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

Gorbachev arrived promptly at 10:00 AM.

He is always punctual, which is considered a low-key virtue in the political culture of the alliance, as most senior officials habitually arrive a few minutes late to demonstrate their busyness and importance.

Gorbachev walked into the office in a well-tailored dark gray suit. He was energetic and quick-witted. Andropov sometimes felt that Gorbachev was the least Soviet-like of all the Soviet officials he had ever met.

He lacked the dullness and sophistication honed by the bureaucratic system; instead, he possessed a vitality that grew untamed from the land of Stavropol.

“Yuri Vladimirovich,” Gorbachev sat down opposite Andropov, “what brings you here?”

“Nothing specific, I just wanted to talk to you,” Andropov poured him a cup of tea and pushed it towards him. “How long have you been in Moscow? Three years?”

"More or less, he was transferred from Stavropol in 1978."

"Are you used to it? The way things are done in Moscow is different from what you do in other places."

“I’ve gotten used to some of it,” Gorbachev said.

"For example, the efficiency of meetings is something I'm still not used to—things that can be decided in one day in Stavropol take three days of meetings and five minutes to write in Moscow, and there's still no guarantee of a conclusion."

Andropov's smile lingered on his lips for less than a second before vanishing, but Gorbachev caught it—he was very good at picking up on these subtle signals.

This is one of the reasons why he was able to go so far in his official career.

“Mikhail Sergeyevich, I want to hear your views on the current domestic situation. Don’t give me that kind of speech from the Politburo meeting; I want to know what you really think.”

Gorbachev leaned back in his chair and thought for a while.

"Yuri Vladimirovich, to be honest, 1982 was the worst year for economic performance since the war, with a real growth rate of almost zero, as you know."

In my role overseeing agriculture at the central level, I frankly say that the problems in agriculture cannot be explained by a single year's disaster or a policy mistake—it's due to a somewhat rigid management system. From the targets and plans given from above to their implementation and feedback at the bottom, every link in the chain suffers losses. These losses accumulate, resulting in a massive but inefficient system spinning its wheels.

He paused, as if weighing how far he should go next.

"I went to Hungary last year, and Kádár's system is worth studying:"

While maintaining the Party's leadership and the foundation of public ownership, they introduced a limited market regulation mechanism, giving enterprises a certain degree of autonomy to decide what to produce and how much to produce.

Our economy is dozens of times larger than Hungary's, and strict top-down planning and management is no longer feasible at this scale. The amount of information is too great, the decision-making chain is too long, and the feedback is too slow. By the time the planning committee in Moscow figured out how many pairs of shoes a certain city needed, the people in that city had already been walking barefoot for three months.

Andropov listened, nodded, and did not interrupt him.

"But I also know that now is not the time for sweeping reforms," ​​Gorbachev continued. "You've just come to power, your power base is still being consolidated, the conservatives are watching, and the international environment is so tense..."

Reagan's side is still engaged in an arms race, Afghanistan is still bleeding, and the intermediate-range missile issue in Europe remains unresolved. Under such internal and external pressures, launching large-scale economic reforms rashly would be too risky. I agree with your current strategy—first, rectify discipline, first, fight corruption, first, replace personnel, first, let everyone see that the leadership is doing things, and then buy time and space before discussing deeper reforms.”

Andropov heard what he wanted to hear: Gorbachev had ideas for reform but also knew how to exercise restraint, and he agreed with Andropov's current gradual approach rather than rushing things.

This idealistic yet not rash attitude is precisely the quality that Andropov believed a successor should possess.

They talked for about forty more minutes, their topics ranging from agricultural management to industrial systems, from ideological education to cadre selection criteria. Gorbachev displayed his characteristic traits on every topic:

He provides a wealth of information, offers clear analysis, and maintains a firm stance while expressing himself in a moderate manner. He is also adept at using Party rhetoric to package his views, which have actually deviated from orthodox planned economy thinking.

"Expanding enterprise autonomy" instead of "opening up the market," "improving the price formation mechanism" instead of "price liberalization," and "strengthening labor incentives" instead of "widening the income gap"...

If Gorbachev can truly execute the vision he's now proclaiming perfectly... perhaps he really is the right person.

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.

Slava arrived at 3 p.m.

After flying back to Moscow from Tashkent, he went straight to the Kremlin, wearing a slightly wrinkled coat from sitting on the plane for five hours, his face showing the fatigue of the long journey and the peeling skin left by the dryness of the Uzbek winter.

Andropov watched him complete this series of actions without saying a word, but simply pushed the brewed tea over.

The way the two interacted had formed a fixed pattern over the past two years: they would first have tea, then Slava would start to say what he wanted to say, Andropov would listen, occasionally interject with questions, and finally give his judgment or decision.

This model works well most of the time because Slava does consistently provide Andropov with perspectives that he can't get from other sources.

