Patent law. So how could I make that work in this era?
"Could you run that by me one more time, Young Master? I think my hearing is starting to go," Felix asked, blinking rapidly.
The three of us—Felix, Vitruvius, and I—were sitting in the meeting room.
As always, the insula we used as our headquarters was bustling with the sounds of employees hard at work.
"I'm talking about Spurius, the guy who designed the new streetlights. We need to give him a more substantial reward. Handing him a lump sum of cash is fine, but on top of that, we should give him a share of the revenue every time we manufacture one of his lanterns and..."
"Have you completely lost your mind?!" Felix shouted, slamming his hand on the table.
"We don't even make a profit from the streetlights! And you want to give him a cut every single time we make one?!"
"We are getting a return on it. By tying the streetlights to our fire insurance, policy sales have increased, not to mention how much it has helped my political standing."
"That doesn't mean you can just throw money away! Are you going to give up part of our revenue every time an engineer at the technical school invents something new?"
"Exactly. That is precisely my plan."
As always, Felix caught on immediately.
Hearing my answer, Felix's jaw dropped, and he just gaped at me, speechless.
"Vitruvius, please talk some sense into him. Tell the Young Master to drop this absurd idea immediately..."
However, Vitruvius remained silent, wearing a thoughtful expression. Despite Felix's desperate plea, he simply looked at me.
"Sir, what exactly is it that you're envisioning?"
"A company where the person who invents a new technology is granted a proportional share of the profits it generates. Let's call that a patent."
I explained.
It was an alien concept to the people of this era, but the basic idea wasn't hard to grasp.
If someone developed a new technology, you legally recognized their share of the profits from it.
"Are you planning to propose this as a law to the Assembly or the Senate, similar to your trademark law?"
"No, I have no intention of doing that. No one would vote for it anyway."
"They certainly wouldn't. They'd probably think you were just trying to establish a monopoly over all new technologies," Vitruvius agreed.
I nodded instead of replying.
Vitruvius was spot on.
I barely managed to push the trademark law through. Passing something as radical as a patent law would be virtually impossible.
Even if by some miracle it passed, the current Rome lacked the officials to enforce it.
If we tried inspecting every blacksmith and merchant in the Republic, there'd be riots in the streets by nightfall.
Instead, I had chosen a different route.
"But I can enforce it within my own company," I said.
"If someone at the technical school develops a new technology, and we generate revenue from that product, we give the inventor a fixed share of the profits back to the inventor. Not forever, of course. About ten years should be sufficient."
"But then we'd be the only ones taking a loss! Other merchants will just copy our designs for free. Crassus, for one, absolutely will."
Felix replied.
"I'm all for rewarding the inventor, but there's no need to hand over that much money. No one else in Rome offers that kind of compensation."
"Think about it, Felix. As we've already proven with the watermills, we can manufacture goods far more efficiently than anyone else."
If we could beat them through sheer scale, then giving up a small slice of the pie to the inventors wasn't a problem.
In fact, it would ultimately lead to much greater profits.
"Felix, don't you realize what sir Caesar is actually proposing here?" Vitruvius asked, turning his head.
"If he genuinely implements this policy... engineers won't just flock to him from Rome. They'll come from all across Italy—no, from every corner of the known world. Anyone with a shred of talent will be begging to work for Caesar."
"That is exactly my plan."
I nodded with a grin.
Just as the brightest minds flocked to Silicon Valley in pursuit of the American Dream, I was going to create a new dream.
Though "the Roman Dream" sounded a little awkward.
"If someone develops a groundbreaking technology or product, they'll bring the idea straight to me. Because if we manufacture it, the inventor is guaranteed to become far wealthier than they had ever dreamed."
"And by using our more efficient production methods, you'll monopolize the market before anyone else can even react," Vitruvius muttered in awe.
Felix still looked unconvinced, but the sheer panic had faded from his face.
"And I have one more thing planned."
"There's more?!"
"Guaranteeing a share of the profits is one way to secure new inventions... but we also need a way to ensure our most talented people never want to leave."
I stood up from my chair.
The last election had already proven my theory.
The more laborers I employed, the more political supporters I gained.
And I didn't need to be a ruthless sweatshop boss to turn a massive profit.
Capturing the hearts of the Roman citizens was far more valuable.
