Technology invades the modern world

Chapter 435 The Lin Ran Mathematics Center in Hong Kong

Compared to the original 1969, which was unremarkable and unremarkable, with the only major event being the Apollo moon landing, and otherwise just serving as a prelude to the 70s, this 1969 was a bit too exciting.

The opening drama of the year, which revolved around Hoover's death and V's identity, was both a great gift to the new president and the prelude to a mystery thriller.

Someone died, and mysteries were revealed one after another. Everyone was a suspect, but everyone also had a reason not to be the murderer.

Replacing "person" with "power" here would make it a perfect fit.

Even the White House had reasons why it had to remove Hoover.

In the Southern states, there have long been rumors that Hoover was taken down by the White House because he knew too many secrets of the Washington gentlemen.

In Europe, the people of East and West Germany, who secretly longed to restore Europe's glory, deeply believed in V's omnipotence.

The first half of the year was a six-month period in which America showed off her muscles.

From GPS to the space station.

One after another, allied military attachés were brought to the front lines of the Vietnam War to see how our American soldiers, equipped with GPS, could adapt to any terrain.

America will conquer even the toughest jungles in Southeast Asia.

It has planted a deep ideological imprint in the hearts of all allies that GPS is already so powerful, and once the US's Star Wars program is completed, won't it be invincible?

With global surveillance capabilities, in 1969, when electronic warfare was just beginning to emerge, the military personnel of America's allies believed that the Soviet Union's steel cannons would be severely weakened under this surveillance system.

Therefore, the Soviet Union decided to reshape its relationship with China, not only because of economic reasons, but also because it realized that without cooperation with China, it would never be able to catch up with America in the Star Wars program.

To launch 10,000 satellites on our own would take an unknown amount of time.

America used this opportunity to reshape their image globally.

No longer the dejected Uncle Sam mired in the quagmire, in 1969 they became futuristic warriors clad in armor, oblivious to the quagmire.

During his visits to Europe and East Asia, Nixon frequently mentioned our space station, welcoming allies to select astronauts to work on our space station.

The space station is called Freedom, a high ground in space for the Freedom faction. It belongs not only to America, but also to all of humanity.

As America's media stated, GPS and the space station quickly helped America emerge from her depression, suppressed anti-war sentiment, and made people more optimistic about the war—all thanks to the professor.

Similarly, this is also America's glory.

The situation improved rapidly.

Until August 1969, the Vietnam War front once again turned into a quagmire.

The mech has malfunctioned.

Uncle Sam had to take off his mech, put on camouflage, and fight another messy battle with the tree people of North Vietnam.

It's even worse than before; their air superiority is not as good as it used to be.

By December, all of North Vietnam's air defense systems had been contracted out to China.

Even in the area of ​​missiles, the Soviet Union provided the basic production capacity, while China carried out the modifications.

Just like the name given to China, a Great Wall was built in the sky above North Vietnam.

Anti-war sentiment has surged again.

In the late summer of 1969, the U.S. military base at the port of Sasebo was usually very quiet.

Occasionally, the exhaust plumes of an F-4 Ghost fighter jet streak across the sky, a reminder of the city's distant yet real entanglement with the Vietnam War.

However, helicopters that fly out from Sasebo Naval Base are generally on logistical missions and do not participate in combat.

Tatsumasa Murakami was born in Sasebo City, Nagasaki Prefecture.

At that time, he was unemployed at home. To say he was unemployed would be an exaggeration; to be more precise, he was kicked out of the school.

In the summer of 1969, Ryu Murakami staged a rooftop blockade protest on his high school campus.

He wrote "Smash the national system" on the gatepost of the high school with blue paint, and then ran to the library wall and wrote: "Comrades, take up arms!"

This matter is very serious, so serious that he has been suspended from school indefinitely.

In reality, it was quite comical because Murakami Ryu misspelled the characters. He wrote the character for "weapon" as the character for "exam," and the slogan he wrote was entirely in Chinese characters.

Because of this elementary mistake, he was talked about by the locals, who said that this kind of idiot could not possibly be a student at Beigao High School.

Little did they know that such a fool would soon become a writer.

In March of the following year, before graduating, Murakami Ryu formed another rock band and began making movies and holding rock concerts. Murakami later rewrote these experiences into the novel "69".

Murakami Ryu rubbed his aching shoulders, looked out the window at the warships in the harbor, and said with a self-deprecating laugh, "What is our little commotion compared to Hanoi's missiles?"

The days after school was suspended were like an unfinished rock song, intermittent yet full of restlessness.

