Emi hugged her notebook, finally unable to hold it in any longer.
"Satsuki-chan, can I talk now?"
"Go ahead."
Satsuki continued walking forward, her voice kept very low.
"What did you think of those three people just now?"
Emi answered quickly.
"The first one was boring."
She paused for a moment, then added, "I do not mean he is bad. He is solid, but his direction is too outdated. It is like someone constantly repairing a bridge that will never be expanded."
Satsuki nodded.
"And the third one?"
"Very impressive."
Emi hugged her notebook tighter, her fingertips pressing against the cover.
"But I am not sure to what extent. He was interrupted. Their hardware is terrible, yet they can still run things so well."
She began to speak faster.
"If what he said is true, that scheduling method is significantly more efficient than the solution I am currently using under certain conditions. But I need more data to be sure he is not exaggerating."
"And it is not that they are better in every aspect, just that their solution is stronger under certain extreme conditions."
"Extreme conditions?"
"Nodes break, lines slow down, messages get lost, acknowledgments get delayed, and the machines are very old."
Emi exhaled, looking at the opposite bank.
"Normal people would try to get the system as close to an ideal state as possible before running it. But not them; they seem to assume from the start that the system will fail."
She opened her notebook, showing it to Satsuki by the light of a streetlamp.
The first page had "Old Machines" written on it, with an X drawn next to it.
The second page had a few circles: "Synchronization Barrier," "Dynamic Window," "ACK Compression."
The third page had the phrase "Impossible," which was heavily crossed out.
Next to it, it was changed to: "Unless they design by treating failure as the normal state."
Satsuki's gaze lingered on this line.
Design by treating failure as the normal state.
That phrase certainly had a Soviet flavor to it.
The wind blew over, and the pages fluttered slightly.
Emi quickly pressed down on the edge of the notebook.
Satsuki did not reach out to take it, just asked in a low voice, "If we were to use it, would it have value?"
Emi was quiet for two seconds.
"Yes."
She rarely gave such a quick judgment on technical issues.
"But not for direct use. Their stuff was forced out by terrible hardware; it is very rough, but the logic is beautiful."
She looked up, her eyes shining brilliantly under the dim streetlamp.
"Satsuki-chan, we have better hardware now, more stable networks, and a cleaner environment. If we transplant their approach to handling failures into our system, it could turn into something terrifying."
Satsuki was lost in thought.
"And the second one?"
Emi went quiet.
This time, she did not answer immediately.
The wind over the river ruffled the hair on her forehead a little.
She tucked her pencil back into the notebook and shook her head.
"The second one was held back by someone, so I am not sure either."
"She originally wanted to say more."
"Yes."
"What do you think the direction is?"
"Communication protocols, fault tolerance, redundant coding." Emi thought for a moment. "But the way she looked at that roll of drawings was off. The draft in her hand was for us to hear, but the real stuff might be in that roll of drawings."
Satsuki did not press further.
They continued walking along the riverbank.
Snowflakes landed on their coat shoulders, quickly melting into tiny droplets of water.
In the distance, Shuichi stopped under a streetlamp, looking at the opposite bank of the river.
Fujita's people had carved out an unobtrusive empty space around them.
Occasionally, pedestrians passed by, naturally walking around them.
Satsuki looked at the black river water.
"Emi."
"Yes."
"After we get back, organize the things from today and give me a report."
"Okay!"
"Do not write down sensitive judgments."
Emi froze for a moment.
Satsuki looked at her.
"In the room, only write technical summaries of what can be written. If it can be explained by public data, write it according to public data. Keep the real conclusions in your head."
Emi blinked, then nodded vigorously.
"Understood!"
"What is the conclusion?"
Emi repeated it earnestly: "What they are doing, where their level is, and whether there is any intersection with what I am currently doing. If there is, is it complementary or overlapping?"
"Yes."
Emi's eyes suddenly lit up.
"Then can I sleep with you tonight, Satsuki-chan!"
Satsuki looked at her.
Emi held her notebook, leaning forward like a small animal waiting to be fed.
The night wind was very cold.
The tip of her nose was slightly red from the cold.
Satsuki turned and reached out to pinch Emi's cheek.
"Are you trying to negotiate with me now?"
Emi's voice was broken up by Satsuki's pinching.
"That depends on how you perform."
Emi had already prepared herself to be rejected.
"Satsuki-chan!?"
Satsuki let go and turned back to look at the river.
"If you talk nonsense in the room, you will sleep on the carpet."
"I will not! I will not say a single word of nonsense!"
"Do not write the technical summary too excitedly, either."
"I will write it very calmly!"
"And do not draw any weird hearts."
Emi hesitated.
Satsuki glanced at her.
Emi immediately changed her tune: "...I will not draw them."
They walked forward a bit more.
Ahead was a bridge.
The streetlamps on the bridge were lined up one after another, their light falling on the iron railings, which were thinly covered in snow.
