Riding into the Johannesburg city, the group's sense of sight and smell was immediately tainted. In contrast to the neat and beautiful Pretoria, where the streets are narrow and dirty, and the smell of stinking is in the air throughout the city.

Johannesburg has about 100,000 residents, of which more than 50,000 are whites, the vast majority of whom are foreigners in the Boer population, and the rest are blacks, Malays, Indians and other servant slave classes. The Boers despised the city in their hearts, even though it brought tax revenue and wealth to their country. The Protestant, conservative and stubborn Boers treated people of color as inferior and disgusted even with white aliens. Disgusted with these uninvited guys poaching the wealth of their country, disgusted with outsiders not speaking Dutch, not liking pork, not going to Protestant church services, etc.

With this mentality, the Transvaal regime cut almost all public investment in Johannesburg, except for strengthening the police force stationed in the city. In addition, the Boers instituted targeted electoral policies that excluded the vast majority of whites in the city from civic power, even if some of them had lived for many years and even though they had paid their taxes in full.

Anne's relative was Brian, her maternal uncle and mother Tracy's own brother. She had never been to Johannesburg and only had a mailing address, so she had to inquire. In contrast to Pretoria, where the vast majority of people speak English, and if anyone speaks Dutch, they are immediately greeted with hostile glances.

Leading the horse through the dirty alleys and simple houses shows that Anne's uncle is in a bad situation.

"Excuse me, does Mr. Brian live here?"

Anne asked the little boy who was crouching on the ground looking at the ants.

"Mademoiselle, you're asking about the Irish madman Brian, the house on the very edge," the little boy looked up, and pointed to the room to the west, the latter sentence almost making Anne cry, "That poor fellow is about to be driven away by the landlord." ”

"Oh, God, little Annie, how did you find it yourself?"

Hearing the conversation in the courtyard, a white man in his thirties rushed out of the room, stretched out his arms, and a bear hugged Anne.

"Uncle Brian, didn't I miss you, so I came over directly."

Anne broke free from her uncle's arms, sniffed at Brian's body, and asked dissatisfiedly.

"Brian, how long has it been since you've taken a shower?"

"Huh"

The man smiled awkwardly, turned his head to see two men standing in the yard with horses, and immediately changed the subject.

"Thank you for escorting Anne here."

"Uncle Brian, let's hurry up and help us find a place to live, and then fill our stomachs."

Anne was a little coquettish in her words, she should have been very close before.

Liang Hong stood by and watched, Brian may be in a bad financial situation at the moment, but judging by the monocle hanging around his neck, he may be well-educated. Looking at the house where he lived, there was an iron rod standing outside the window, which was five or six meters high. Could it be that this is an antenna? The nickname of the Irish madman, where the madness is, he really wants to go into the house to see what is going on.

Accommodation was arranged at the nearby Golden Carriage Inn, where dinner was served at Brian's quarters, and meat and bottled wine were bought from the deli at the entrance of the lane. Johannesburg's taverns are said to be dangerous, with frequent fights and almost everyone carrying guns, which Liang Hong feels is a lot like cowboy bars in American Westerns. This city has no sense of belonging, so it is all here to pan for gold for a short time, and it is mixed with more outlaws.

"I'm sorry, Annie, for wronging you and your friends."

Brian stood up and picked up his glass, his face full of apologies. Liang Hong saw that he was in a hurry to settle the bill at the deli, which made Brian feel that he had lost face to Anne.

"Uncle Brian, it's good here, too, we don't want to get into a fight with a drunkard in a tavern." Anne reassured.

Paul was eating with his head down, and everyone here spoke English, which he didn't understand. Liang Hong was looking at the room, the room was very messy, and there were many books piled up in the corner, most of them were science and engineering books, especially in electricity. The windows were open for ventilation, and there were wires on the windowsills that connected the inside and outside, the outside seemed to connect the iron rod, and the inside to the large coil on the desk. In addition to the coils, the two copper ball columns that are very close to each other are also quite eye-catching, and the wires are connected under the columns.

Having studied radio at the artillery academy, he quickly understood the principle of the whole set. The coil is energized to generate electromagnetic attraction, and the suction switch is powered off. When the electromagnetic force disappears, the switch falls and turns on again, so that the coil generates electromagnetic attraction again. If the cycle is repeated, the coil on the other side will generate high-voltage alternating current, and the two copper balls will be continuously discharged to produce electric sparks. The alternating current causes the coil to induce electromagnetic waves, which travel down the antenna into the air. This device, which is supposed to be a rudimentary spark transmitter, was publicly demonstrated by the Italian Marconi in 1896.

"Alas, it's all uncle's uselessness, your mother provided for me to go to college, but her daughter came, and I actually-"

Brian, on the other hand, said excitedly, and fell on the table and choked up. Anne wanted to persuade, but she didn't know how to persuade her, so she could only wipe her tears from the side.

"Annie, what is Brian's major in college?" Liang Hong turned around and asked suddenly.

"Physics at the City College of New York."

Anne replied coldly. If you're in a bad mood, who has the heart to take care of you, let alone an indigenous servant.

"Mr. Brian, you're working on a spark transmitter, aren't you?"