"Let's call an all-hands meeting. Assemble every single employee we have."
It was time to show my workers a dream they could all share.
***
"I heard you got promoted! Your wife must be excited."
"Well, yeah. Something like that."
Spurius scratched the back of his head, brushing off his colleagues' playful congratulations.
After his lantern design was repurposed as the signal brazier for the new Ostia Towers, Spurius had been marked for rapid promotion.
Starting out as a mere student at the school, he had climbed up the ranks and now answered directly to Vitruvius.
Utilizing his extensive military experience, he supervised operations on the ground and ordered whatever structural changes were needed on the spot.
One day, while he was buried in his work, a sudden order arrived from above.
Every student at the technical school, the insurance clerks, and even the off-duty factory workers were ordered to assemble at the Campus Martius.
"We're already drowning in work. Why call a gathering out of nowhere?"
"It's been a while since I've been to the Campus Martius. Wow, do we really have this many employees?"
Everyone knew Caesar employed a massive workforce, but this was the first time they had all been gathered in one place.
"You think he's going to give a speech? We've got a lot of massive constructions going on right now."
"Between the insurance, the Palmolive, the streetlights, and now these massive towers..."
"I heard your son is working on the tower construction crew?"
Well over a thousand laborers and engineers chattered amongst themselves as they waited for Caesar to arrive.
Spurius was standing in the middle of the crowd when Vitruvius suddenly called him up to the front of the rostrum.
"You asked for me, sir?"
"Sir Caesar will be arriving shortly. Be ready."
"Ready? Ready for what—?"
Just then, a young patrician dressed in a white toga stepped onto the makeshift rostrum.
The moment Lucius Caesar appeared, the noisy field fell silent at once.
Even the citizens exercising on the far side of the Campus Martius stopped what they were doing and watched with curious eyes.
"My dear fellow citizens! I apologize for pulling you all away from your busy schedules. I promise not to drag this speech out. As we all know, we have a lot of work to do," Caesar began, his tone light and conversational, accompanied by a smile.
"As many of you are aware, I have been elected to the vigintisexviri, and as a result, the construction of the towers connecting Ostia and Rome is well underway."
Spurius kept his mouth shut and watched Caesar.
He had seen the young patrician from afar a few times, but this was the first time he had been this near him.
Unlike the booming, theatrical speeches of someone like Pompey, Caesar's address felt informal and sincere, which ironically made it feel much more intimate.
"None of this would have been possible without your tireless efforts. But among you, there is one man I wish to express my special gratitude to today."
Caesar's gaze swept over the crowd before landing on Spurius.
Under the sudden weight of that stare, Spurius swallowed hard.
"Spurius! The brilliant mind who engineered our streetlights and the signal braziers for the towers. Please, step up."
Spurius flinched.
Vitruvius had told him to be ready, but he hadn't expected this at all.
As he stood frozen in shock, Vitruvius shoved him in the back.
"What are you doing? Get up there!"
"B-But..."
Stumbling forward, Spurius awkwardly climbed onto the stage.
Caesar greeted him with a warm smile and stepped closer.
"I was told you previously served as a legionary under Pompey's command, Spurius."
"Y-Yes, sir! I did."
Spurius stammered. Hundreds of his colleagues were staring right at him.
It was almost impossible to form a coherent thought under the pressure of all those eyes.
"You designed the new street lanterns and the tower braziers. You have not only done great service for me, but for every single citizen in Rome."
At Caesar's gesture, Felix stepped forward and handed over a heavy, clinking coin purse and a rolled-up papyrus scroll.
Before Spurius could even hesitate, the items were pressed into his hands.
"Inside that purse is 50,000 sesterces. A token of my personal gratitude. But more important is what is written on that scroll. That is..."
As Caesar explained the terms, Spurius's jaw hit the floor.
And he wasn't the only one shocked.
Frenzied whispers erupted across the Campus Martius as Caesar's words registered with the crowd.
"He's going to pay Spurius money for every single lantern forged over the next ten years?! Is that even possible?!"
"Why in the gods' names is Caesar doing that?!"
As the chaotic murmurs swept through the crowd, Caesar turned away from the shocked Spurius and addressed the employees once more.
"And I have one more announcement for all of you today!"
***
I looked out over the sea of faces in the field.
It had been pretty rowdy just a minute ago.
