In 1989, the great-grandson of a famous 19th century author sold his ancestor's house. While clearing out the place, he had to get rid of an old, bronze safe, the keys to which had been lost, and which was believed to be empty anyways.
They cracked it with a blowtorch and, to their surprise, found a stack of papers inside. Tucked beneath a few sheets of linen lay an unpublished manuscript and it was time for the world to see it.
Jules Verne's novel Paris in the Twentieth Century , published by Random House, is simultaneously less significant than some publicity has implied, while still a work of inestimable historical importance. Purely as a work of literature, Paris in the Twentieth Century lacks the qualities of the best novels that have insured Verne's reputation for over a century. Nonetheless, Paris in the Twentieth Century will be of interest to readers for two primary reasons, because of its prophecies, but even more because of its early position in the development of dystopian science fiction.
The saga of the discovery of the manuscript of Paris au XXe Siècle , and its publication in France in the fall of 1994, were widely chronicled all over the world. In the United States, at the time, the story was told on network news shows, National Public radio, and periodicals from the New York Times to the National Inquirer , as well as such scholarly journals as Science-Fiction Studies (Arthur B. Evans, "The 'New' Jules Verne," SFS 22:35-46, #65, March 1995). Paris au XXe Siècle was quickly translated and published in many countries in the intervening two years, although the English translation has been one of the slowest to appear.
On the most basic, surface level, Paris in the Twentieth Century is an astonishing book for its depiction of the modern age. Written in 1863, the story is set in the Paris of the 1960s. Paris in the Twentieth Century concerns a 16-year-old, Michel Dufrénoy, who graduates, with a devotion to literature and the classics, but finds they have been forgotten in a futuristic world where only technological writing is favored. The officially sanctioned creativity is government sponsorship of the arts, resulting in lowbrow theater for the masses, composed along the lines of the mass-produced collaborations of the 1930s Hollywood studio system. Dufrénoy's alienation is, in fact, inspired by Verne's own situation; at the time, to support his family, he was writing in the mornings before spending his days working at the Paris Stock Market, which he loathed.
Even before his eerily accurate prediction of the Apollo moon landing, he thought of a Paris in 1960 that could have hardly come any closer to the reality that followed:
A circular metro train system would take people through the vastly spread-out city on separate tracks, using a mix of compressed air and magnetic levitation - like a modern subway or even a Hyperloop. Colleges hosted hundreds of thousands of students, mostly with the goal of them pursuing careers in science, business, and technology. Arts were somewhat forgotten. Street lanterns came on automatically at night, thanks to electric light. Gas cabs would run on a pressured mix of air and hydrogen, which was lit to power an engine with a drive shaft, replaced horse-drawn carriages. And you could fill up at gas hydrants at parking spots. Elevators carried clerks at large bookstores up and down through endless aisles of shelves, even relieved people from taking the stairs at home. The mass production of everything has made life comfortable, luxurious, and cheap, if somewhat dull. Furthermore, he talks about skyscrapers, fax machines, even simple computers and a network that sounds like the internet. He mentions alarm systems, wind energy, weapons of mass destruction and the electric chair. It's a dystopian vision, but a precise one nonetheless.
What's most astonishing is that Verne didn't pull any of these out of his imaginary hat. All he did was to mentally fast forward the best science and technology had to offer at the time. The man was a master extrapolator.
That's why he missed some rather basic things, like the typewriter, invented in 1867. But those are nothing compared to the giant, Copernican mistake his publisher made when Verne showed him his initial draft.
Like many of us, when confronted with the wild dreams of visionaries, he said:
"No one today will believe your prophecy."
A Good Clean Lesson Rabbi Epstein received a call from a wealthy businessman who was interested in exploring Judaism, but had many questions. He asked if Rabbi Epstein could pay him a visit at the office, which he obliged.
The next day, Rabbi Epstein pulled up to an enormous manufacturing facility which produced soaps and other household cleaners. The company president, Aaron Miller was there to greet him.
"Thank you for coming rabbi," Mr. Miller said. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?"
After some small talk Mr. Miller said, "Rabbi, please help me answer this question that I've been thinking about: what good is religion, really? Look at all the trouble and misery in the world! Even after thousands of years of religions teaching about goodness and truth and love and peace, there's still war and deceit and so many terrible things. If Judaism is true, why should this be?"
Rabbi Epstein just stroked his beard in thought.
They continued walking until he noticed a child playing in the gutter. Rabbi Epstein said, "Look at that child. You say that soap makes people clean, but see the dirt on that youngster. Of what good is soap? With all the soap in the world, over all these years, the child is still filthy. I wonder how effective soap is, after all!"
Mr. Miller, president of a soap company protested, "But Rabbi, soap can't do any good unless it is used!"
"Exactly," replied the Rabbi. "Exactly."