But today Andropov had a premonition that the conversation wouldn't go as smoothly as it had before.

really.

After taking a couple of sips of tea, Slava got straight to the point and stated his views on the labor discipline movement:

He believes that using police to check on workers is a temporary solution, not a permanent one. He argues that the root cause of worker absenteeism is a malfunctioning incentive mechanism rather than lax discipline. He further states that in a system where "doing good or bad makes no difference, wage differences are almost zero, and money can't buy anything in stores," no amount of discipline rectification is more like patching up a crack with a band-aid; the crack will reopen in a couple of days.

Andropov listened patiently to these points—these were not unfamiliar to him; Slava had mentioned similar judgments more than once in conversations over the past two years. But today, Slava said something new.

“If I were to suggest a specific alternative,” Slava said, putting down his teacup and leaning forward.

"I think we can start from two directions. The first is rural areas. I see that the alliance's collective farms are extremely inefficient. We have to spend billions of foreign exchange every year to import grain from the West to fill the gap—"

If the management rights of these farms are partially delegated, allowing farmers to handle the surplus products themselves after completing the state's procurement tasks, their enthusiasm for production will be significantly enhanced!

This did not require touching anyone's core interests, because collective farms, unlike the industrial sector, did not have powerful interest groups backing them in the Soviet political landscape.

Moreover, increased labor efficiency can greatly liberate productive forces, allowing farmers to migrate to cities and provide the human resource base for the next stage of reforms.

This operation sounds familiar.

"The second direction is to establish some form of special economic zone or pilot zone," Slava continued, "to designate a small area in the Far East or other peripheral regions, allowing different economic management models to be tested there—"

For example, more flexible employment systems, floating pricing mechanisms, and even attracting foreign investment.

If it works well, it can be promoted; if it doesn't, it won't affect the overall situation because the scale is small and the impact is limited. This approach doesn't require changing any existing systems nationwide; it's simply opening a small window in one corner to see what the outside world looks like.

Andropov's expression remained largely unchanged as he listened to the rural reforms, but his eyebrows twitched slightly when he heard about special economic zones and foreign investment.

"Where did you get these ideas from?" Andropov asked.

Slava noted that he emphasized “ideas” rather than “suggestions,” two words that carry a significant weight in political discourse.

“Part of it is observation and analysis of what China is doing,” Slava told the truth, feeling it was pointless to lie to Andropov.

After all, General An had worked in the KGB for fifteen years and had seen all sorts of lies.

"They started rural reforms over there in 1978, distributing collective land to individual households for cultivation. The results were remarkable—grain production increased significantly within a few years, farmers' incomes improved, and it didn't cause any political instability. They also established a special economic zone in Shenzhen in the south, attracting foreign investment and developing export processing—"

Hearing this, Andropov felt his brain wrinkles flatten out. Slava was too idealistic; he had no idea what the price would be!

“This is the Soviet Union,” Andropov interrupted him.

"80% of China's population are farmers, and the urbanization rate is less than 20%. The reason why their rural reforms have been successful is that they have a huge rural economy that has not yet been fully planned and integrated to unleash."

But the urbanization rate of the alliance has exceeded 65%, and the collective farms have been operating for 50 years! Every inch of land, every laborer, and every grain of food in the countryside has been incorporated into the planning system. If you dismantle this system and let farmers grow their own land and sell their own grain—who will guarantee the completion of the national grain purchase quota? Who will maintain the food supply for the urban population?

Then you want to change the national system, and consequently, everything else needs to be changed. This isn't reform; you're committing suicide!

Slava opened his mouth as if to refute, but Andropov continued speaking.

"As for special economic zones—you mentioned setting up small-scale experimental zones in the Far East or peripheral areas."

Okay, that sounds like the risks are manageable. But the very existence of any special policy within the alliance is a questioning of the overall system!

If you establish a special economic zone in the Far East that allows foreign investment and market pricing, what will officials and people in other places think?

If a special economic zone is run well, the pressure is to promote it—but full promotion means full reform, which is currently impossible. And if it's run poorly? You've given the opposition a ready-made target.

Where do you get the prestige to do this?

Andropov paused there, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

"Velikoslav, I don't deny that each of your ideas has its merits when analyzed individually. But you've made a mistake you've been making all along—"

You simply transplanted solutions that worked elsewhere to the Soviet Union without fully considering the structural differences between the Soviet Union and those other places.

China was able to carry out rural reforms because their reforms were low-cost and highly profitable, and the prestige accumulated by the previous dynasty allowed the CPC to erase the discontent of those sacrificed as a price from history books.

We face completely different conditions when doing the same thing: high costs, high risks, many vested interests, and little room for maneuver. You can't use a single standard to measure all bodies.

Slava sat in the chair and listened to what he had to say.

