Chapter 44: Today's Main Quest (Please Continue Reading ~ Please Add to Favorites ~)

As Enni was about to set off, pushing his bicycle and clutching his manuscript, a sudden sound broke through the quiet hallway: footsteps accompanied by the wailing of a baby.

He instinctively turned around—the crying was all too familiar, like his morning alarm.

“Hello, the great writer of the Risser household!” Mrs. Karloff, who lived upstairs, was coming down the stairs cradling a rosy-cheeked infant. She was heading out to buy food and diapers.

“Good morning, Mrs. Karloff!” Enni greeted warmly.

“What’s the little one’s name?” she asked.

Besides the day Mrs. Karloff returned from the hospital after giving birth—when the whole family had come downstairs to help carry things—this was only the second time Enni had seen the baby.

Back then, the child was newborn and unnamed. Surely now he had a name.

Enni felt it necessary to know the child’s name. Someday, when the little one could walk and talk, he might tug him along and say, “Jimmy, you certainly made a racket waking me up!” Or perhaps some other common boy’s name.

Mrs. Karloff smiled. “His name is Will.”

Enni nodded with a smile. Seeing the chubby, adorable little one, he felt an urge to playfully ruffle him—human beings are at their most fascinating in infancy.

Noticing Enni’s eager expression, Mrs. Karloff laughed and handed Will over. “Let the great writer hold him—maybe Will will catch some literary spirit.”

Grinning, Enni took the bundled “alarm clock” Will into his arms and pinched the cherubic cheeks.

But as he leaned closer, a frown crept over his face. Will’s skin was unnaturally pink, almost alarmingly so.

“Wah—wah!” At that moment, Will’s mouth puckered and he began to cry.

“He’s teething lately, so he’s been fussy,” Mrs. Karloff said with a helpless smile. She brought the baby back and pulled a small bottle of white powder from her pocket, applying it to Will’s newly emerged baby teeth and gums.

Seeing the translucent white powder, Enni’s brow furrowed. “Mrs. Karloff, what is that?”

She continued applying the powder, smiling faintly. “It’s tooth powder I bought at the pharmacy. It should ease Will’s discomfort from teething and stop his crying…”

She paused, a troubled expression crossing her face. “Maybe I should get a more expensive kind. This one doesn’t seem very effective. He still cries a lot after I put it on.”

“Tooth powder…” Enni thought to himself. That’s not good!

His heart sank. Medical technology in this era was still rudimentary, and many health products were fraught with hidden dangers.

One infamous example from American history was the “radium water” incident between 1918 and 1930, when radioactive substances were mistakenly hailed as miracle cures, tragically causing countless deaths.

From what Enni knew, this “tooth powder” was no better.

Much like later herbal remedies, tooth powder could be made by anyone—whether from reputable hospitals or street vendors—claimed to alleviate babies’ teething pain and irritability.

But in truth, the most common ingredient in tooth powder was mercuric chloride, a toxic mercury compound.

Mercury harmed the body, making babies more restless and agitated after use, often causing their skin to turn a strange pink shade and damaging their nervous systems.

The more Enni thought about it, the more horrified he became. He wanted to tell Mrs. Karloff—don’t think about cultivating Will’s literary talents just yet. First, don’t let him use that tooth powder!

Just as Mrs. Karloff finished applying the powder and was about to cap the bottle and slip it back into her pocket, Enni acted swiftly and snatched it away.

Startled, Mrs. Karloff looked at him. Why was he grabbing Will’s tooth powder? Did he have teeth coming in too?

“Uh, well…” Enni scratched his head, a lightbulb moment striking him. “I have a friend studying chemistry at Columbia University. He has better tooth powder. I’ll bring a bottle for little Will next time.”

Mrs. Karloff’s face brightened with understanding, nodding gratefully. “Thank you so much.”

Enni thought to himself that arguing science would be useless. Instead, he’d buy some white hard candy from the Asimov family’s candy store, grind it into powder, and pass it off as “tooth powder.”

With that in mind, Enni couldn’t bear to look at Will’s unhealthy skin any longer. He mounted his bicycle and pedaled away, soon disappearing down the street.

Mrs. Karloff was left standing there, a bit flustered. “Hey, you should give me back that tooth powder before you go!”

…

Enni arrived at the Houghton Mifflin Publishing Company, locking his bicycle to an iron ring by the roadside. His thoughts lingered on little Will, who had been harmed by medicine even before leaving his swaddling clothes. A heavy melancholy weighed on his heart.

How many other infants were still suffering from these toxic substances?

But this was the limitation of the age—civilization’s growth always carried problems and mistakes, and the absurdities that arose were unavoidable.

Still, Enni knew that, despite the era’s harms, his personal power was too limited to ban tooth powder across America. Such a move would threaten countless vested interests.

Yet the thought would not leave him.

With his heart heavy, Enni stepped into the Houghton Mifflin offices.

Staff from The Atlantic Monthly saw him enter the editorial department and led him to Edward Weeks’s office.

Edward Weeks invited Enni to sit and poured him a cup of red tea.

Seeing Enni’s worried expression, he assumed it was over the recent review. “Need any help?”

Snapping back to the present, Enni shook his head and sipped his tea. “It’s not about the review. It’s just the Saturday Evening Post stirring up trouble as usual.”

Edward did not press further but turned to business. “Although The Bronx Story has received mixed reviews among the public, sales reports show this issue of The Atlantic Monthly has sold twenty percent more copies than usual. At this rate, it will sell out, so I’ve arranged to print an additional 50,000 copies.”

He tapped the Saturday Evening Post on the desk, smiling with a hint of irony. “Because of your novel, many immigrants and African Americans, who normally aren’t our usual readers, have bought copies. After that critical article appeared in the Post, sales are likely to rise further…”

“And besides that,” he added, “this issue has attracted a lot of science fiction enthusiasts!”

At those words, Enni smiled faintly. “Looks like The Dawn of Knowledge had quite the influence.”

Edward leaned back in his leather chair, enjoying his tea, recalling Enni’s confident pitch at Reggio’s Café—if Enni ever stopped writing novels, he’d be a business talent worth recruiting.

The two shared a smile as they sipped their tea.

Clearing his throat, Edward shifted to the most important matter of the day: “Are you working on any new stories?”

One word: deadline pressure!

…