He lived in a cramped wooden house in Sasebo city. His father was an art teacher and his mother took care of the household chores. The two of them shook their heads and sighed at their son's rebelliousness, but they also tacitly allowed him to stay in the attic reading newspapers.

Throughout the second half of the year, Japanese military-related media outlets such as Aviation Fan and Maru magazines, as well as the international section of Asahi Shimbun, were intensively reporting on the latest developments in the Vietnam War.

That autumn, the Vietnam War was no longer just a jungle brawl between the US military and the Tree Man, but a hidden battlefield of electronic warfare.

The report states that China secretly intervened, providing a series of advanced air defense equipment to engage in an escalating counter-offensive against the US military's air superiority.

His friends included Ken, who had formed the band "Coilia" with him; Kobayashi, the bespectacled guy from the news agency; and Daisuke, the hippie-style young man who always had a cigarette in his mouth.

Every week, the group would gather in Murakami Ryu's attic, around the radio and piles of newspaper clippings, to have a lively discussion about these distant signal wars.

Globally, Japan is the most proactive in responding to such reports.

It's very simple, because in this world, Japan and China are the most direct competitors in the consumer electronics field.

Hong Kong also took a share of the Vietnam War profits that should have belonged to Japan.

China used General Electric as a shell company to sell large quantities of supplies to the US military in the Vietnam War.

These cakes originally belonged to a Japanese company.

The Japanese media sensationalized the electronic warfare on the front lines, emphasizing China's involvement for the benefit of Japanese businesses, and to remind America that it was China that was fighting against them! They said they could no longer buy their products, and that they should stop doing goods transactions in Hong Kong.

These should all be left to us in Japan.

Economic factors also play a role in public opinion.

The pro-Japanese rioters also need such reports; they need a strong China to prove that the path they have chosen is correct.

There is demand on both sides.

As a result, despite the war taking place in the jungles of North Vietnam, the Japanese media were the most active in reporting on it.

The fire burned brighter and brighter.

Even if you're in Tokyo, you can see the battle reports from the previous day on TV or in the newspapers as early as nine o'clock that morning.

After recovering from the suspension notice, the first thing Murakami Ryu did was go with his friends to the "Blue House" café near the port. It was a hangout for rebellious youth, with walls covered in Woodstock music festival posters.

America's hippies rocked in the mud, while neon youths marched in the streets.

Ah Jian, brandishing a copy of the latest issue of "Aviation Fan," excitedly read, "Look here! The missiles provided by China have blown the American imperialists to their wits' end!"

Kobayashi adjusted his glasses and added, "The Yomiuri Shimbun said that the US military used chaff and heat decoys to counterattack, but the Chinese upgraded their infrared composite seekers, increasing the hit rate from 20% to 70%."

This electronic warfare is escalating too rapidly; Bell Labs in the US is working overtime to iterate on the technology.

Daisuke exhaled a smoke ring and said lazily, "Brothers, isn't this our rock and roll? Signal to signal, frequency to frequency. We should also do our own kind of resistance, form a new band, and sing anti-war songs."

Murakami listened, nodded, and thought to himself: The emptiness after dropping out of school is like the jungle of the Vietnam War, filled with unknown echoes.

As autumn arrives, the autumn winds dispel the summer heat, but the street parades in Sasebo continue.

Anti-war students held up banners that read "Stop bombing North Vietnam!" Although Murakami Ryu had dropped out of school, he often mingled in the crowd and distributed leaflets.

His friends were even more obsessed with media reports about electronic warfare on the front lines.

Daisuke brought a hippie magazine he'd gotten from near a US military base, which included photos of the Vietnam War.

As the autumn leaves in Sasebo turn red, the frequent comings and goings of warships in the port serve as a reminder of the shadow of the security treaty.

Murakami Ryu's life gradually returned to normal. During the day, he helped his father with odd jobs at the school, waiting for the opportunity to return to school.

In the evenings, I would meet up with friends.

Media reports indicate that the Vietnam War is escalating: China's air defense network suppressed US air superiority in the Ashau Valley, prompting the US military to respond by upgrading the solid-state circuitry of its AIM-7 missiles and adding an anti-jamming layer.

The magazine "Aviation Fan" published an illustration depicting an F-105 Raikkon evading a V-75 missile, but the focus now is on the semi-active guidance system of the Chinese Dragon Shadow, which counters the US military's chaff and ECM.

The friends were debating endlessly in the Blues House.

