I bought a prison in the United States.

In late October in Tulsa, the maple trees lining the streets were already turning red.

The red leaves fell from the branches, were swept by the wind onto the sidewalk, and were crushed into pieces by the tires of passing cars.

Forty minutes later, Ringo's pickup truck turned into the gates of McLean County Correctional Center.

In the parking lot, a prison van was parked in place.

The bald eagle emblem on the vehicle is the logo of the state corrections department.

Jerome leaned against the prison van, wearing a clean prison uniform, his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the distant oil refinery chimneys.

That was his first job after gaining his freedom, where he served as a role model among the prisoners, assisting Ringo in escorting new inmates to the prison.

Hearing the sound of the pickup truck's engine, he turned his head and nodded to Ringo.

"A new batch of prisoners has arrived?"

"Yes, there are 14 of them this time, which were transported from Oklahoma City."

Jerome straightened up and walked toward Ringo.

His gait was no longer sluggish compared to two weeks ago, and his shoulders were more open, indicating that he had basically recovered from his drug addiction.

Tommy said his lawyer called yesterday to say that the Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department had responded.

"The bloodstain sample from Chaco's body has been preserved, and they agreed to do a DNA comparison."

"Good news, how long will it take to get the results?"

"The lawyer said it will take at least a month."

"A month isn't a long time."

Ringo looked at Jerome's face.

After quitting drugs, his sunken cheeks have regained some flesh, and the shadows under his eyes have faded a lot.

His eyes no longer held only the pain of withdrawal, but also a hint of anticipation for tomorrow.

Lingo patted him on the shoulder:

"Regarding your forensic psychiatric evaluation, I've contacted a clinical psychologist practicing in Tulsa, and the evaluation can be done next Wednesday."

"Get ready."

Jerome looked at Ringo, his mouth opening and closing:

"Mr. Chen, I owe you one."

"You repaid what you owed me on the rooftop."

Ringo walked past him toward the prison gate.

Under the porch, Hamon was leaning against the wall, wearing a neatly ironed khaki uniform shirt.

The leather shoes on my feet have also been polished.

"You're dressed very formally today."

Lin Ge glanced at him in surprise.

Hamon coughed twice and said:

"Officer Sanders from the State Department of Corrections' transfer unit came again today. He said the coffee was good last time, so this time he brought some coffee beans from his personal collection."

"Also, after you left, Craig sent word that the first sample of the photosensitive module has been successfully tested."

Lin Ge pressed further, "How's the effect?"

"The CMOS back-illuminated image sensor sample was lit up on the test board, and the effect was better than he had imagined."

Hamon seemed pleased as well:

"There's one more thing. The owner of the electronics workshop called this morning to say that they've just received a new batch of Sanyo stepper motors."

"The smaller models have lower torque, but higher precision."

"He asked if you wanted to keep it, because another company was also asking about the price, and he called you first."

"Keep them all, I'll take them all." Lin Ge nodded.

"By the way, what's the owner of the electronics workshop's name?"

"His name is Yamada. He is Japanese. It is said that his grandfather immigrated from Hiroshima in the 1950s and ran an electronics parts store in Tulsa for decades."

"He studied electrical engineering in Chicago and came back to take over the business after graduation."

"He can get all sorts of strange and unusual parts in the shop, all thanks to his connections with suppliers in California and Japan."

Ringo turned and glanced at Hamon:

How do you know so much?

"Because he just sat in the office for almost half an hour and told me his entire family history."

Harmon placed the coffee cup on the windowsill:

"This guy is a chatterbox. I don't know if all Japanese people have this trait, but he does have some good stuff to explain their local culture."

He said that the stepper motors were leftover stock from a factory in Japan that manufactures for Sony. The instruction manuals were not translated, so locals couldn't understand them and they had been sitting on his shelf for almost half a year.

"When this person heard that we were working on a self-developed project, he took the initiative to call and ask if we could use it."

A chord in Lin Ge's heart was struck.

Stepper motor.

Small size, high precision, low torque.

These specifications are well-suited for use as pan-tilt-zoom (PTZ) drivers for surveillance cameras, as well as for more sophisticated mechanical control devices.

In the solenoid valve drive circuit that Brad just mentioned, a part of the testing device also requires the use of a stepper motor for precise positioning.

"Have Jackson take Craig to the electronics workshop before he leaves work, with the specifications list."

"If the stepper motor specifications are suitable, order them all!"

"clear."

Harmon made a note in his notebook and then tucked the pen inside the notebook cover.

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a tone unrelated to reporting routine matters:

"That boss, Yamada, also said something."

"What did you say?"

"He said the prison is now somewhat well-known among electronics enthusiasts in Tulsa."

"The order we placed last month with the electronics workshop was the largest single order in the entire Oklahoma civilian market."

"Now everyone in their circle is wondering what the McLean County Correctional Center is up to."

Lin Ge's lips curled up slightly.

Tulsa is an old industrial city, but beneath those rusty chimneys, a group of people who remain curious about new technologies still thrive.

They huddled in garages and basements, using soldering irons and oscilloscopes to build a geek culture belonging to the 1980s.

These people are not engineers from large companies and do not have sufficient research and development funding.

But the scattered information and second-hand equipment they possess can sometimes solve the most critical small problems.

The prison has gained notoriety among electronics enthusiasts, which means it will be easier to find rare parts in the future.

The fact that Yamada took the initiative to call was a signal.

"Prisons must maintain this channel."

"In addition, a reporter from the Tulsa World will be coming to interview us on Friday, so everyone should be prepared in advance and make sure the area is thoroughly cleaned and there are no mishaps."

"The Tulsa World...did you go out to see a reporter?"

Harmon raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat surprised.

"I actually managed to convince you all..."

"Okay, I'll arrange it later. But you have to tell me, to what extent can the reporters get the footage?"

Lin Ge wasn't sure either. After thinking for a moment, he said:

"You can film anything that can be filmed."

"You can also take pictures of the factory's production parts, Craig's blueprints, or, if a reporter is interested in the food in the kitchen."

After finishing his sentence, Lin Ge walked towards his office.

Outside the window, the wind rustled the red leaves of the maple tree in the parking lot.

A leaf was swept into the air by the wind, tumbled a few times, and gently landed on the roof of the prison van.

Officer Sanders from the State Department of Corrections' transfer unit stood beside the prison van, holding a cup of coffee that Mrs. Martha had just brewed.

He looked up and saw the red leaf linger on the roof of the car for a moment before being blown away by the wind. Then he turned and glanced in the direction of the prison gate.

"Your warden seems to be in a good mood today."

He casually remarked to Jerome, who was standing next to him.

Jerome did not answer, his gaze following Ringo.

He clenched his fist, his knuckles making a slight cracking sound.