Eagle, I don't want to form an alliance anymore.

That's why Slava decided not to make any definitive statements about Germany.

"Mr. President, the Soviet Union supports the peaceful reunification of the two Germanys."

Mitterrand narrowed his eyes.

“Of course, peacefully,” Slava repeated the words. “But I cannot promise you that the Soviet Union will renounce the use of force, or any other means, to achieve German reunification.”

Slava watched Mitterrand perform a Sichuan opera-style face-changing act, fine beads of sweat seeping from his forehead.

The Soviet Union did not rule out using force to dictate the direction of this unification. The Soviet Union truly had the potential, the capability, and the will to move this most sensitive piece in Europe's chessboard.

If the Soviet Union had actually pulled West Germany out of the Western camp, France would have faced the prospect of Soviet armed forces pressing directly onto its doorstep, with no West Germany standing in its way.

The Soviet Union exerted a far greater sense of pressure on France on this timeline than on the other. The United States was still struggling to recover from the Great Depression, Europe had just suffered a blow in last year's oil crisis, and the Soviet Union was stirring up trouble for France in Africa. Against this backdrop, Mitterrand's concerns about potential Soviet intervention were not unfounded.

Seeing Mitterrand's frozen face, Slava felt the timing was right. He decided to add another joke to push the pressure to its peak.

Slava changed to a more relaxed tone: "Actually, when it comes to Europe, the Soviet Union was always very interested in the European Community."

“Europe, it should be Europe for Europeans!” Slava smiled. “But the Soviet Union was also part of Europe! I think the European Community is doing a good job. Material resources are extremely abundant, extreme poverty has been basically eliminated, and social justice and social welfare are also valued. If the Soviet Union could also join, that would be my ideal European Community.”

Mitterrand also twitched the corners of his mouth and smiled in agreement.

Is it possible that the European Community was established to prevent the Soviet Union from expanding westward?

The clock in the Golden Hall ticked a few more times. Mitterrand picked up his teacup and took a sip. As he put the cup down, Slava noticed that his hand wasn't as steady as before.

Mitterrand was at his wit's end. He was even more uncertain now than when the talks started, but he needed to cooperate with this person even more—because the more you fear an opponent, the more you want to stabilize him first, build a relationship with him first, and get the benefits you can get first.

His time is running out.

In the first round of the French presidential election in April, although Mitterrand had not yet officially announced his candidacy—historically he had waited until March to announce it—everyone knew he would run. What he needed now was something that could help him win that round in April.

Since he couldn't offer his voters the guarantees of the Soviet Union, he could only try to align himself with the Soviet Union's policies and see if he could find an opportunity to gain some advantage in the election.

Let's proceed with agricultural cooperation.

France is one of the countries with the most severe agricultural surplus under the European Community's agricultural subsidy policy, and it's constantly searching for markets around the world. French farmers, French food processing companies, French refrigerated transport... these people have plenty of unsold produce and inexhaustible production capacity!

If Mitterrand could get a batch of orders back from the Soviet Union, he could then tell these people, "Look, it's me! François Mitterrand has brought you business back from Moscow! Come and vote for me!"

This statement was a true hard currency before the April election.

Mitterrand needed this agricultural cooperation deal to be successful, to be a resounding success, and to produce results that would be featured on television and translate into votes. And this was precisely what Slava had been stating and demanding from the very beginning.

Before the talks even began, Slava had already won half the battle. Khrushchev was right; Berlin was the West's testicles, and whenever he wanted to manipulate the West, Slava could squeeze Berlin in return.

Mitterrand composed himself and regained his vice-presidential composure: "Mr. General Secretary, I think we can discuss agricultural matters in great depth; it's not enough to just talk about them in this room."

He paused for a moment, then threw out the card he had prepared.

“I would like to invite you and your delegation to visit the south of France. There you will find our best breeding research facilities and state-of-the-art food processing plants. Aren’t you looking for inspiration? Seeing for yourself will be much more helpful than listening to me here.”

He leaned forward slightly: "To show France's sincerity, I'll go with you. We'll take our high-speed train."