The silhouette of the Kremlin in the distance was submerged in the night; the red walls were no longer as distinct as they were during the day, leaving only a heavy, dark hue.
Satsuki stopped.
Shuichi turned back to look at her.
"Cold?"
"A little bit."
Shuichi walked back and reached out to pull her scarf up for her.
"I told you that you should have worn another layer."
"Father, I am already wearing a lot."
"The wind in Moscow is different from Tokyo."
"Yes, it feels like it drills right into your bones."
Shuichi looked at her face, half-hidden by the scarf, his expression softening.
"Then let us go back."
Satsuki nodded.
"Okay."
On the way back, they did not get in the car immediately but walked slowly along the sidewalk on the other side toward the hotel.
The Soviet liaison was still following from a distance.
After checking the street corner, Fujita walked to Satsuki's side.
"Young Miss."
Satsuki did not stop.
"Yes."
"Is tomorrow's itinerary still according to the original plan?"
"As usual. Whatever Kozlov arranges, we go to."
"Yes."
Her voice was very light, almost drowned out by the wind.
"Also, have the trading company look into something."
Fujita's hand did not reach for his notebook.
He just bowed his head slightly.
"Please instruct."
"In the last three years, which Western academic foundations have had exchange programs with the Soviet Academy of Sciences."
"Check the lists, check the amounts, and check who was ultimately received and where they went."
"Yes."
"And that computing center from today. Which laboratories are under it, whether the funding source for each laboratory is central appropriation or military commission, and whether any projects have been cut in the past two years."
She paused.
A tram passed by slowly in the distance, casting a dim, yellow light from its windows.
A few passengers wrapped in thick coats sat in the carriage, their faces obscured by the fog on the glass.
"Check what can be found through public channels first. Do not force it if you cannot find it; do not alert the enemy."
Fujita said in a low voice: "Understood."
He did not ask why.
But Satsuki knew he already understood that this was no longer a problem about a single researcher.
Sure enough, after a few steps of silence, Fujita spoke up.
"Young Miss, do you need further background research on any of the researchers we met today?"
Satsuki looked ahead.
The hotel lights were close now.
A red carpet was laid out under the porch, and behind the revolving door were heat, the smell of tobacco, the attendant, and the ubiquitous registry.
It was not a suitable place to talk.
So she stopped a step before entering the range of the light.
The river wind blew from behind, lifting the hem of her coat.
"Not any one person." Her voice was very light. "It is the entire system."
Fujita lowered his head.
Emi stood by, hugging her notebook, not interrupting.
Chizuru moved half a step to the left, just right to block any line of sight that might be looking over from the distance.
Satsuki looked at the Moscow River.
The black water flowed under the bridge like a silent fissure.
"The funding for the Academy of Sciences has been cut off for at least eighteen months."
"Personnel attrition has already begun, but the top layer has not seen a massive exodus yet. The young ones are leaving; the ones remaining are those who cannot leave."
"Other buyers have been here. Germany, or the United States. It is also possible both."
Fujita listened quietly.
Satsuki's gaze fell on the sparse lights on the opposite bank.
"The key is, these people are not waiting to be sold to the highest bidder."
"They just have not realized yet that they can be bid on."
Emi was taken aback.
She seemed to want to say something, but did not know how to put it.
"In a system that is about to fall apart, the most valuable parts will fall out first."
"I need to know which parts will fall, where they will fall, and who will catch them."
"Then ensure that our hand reaches out one step earlier than everyone else's."
Fujita bowed slightly.
"Yes."
Satsuki started walking again.
"Let us go back."
Emi immediately followed.
When they reached the hotel porch, she suddenly asked in a low voice: "Satsuki-chan."
"Yes."
"Then did I perform well just now?"
Satsuki paused.
She turned her head and saw Emi looking at her eagerly, the tip of her nose red from the cold, and clutching that notebook tightly in her arms.
The earlier topics about the country, system, talent, and bidding seemed to have lingered in her heart for a while.
But only for a while.
Now she was more concerned about whether she could get close to Satsuki tonight.
Satsuki looked at her and suddenly felt like laughing.
"Not bad."
Emi's eyes lit up immediately.
"Then—"
"After we get back to the room, write the summary first."
"I will write it!"
"No talking nonsense."
"Absolutely not!"
"Do not put your feet on me."
Emi hesitated.
Satsuki turned and walked into the revolving door.
The heat and the smell of tobacco rushed to meet her, shutting the wind outside behind her.
She did not look back.
"If you do not agree to this, you will sleep on the carpet."
Emi held her notebook, stunned for half a second.
Then she hurriedly chased after her.
"I agree! I agree, Satsuki-chan!"
Chizuru followed behind, gently brushing the snow off Satsuki's coat shoulders.
Fujita was the last to enter.
The revolving door turned once.
The sound of the Moscow winter night wind was blocked outside by the thick glass.
The red star in the distance shone in the night.
It was very small.
Very cold.
Although it had not yet extinguished, it could no longer warm anyone.