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

“I think I understand now,” he said.

Gerdrian sat up straight and listened.

"This modified algorithm is essentially a repackaged algorithm." The professor drew a diagram on a piece of paper.

"At the outer layer, it can increase the input of intermediate products in the process while keeping the initial input of materials and the final output unchanged, and at the same time reduce some labor costs. From the perspective of total cost—the total cost has indeed been reduced. So it is indeed an optimization, and the numbers on the report have improved."

Gerdrian thought for a moment, and then his expression suddenly changed.

"Wait a minute—! Increasing intermediate product inputs? Isn't that—"

The professor nodded: "Yes, the Alliance's method of calculating GDP includes the value of intermediate inputs in the total output value, without deducting the consumption of raw materials and semi-finished products. Under this statistical caliber, if a factory uses more processes and consumes more raw materials... even if the final product remains exactly the same, its total output value will be higher."

"What this outer algorithm does is make the production process 'consume' more intermediate inputs—only on paper. The actual consumption remains the same, but the intermediate inputs on the report increase, and the total output value goes up."

PS: You can check the total output value section in Chapter 110.

“Where did those ‘increased’ intermediate inputs actually go?” Gerdrian asked.

"This is the inner layer," the professor said. "What the inner layer algorithm does is to create a paper surplus of materials while keeping the actual output the same. The outer layer says that an extra 100 tons of cement were consumed, while the inner layer says that only 95 tons were actually consumed—the difference of 5 tons is what can be saved."

The OGAS system only knows the data reported from the outer layer; in reality, the resources saved in the inner layer are either lying in the warehouse or—”

"It's been taken away."

"They were taken and resold, or used for other purposes. These surpluses will not appear in any anomaly report—because the algorithm says they are the result of optimization, which is legal, reasonable, and scientific."

Gerdrian sat there.

"The two algorithms working together mean that for the Politburo, total output increases, costs decrease, and efficiency indicators look good. The data that the Politburo wants to see is all very positive. For those below, the actual output remains the same, but there is an extra batch of 'surplus' materials that can be taken away without leaving a trace."

“What perfect corruption,” Gerdrian said.

“It is mathematically perfect.”

Although the professor was reluctant, his words still revealed his appreciation for the algorithm designer: "Whoever designed this algorithm, I believe he has an extremely profound understanding of the operating logic of the OGAS system and the loopholes in the Soviet statistical system."

Moreover, this kind of loophole is by no means singular, nor is it limited to the construction industry.

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.

To confirm his suspicions, Gerdrian went to the factory. This time, he brought KGB agents into the factory warehouse.

In an inconspicuous corner of the warehouse, they discovered a large amount of "surplus" materials: dozens of tons of cement, more than ten tons of steel bars, and a large number of insulation boards.

The warehouse manager's informal ledger recorded that a portion of these surpluses had already been withdrawn. The individuals who withdrew were mid-level managers from several local construction systems.

It is clear that the Azerbaijani authorities are aware of this loophole and are even encouraging factories to use it to produce more resources that they can control. Now, with the bureaucrats deliberately dividing the area into earthquake zones, making building materials even scarcer, they can use their allocation power to gain benefits!

When asked about it, the factory manager said, "The system says there's a surplus, and the people from above have approval slips and signatures when they come to pick up the goods. What reason do I have not to release them?"

The chairman of the workers' Soviet said, "After the new algorithm was implemented, our factory's labor productivity increased by eight percent, and the output value increased. Each person received an extra two hundred rubles in monthly bonuses. Everyone benefited, so no one reported it."

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.

That night at the hotel.

Gedrian sat down at his computer and wrote two emails. The first was sent to the Supreme Prosecutor's Office of the Soviet Union, reporting that the construction project of the Ivanov House in Azerbaijan involved systemic corruption, not limited to traditional embezzlement and bribery in the distribution of materials, but also involving the OGAS algorithm being artificially modified to create false material surpluses. He recommended that the Central Committee launch an investigation into the 063 Cybernetics Institute and related personnel.

Gerdrian hesitated for a long time before writing the second letter.

He contacted Bartmos: "Grubber, I need an email address."

Whose is it?

"From the General Secretary's office."

Bartmores remained silent for a long time on the other end of the phone.

Are you sure?

"determine."

Bartholomew gave it to him, and Gerdrian sent the same report, word for word, to Slava's work email.