Slava knew that Mitterrand had his own agenda behind his proposal. On the way south, Mitterrand had plenty of time to leisurely discuss with Slava the specific arrangements that would help him win in April; he wanted to extract the maximum value from this visit.

Slava was happy to go. He genuinely wanted to see France's breeding and food industries; for him, those were the real substance of the visit.

As for Germany, disarmament, and Franco-Soviet relations, these were the bargaining chips he used to leverage Mitterrand in exchange for the best terms for technological cooperation.

“It would be an honor,” Slava said.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The next day, at Paris Lyon Station.

A silver high-speed train was parked on the platform. Its orange front and streamlined nose cone looked both fast and new against the gray winter sky. This was one of the French's most prized possessions—the TGV. France had its high-speed rail running since 1981, while Japan's Shinkansen had appeared as early as the 60s.

France's high-speed rail reached a top speed of 380 kilometers per hour during testing in 1981, while its current commercial speed is around 270 kilometers per hour.

Mitterrand and his wife had arrived earlier. Mitterrand looked better today than yesterday afternoon. He shook hands with Slava and then led them to the car.

The carriage was a specially arranged private box. Slava and Director Nian sat down on one side, while Mitterrand and his wife sat directly opposite them. The four of them shared a small table, on which were placed coffee and several French pastries.

And there's also the croissant that Slava misses most.

The train started moving. The start was so smooth it was almost imperceptible, then the speed quickly increased, and the houses in the Paris suburbs outside the window began to recede, faster and faster, until they became blurry streaks of color.

The carriage was so quiet that only the faint hum of the train gliding along the ground could be heard. If the speedometer were visible, it would probably have already passed 260 kilometers per hour.

Mitterrand looked out the window at the scenery rushing by, a hint of undisguised pride on his face.

This is the pride of his country. The Soviets didn't have high-speed rail, so he can finally feel a sense of pride.

Slava also looked out the window.

At that moment, a reporter taking photos noticed Slava looking out the window and suddenly asked, "Mr. Ivanov, what are your thoughts after riding the French high-speed train?"

“So fast, so fast! It feels like they’re urging us to run!” Slava said, and then Director Nian translated the Russian into French.

Slava thought for a moment and felt that what he had just said was somewhat inappropriate and could easily be interpreted negatively, so he added:

"It is very appropriate for us to take this express train now, which indicates that the relationship between the Soviet Union and France is also about to enter a period of rapid warming!"

At this point, one of the reporters, seemingly oblivious to the situation, suddenly asked, "But as far as I know, the Soviet Union never had high-speed rail. What is your opinion on this?"

Upon hearing this, Mitterrand gave him a death stare to find out which reporter was trying to ruin his plans. He then discovered that it was a reporter from Le Figaro!

Le Figaro is a traditional right-wing mainstream media in France, so this must be the Prime Minister deliberately asking reporters to ask this kind of question to ruin his plans!

Well, thankfully the Soviet General Secretary didn't understand French, so we managed to get away with it...

Then he saw Director Nian smile at him and then translate the French into Russian and tell Slava.

Slava's expression vanished instantly, and he and Mitterrand glared at the reporter with murderous intent.

“Reporter, I didn’t hear you clearly just now, what did you say?” Slava said with a smile.

Chapter 89 Genetically Modified Technology

At this critical moment, if this awkward topic continued and ruined the Franco-Soviet friendship, what would become of him? Mitterrand wished he could yell and immediately assemble the presidential guard to throw this damned reporter out the window, but fortunately, reporters on his side came to his rescue.

A quick-witted reporter immediately spoke up, asking if there were any new plans for cultural exchange between the Soviet Union and France, effectively silencing the previous question. Another reporter followed suit, asking the Soviet General Secretary about his impressions of southern France.

The reporters in the private room chattered and talked all at once, but soon changed the subject.

Slava, holding his coffee, didn't answer the questions, but just smiled faintly.

He knew perfectly well that the Le Figaro reporter was there to cause trouble. The reporter didn't need Slava to answer what he wanted; the answer was already in his hands the moment Slava uttered the question.