But after I announced the patent policy, you could hear a pin drop.
Meanwhile, the man named Spurius still looked utterly stunned.
Did I spring it on him too suddenly?
Well, it would ruin the surprise if I told him in advance.
And the same went for my next announcement.
There had once been a famed merchant group in China: the Shanxi merchants.
Starting from tiny storefronts, they grew into economic giants that practically controlled the entire Chinese economy.
The secret to their explosive growth was their innovative ways of rewarding their employees.
A primitive form of worker profit-sharing was one of those core policies.
And it was exactly what I was about to introduce.
"Starting today, every single person employed under me will be granted a 'Labor Share'—pars industriae."
"Labor Share? What the hell is that?"
Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Naturally, they couldn't even begin to guess what it meant.
It was a financial concept that literally didn't exist yet.
"From senior managers to shop clerks and factory laborers, everyone will be assigned a certain number of shares. The amount will be determined by your tenure, your duties, and the value of your work," I continued.
But the important part was this.
"At the end of each accounting period, some of the profits remaining after expenses will be distributed to you as dividends. This, of course, is entirely separate from your regular wages."
"..."
The silence that followed was even heavier than before.
Did I explain it too poorly?
This share system was slightly different from modern company shares, but the core concept wasn't that hard to grasp.
Every worker gets shares based on their rank and performance, and they receive a slice of the profits proportional to those shares.
Obviously, I wasn't giving away the entire company's profits or control of the company, but the dividends would still be a very lucrative bonus for them.
"Anyone who works for me is eligible to earn these shares, and when your service ends, the shares naturally expire and return to the company."
As the baffled silence dragged on, one man finally shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Then if the business takes a loss, do we have to pay out of our own pockets to cover it?!"
"No."
I shook my head. If that were the case, every single employee would quit on the spot.
"Those who hold shares are only entitled to the profits. You will not be held responsible for any losses."
"..."
The employees kept their mouths shut, exchanging glances with each other.
Did they still need more explanation?
Just as I opened my mouth to clarify further, another man yelled from the back.
"Why would you go so far to share your wealth with us?!"
His shout prompted a wave of vigorous nods from the rest of the crowd.
"If you give us all this money, what's left for you?!"
I couldn't help but laugh at their genuine distress.
An employer offering to share his profits, and his employees worrying about him in return.
It was hardly an everyday sight.
But my reason behind this choice was incredibly simple.
As long as I had my knowledge of the future, I could keep generating wealth.
But hoarding mountains of gold meant nothing by itself.
Gold was just shiny metal. How you spent that money was what truly mattered.
I was buying goodwill and turning it into political power.
But I hardly needed to explain this truth to them.
Come to think of it, Alexander the Great was once asked a very similar question.
When he gave away almost all of his royal estates and wealth to his generals, someone asked him:
My king, what have you kept for yourself?
Alexander answered with a single word.
Hope.
I gazed out at my employees and offered a warm smile.
"What is left for me? I have all of you."
Yeah, that ought to be sentimental enough to work.
As the crowd erupted into excited, impassioned cheers, Felix greeted me.
"I still don't understand, Young Master. You've just given up a staggering amount of profit today. I can't even begin to estimate how much money you'll be giving away in the future."
"You have to spend money to make money, Felix."
I shrugged casually.
Besides, winning my employees' loyalty wasn't my only goal here.
"No one in Roman history has ever made an announcement like this."
Or more accurately, this kind of organization had never existed before.
Ever since I launched the fire insurance business, I had been slowly building a type of organization the Romans had never seen.
It was literally Rome's first true corporation.
In the future, countless others would try to copy and imitate me.
I was effectively defining the standard everyone else would have to follow.
"If I'm distributing this much wealth to my employees, how do you think the other publicani are going to react?"
"Well..." Felix muttered, trailing off.
A second later, his eyes widened in sheer horror.
"Don't tell me... you were targeting your competitors?"
"Exactly. I can keep creating new sources of profit. But the others can't."
What happens when they have to compete with me on price and new ideas, while simultaneously being forced to match the rewards I was offering my workers?
I couldn't even imagine what kind of a ruthless new commercial order was about to emerge.
"Of the Romans, by the Romans, for the Romans."
This shall be our creed.
The words that will shake Rome itself.
I couldn't help but wonder what Lincoln would think if he heard that.