He didn't know if the General Secretary himself would see the email. It might be blocked by the Secretariat, or it might not even be sent. It might be dismissed as the delusion of a mad prosecutor.

But he has to issue it! When power is encased in the barriers of technocrats, can democracy and oversight still function properly?

This is a question that no prosecutor can answer; perhaps... perhaps only the greatest General Secretary of the Alliance can answer it.

May the Soviet Union prosper and flourish.

On July 2, 1993, Slava opened the email.

Bonus Chapter: The Ultimate Insult to Cao X Wang (Part 1)

Hunan in 1997

In the basement of a glass factory, hidden from even Soviet satellites, lies Cao Dewang's residence. It is covered by a three-meter-thick layer of reinforced concrete and lead plates. Cao Dewang spent three million yuan to build this place, intending to conceal his shady dealings.

Cao Dewang's face was contorted with bulging veins, and the knees of his suit trousers were worn through, revealing the edge of his Hermès underwear. His hair was disheveled, and the Montblanc glasses on his nose were askew, the left lens of which had been shattered by a punch.

"Fuck you! You bunch of peasants, let me go right now! I have connections in the station, they'll definitely come to rescue me!!"

The roar echoed between the basement walls, and no one answered him—no, one person did.

"laugh--"

The only response was the sound of someone sucking on a soda.

Brother Gao sat on Cao Dewang's luxurious leather sofa. This sofa, imported from Italy, was said to cost 180,000 yuan. Cao Dewang moved it to the basement because he sometimes spent the night there; a lipstick stain remained on the armrest.

Gao Ge was wearing a faded work shirt with rust stains that hadn't been washed off. On his feet were a pair of Warrior rubber shoes, the sole of the left shoe almost coming unglued. He was slumped in the 180,000 yuan sofa, his posture as casual as if he were sitting on a small stool at the entrance of a construction shed.

He was holding a bottle of Huayang soda, orange flavored, in his right hand.

"Hmph, you know how to enjoy yourself."

Gao Ge raised his eyelids and looked around. There were crystal chandeliers and mahogany wine cabinets, with two rows of Moutai and a row of Louis XIII bottles inside.

He took another sip of his soda.

"Hehe, Cao Dewang." Gao Ge's tone was like reading an attendance sheet in a factory.

"Keep making a scene. I'll feel even more pleased when you beg for mercy later!"

He pointed the mouth of the soda bottle at Cao Dewang.

Cao Dewang twisted his body, the belt creaking against the support column: "Damn it—do you know what you're doing! Kidnapping! This is kidnapping! You'll go to jail! Who do you think you are—a lowly laborer like you dares to mess with me, Cao Dewang—"

"A leopard can't change its spots."

Gao Ge gave his evaluation as if spitting out phlegm.

Gao Ge wasn't looking at him; he was looking at the mahogany wine cabinet. His own face was reflected in the glass door of the cabinet.

“Mr. Cao, I know all about your affairs in the Soviet Union.”

"You fucking ran a factory in the Soviet Union and dared to withhold wages from Soviet workers, taking advantage of the fact that foreigners didn't understand Chinese ways. And what happened next? The workers hung you up, hung you from that streetlight! Hahaha!"

"Soviet workers don't tolerate people like you. You almost died in the Soviet Union, and it took a lot of effort and connections to get you back home."

He took another swig of soda, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down once.

"Your factory in the Soviet Union was naturally confiscated. You, Cao Dewang, can escape, but all those machines and factory buildings will belong to the Soviet workers."

Does this make you feel like you're dying? Ha—so what! You, Cao Dewang, have returned to China to make a comeback, and you've only become more ruthless in exploiting us!

Gao Ge stood up. The sofa springs made a soft creak, and he walked up to Cao Dewang with a soda bottle in hand, looking down at him and saying...

"You were taught a lesson by Soviet workers in the Soviet Union. Do you think that no one can teach you a lesson when you return to China?"

Gao Ge crouched down so that his eyes were level with Cao Dewang's. At this distance, Cao Dewang could smell the mixture of rust and engine oil emanating from Gao Ge.

"Cao Dewang! You built this place yourself. Several meters thick concrete with lead plates—were you building it to hide your shady stuff? I never imagined you were this rich. You said you'd rather donate millions to charity than raise your slaves' wages, that raising wages discourages people from striving—and now—"

Looking back at the scene, a cold smile appeared on Gao Ge's face.