He could already guess what would be in Le Figaro tomorrow: "Soviet leader asked on French high-speed train why the Soviet Union did not have high-speed rail."

The very headline added a discordant note to Mitterrand's meticulously planned friendly visit. As for how Slava responded, or whether he responded at all, it was irrelevant!

Awkwardness is something that only needs to be created; it doesn't need to be followed up.

The disruptive reporter was quickly pushed to the back by the other reporters; this was a compartment on a moving train, not a press conference. Being allowed in was a privilege in itself, a ostentatious gesture added by Mitterrand for this visit.

He did not have the right to ask questions here—moreover, the president’s entourage would never allow him to speak again.

Before the question-and-answer session was over, two men in dark suits approached the Le Figaro reporter, whispered something to him, and led him towards the door of the private room. The reporter tried to say something, but the two hands on his shoulders pulled him out. The door closed behind him.

The other reporters took a few more photos and asked a few trivial questions, and were politely asked to leave.

Soon only four people and a small table remained in the private room.

Mitterrand put down his cup and turned to Slava, a hint of frustration on his face.

"Mr. Ivanov, the reporter's question was very impolite, and I apologize for that."

Slava waved his hand: "It's okay. Reporters are always trying to ask tricky questions to dig out some juicy gossip from us. If you don't know how to deal with reporters, you'll get led astray one day. I'm not good at dealing with this kind of difficult questioning. I don't know how to argue with him."

Mitterrand looked at him.

"I'm not good at theoretical studies, but the four words I remember most clearly are 'seeking truth from facts'."

Director Nian translated this sentence into French.

"Objectively speaking, the Soviet Union lagged behind France in the construction of high-speed railways." Slava picked up his coffee and took a sip. "That's a fact. Whether I admit it or not, it's there and won't budge an inch."

Since it's true, what's there to be embarrassed about? He's right to ask.

Mitterrand paused for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief. He had probably prepared to spend a lot of time and effort to appease the Soviet guest, but he hadn't expected the other party to respond so readily, so readily that his apology seemed almost superfluous.

Actually, Mitterrand had done his homework on high-speed rail.

After arranging to discuss business with Slava in this train compartment yesterday, Mitterrand specifically instructed his staff to gather a batch of information overnight. He wanted to clarify one thing:

What exactly did the Soviet Union need from France?

Agriculture is the obvious one, but a country's needs certainly don't only include agriculture! The staff listed out the Soviet Union's weaknesses one by one, and high-speed rail was no exception in their analysis.

Mitterrand knew that the only so-called high-speed train the Soviet Union could boast of was the ER200 electric multiple unit. This was the only serious attempt the Soviet Union ever made to develop high-speed rail. It was developed by a rolling stock plant in Riga, completed in 1974, and designed for a maximum speed of 200 kilometers per hour.

Starting in 1984, it began operating a limited number of regular services on the Moscow-Leningrad line.

However, the train's actual operating speed is only 160 kilometers per hour—because the track conditions simply do not allow it to run at full speed.

The main line has numerous level crossings, the roadbed standards are inadequate, and the signaling system is also outdated. Compared to the French TGV and the Japanese Shinkansen of the same period, the ER200 is not even in the same league in terms of speed or operational scale.

The TGV and Shinkansen run on dedicated lines, while the ER200 runs on existing lines. It's more accurate to call it a speed-up of existing lines than a high-speed train. Moreover, the Soviet Union only built one of these trains, and it remained in a state of experimental and semi-operation for a long time, so it can hardly be considered a system.

As for the Soviet Union's actual high-speed rail plan, the dedicated line to be built from Moscow to Leningrad remained at the feasibility study stage and was just empty talk.

When Mitterrand finished reading the report, he actually felt somewhat confident. He thought that if the Soviet Union was so weak in this area, then France's high-speed rail technology might just be a bargaining chip that could influence the General Secretary.

So, taking advantage of the moment when the awkwardness had dissipated and the atmosphere had eased, Mitterrand played this card.

"Mr. General Secretary, since we've brought up railways—if the Soviet Union needs it, France is very willing to provide some assistance to the Soviet Union in the construction of high-speed railways."