Liang Hong glanced at Annie, simply patted Brian on the shoulder, and asked the party directly.

"How do you know the name?"

Brian looked up at Liang Hong as if he had been shocked.

"Not only do you know the name, but you also know the truth in it."

"I don't believe you, you're just an indigenous." Brian's voice bordered on screaming.

So, the natives, who had once despised, stood in front of the radio and talked about electromagnetic forces, alternating currents, electric sparks, and the electromagnetic waves induced into the distance. Every time he spoke a principle, the result he produced was like being stripped of a robe in public.

"You have two major flaws in this transmitter." Liang Hong said.

"Flawed?"

Brian asked suspiciously, if Liang Hong had said this earlier, he would definitely turn his face and blow people out.

More than 100 years later, the spark transmitter had long since been obsolete, but at the end of the 19th century, it was the subject of advanced research. Brian's device, compared to Marconi's most mature design, lacked a detection loop and was overly dispersed. In addition, Marconi used a huge antenna array to finally succeed in sending and receiving messages across the Atlantic. In addition to these two points, there is actually a non-technical factor, that is, economic. At the end of the 19th century, there were neither electron tubes nor transistors, and radio transmissions could only rely on high power, which was a gold-consuming beast compared to the power industry at this time.

Using an antenna array and high power, Brian thought of it, but didn't have the financial means. As for the detector circuit, he had hardly heard of it, and at the moment he put down his shelf and sincerely asked for advice. As a result, a nephew reunion was transformed into a radio professional seminar.

Anne sat and watched coldly until the two of them said they were tired, and then suddenly asked with a straight face.

"Liang, who the hell are you?"

The room was silent, and it was strange to Anne and Brian. Liang Hong decided to tell part of the truth, got up and closed the window, and only then answered.

"I'm actually the leader of the Ming tribe, that is, the Farr tribe."

Compared with Anne, he values Brian, who is obsessed with research, and believes that under the guidance of the knowledge of the times, he will surpass Marconi and develop a radio weapon that can meet his needs.

"What about him," Anne said, pointing to Paul.

"White employees."

"No wonder you feel weird on the road."

Liang Honghan, fortunately, it is not in the afterlife, otherwise this sentence will be ambiguous.

"Liang, what you know is very advanced, and I'm sure even in Europe, very few people understand it." This time it was Brian asking.

"This, the white teacher invited by the tribe, happens to be proficient."

It's a far-fetched explanation, everyone has secrets, and Brian can't continue to ask.

The room was awkward, and Liang Hong suddenly remembered that Holland, the pioneer of the submarine, was also Irish, and had also emigrated to the United States. Maybe they've heard of it, maybe they even know it.

"Mr. Brian, I have heard from my teacher that there is a famous Irish man in the United States who wants to inquire with you."

"What's his name? Also studying electromagnetic waves? Brian was surprised, "I must know someone who studies electromagnetic waves, and if it were an Irishman who did other studies, he would have heard of it even if he didn't know it." ”

"That gentleman's name is Holland, and he specializes in submarines."

"John Philip Holland"

In unison, both Anne and Brian called out Holland's full name.

"Great, you all know each other, it seems that the teacher is right."

Liang Hong was very excited, teacher, not necessarily a real person, the same is true for books.

"This person just heard that it seems to be cooperating with the U.S. Navy." This is Anne's answer.

"The character is very poor." That's Brian's answer.

"Poor character?"

Liang Hong is a little confused, a person who concentrates on research, how bad can his character be? And in the biography, it seems that he is still a nationalist who once helped the organization of the Irish independence movement to develop submarines. What was the name of the organization, he struggled to remember.

"Yes, it's Fenian."

He remembered it, and couldn't help but say it out of his mouth.

"How do you know the name?"

Brian asked sharply, nervous, with a dinner knife in his hand.

If you ask me how I know, I can't say I'm looking at historical sources. The Fenian Society seems to have started up with the Irish in the United States, and Brian went to college in the United States, so could it be that he is-

Liang Hong looked at Brian who looked nervous again, and was even more sure of this guess.

"In fact, there are many people who don't like the UK, and there are also many people who want to be separated from the UK, Canadians, Australians, even Scots and Welsh, and of course you Irish."

Liang Hong's answer was very vague, but there was a clear meaning, that is, I also did not like the UK. In order to make it clearer, another sentence was added.

"The British also killed a lot of people in Africa, the Zulu in Natal, the Mashona in Rhodesia, the Khoikhoi in the Cape Colony, and even the San in the middle of nowhere."

Speaking of the San people, he remembered that Hora saw the vicious eyes of the white people, and the seeds of hatred planted would take root in his heart. The nearest source of the Irish hatred of the British is probably the viciousness of the British during the famine in Ireland in the mid-nineteenth century.

"Oh, it seems that you Africans hate the British, too."

Brian relaxed slightly, not admitting or denying his relationship with the Fenian Society. But he forgot about Anne, who was sitting next to him, until he heard the girl's sharp questioning.

"Uncle Brian, didn't you swear to your mother that you would never participate in those dangerous activities again?"

Brian just smiled wryly awkwardly, which was equivalent to acquiescence.