One man's resistance against Japan, I mobilized a million people to aid Shanghai.

late at night.

Washington Avenue, a secret office.

"Mr. President."

Oppenheimer bowed slightly to Roosevelt.

"Dr. Oppenheimer, please have a seat."

Roosevelt skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point, saying:

"Time is precious, so I'll go straight to the point: what's the current status of the tube alloy (early atomic bomb code name) project?"

"How long will it take to manufacture a usable bomb?"

Oppenheimer adjusted his glasses, carefully organized his thoughts, and cautiously replied:

"Mr. President, the project has made key progress in theoretical calculations, isotope separation, and verification of the controllability of the chain reaction."

"But there is still a long way to go before we can build a combat-ready atomic bomb."

"This involves extremely complex engineering issues, including..."

"I need some time, Doctor."

Roosevelt interrupted him, his tone urgent.

"A very optimistic estimate."

"If we concentrate all the nation's resources, all its top scientists, and all its industrial strength, sparing no expense, how quickly would it take?"

Oppenheimer was stunned.

Looking into Roosevelt's almost frantic eyes, his ominous premonition grew stronger.

He carefully considered his words and said:

"Mr. President, science has its own laws, and it cannot be accelerated indefinitely by simply piling up resources."

"Some fundamental physics problems, material preparation processes, and the machining of precision components... all require time."

Even under the most ideal and smoothest circumstances, excluding all unexpected events and bottlenecks...

Tell me the time!

Roosevelt's voice suddenly rose, filled with barely suppressed anger.

"We're out of time, Doctor!"

"Pearl Harbor is gone! San Francisco is burning! The enemy is on our soil!"

"They're using the warships and planes we built to slaughter our people! We may have already lost a conventional war!"

"What I need now is something that can turn the tide! Something that can fundamentally eliminate the enemy's numerical advantage!"

"That's your tube alloy!"

"I want you to produce this damn tube alloy within a month! Mazefak!"

Oppenheimer was shocked by the terrifying message conveyed in the president's words.

San Francisco...has fallen?

The enemy has already landed on our homeland? This is a million times worse than he imagined.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. As a scientist, he had to state the facts, even if those facts were incredibly harsh.

"Mr. President, I understand your urgency."

"But frankly, it's simply impossible to produce a usable atomic bomb within a month."

His voice was soft, yet firm.

"This violates basic scientific and engineering principles."

"We are far from achieving large-scale production of weapons-grade nuclear materials, let alone missile design, detonation devices, and delivery methods..."

"This is not just a scientific issue, but an unprecedented mega-project."

"How long will that take?!"

Roosevelt practically leaned out of his wheelchair, his eyes fixed on Oppenheimer.

"Under normal circumstances!"

Oppenheimer paused for a moment, then slowly uttered a number:

"If everything goes smoothly, without major theoretical obstacles or engineering disasters..."

"It will take at least ten years, and that's an extremely optimistic estimate."

"ten years?!"

"Don't eat pickled radishes!"

Roosevelt slammed his fist on the armrest of his wheelchair with a dull thud, his facial muscles contorted in despair.

"Ten years from now?! Will this country even still exist in ten years?!"

"Ten years from now, Zhu Ganglie's banner may be planted all over the world!"

"Doctor! Are you kidding me?! Ten years?!"

His roar echoed in the cramped room, filled with grief and indignation.

Oppenheimer lowered his gaze, sensing the president's overwhelming despair and pressure, and understanding that the nation might truly be at a critical juncture of life and death.

But he cannot lie, nor can he offer false hope.

"Mr. President, I'm sorry, but science... that's just how it is."

A suffocating silence fell over the sealed room.

Only Roosevelt's heavy breathing could be heard.

After a long while, Roosevelt seemed to have all his strength drained away. He slumped back into his wheelchair and frantically rubbed his cheeks with his hands.

But soon, he lowered his hand, and his eyes sharpened again.

"Ten years...we can't afford to wait that long."

His voice returned to calm, but became even colder.

"Then, Doctor, tell me, is there a compromise?"

"We don't need to have the perfect weapon to destroy a city right away... but can we at least build something?"

"A prototype to prove this path is viable? Something far more powerful than conventional bombs, capable of creating a decisive and terrifying effect on the battlefield?"

Even if it's unstable!

Oppenheimer frowned, his mind racing.

Is the president asking for a "dirty bomb," or an immature, rudimentary nuclear device?

He considered the theoretical possibilities and ruled out those that were clearly unfeasible.

"If... if we lower some of our requirements, disregarding long-term storage, precise delivery, and even absolute security..."

Oppenheimer spoke slowly, carefully considering each word.

"Concentrate our efforts on tackling the core challenges of realizing the chain reaction and the primary explosive device... Perhaps... perhaps we can try to build an experimental nuclear device."

He looked up and saw the renewed hope in Roosevelt's eyes.

"Its power may be far less than the theoretical maximum, its reliability is extremely poor, the risk is extremely high, and it may even go out of control during testing..."

"But its explosive yield will certainly surpass that of any known conventional weapon in human history, enough to create...hellish scenes on the battlefield."

"How long will it take?" Roosevelt pressed.

Oppenheimer closed his eyes, quickly assessing all the known and unknown difficulties in his mind, and finally opened his eyes, providing an answer:

"If... at all costs, all other branches of research are suspended, and the nation's best minds and resources are concentrated to forcefully push forward this goal... and luck is on our side... for a year."

"This is the fastest timeframe I can offer."

One year.

It's much shorter than ten years, but at a time when the enemy has already invaded our homeland and the country may be on the verge of collapse, a year still feels as long as a century.

Roosevelt closed his eyes in anguish.

He could feel time slipping through his fingers like quicksand, and the enemy wouldn't give him a year.

But are there any other options?

No.

This was the only visible light in the darkness.