He spoke sincerely. The TGV was the pride of France, and exporting that pride to the Soviet Union was a business deal for France, and a political achievement for Mitterrand himself!

Slava put down his coffee cup: "I appreciate the president's kindness. However, the Soviet Union does not need high-speed rail for the time being."

Mitterrand's eyebrows twitched.

For Slava, the real problem with Soviet railways was never that they weren't fast enough.

In the Soviet Union, freight transport was the absolute mainstay of railways, while passenger transport was secondary—the exact opposite of France. Furthermore, the freight density of Soviet railways was approximately four times that of the United States, carrying a heavier load on shorter lines. This heavy burden exposed many of the old operational and inefficiency problems:

In many single-track sections, when trains meet, one train waits for another, wasting transport capacity; dispatching still relies on manual labor and telephone, and the efficiency of decomposing and assembling a train at marshalling yards is low.

The turnaround time for a single freight car, from loading to unloading and then reloading, is ridiculously long, and the allocation of empty cars is chaotic.

These diseases have absolutely nothing to do with "high-speed rail".

"Our railway's problems don't lie in speed, but in capacity and efficiency. And these problems can be addressed through information-based dispatching, by doubling and electrifying existing lines, and by increasing freight car turnover. As for throwing money at 'making the Moscow-Leningrad journey two hours faster'—"

He paused for a moment: "That's just a vanity project for the Soviet Union right now. I think we should get down to something more practical first."

Mitterrand nodded in understanding.

Slava continued, "I do not deny that our Politburo would certainly be pleased to see the high-speed railway from Moscow to Leningrad officially open to traffic."

Ribbon-cutting, appearing on television, leaders posing for photos in front of the brand-new car—it all looks amazing!

Looks are nice, but they can't put food on the table! For the Soviet Union at that time, the most important thing was to improve the efficiency of material allocation, to ensure that freight trains ran smoothly, and that grain and goods did not rot on the way or get stuck in marshalling yards.

"We have to take things one step at a time. I think we can postpone the high-speed rail project until the next five-year plan. It's a project that benefits people's livelihoods, and we have to do it eventually."

At this moment, Director Nian added a comment from the side.

"Moreover, France's railway concept is incompatible with our existing infrastructure. The success of the TGV is based on the separation of passenger and freight lines—express trains go on express lines, and freight trains go on freight lines, with each line keeping to itself."

However, the Soviet Union operated a mixed passenger and freight route, with freight making up the vast majority. The French had little experience with balancing heavy-duty freight trains and express passenger trains on the same line.

Mitterrand stared longingly at Slava, the anticipation that had risen on his face because of the high-speed rail slowly fading.

He thought the General Secretary would be like other leaders in Eastern Europe, engaging in vanity projects, after all, it was a matter of national image. But the new Soviet leader was a pragmatist who knew that high-speed rail was meaningless to the Soviet Union at that time.

Slava actually had another grievance in his heart that he didn't voice.

If the Soviet Union really wanted to buy high-speed trains, the most suitable candidate would be Finland—because the Soviet Union and Finland used the same 1520mm wide gauge, and Finnish trainsets could run directly on Soviet lines without even needing to change the gauge.

Finland is a neutral country with a stable relationship with the Soviet Union, and there are no political obstacles. France is both a member of the European Community and NATO.

As for technologies like electrification and signaling, France isn't the strongest either—West Germany's Siemens is far superior!

West Germany is currently under pressure from the United States, and the Mark is unstable. West Germany is certainly eager to reach a deal with the Soviet Union, and its concessions will only be greater than those of France!

These are Slava's trump cards. He won't reveal them to Mitterrand; it's far better for Mitterrand to think the Soviet Union has no demands on high-speed rail than to let him know the Soviet Union has better options.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

When the high-speed rail route proved unsuccessful, Mitterrand changed course and began talking to Slava about other of France's strengths.

"The Soviet Union has been making progress in energy development all these years, hasn't it?" Mitterrand said. "The French Secretary of State for Nuclear Power must have heard of this. Our pressurized water reactor technology is world-class, and more than 70% of France's electricity now comes from nuclear power—this is unique in the world!"