As Murakami Ryu listened, he picked up his guitar and strummed it casually, a novel idea popping into his mind: could the rebellion of high school students and the distant battlefield be written together?

In December, Christmas lights illuminated the harbor, and American soldiers made a ruckus in the streets.

The anti-war protests in Sasebo were even more intense.

His suspension from school was gradually coming to an end, and he decided to take action before graduation: to form a new rock band, shoot short films, and hold concerts.

Friends gathered around the radio, listening to NHK's latest news on the Vietnam War.

The Panda radio from China was a symbol of these rebellious youths; even if they had to buy a second-hand one, they had to buy a Chinese product.

Or if your family doesn't give you money and you have no choice but to buy a Sony radio, you'll have to find a way to paint it black and white to pretend it's a panda.

"Chinese electronic jamming vehicles successfully disrupted US military data links, forcing B-52s to conduct blind bombing runs at high altitudes, significantly reducing their bombing success rate."

The latter half of 1969 was like a wild blues song, with media coverage of the Vietnam War playing in the background.

Ryu Murakami began conceiving "69" as an attempt to commemorate his youth and record this turbulent year.

Similarly, Nixon was unable to bring Americana back to New York for Christmas.

Instead, his confidant Kissinger was unable to spend Christmas in New York and was forced to travel to Hong Kong on that day.

At this agreed-upon location in China, we will meet and negotiate with the Chinese people.

His current position is White House National Security Advisor, a position that is not particularly important in itself, but the power he wields makes him a sensitive figure.

Kissinger's every move is seen as reflecting the president's will.

His reason was to unveil the plaque for the establishment of the Lin Ran Mathematics Center at Hong Kong University.

This is also a fabricated reason. Hong Kong University only learned a month ago that it was going to establish a Lin Ran Mathematics Center, funded by the Rockefeller Foundation and authorized by Lin Ran.

For Hong Kong University, this is certainly a welcome development. Even Columbia University doesn't have the same treatment as the mathematics center named after Lin Ran.

In the future, Yau can say, "Back when I was studying at the Lin Ran Mathematics Center, we didn't have to take a break after just two problems like you guys." (Sent from my phone)

On Christmas Day, the night sky over Victoria Harbour in Hong Kong is adorned with colorful lights.

Henry Kissinger's White House plane landed at Kai Tak Airport at dusk.

The cabin door opened, he adjusted his tie, put on sunglasses, and stepped down the gangway.

The Hong Kong government's motorcade had been waiting for a long time.

The driver was a white man wearing white gloves who spoke fluent English: "Sir, welcome to Hong Kong, Merry Christmas."

Kissinger nodded, but thought to himself: Happy? How could he possibly be happy, having been ordered by President Nixon to leave his family dinner in New York and fly halfway around the world to carry out this mission?

Actually, the best negotiating partner is Lin Ran himself.

Kissinger would rather endure the hardship himself than have his professors visit Hong Kong for Christmas.

If the professor were to disappear and never return, I wouldn't be able to stay in America, let alone Washington.

The convoy drove along the Kowloon Peninsula toward Central, the scenery outside the window like a rapidly turning roll of film.

It has a strong Chinese Christmas flavor.

On Nathan Road in Tsim Sha Tsui, neon signs flashed with "Merry Christmas" and holiday promotions in both Chinese and English.

"A panda?" Kissinger asked, pointing to a large panda doll wearing a Santa hat on Nathan Road.

Similar to the panda perched on an upper floor in Chunxi Road, Chengdu, except this one is standing on the ground.

"Yes, sir, we all know that he is backed by Panda Electronics of China." The driver was very frank.

To a discerning person, this is a clear indication that England's control over Hong Kong is limited.

"I also have a Panda radio at home, and I like their design," Kissinger said noncommittally.

Department stores, like Wing On and Sincere, have their exterior walls covered with colorful lights, and their Christmas trees are adorned with gold and silver balls.

Along the way, there was a constant flow of people.

There were expatriates, American sailors who could be seen everywhere, just off leave from front-line bases, but the majority of the faces were Chinese.

"The flu is still going around in Hong Kong," the driver said casually. "Many people will be wearing masks this Christmas, sir, please be careful."

That evening was a celebratory dinner hosted by the Hong Kong government.

Kissinger arrived at Hong Kong University early the next morning.

The unveiling ceremony of the Lin Ran Mathematics Center was held in a magnificent auditorium, with Hong Kong University presenting the highest level of honors.

The audience was filled with celebrities from all walks of life in Hong Kong; regardless of which camp you belonged to, they all gathered together at this moment.

(End of this chapter)