"This place seems to have been specially designed for us. No one can find you in a short time, so I have a very, very long time to torture you here and destroy your arrogance as a capitalist—"

He stood up and brushed the dust off his knees.

"Alright, Mr. Cao, now you can start begging for mercy."

"I—I'll fuck your mother—!!" Cao Dewang's eyes turned red. "I'll fucking—when I get out, I'll send you all to prison! Ten years for each of you! Twenty years for each of you! I'll make you rot in prison—!!"

Brother Gao tilted his head.

"Haha, what a die-hard reactionary!"

Brother Gao placed the soda bottle next to the row of Louis XIII bottles on the liquor cabinet. A two-dollar bottle of Huayang soda stood side by side with a row of forty-thousand-dollar Louis XIII bottles.

"Then let me begin the program I've prepared for you."

He raised his right hand.

"MUSIC!"

Snapped--!

The snap of fingers echoed in the basement.

A powerful electric guitar intro begins, seemingly a very new song. Cao Dewang hadn't heard it before, but Gao Ge was very familiar with it—it was a rock version of a worker's song from the new album by Soviet rock singer Viktor Tsoi.

To the beat of the energetic music, four figures emerged from the darkness behind Gao Ge!

Cao Dewang's pupils contracted. Each of the four men was a head taller than Gao Ge, and each of their shoulders was as broad as a door panel. They were wearing the same work clothes as Gao Ge, with their sleeves rolled up above their elbows, revealing bulging veins on their exposed forearms.

Is this a regular worker?

Their unwavering gazes, furious expressions, and the Soviet Party emblem that terrified capitalists revealed them to be the most steadfast leaders of the proletariat! These four men were the most resolute fighters among the proletariat—that's how steadfast they were, that's how terrifying they were!

Brother Gao took his soda from the liquor cabinet with satisfaction and took a swig.

"Hehe, Cao Dewang, in this country, it's not a big deal for local governments to protect the rights and interests of entrepreneurs. That's how the law is written, so I, Brother Gao, accept it."

He pointed at Cao Dewang with a soda bottle.

“But I know very well—you, Cao Dewang, are not a people’s entrepreneur at all; you are a complete slave owner!”

Brother Gao stepped back two steps to make room for you: "So I invited these four worker leaders who came back from the Soviet Union to help us workers in our struggle to entertain you."

All four people's eyes fell on Cao Dewang at the same time.

"I nicknamed them Foreman Four. Trust them and they'll bring you endless joy, making you regret treating workers like slaves your whole life!"

"Don't underestimate them. Their reputation among the workers is as formidable as that of Lenin and Stalin among proletarian revolutionaries..."

Four people came out and stood in a row.

Boss—Hammer Liu!

A forging workshop worker with eleven years of experience. He can bend a 20mm steel bar with his bare hands—is that something an ordinary person could do? The answer is no, absolutely not!

Second brother – welder Chen!

He once welded for nineteen consecutive hours in a 40-degree Celsius workshop without collapsing, carrying a welding machine and a pair of pliers. The rubber handle of the pliers was cracked; this was the pair of pliers that welder Chen had used to tighten more bolts than Cao Dewang had signed checks!

The third brother—the crane king!

He could precisely control a 30-ton gantry crane to lower a steel beam onto a coin. He took off his shirt to reveal his unique prop: a steel cable wrapped around his body capable of lifting tons of cement.

Fourth Brother – Zhang the Cutter!

The youngest one was squatting on the ground with a neat row of things in front of him—an angle grinder, a wire brush, and a nail gun!

Brother Gao watched this scene with satisfaction and took another sip of soda.

"Each of them has a unique skill! Their fighting spirit and patience are astonishing, and their secret weapons will bring you endless unexpected surprises!"

Gao Ge spoke with a smile, but Cao Dewang could no longer laugh.

The four worker leaders in front of me are more terrifying and horrifying than a billion murderers!

Cao Dewang, who had been so defiant just moments before, could only stammer when faced with this terror: "You...you...you fucking mob..."

You...you...you can't...you can't..."

He's stuttering! Cao Dewang is stuttering! This beast, who can be so eloquent at the dinner table and leave lawyers in awe at the labor arbitration court, has started stuttering when faced with a trial by the working class!

"You can't do this...you can't!!"

Gao Ge leaned against the liquor cabinet, a soda bottle pressed against his lower lip, and gave a cool smile.

"Mr. Cao, did you hear me? What's wrong with that?"

"Heh, then I'll show you what 'can' really means—absolutely, easily!