That’s what Violet thought.

“The claim that they accidentally found a magic silver bullet that kills disease… It’s not easy to believe, but it’s worth researching.”

The royal healers nodded. Violet moved on to the most important topic.

“I was getting self-conscious about not having any research projects, not seeing patients, and still collecting a research allowance. With this, we can get by for a few months, right?”

“That’s true.”

The royal healers nodded.

It was completely true. The results of research were important, but more important was getting paid for doing it.

A silver bullet, well. It would be good if they could create it. And if they couldn’t, the next generation of researchers might find it.