He was somewhat frustrated. He knew what he lacked—he was too eager for quick results. His anxiety about time overwhelmed his reason. He always wanted to get things done quickly and ahead of schedule.

"You're right, I was too anxious."

"I believe you are loyal to the Party and to the cause of communism, Velikoslav."

Andropov still believes in Slava, but believing in him as a person and believing he is fit to wield power are two different things.

“Well then, I have a plan,” Andropov said, stating the decision he had made the night before.

"The Uzbek case will now be handled by the prosecutor's office and KGB professionals. Your mission and Comrade Ivanova's mission are complete. I intend to give you a new position—there is a vacancy in the Far East region, and I would like you to go there."

Slava paused for a moment. The Far East meant thousands of kilometers away from Moscow, thousands of kilometers away from the center of power.

"What location?"

"You don't have much experience with the secretary in charge of agriculture at the prefectural party committee. It would be too inappropriate for you to be the first or second secretary. I'm still considering which prefecture to go to, but it will be a place with a certain economic foundation and development potential."

I'll give you some room to maneuver. Don't you think the labor discipline campaign is just a temporary fix? Don't you think we should establish pilot zones, promote marketization, and implement incentive reforms?

Okay, I'll give you a place to try it out. There you'll have much more autonomy than in Moscow to implement your ideas, and I won't interfere with your specific methods, as long as you don't do anything politically unmanageable for me.

Andropov looked into Slava's eyes, his gaze carrying a complex expression.

It possesses both the composure of a leader making a necessary but not without regrets, and a hint of something he himself might not be willing to admit:

A kind of paternal, yet distant, concern for a young man he had personally mentored for two years.

“What you said in Moscow will be seized upon by conservatives, making them think that I have a liberal giving me advice, which will shake the political foundation I have worked so hard to build.”

The investigation into the cotton scandal has already made them uneasy enough; I need to give them some reassurance. "Go to the Far East to work for me; it's good for both of us. The Party and the people will not forget your contributions. Once you've made a name for yourself, I'll transfer you back to Moscow."

He paused for a moment, his voice becoming softer than before.

"We will all have to face the day when we have to be realistic and pragmatic."

Slava sat in his chair and looked at Andropov.

After a short while, he calmly said, "I understand. What about Comrade Ivanova?"

“Ivanova will go with you. The two of you together are more useful than apart, and I’ve seen that clearly for the past two years.”

Slava stood up, finished the last sip of tea in his cup, and tapped the rim of the cup lightly with his fingers.

When exactly are we going?

"No rush. Wait until the cotton case is handed over and the personnel arrangements in the Far East are finalized—about a month. Until then, you should stay in Moscow; there are some things that need your involvement in wrapping things up."

Slava nodded, picked up his briefcase, and walked towards the door. He turned back as he reached the threshold.

"Yuri."

"Ok?"

Take care of yourself. Don't stay up too late.

“...You too,” Andropov replied.

The door closed.

Andropov was the only one left in the office.

Outside the window, someone was shoveling snow in the Kremlin courtyard. The sound of shovels scraping against the cobblestones carried far and clearly in the quiet winter afternoon, as if something was being peeled away layer by layer.

Andropov sat for a while, then picked up the phone and called his secretary.

"Get me the economic data and cadre rosters for the past three years from all the states in the Far East. I want to see them tonight."

He put down the phone, picked up his enamel mug to drink tea, only to find it was empty.

He put the cup back on the table, didn't ask anyone to refill the tea, and just sat there with the empty cup, thinking for a long time.

Chapter 29 Star Wars Program

The tree may wish to remain still, but the wind will not cease. As Slava was sent to the Far East, tensions between the two superpowers continued to escalate.

March 8, 1983, Orlando, Florida, Sheraton Twin Towers Hotel, Orange Crown Ballroom.

The 41st annual meeting of the National Evangelical Association is being held here.

Ronald Reagan stood on the platform, facing more than a thousand American Protestant pastors and believers, and began his speech.

Evangelicals have never cared much about truth, logic, or reasoning; you have to speak to them as bluntly as Trump did to rednecks, which is exactly what Reagan did.

He said that Soviet leaders "openly and blatantly declared that the only morality they recognized was the kind that could advance their goal—world revolution."

He said that the two superpowers should not be weighed on the same scale, because on one side is the free world, and on the other is the focus of evil in the world today.

He said not to be misled by the arrogant temptation of "making both sides equally guilty," and not to ignore the historical facts and the aggressive nature of totalitarian regimes.

In short, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, as he described it, was an evil empire.

The evangelical believers in the audience immediately started to revel. If there were a few more hippies, the smell of tobacco could probably travel from Florida to Washington.

The pastors all stood up and applauded, and the band played "Christ's Soldiers March On" to send him off the pulpit, leaving behind the flashing lights of the reporters and the frenzied shouts of the believers.